Sympathy for the Devil

by Katsu

I bet if the Devil himself walked in, you'd give him a couple of sandwiches before sending him on his way. He's got the ultimate hard luck story, after all..." (Reno x Tifa)

Sympathy for the Devil

Red wine spilled across the worn wooden top of the bar. Tifa hastened to wipe it up before it reached the edge, keeping her expression neutral. Without thinking, her unoccupied hand grabbed the thin-stemmed wine glass before it could tumble to the floor.

"Thanks, doll. Gimme another one?" the large man in front of her slurred.

"Sure thing. Just be more careful with this one." This time, she set a low tumbler in front of him. He'd have a little more difficulty knocking that over, even in his inebriated state.

Another of the old-fashioned oil lamps hanging on the walls went out, darkening the room just a little. The wood paneling of the bar still seemed to glow, though, brought to life by artfully hidden track lights along the ceiling. No neon for her...she'd had enough of that in Midgar. Here, it was all smoothly sanded corners and real wood, worn enough that it was just comfortable.

"The man at eighteen wants another Kakori shot. I'm cutting him off after that - don't know who he is, but he's looking the worse for wear. Table four wants another round of Ocean Waves." Tamera, one of the waitresses, appeared at her elbow, clutching her tiny tray in front of her roundly pregnant belly like a shield. She looked ready to pop at any moment. "And they said you didn't make them strong enough last time."

Tifa shrugged, stifling a yawn. Table eighteen was turned away from her, a thin little man swathed in a navy blue jacket and fedora, balled up around some kind of internal pain. Typical. Wasn't it time to close yet? It used to be that she'd decide, as the owner of the bar, but the crowd had begun to take on a life of its own in the past few weeks. When the crowd was ready, it would go oozing out the door like an amoeba; she wasn't going to complain. Sales were good. "I'll throw some more aftershock in them, if they really want to take their own eyebrows off with the fumes. But I'll have to charge them extra."

"I don't think they'll notice at this point." The corner of Tamera's mouth quirked up.

She glanced toward four. None of the men were managing to sit up straight in their chairs, either. "No kidding." One of them raised his face toward her, cracking a blood shot eye open below an eyebrow that was little more than a mass of scabs and flaking skin. It took her a moment to recognize the soggy man, then she sucked a in a quick breath. "Shit."

"What is it?"

"That's Rozly...you know, the union breaker from Big South. And I have no doubt those are his lowlife friends." She shook her head, still making the drinks on autopilot. "Your husband still a foreman?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you take over, then. I'll serve them their drinks and see if I can get them to call it a night." She shook her head again. "You're lucky they haven't recognized you yet, you really are."

Tamera looked pointedly around the bar and raised a perfectly penciled eyebrow. "Actually, I think you're more lucky that no one else has recognized them."

"When you put it like that..."

North Corel had always been a mining town, and the unions were old and strong. Big South Star had opened a new mine on the east face of the mountain, but they were trying to keep the union out. Things had been fairly polite up until Rozly had come in under the heading of a special consultant. He was big, and very stupid - that's about all Tifa could guess, considering he'd chosen her bar to get drunk in with his cronies. It was only used as the Union meeting hall every other Sunday, for God's sake.

"So what now?"

"Good question." Tifa arranged the drinks on a tray. "I could go one of two ways...I could ignore them and just hope everyone's well behaved, or I can try to hustle them out and hope I don't attract too much attention." It was getting too late for a plan...some very nasty looks were starting to be directed toward the table as the alcohol to IQ balance tipped. "I'm not liking either option right now."

"I'd say try for option one...at least we can try to control the situation." Tamera disappeared under the bar for a moment, then came up holding Tifa's old leather bracers. "I knew you kept those under here. Put them on...might as well be prepared."

Tifa nodded, slipped the familiar leathers over her hands and forearms. They a little creaky with disuse, but they'd do. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that...she didn't particularly want to have to replace her furniture again. But better to need to replace the furniture than a kidney. It was funny; she'd always complained that running a bar was a real let down after saving the planet. Yet nights like this made her long for the simplicity of just worrying about Sephiroth dropping out of nowhere and cutting her in half.

"Be ready to call the militia in if something starts up," she said, and picked up the tray. The men at Rozly's table were all almost as big and ugly as he was, she noticed as she walked toward them. Probably violent crimes convicts that had been let out too early; they all had the look of prison about them. Without a word, she distributed their drinks, then waited for someone to acknowledge her presence.

It took a moment, but Rozly finally looked up blearily after downing his drink. He was wearing a cheap green suit that had been made for a much smaller man; the stitching was coming out in the shoulders. "You ain't gettin' a tip." he said, "Slow as shit and the drinks'r still watery."

She compressed her lips into a thin line. "Actually, Mr. Rozly, I'm the owner of this establishment. I wanted to let you know that we'll be closing down soon, so this is the last drink we'll be serving you."

"Really." He tugged on his matted black beard, watery eyes filling with the guile only a drunk can have. "How come no one else's slowin' down?"

Tifa leaned forward. He peered down her cleavage, as if drawn by a magnet. She didn't like it, but she'd have to be stupid not to use every weapon she had. "Look, I just don't want trouble in my bar, okay? You look like...nice...boys."

"Ain't gonna get trouble from us. We're all here on the side of order." He grinned. "Isn't that so?" A drunken murmur of assent wafted up from the table. "See? No need to worry yourself."

"I'll get your tab," she said firmly, and turned.

A hand like a side of beef caught her elbow, spinning her back around. She could hear the sound of chairs scraping backwards throughout the bar. "Why ya pickin' on us?" Rozly asked. "We done nothing to ya."

She pressed her thumbnail in between two of his knuckles. It took a moment for the signal of pain to creep up his nerves, but he let her go. "I'll be back in a minute with your tab. Relax." She directed a pointed look around the bar and repeated, a knife sharp edge in her voice, "Relax." The half-standing men sat, and she let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. Man, she hoped this union nonsense would end soon...

"That could have gone more smoothly," Tamera said, quirking an eyebrow at her boss from over the bar.

"No need to tell me. You almost done with the tab?"

"You wouln't believe how much they've drunk so far tonight."

Tifa glanced back. Rozly and one of his boys were whispering loudly back and forth in a slurred murmur. The nameless thug's head, criss-crossed with squirming lines of pink scars, was wobbling like the slow motion version of the dashboard chihuahua she'd given Barrett as a gag gift on his last birthday. "Actually, I think I would."

"What?" Rozly's chair went crashing over as the massive man stood, going from softly drunk to hard and angry. "You!" he bellowed, pointing an all too steady finger at Tifa. "I recognize you...you were with the fucking mayor last week."

"Shit..." Tifa murmured, setting the tray down. "What's it to you?" she said, as calmly as possible.

"You scuttled our deal. You're the reason we can't go home...fuckin' bitch."

There was perfect silence for a moment as the entire bar waited to see what would happen next. Then one of Rozly's boys, this one in a torn black t-shirt and tattoos lacing his neck, picked up an empty glass and flung it at her.

As she ducked, order vanished without a trace. With a roar, every man in the bar was in motion, some hastening to leave, others flinging themselves into the fray. Tifa shoved Tamera under the counter and scanned the bar quickly as another glass smashed right above her head, showering them with jagged shards; the other waitresses had gotten the hell out of dodge, like she'd always trained them to. An odd smile formed on her lips as she adjusted her gauntlets, took a deep breath, and dove in.

The thug in the black t-shirt tried to hit her with a chair, his movements sluggish and blurred with alcohol. Tifa dodged it smoothly and whirled around into a kick that took his knees out. As he fell forward, he got a right to the chin and a left in the kidneys. Another man, this one in a stained button shirt and a black leather vest, grabbed her in a bear hug. The moment her knee found his crotch he let go and curled away. He didn't notice her fist heading toward the back of his neck. An instant later, he joined his friend.

Men were falling right and left, beating on each other with chairs or simple fists. As she began sparring with a man in a hideous yellow tank top, there was loud scuffle behind her, then a shout and the sound of breaking glass. She ignored it and hoped it wouldn't bite her in the ass; the fight at hand needed all of her concentration. The thug would have given her a run for her money if he was sober. Even drunk, it showed that he'd had some martial arts training in the past. She blocked, and blocked, and blocked again, watching for her opening and drawing him forward until he tripped on one of his compatriots. It was a simple task to help his chin run into her knee from there.

It was over. Silence filled the bar, only interrupted by the sound of a single glass rolling off a table and shattering on the floor. Tifa wiped her forehead with the back of one gauntlet, grimaced, then pulled them both off. Tamera poked her head up from behind the bar, one eyebrow raised.

"Over?" she asked.

"Over." Tifa glanced at the mess around her and sighed. "Well, we'll be closed for the next couple of days until we get the furniture replaced."

"We can use the break."

"No kidding." An idle kick caught the man in the yellow shirt behind the ear; he'd looked like he was getting ready to wake up. "Time to haul out the trash." With the fight over, the other waitresses walked back into the bar and paired off; it was all well-rehearsed drill. Teams of women grabbed the unconscious men and dragged them outside, leaving them in a large puddle that Tifa kept handy for exactly that purpose. The North Corel miners got put around the edges, where it was only vaguely squishy...not that there were too many of them anyway. Rozly's gang were thrown into the middle of the muck.

They were mostly done with their chore when Tamera shouted from inside the bar, "Oh shit...Tifa!"

She dropped the limp body she'd been dragging and hurried inside. Tamera was kneeling by one of Rozly's men, doing her best to roll him onto his side on her own. The guy was a shaved gorilla; she wasn't getting anywhere. Lips compressed in a thin line, Tifa grabbed his shoulder and heaved him over, almost popping a hernia in the process. Something metallic skittered from one of his hands and was kicked aside by her boots. What the hell were they feeding these guys? "Tam, what - "

"Grab me all the clean dish towels, Tifa, and hurry."

"But - "

"Move it, girl!"

Tifa's legs responded to the tone before her brain even registered the words; she was behind the bar in an instant, yanking a stack of clean towels from underneath it. She hurried back to Tamera, her arms overflowing.

There was blood on the floor in a large puddle. Tamera was kneeling in the middle of it, bent over a tall, lanky man. Not one of Rozly's, or one of the miners. Tamera had yanked his jacket off and torn his shirt open to reveal a chest so thin you could count the ribs. Two wounds gaped, one in the shoulder and one between the ribs, smearing his pale skin liberally with blood. Towels went over them, held firmly down by the waitress' crimson stained hands.

More red caught Tifa's eye, far brighter than the blood. The man's hair was spread around his head in an absurd halo of fire. She'd seen hair like that before, and that pale, foxy face. The realization and the memories that accompanied it sent her staggering for a minute. "That's - " she blurted out.

"What the hell are you still doing here? This man needs a doctor!" Tamera looked up. Her dark skin had paled to a sallow yellow.

Tifa shook her head. "No! Don't you know who that is?"

"I don't give a shit if it's Satan himself," the waitress growled, "GO!" The tone of her voice was like a whip crack; Tifa didn't have any choice but to obey. She ran from the bar and down the street, headed toward Dr. Leroy's house.

I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought as she skittered over a patch of gravel, that little bastard doesn't deserve the chance.

Laughter. The scent of blood and ozone. The crackle of high voltage dancing through the air, and ultimately flesh. Muscles locking, skin burning, pain humming through bone and nerve.

Her hand were clenched so tightly into fists that her fingers tingled.

The name was a curse, one that she spat in her mind. Reno...

If looks could kill, Reno would have been dead the moment she recognized him. Instead, the still unconscious man had been installed in one of the rent rooms over the bar by Tamera and the Doc. Tifa had refused to touch him or even speak once she'd returned. The Doc snapped his medical kit closed with a final sound and turned toward her, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses further up on his nose. There was tape on the bridge. Typical.

"He's certainly a lucky young man. Both wounds bypass his organs, though the upper one did tear his pleura a bit...we'll have to watch carefully in case of infection." He cleared his throat uncomfortably after prolonged silence from Tifa. "As it is, he will need to remain stationary for at least a week. I hope you won't be using this room for a while."

"It doesn't seem like I will now."

The Doc gave up trying to speak to her and turned to Tamera. The woman was upset because Tifa was angry, but at least she was receptive. "I'll leave enough medication and bandages to last the week. After that, I'll visit again to give you more. If anything changes, fetch me immediately. He should regain consciousness sometime tomorrow."

"Will do," she said, standing. "Let me show you out, Doctor...it was kind of you to come so quickly."

He shot Tifa a worried look; she could see him mentally calculating the likelihood of her smothering Reno with a pillow the minute he stepped out of the room. "Yes...I...yes, that would be best. I will see you in a week, Tifa."

"Sure."

As Tamera led the man out of the room, she shot Tifa a warning look that promised dire things if she didn't behave. As much as she'd rather not, she was planning to; if nothing else, at this point it would be murder in the first degree if she did kill him.

There were bandages and wrappers all over the floor, courtesy of the doctor's hurried ministrations. Reno's bloody clothes lay in a sodden pile near the bed. With curled lip, she began to clean, picking up all the medical trash first, saving the most unpleasant task for last.

Not really knowing why she cared, she began to carefully sort through the pockets of Reno's discarded clothing. Who knew, maybe he'd have enough money to reimburse her for some of the damage downstairs...there was no doubt that he was somehow involved in the fight, since he'd been there. He might have even been the cause of it in some left-handed sort of way.

The pockets of the black slacks yielded a few coins and crumpled, dirty bills, all of small denominations. Not very promising. The ruined jacket held even odder items; a few bits of string, a black chocobo feather, several smoothly rounded pebbles of interesting colors, a pocket chess game, a yo-yo (raised eyebrows at this), and an odd metal contact lens case.

She almost threw the blood-soaked shirt away without checking the breast pocket. Something odd about the way it bent, though, made her look. Using the tips of her fingers, she pulled two small photographs out. The first was spattered with a layer of blood, but she could make out four people, grinning for the camera and acting silly...Elena, Rude, and Tseng - all younger - with a more gaunt and angry version of Reno. The other picture...

A baby, with eyes the same pale glass blue of her favorite coffee cup and hair like chocolate seemed to giggle at her from the still image. She almost dropped it.

Movement from the bed made her drop the picture anyway. She hastily picked it up and put it on top of the room's rickety table. Reno moaned softly, then tried to sit up. She made no move to stop him. Another pained murmur spilled from his lips as he fell back on the pillows with an unhealthy thump.

"Kris? You there? What happened?" his voice was hoarse. He brought up one hand to rub his forehead, covering his eyes. "I...don't feel so...good. Kris? I didn't mean to get in the fight...just that fucking guy...fucking hurts..." his voice began to fade away, back into unconsciousness, "Serial twenty-nine sixty-five seven ell see...leave me alone...you can't make me do it...I didn't mean to...Kris...fuck..."

Anger flared in her again and she threw the bloody shirt into the trashcan hard enough to knock it over. This time, there was no reaction from the bed. She slammed the door shut behind her as she left the room and stomped down the stairs. Neither did anything to relieve her temper.

Tamera glanced up at her from behind the bar with raised eyebrow. "You're not smiling, so I presume he's still alive."

"You have no idea." She sat. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Believe it. Let me show you something, huh?" Tamera dropped her 'something' on the bar with a metallic clang. It was a knife; almost as long as her forearm and partially serrated. "Do you know where I got this?"

"I'm sure I can guess."

"I bet you'd be right. I wiped the blood off of it...found it kicked under a table. Do you have any idea how lucky that man is to be alive?"

"It's probably his, you know."

The look would have made a thistle wither. "Yeah, and I'm sure he stabbed himself with it too, just to make your life miserable. Would you stop acting like a two-year-old already?"

Tamera was right. If nothing else, knives weren't Reno's style. But Shiva, it hurt to admit it. "Do you have any idea who the person upstairs is?"

"You haven't seen fit to enlighten me, have you?"

"Remember back right at the start of the war, when Shinra blew up a section of Midgar?"

"Yeah."

Tifa sighed and sat down on a barstool. "The guy upstairs is named Reno. He's one of the flunky scum that did the dirty work."

Tamera's eyebrows went up. "Shit," she said.

"I've fought against him more times than I care to think about. He's a nasty piece of work."

"Didn't look like much of anything when I was serving him drinks." Tamera leaned on the bar, giving Tifa a shrug. "I figured he was about to poison himself, here in the bar, the way he was going. Like Dorceller, right before he finished pickling his liver."

"Who knows. I don't think I really care. I just want him out of here. No, scratch that, I want him never to have been here."

"I can understand you're upset. I'm not too happy knowing we've got what's technically known as a mass murderer under the roof. I'm even less happy to know that I've been getting fifty percent tips off him all night. He acted rather decent for an inhuman monster, you know... even ma'am-ed at me."

Tifa shrugged. "And they also say that Scarlet loved animals." just not in what way...

"You were ready to just let him die, bleed to death all over the floor, weren't you." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, I was. And you know? I don't feel the least bit ashamed of the fact."

Tamera leaned forward enough to look her in the eye. "Deacon Melchius once said that you shouldn't forget that everyone feels pain; it's selfish not to realize that. You don't do anyone good by sinning with anger."

"I thought we'd agreed to never talk religion."

"And you're damn lucky, because otherwise you'd be getting the lecture of your life about forgiveness." Tamera's smile was bitter. It was really hard to call it a smile at all. "I'm going home now. Rob's probably worried about me being okay...no doubt the entire town knows about the brawl now."

"See you in a couple days."

The look Tamera directed at her when she left was one of sadness; not at all what she expected. It made her want to throw a temper tantrum that involved screaming and flinging her best wine glasses at the walls. Instead, she turned off the lights in the main room and went to bed, right across the hallway from one of her worst enemies.

Or tried to, anyway.

After staring at the ceiling for two sleepless hours, alternating between paranoia that Reno was creeping across the hallway to kill her and wanting to do the same to him, she gave up and padded on bare feet to the room next to hers, which she'd taken as an office. She stared at the white metal and plastic phone on her desk. There weren't very many people that she could call about this; not too many would understand.

She almost called Cloud, but ended up slamming the receiver down before she dialed the final digit. Things were still too tangled there; their last meeting hadn't exactly been comfortable. For all she knew, the number he'd given her might not be valid any more. Instead, she decided to pay for the cross ocean call...what the hell.

"Yes?"

Tifa smiled. He sounded wide awake, despite the fact that it was getting on toward dawn over there. Well, they'd always known he was a night person. "Hey, Vincent."

"Ah, Tifa. It's been a while since we've talked. I expect you are doing well?"

"I try my best," she said. "How's Reeve treating you?"

"The job is decent. Not terribly interesting any more, but that's for the best."

That made sense. Reeve had hired him on as governmental security advisor; if Vincent was feeling bored, that meant that no one was attempting to kill anybody important. Apparently the would-be assassins had learned their lessons after a few appearances by the Chaos Beast. "Up until today, I would have said the same for myself, but things have just gotten pretty interesting."

"I'd thought there must be a reason for you to call so late. We don't normally...chat."

"Reno showed up on my doorstep today."

"Interesting."

"And managed to get himself stabbed twice in the middle of a brawl."

"Really."

"He's currently bandaged up and sleeping across the hall."

"I see."

That was the thing about Vincent. He was a good listener, but trying to get anything out of him was like pulling teeth. "So I was wondering...are all of the Turks still wanted under criminal charges?"

"No. Reeve secured a pardon a few months ago; he's been working on it for a while."

"Damn him..."

The tone of Vincent's voice changed slightly, just hinting at being hurt. "I was a Turk as well, please remember. My ties with them are still strong."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry..." Maybe calling hadn't been such a good idea.

"There is no need to apologize. You are entitled to feeling."

"Do you have any suggestions about what I can do with him if I can't turn him in?" her voice sounded much more plaintive than she'd intended.

"Unfortunately, no. He is no longer under my jurisdiction; he has committed no crimes since the war. You will have to improvise."

"Thanks."

"You're most welcome."

That was the other thing. Sarcasm seemed to be lost on him. Or at least that was what he wanted everyone to believe. "Can you do me one favor, then?"

"Certainly."

"I've got a serial number of some sort... I'd like to find out where it's from and what it's for."

"Go ahead."

"29657-LC."

There was a pause, and he read the number back. "Is that everything?"

"Yeah. Thank you, Vincent."

"I'll have your information for you in a few days provided the record is on computer. I will call you then." The line went dead.

Yeah, he didn't believe in saying goodbye, either. Tifa sighed and set the receiver down. That was as far as she'd get for one night...time to take another stab at sleep.

Her own mental wording made her wince.

The light of the rising sun woke her up, way too early. In the upset of last night, she'd forgotten to pull the curtains across her window, but she really couldn't complain too much. Her dreams had been confused and disturbing, half memory and half horrified nightmare. The smell of hot metal and singed flesh was still stuck in her nose, and her cheeks were damp; right before the light had hit her eyes, she'd begun to dream of the descent of sector seven, with its never ending scream...

Tifa stumbled to the bathroom and fumbled with the taps on the steel sink. Her stomach rolled, only willpower preventing her from going into dry heaves. She hadn't had nightmares like that since the night after the final battle, when she'd had hysterics on Barrett's shoulder. She filled the sink with cold water and splashed some on her face. It helped, more than she thought it would. In a few moments, she was feeling almost human again - or as human as she ever did this early in the morning. She looked up at the mirror over the sink; there were a few imperfections in the glass that caught her reflection, twisting it, and it made her nauseous all over again.

It was almost a relief when someone began pounding on the front door, hard enough to shake the building. Tifa hastily pulled on her ratty green bathrobe and headed downstairs, the wooden floor surprisingly soft under her bare feet. "I'm coming, I'm coming..." she muttered as a fresh round of pounding started up. She yanked open the door.

It was Rob, so tall and broad that he blocked out the sun. He had a grizzled black beard that most people found intimidating until they noticed how it framed his oddly gentle and shy smile. A scar puckered one cheek, and stray wisps of his long black hair, normally pulled back in a tightly wrapped horsetail, framed his face.

"Morning, Tifa," Rob boomed.

Tifa stared up at him for a moment. "You're here awful early, aren't you?"

"It may be a little early, but we've got a lot of work to do," Tamera said, stepping out from behind her husband. "Rob agreed to help repair the furniture, since some of his men were involved."

"I should have known. They make it home okay this morning, Rob?"

Rob nodded. "Most of them. Jim had a cracked jaw, and Derrick's minus a couple teeth, not that his smile was pretty to start with. None of ours were seriously hurt, though."

"Sorry, I'm being rude. Come in, I'll throw on some coffee and cook you both breakfast." Tifa stepped to the side, holding the door open for them.

Rob made a tsking noise as he surveyed the mess of the room. "This might take a little while. I'll have to go back home for my tools... wasn't sure quite how bad things would be."

"It's no problem, Rob. Thank you for your help," Tifa said.

Tamera stood up on her toes to plant a kiss on her husband's cheek. "That's just fine, dear heart. I'll just see to the man that got injured bad last night, and then help Tifa with breakfast. We'll have it ready by the time you get back." She shooed him out the door, closing it behind him. When she faced Tifa again, she was all seriousness. "Is he still alive?"

"I really wouldn't know. I haven't checked yet."

"Well, I guess that's better than finding out you smothered him during the night or something." Tamera chuckled wryly.

"Give me some credit, would you?"

"Don't start with me, girl, I'm far too well acquainted with your temper. Let's go check on him, hmm?" Tamera turned and headed up the stairs, holding on to the well-worn banister to keep her balance.

There wasn't much choice but to trail behind her. Tifa fought off the annoyance that threatened to make her expression an overly petulant one. She thought about mentioning that he'd woken up the previous night, and sort of spoken, but she didn't even want to think about it.

Tamera flung the door to the impromptu sick room open fearlessly, then strode over to the room's window and opened the curtains with an efficiant flick of her wrist. She turned to look at the man in the bed, saying, "Rise and..."

He was already awake. Tifa had been watching - the moment Tamera had taken a step in the room, his eyes had flown open, and he'd been looking around like a trapped animal. His gaze had settled on her, and he was still staring. Something about the look in his eyes, and the intensity of it, made Tifa distinctly uncomfortable. She leaned in the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest, fighting not to look away.

"...shine," Tamera finished, turning to him. "Reno, right? I've heard all about you. You about ready to rejoin the land of the living?"

Reno slowly looked from Tifa up to Tamera. "Water," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Tamera gave Tifa a look that booked no argument. She held up her hands, silently warding it off, and went to fetch the water pitcher out of her room. Something was bothering her, and it was hard to put her finger on it, but Reno seemed... fragile. She'd been mulling over her memories a great deal, waking and dreaming, and in them he was much larger and threatening. Then again, getting stabbed a couple of times was normally enough to knock the wind out of anyone's sails. She set the pitcher down on the table near his bed, not looking at him.

Reno tried to reach for the water, but Tamera gently slapped his hand and poured him a cup herself. "Think you can sit up?"

A wry smile turned up the corners of his mouth, and he whispered in a bare thread of a voice, "If it'll get me water, I'll tap dance." He tried to prop himself up on his elbows at least, but that proved to be too much movement.

That drew a snort and a small smile out of Tamera. "Can you help sit him up, Tifa? I'm not supposed to be bending and lifting."

"...fine." She thought about protesting, but she didn't want Reno to think he had that much power over her. She wasn't going to let anyone, mass murderer or not, force her into childishness. Tifa helped him sit up, probably a little more roughly than necessary, though he didn't protest - he just went a bit paler, if that was possible. His skin, bare where not covered with bandages, was strangely hot, and he weighed a good deal less then he should have. She could feel his ribs, and there were other, strange bumps in ridges in his skin that were hidden by the bandages.

"Thanks," he croaked, not looking at Tifa, and reached for the glass of water. He drank it down in one long gulp, and held the glass out to Tamera, begging for more with just the look in his eyes. She refilled the glass and handed it back to him, and he downed that one quickly too.

Tamera refilled his glass once more, but held on to it. "Now, you need to slow down with this one. Doctor said you'll be fine, but you need to take everything calm and slow, and that includes eating and drinking. You're going to be here for a couple weeks, so you got all the time in the world." She looked at Tifa. "So, I'm sure you already know Tifa. My name's Tamera. I imagine you'll be seeing a lot of me."

Reno looked at Tifa, almost like he was trying to see right through her. There was none of the casual mockery she was used to from her previous encounters with him. "What happened?" he asked.

"There was a brawl. You got in the way of a long knife, twice. We were kind of wondering how that came to pass." Tamera said.

"Oh." Reno let his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes. With his free hand, he gently probed at the bandages that were wrapped around his chest and shoulder. "And I was just going to chalk it up to the worst hangover known to man."

Tamera laughed. If it had been coming from anyone else, Tifa would have laughed as well. "So you don't remember what happened?" Tamera asked.

"No. I was... well watered at that point, I guess you could say, so I don't remember much at all." Reno looked at Tifa again, as if expecting something from her. Irrationally enough, it made her want to scream at him. It took a lot of talent to annoy her so badly with a simple look, and an innocuous one at that.

"Well, probably for the best. I can't imagine that sort of thing is pleasant to remember," Tamera said.

"No," he agreed, "it's not."

An uncomfortable silence fell, and Tamera quickly busied herself rearranging blankets and pushing furniture around. "You hungry?" she asked Reno.

"Starving."

"I'll get you some soup, then, long as you eat it slowly."

Reno grinned at her, though it was a rather thin one. "For you, my lady, anything," he said, his voice warm. He laid his hand over his heart for a moment.

Tamera actually blushed as she bustled out, heading down the hall. Tifa glared at Reno. He looked back, his smile staying intact but taking on a decidedly grim aspect. It was Tifa that broke the silence. "I guess even monsters can be charming," she said, her voice flat.

"We all have our talents," Reno said, shrugging one shoulder with care. "You're looking well."

"No thanks to you," she retorted. "What the hell were you doing in my bar?"

"Same thing most people do in a bar. I was drinking. I like helping out small business." A spark of merriment kindled in Reno's eyes, and his smile became less strained.

That was highly annoying. "You know what I mean," she said sharply. "North Corel is a little out of your normal stomping grounds."

"Become a mercenary. Travel to new and exotic lands, meet new and interesting people, and kill them," he said, his smile broadening.

Her blood turned to ice in her veins. "Who did you come here to kill?" she demanded.

"Well, actually, you," Reno said, then held up a hand to forestall her protests so he could finish. "I didn't take the contract. I was just here for negotiations, then things fell apart because they finally told me who the target was. I'm not particularly interested in killing you, at least not for the price they were offering."

"Who? Who was trying to hire you?" She never understood how anyone could be so calm about murder, especially when they were talking to the potential victim!

Reno wagged a finger at her. "Ah-ah. Client confidentiality is an essential part of the business. I'd like contracts to keep coming in, a guy's got to eat."

She thumped her fist on the door frame, hard enough that the wall shook. "How can you be so calm after telling me I've got someone trying to kill me?"

"How come you're so angry? At least I gave you a warning, which is more than most people get," Reno replied evenly. "To be honest, Tifa, considering that you're listed as a murderer and terrorist, no mercenary worth a shit is going to take a contract on your for less than I was asking. Anyone that dumb ought to be easy enough for you to handle."

She wanted to punch him, and wipe that little smile off his face. Her hands were clenched so tightly that her fingers hurt. And then she realized, that was probably what he wanted. "You're messing with me."

Reno shook his head. "I prefer to not engage in mind games until at least after breakfast. It's the truth, and for free, at that."

"I don't believe you," she said with flat finality. "You're a liar, and a murderer no matter what the government has to say about it."

"Assumptions don't become you, Ms. Lockheart," he said, sounding for all the world like an offended English teacher - except for that damn smile of his that just refused to go away. "You'd be surprised how little you know about me."

"And I don't care, either." Too angry to say anything else, she stomped down the hall, nearly running in to Tamera, who was balancing a bowl of thin soup and a bag of bandages. Still, she didn't miss Reno's murmured, "That's probably for the best."

Tifa spent the rest of the day clearing unsalvageable furniture out of the bar and breaking it into pieces of kindling with her bare hands. She imagined that the snap of wood was her breaking Reno's bones, but even in her mind she couldn't get him to stop smiling.

With Tamera and Rob coming in for the next few days, she avoided having to deal with Reno entirely. She only went into the upper floor of the bar when it was time to sleep. At least Reno was still too injured to be wandering around. One night, she heard sounds from the room, like Reno was screaming in his sleep. She fought the urge to go check on him, telling herself that she really didn't care. Finally, she got up and banged on the wall of his room, and he fell silent. But it still bothered her.

The next morning, she had to give him breakfast herself. She resisted the urge to dump the oatmeal in his lap when he smiled at her, bright-eyed and apparently cheerful. "I hope I didn't keep you up last night," he said, offering no further explanation. With slow care, he began to eat the oatmeal.

"No idea what you're talking about. I slept like a baby," Tifa said.

Reno nodded. "Glad to hear it." The hell of it was, he sounded genuinely glad. That bothered her, and she retreated in confusion without another word.

At dinner, which was soup again and some very light bread, Reno looked her in the eye, his face dead serious, and said, "Okay, I give. What did I do to offend you so badly?"

Tifa stared at him in shock, the tray dropping from her suddenly nerveless fingers. Soup sprayed everywhere, and the dishes shattered. Neither of them made a move. She stared at him, trying to see the mockery, or smugness in his eyes. There was nothing of the sort. "What did you do?" she asked, a strange little laugh bubbling up inside her. "What did you do? You tried to kill us, again and again. You... destroyed... sector seven. You worked for Shinra." Her hands were suddenly shaking. She'd been wanting to say this for a long time. "You're a mass murderer. You're a monster. You're the devil with an angel's face. Being around you makes me ill and gives me nightmares." The laugh broke free. It wasn't a pretty sound. "So I don't know, Reno, what did you do to offend me?"

Slowly, Reno pulled off the covers and swung his feet over to the edge of the bed. He still wore no shirt, but at least he had pants on, an old pair of green sweats that were much too big for him. Wobbling a bit, he walked towards her. Tifa took several steps back, ready to strike him if he made one wrong move - ignoring the fact that if he tried to do anything he'd probably knock himself over. Reno stopped at the dropped tray and knelt down carefully, as if he were an old man. One by one, he picked up the shards of the dishes and set them on the wooden tray.

Tifa watched in silence. He cut his fingertips on the shards a few times, leaving bloody prints behind, but he didn't seem to notice. When at last he was done, he stood carefully, and held out the tray toward her. It wavered and the air and jittered. "I'm a mercenary, Tifa," he said. "I'm like the wind. I'm like a wolf. You can't be angry at the wind for blowing. You can't be angry at a wolf for hunting down deer to feed himself and his family. A mercenary does what he has to do in the contract. He doesn't have to like it, but he still has to do it." The look in his eyes was far too old for someone that had to be about the same age as her. "There are good contracts, and there are bad contracts. Sometimes you get more than you bargained for. And sometimes you have no way out." Reno looked down at his hand, with its cuts still oozing blood, and then at the mess of soup on the floor. Suddenly, his smile returned and the life came back into his voice. "Where do you keep your towels?"

Tifa took the tray, half expecting it to burn her. "Closet in the hallway," she said, clipping her words short. "Use the towels on the bottom shelf." She walked with purposeful slowness down the hall. She refused to act like she was running away.

She couldn't help but think about what he'd said, and it made her angry. First, she was angry because she couldn't understand how anyone could not think that what he did was wrong. Then she was angry because in spite of everything, what he'd said had made sense in a strange way - in his own, very Reno way. That was not logic she could understand and still feel at peace with herself.

She avoided him like the plague as long as she could. Reno left her alone. He began to take care of his own meals, and after a few days he started going outside while the sun was out. He'd spend the day basking - there really wasn't any other word for it - on a log and then return when the sunset began. The bar opened again, so she was able to avoid him easily in the evenings.

After the week had passed, the doctor returned and announced that Reno could begin to do physical activity again, a little at a time. The mercenary made no move to leave. It annoyed her greatly.

She found him outside in the afternoon before she needed to open. He was still wearing the sweatpants, but he'd found a grey tank top somewhere, which was also too large for him. It only served to emphasize how thin he really was. She watched with growing interest as he went through a series of slow stretching exercises. When he was done, he turned and looked at her, then bowed mockingly.

"You're well enough to travel," she said, cutting to the chase, "why are you still here?"

Reno's smile stayed the same; very little seemed to bother him. "I might be well enough to get around if I had a chauffer, but I'm in no condition to get back to work. And when I'm not on vacation, everything is work."

"Vacation?" Tifa sputtered.

"What else can you call this? It's the only vacation I get, is when I'm in recovery." He grinned at her and began his stretching exercises again.

"Does that happen often?"

"More than you'd think. It's a dirty, dangerous job, but someone has to do it." He stretched a little too far and then hunched over with a gasp.

Tifa took a tentative step toward him, and then stopped herself. "Well, if you're hurting yourself with exercises, I think you're well enough to work," she said. "This isn't a free hostel."

"I was wondering when you'd tell me to get off my lazy ass," he said, slowly straightening back up. "What's the job?"

"Wash dishes. Watch the bar if I have to do something. When you're in a little better shape, you'll get more difficult things to do."

He shrugged. "Works for me. Free room and board for that is pretty fair." He held out his hand, looking at her expectantly.

Tifa stuck her hands in her pockets. "Then get your butt moving. We open in half an hour." She turned away.

"You got some clothes other than these I can use? Not exactly the most professional things I could wear." He smiled sheepishly. It was a very friendly sort of smile, and she couldn't help but return it.

She quickly caught herself, though, and made her expression about as stern as she could. "Look in the closet of the room next to yours. That's where I put everything that people have left in the rooms."

"Aye, ma'am." He flipped a salute toward her with one hand and disappeared inside.

Tifa shook her head. What was she thinking? She didn't really want to work with the man, but it galled her to be letting him stay for nothing. And no matter what she said, he just seemed to take it with a laugh or a smile.

She had the tables set up and everything ready for opening when Reno came back downstairs. He'd used water to slick his hair back into a semblance of order, though it promised to be a mess again when it dried. He'd found a pair of black slacks that fit him fairly well, and a blue shirt...

...the one that she had been meaning to give to Cloud. He'd disappeared before that could happen. She looked hastily away.

"Hey, what's going on?" Reno asked, leaning on the bar.

"The color looks good. Nice choice. There's some dishes in the back, get 'em started," she said, still not looking at him. The wood grain of the bar had never been so captivating before. Just thinking about Cloud brought up some unpleasant feelings. It was still a raw wound, thinking about how he'd left her behind without a word. And she really didn't need someone like Reno reminding her of that.

She kept him hopping all night, even when he started looking a little pale and shaky. She didn't want to have to look at him. At least things were busy; the strike at the mine was over, so all of the miners were back with paychecks to spend on booze and cards. Tamera was off for the next few weeks in preparation for her baby's birth, so handing Reno some of her own work helped her cover. It was well into the morning hours when she chased the last of the patrons out.

Halfway through tidying up and pushing in all of the chairs, she needed a break. She sat down at the nearest table, resting her head in her hands. She'd been so distracted the entire evening, thinking about Cloud, that she'd messed up more orders than she cared to think about. It had been incredibly stressful.

There was a soft clack as a ceramic mug was set by her elbow. It was light blue, reminding her of the child in the photograph she'd rescued from Reno's pocket. She looked up, right into Reno's damnable, smiling face.

"You're looking worn. Made you some tea," he said, shrugging.

Tifa resisted the urge to shove it away. She took a cautious sip - chamomile with lemon and honey, just the right amount - and sighed. "Thank you," she said.

"No prob. Anything for the boss." Reno grinned. He had a mug of tea in his own hands, which he sipped. "To be honest, I feel better when I'm paying my way. If you're paying up front, you don't have to worry about the... hidden charges later."

She looked at him for a moment, trying to imagine the man in front of her as the Turk that had tried to kill her and Cloud. The images didn't jive. There was nothing murderous about him now. Maybe he was just very good at hiding in plain sight. With a sigh, Tifa kicked the chair in front of her, knocking it back from the table. "Sit, if you want."

Reno raised an eyebrow, as if asking her if she were certain. She shrugged and he sat carefully, leaning back and stretching his long legs out. He looked down at his hands for a moment, rubbing the fabric of the shirt between two fingers. "You said anything out of the closet, Tifa. But I get the feeling I dug up something I wasn't supposed to."

"Nothing you could do could top showing off in the first place," she said. She gave him a sour smile.

"It wasn't part of a well thought-out plan, if that makes you feel any better," Reno said, shrugging. "I'm surprised I made it through the night in that state. I always figured that you or any of your friends have enough righteous hatred built up that you wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire. Guess I forgot that you're the heroes of this particular soap opera."

Tifa frowned. She knew that Cloud wouldn't have hesitated about helping him out. Reno's remarks hit a little too close to home. She had been ready to just let him die, and to know that she'd met the expectations of a mercenary hurt. She didn't need to tell him that, though. "Don't mention it. Ever."

Reno sighed quietly. "If an apology is what you're expecting, I can't offer you one. I can't be sorry for doing my job."

"No apology you could give could make up for it anyway," Tifa retorted.

"Must be why I don't bother." Reno shook his head. "Look, can we change the subject? I know you hate me, and I hope you know I don't hate you, because good mercs know better than to hold on to hard feelings. So can we have an armed truce until I'm out of your hair?"

Tifa realized, looking into her tea as if it contained some sort of answer, that she didn't hate Reno, not really. She hated that he didn't seem to understand why what he did was wrong, when he seemed like an otherwise intelligent person. The thought was an uncomfortable one. "I think I can handle an armed truce," she said, quietly.

"Good. Makes life easier." Reno sipped his tea. "I've been trying to decide if I should tell you this or not, but what the hell. I saw Cloud a couple of months back. He's joined the Mercenary network. Doing pretty well for himself, all things considered. He said that if I ever run across you, I should tell you that. And I should tell you not to go looking for him."

Tifa set her mug down so hard that half the tea slopped out. She ignored the mess. "I haven't looked for him. I've respected his wishes."

"Maybe he doesn't know you as well as he thinks." Reno shrugged. "Don't shoot the messenger. I'm just passing on the word of a brother in the business. We do favors for each other." He rubbed the shirt again. His hands were rough enough to catch a little on the smooth fabric. "So I'm guessing that's what this is about too."

Tifa had always been a terrible liar. Most of the time, she didn't even bother trying. She seriously doubted she'd be able to sneak one past Reno. "Pretty much," she said.

"Guess this is just another manifestation of my talent for putting my foot in it." Reno laughed. "I am sorry for this. I'll find a different shirt to wear tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it. This one fits you decently and the color looks fine. I guess it'd be a waste to let it sit in a closet forever." Oh, but how that hurt to say. Still, there was something freeing about such a simple action. Maybe she'd see Cloud again some day, but it seemed so ridiculous to be holding on to something like a shirt just for that.

Reno grinned, rubbing the cuff of the shirt lightly on his cheek. "Thanks. I've gotten kind of attached to this, I admit. I don't have anything this nice of my own." When Tifa raised her eyebrows, he shrugged and continued, "The nicer the fabric, the harder it is to get blood stains out."

"You know, every time I start relaxing and I begin to forget what it is you do for a living, you somehow manage to throw it in my face." Tifa dipped her finger in the puddle of tea at the base of her mug, scowling at him.

"I am what I am. It doesn't bother me. I just don't see how it can bother anyone else."

"Maybe you should get out more."

He laughed, so hard that he ended up clutching at the wound on his chest. "Oh, that's funny. Real funny. Even if I don't get why people are bothered, doesn't mean I don't notice. We keep to ourselves, mercs, because it tends to be a real party ender when you run into a guy whose aunt you killed with a salad fork last week."

Tifa would have laughed a little as well, if she hadn't realized that he was serious. Apparently, that had happened to him before, and she found that rather disturbing. And to think that Cloud had willingly joined with this group of people... "What does he do? Cloud, I mean. Does he take the same kind of jobs as you?"

"Him? Not really. He's mostly doing deliveries, smuggling, the occasional missing persons... those sort of things. He's a little too well known to get into the side of things I'm on. Then again, I don't think he would anyway. He still thinks he's a hero." Reno shrugged, his smile fading a little bit.

"Maybe he is a hero," Tifa retorted.

"Only if you believe that such a thing exists," he returned, "but from what I've seen, heroes are just what people call the winners. Like a school popularity contest. No one is really that selfless."

Suddenly, she wasn't interested in have this conversation with him any more. "Go to bed, Reno. I'll finish cleaning up here."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes. Just... go away."

Reno's smile, still present, took on a decidedly flat quality. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, then shook his head. Leaving his half-finished tea on the table, he walked away, his footsteps so light that he made no noise. Tifa stayed at the table, looking out the windows at the front of the bar until the sun came up.

Something smelled good. That was what woke her up - her stomach growling at her, demanding that she partake of whatever was producing that smell. She could detect hints of eggs and bacon, as well as cinnamon and vanilla. Still half-asleep, she crawled out of bed and shoved her feet into her slippers. Who could be cooking? Tamera was still off... She shuffled down to the bar, following her nose to the kitchen.

Reno sat on the ceramic countertop, swinging his legs and humming under his breath. He was back to the familiar green sweatpants and nothing else except bandages. There was something in his hands - the yo-yo that Tifa had retrieved from the pocket of his ruined pants. That certainly woke her up as she fought to make sense of the image. The nearby stove had three iron skillets on it, which were producing a soft sizzle and the lovely smell that had gotten her attention. As she watched, Reno glanced over at the pans, then did a trick with the yo-yo that involved wrapping its string in complicated patterns.

Tifa shook her head. She had to be dreaming still, though how her mind could come up with something this strange was really beyond her.

"Oh, good morning," Reno said, straightening out the string of his yo-yo with a deft movement of his hands. "I wasn't sure if you'd be up yet, since I know you got to sleep pretty late, but I made enough breakfast for you, too."

"Uh... thanks," Tifa said. Maybe she wasn't dreaming. "What are we... having?"

"We are having," Reno said, checking the skillets again, "bacon, fried potatoes, and Nibel Toast, since I found a recipe for it in your shelves over there and it sounded good." He rubbed his chin. "I think I mis-measured the vanilla, though, so I'm not sure how it'll taste. And I added orange peel, just because. So we'll see. What?" he asked.

It was an exercise of will to make herself stop staring. "I didn't know you could cook."

"Hey, it was either learn to cook or eat whatever Rude could come up with. I didn't hate myself enough to want to do that." Reno laughed. "The guy has a lot of skills, but boiling a decent egg isn't one of them."

Tifa laughed as well. It made sense, thinking about it. What had she expected, that the Turks drank the blood of their enemies and subsisted on that? It was just so strange to see a cold-blooded killer being so... domestic. Not to mention playing with a yo-yo. Reno idly did another trick with the little wooden toy. This time, it was one she recognized - the man on the flying trapeze.

"Besides," he added, as an afterthought, "you cook all the time, so I figured you could use a break. I'm not really up to your level, but hey, as long as it's edible it should be okay. And I'm sick of washing dishes," he added with a grin.

"Ah. Now it all begins to make sense."

Reno slipped off the counter and turned off the stove, putting the still steaming food on plates. He handed one to Tifa without fanfare and then leaned back against the counter, eating as he stood. "Heh. Well, I guess it's okay. The Nibel toast stuff is pretty interesting. You got any other recipes from your mom I could peruse?"

"Sure. They're in the red book," Tifa said, trying to talk around a mouthful of rather hot potatoes. She sucked air in between her teeth to cool them down a bit. "Not bad at all. I want to know what you put in these potatoes - they ought to go over well with the miners."

"I'll write it down for you. It's not like it's a family secret or anything."

Tifa had to admit that she was starting to get rather curious about Reno, once she put aside her initial reaction to him. What kind of family could have produced someone like this to begin with? He just seemed so... abnormal. "Well, if I'm sharing my family recipes with you, I should get some in exchange," she said, keeping her voice light. "What have you got?"

"Me? Unless you're in to barbecue and microwaveable pizza in a big way, I got nothing. Oh, and salads. Elena's got a real weird thing for salads."

"Family recipes, Reno. Sounds like your coworkers don't have much to offer." Tifa smiled at him.

"They're the only family I've got. Assholes like me aren't born, you know, we just spring fully formed out of the ground." He grinned, the image of good humor, but there was something in his eyes and the slight twist of his lips that said she'd best let the subject go.

Tifa laughed, mostly to buy herself a little time to regroup. "It's been a while since I've seen someone with a yo-yo," she finally said. It seemed a safe enough subject.

"Not surprised, since it's such a kid thing. Tseng gave it to me a while back when I was on vacation. I get bored pretty easy, so he wanted to give me something to do so I wouldn't drive everyone crazy." Reno grinned. "I just had so much fun with it, I kept it around. It's good for keeping your fingers limber, too."

Tseng. Now he'd seemed like an almost decent guy, at the end if she remembered correctly. Had there been a hint of sadness there when Reno mentioned him? "You miss him, don't you," she blurted.

Reno paused, a forkful of potatoes halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he nodded. "Of course I do. The guy was more than a leader... he was like a cross between a dad and the older brother I never had. We've all lost someone. I'm not about to dishonor his memory by avoiding him or wailing and gnashing my teeth, though. He liked it when people thought of the good times. Just seems like the best way to deal with these things."

"Oh." Tifa looked down at her plate, mulling his words over in her head.

With a clatter, Reno set his plate down on the counter. "I don't mean to stick my nose in to things, but... yeah, I guess I'm going to anyway. I think you'd be a lot happier if you spent your time thinking about the good times with Cloud, and not how much you miss him or how mad you are that he's off trying to get his shit straight."

Anger flared up briefly, enough to make her stab at a bit of the toast, her fork skitter across the plate with a shriek. She took a deep breath and let it go, like she'd been taught. He had a point. He had a very good point. "You may be right, at that."

"It's something Tseng told me, a long time ago. He said, 'Reno, life is short, so go ahead and live it.' It sounds a lot simpler than it really is, but there you go." He turned on the water in the sink, sticking his fingers in the stream every few seconds to test the temperature. "I kind of figured out on my own that it's hard to do that if you spend your time worried about things you can't change."

He reached out to take Tifa's plate, but she waved him away. "You cooked. It's only fair that I do the dishes."

"But I also pissed you off again, so there goes the good karma I built up."

"I'll survive," Tifa said with a wry smile. "I'm not really mad at you, not at the moment. I'm mad at myself."

"Ah. Well, I'm sure I'll get around to fixing that at some point."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "It sounds like Tseng had a lot of good advice." She set her plate down in the sink and rolled up the sleeves of her pajamas. It was an odd thought, that the man who had been her enemy for a long time had something worthwhile to hear. Strangely enough, it made her smile. "So did he have any other pearls of wisdom on the same vein?"

"Well, he also said, 'Live fast, die young, leave a cute corpse,' to Elena, but we always just figured he was giving her hell." He grinned at her, taking a dishtowel off the nearby rack. In unspoken agreement, she washed the dishes and he dried them, stacking them neatly on the counter for her to put away. They worked in silence, and for the first time it didn't feel uncomfortable.

It turned into a routine, for Reno to make breakfast. He always seemed to wake up earlier than Tifa anyway, no matter how late he went to sleep. He continued to recover and she came to rely on him more as an employee, though it wasn't something she cared to think about. He had a talent for defusing bar fights before they began with humor, which certainly saved on the repair bills. At the same time, he seemed to be growing more adept at defusing her with that same humor.

Soon, he went from stretching exercises to actual training, using a martial arts for that she was only vaguely familiar with. It made her wince, though, at how underhanded and dirty it was. Somehow, that just made sense for the Turk to excel at it. One afternoon, Reno apparently had enough of just practicing forms; he asked Tifa if she'd practice with him so he could see how out of shape he'd gotten.

Tifa looked at him doubtfully; he'd finally reached the point where he no longer had to wear bandages, replacing them with a shirt at all times. But she doubted that his scars were healed by any stretch of the imagination.

"Come on. No one gets back up to snuff without being beaten up a few times," Reno said with an encouraging smile. "'sides, I bet you've been dying to hit me, so here's your chance."

Tifa shook her head, smiling sheepishly. She had felt like that, and not too long ago. But now, she was more concerned than anything else. "We'll take it easy and see how it goes, okay?"

"You're not going to break me. I'm too tough for that." He struck a dramatic pose, flexing his wiry muscles. It looked silly enough that she had to giggle. "What, my manly form isn't making you weak at the knees? See, I need your help getting back in to shape!" He charmed and cajoled her until she reluctantly agreed.

Soon, they were squaring off in back of the bar. They'd both liberally padded their hands with gloves and bandaging. It had been a while since Tifa had practiced with a live opponent, and even longer since her opponent had been someone remotely competent. It would be an interesting match.

Reno caught her gaze and held it. A predatory smile pulled up the corner of his mouth, while strands of bright red hair that had escaped from his low ponytail hung in front of his face. His bright blue-green eyes had a hypnotic quality to them and a pull as if he were inviting her to share in something wonderful and frightening.

Her only warning that the fight was starting was a nearly imperceptible nod. Suddenly, he was so close she could feel his breath against her, and the speed of his approach blew her hair back. She barely ducked his first strike, trying to sweep his legs out from under him. He didn't even blink at the ploy; he leapt over her leg and flipped, landing behind her. She spun and jumped back, avoiding another attack, and straightened up.

Reno winked at her. She got the message - don't bother holding back.

The fight was intense from there on out. She was surprised by Reno's speed and strength - especially considering that he was just recovering from an injury. She kept up, though, to her pride. They exchanged kick for kick and blow for blow. She concentrated on her defense; Reno had a flashy style that involved a good many jumps and flips. He wasn't toying with her exactly, but she could tell he was bent on enjoying himself and showing off more than a little.

As they came in close again, he grinned at her and asked as she tried to put him in a hold, "Ready for the grand finale?"

She lost her grip and he twisted free, mostly because she was laughing. They squared off again. "You don't fight fair," she said, still laughing.

"Never have, never will," he replied, brushing a few sweat-soaked strands of hair back, which immediately fell back in front of his face.

She grinned, beckoning him forward.

With a burst of speed, Reno closed the distance and latched on to her arm before she could slip away. She thought it was over, that the fight had ended - where had that speed come from? His grip shifted and she went flying, though not toward the ground like she expected. With a soft grunt of effort, Reno threw her toward the roof of the bar.

It took a moment to register what was happening, but she adjusted balance and landed solidly on the roof. She looked back down toward Reno, but he had already launched himself into the air, making the two story jump with unnatural ease.

Keeping her feet light on the tiled roof, Tifa took a defensive stance, her fists ready. "What are you?" she asked. He shouldn't have been able to do that. She'd only ever seen that sort of strength from Cloud.

Reno only smiled, running toward her. "Just a regular working guy, trying to make a buck," he half-sang, and then he was on her.

The ferocity of the renewed attack drove her suspicions out of her mind as she ducked and blocked, keeping him at bay with well-aimed kicks. She was concentrating so hard on keeping her feet and trying to find an opening in his defense that she didn't realize she was at the edge of the roof until it was too late. Her foot slipped over and she tipped over backwards, going into a fall she had no way of controlling.

Reno was simply there - she hadn't seen him move. His arm was around her waist, his other hand in hers in an instant, and he pulled her back onto the roof. For a moment, they just stood like that, posed as if they'd been dancing a waltz. As they both panted, recovering from exertion and fear, their breath mixed. Tifa could feel his heart pounding, echoing through her body.

"You scared the hell out of me," he murmured, his grip tightening for just a moment.

"Scared the hell out of me too." He'd never stood so close to her before. Her stomach made a strange little flip as his fingers dug into her back. She shook her head and slipped out of his grasp, a little more quickly than she perhaps should have.

As soon as she was out of reach, Reno sank down on his heels, his face going pale. One hand went to his side.

"Reno, what's... I told you that you were going to overdo it!"

He laughed at her. "Hey, what can I say, you're kind of heavy. I'm a delicate hothouse flower here..."

"You jackass!" She took a step forward, her hands on her hips.

"Hey up there!' someone called up. It was one of the miners. "You planning to open any time soon, or are you just going to keep dancing around on the roof? It's good entertainment and all, but we're mighty thirsty down here..."

Tifa's cheeks burned with a blush. "How long have they been there?" she hissed at Reno.

He shrugged. "Dunno... they started showing up right around the time I threw you up on the roof."

"You... you did that on purpose!"

And he didn't look the least bit ashamed about it. "And...?"

With a look that promised pain later, she walked to the other side of the roof, where she could see the miners. There was a huge crowd there, bigger than she'd been expecting. It only made her blush worse, and then they started to applaud. She hid her confusion by jumping back off the roof with suitable flare, and made a big show of opening the front doors.

The miners teased her about it mercilessly, but they kept a steady supply of drinks coming to her and Reno for the rest of the night. And it might have been her imagination, but they seemed rather proud of her.

They had more fights, but none were quite like that first one on the roof. Tifa watched Reno closely after that, waiting for him to do something impossible again. If he knew she was watching he gave no sign, but his actions stayed so stubbornly mundane that she began to wonder if she'd been imagining things. Only talking with the miners reassured her that no, she wasn't.

A few days later, a large freight train came through North Corel, delivering the town's weekly supplies. Tifa was sorting through the shipment of liquors that had arrived for her with Reno's help when the vagrant wandered into the bar. He was young, perhaps fifteen years old, and wore clothes that were several sizes too big for him. The way he looked out at the world from under his frayed brown cap with open suspicion and sullen hostility reminded her uncomfortably of Cloud in his years before joining the army. His eyes were even a pale blue, just close enough in color to put her on edge.

He put his elbows on the bar and did his best to sound older than he could possibly be. "I want a beer," he said, "and a hamburger."

Reno glanced inquiringly at her. It was normally his job to chase kids out, but she shook her head and signaled that he should go on putting the bottles away. She smiled at the boy, taking a glass down. "Hamburger I can do, but the beer is a no go. Can I interest you in a sassafras instead?"

The kid's face fell a bit as he retreated further into his anger. "Why?" he demanded.

"It's Wednesday. Town law says were dry on Wednesdays. That's why we're doing inventory," she said, with a sweet smile. It was a bit of a blatant lie, but if the kid was just passing through, he wouldn't have any way of knowing. She just had a feeling that bringing up his age wouldn't accomplish anything.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess that would be okay."

"What do you want on your burger?" She listened as he told her and sent Reno to get the food started, trying to think of what to do. The kid had to be a runaway. The usual drifters that passed through her doors were much more laid back - they knew it gave them a better chance of getting a free meal if they were pleasant. "Where you headed to?" she asked as she poured his drink into a mug and slid it across the bar to him. His only answer was a shrug, so she tried again. "I just want to make sure you've got somewhere to go to begin with."

"What's it to you?"

"You remind me a lot of someone I used to know," Tifa said. "He ran off to Midgar to become a soldier, and left me behind. I worried about him." She smiled.

"No one's going to worry about me," he said.

"You'd be surprised. Sometimes you end up with friends in the places you'd least expect."

The boy shrugged. "Says you."

It was her turn to shrug. "I'm not going to tell you to go home. I don't know anything about you. But... let them know you're okay. There may be someone that cares a lot about you, worrying right now."

"I don't have the money to send a message."

And probably not the money to pay for his lunch either, but she'd been expecting that already. Most of the vagrants that passed through North Corel came by her bar eventually, because they knew she was a sucker for hard luck stories. "If you'll really use it to send a message, I'll give you the money."

He looked at her sharply. "For real?"

"For real." Tifa nodded. Reno appeared from the kitchen, bearing a hamburger on a plate, which he set in front of the kid before going back to the bottles of liquor. She nodded her thanks to him. "I'm not even going to ask for anything in return, other than the promise that you'll do what I ask with it."

"Okay." He ate his hamburger quickly while she went about her business, always keeping an eye on where she and Reno were at all times. It hurt to imagine what could have made him so jumpy. He slid off the barstool without a word when he was done, looking a little surprised when Tifa set a paper bag on the bar in front of him.

"The money," she said, "and two sandwiches. The next leg of the train ride is pretty long. The communications office for North Corel is three doors down from us. Remember what you promised."

The boy took the bag and looked inside, his eyebrows raising. "I will... thanks." Without another word, he walked out, glancing back at her several times. Tifa watched him go, fighting off the urge to run after the kid and shake him until he agreed to go home to his parents. The boy wasn't Cloud, and she'd done all she really could. Telling herself that didn't stop her heart from aching.

"So, do you think he'll actually do it?" Reno murmured into her ear. He was behind her, so close that they almost touched. His breath tickled her cheek.

She froze for a moment, and then, quite deliberately, took a little step back. He was warm and solid against her shoulders. Slowly, and so lightly that she almost thought she imagined it, he slipped his arm around her waist, settling his hand flat on her stomach. "I don't know," she said, her voice strangely thick. "I had to try."

"Trying to save the world, one loser at a time." His voice was mocking. Stiffening, she tried to step away, but he pulled her more tightly against him. "Is there anyone you wouldn't save, Tifa?"

She thought about him, bleeding on the floor of the bar, and she thought about what would have happened if she'd just left him there. "There used to be. But I was wrong."

He chuckled softly. It was a warm sound, one that pulled at her heart. "I bet if the Devil himself walked in, you'd give him a couple of sandwiches before sending him on his way. He's got the ultimate hard luck story, after all." He lightly traced a line down the back of her arm, from shoulder to wrist. She shivered.

"Charity is its own reward." She couldn't believe how much she sounded like Tamera. "Maybe you should try it some time."

"I'm my own story. I don't need anyone else's." She could feel him smiling, his lips were so close to her ear. "But that's what I like about you." He stepped back, releasing her.

Tifa spun to face him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

Reno grinned at her, though his voice had a husky tone to it. "Exactly what it sounds like." Without another word, he went back to sorting out the liquor shipment as if nothing at all strange had happened.

The phone rang when Tifa was elbow deep in soapy water. She'd already sent Reno upstairs to have his turn at the bathroom while she cleaned up after breakfast, so she had no choice but to answer it herself. If someone was calling this early, it had to be important. She grabbed the receiver with a dripping hand, grimacing as some of the water ran up her arm and into her sleeve. "Pride of the Mines, this is Tifa," she said out of habit.

"I have the information you requested," a man said without preamble. It took a moment for her to register that it was Vincent, though the unadorned delivery should have given him away.

"Oh, hi there." She transferred the phone from her hand to her shoulder, so she could keep working on the dishes. Conversations with Vincent were normally short, so hopefully she wouldn't get a crick in her neck. "You're up kind of early, aren't you?"

"Late, actually. I will be sleeping once we have finished our conversation."

"Ah, I see. Well, go ahead then. I don't want to keep you up."

Vincent made a sound, a parody of a dry chuckle. It was the closest she'd ever heard him get to laughing. "I had to do a good deal of research to track down the serial number that you gave me. The trail, which was very convoluted and should only be detailed out if necessary, lead to a house on the outskirts of Junon, which I discovered quite by accident once belonged to our late... friend... Doctor Hojo."

Tifa froze. "Go on."

"According to the partial records that I found there, it belonged in an experimental series that he conducted shortly before Avalanche began its clashes with Shinra security and continuing until his most timely demise - " Anything else that Vincent had to say was lost as the phone slipped from Tifa's shoulder and landed squarely in the sink, quickly disappearing below the surface. Tifa stared at the drowned machine in horror.

An experimental series... Hojo...

She was moving before she was even able to form a coherent thought. Her feet, unbidden, carried her upstairs at a half run. One glance at the bathroom showed that Reno wasn't there, and she strode down the hall toward the room he'd had as his own since the beginning. Even as she began to think, 'This probably isn't a good idea...' she wrenched the unlocked door open.

Reno sat facing away from her, sitting in front of the vanity mirror over the washstand. His shirt, unbuttoned, had fallen from his shoulders. His back, no longer hidden with bandages was covered with strange scars, and his spine was a black line pressed out against his skin, much darker than it should have been. There was something in front of him - that metal contact lens case. The mirror showed a few of the scars on his chest; the new ones, still raw and pink, and much older ones.

All of those details, she remembered later. Now, all she saw were his eyes. One was the normal blue-green. The other glowed with its own internal light, something the was far too familiar with - the glow of mako. She put two and two together easily. Mako eyes. Special contact lenses to hide them. An experiment.

Reno stared at her, his face pale with shock, his eyes wide. Suddenly, he stood, driving his hand back into the mirror. In the stillness, it sounded like crystal thunder as it shattered into a thousand pieces around him. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to knock?" he demanded, his voice cold and shaking with fury.

She slammed the door and ran, down the stairs, through the bar, and out into the street. Only pure luck prevented her from careening into the side of a building or in front of a car; her eyes were clouded with memories, of the things that Hojo had left behind, of the horrors that she had shared with Cloud. She didn't stop running until she was out of the town, among the cliffs. There, she slipped on a patch of gravel and fell heavily on her knees, sliding to a halt. The pain and the shock of seeing her own blood snapped her back into rational thought. "Stupid!" she hissed between her teeth, slowly standing back up. "What were you thinking? What the hell are you running from?" She hobbled over to a rock and sat down with a thump, trying to collect her scattered thoughts.

Reno was, somehow, one of Hojo's experiments. He wanted to keep it a secret, obviously, and she'd violated that in the worst way imaginable. What had been done to him? What had happened to him? She barely knew the slightest detail of what had been done to Cloud, and it was enough to give her nightmares. She hadn't wanted to believe the horrors that Cloud had endured; she was even less prepared to deal with the same for Reno. And what a selfish thought that was... She chased herelf in mental circles, unable to find a course of action to take.

Walking footsteps crunching on the same gravel that had tripped her up brought her attention back to the here and now. Luck wasn't with her; it was Reno. He'd taken the time to button up his shirt and pull his hair back. Both his eyes glowed now. The look he gave her was chilly to say the last.

"Reno, I'm sorry..."

"Hush." He bent to inspect her knees for a moment, then picked her up, cradling her as if she weighed nothing. "No arguing." He carried her back down to the bar, not looking at her the entire time, not speaking. Anyone on the street that dared pay attention to them was given an icy look that made even the toughest man blanch. Tifa had to blink her eyes rapidly as they entered the bar; the sudden difference in lighting made her nearly blind, though Reno didn't seem to be having any trouble. With surprising gentleness, he set her down in a chair, then fetched the first aide kit. Wordlessly, he cleaned the scrapes on her knees and bandaged them.

Only after he'd inspected his handiwork and stood back up did he speak. He leaned against the table, his arms crossed over his chest. She couldn't help but notice the cuts on his right hand, some of them still oozing blood. "It was a bad contract," he said, his voice lifeless. "Tseng was school buddies with Rufus Shinra, so he trusted the little bastard when he handed us the contract. We missed a major loop hole in the expected services and disciplinary actions section. Heidegger happened to me." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his eyes filled with remembered pain. "Then Scarlet happened to me. Then Hojo happened to me. Again, and again, and again. It was the only thing that I could do." He shuddered, closing his mouth firmly.

"Reno..." she began, reaching out toward him. The pain was so raw that she could almost feel it.

He caught her wrist, and returned her hand to the arm of the chair. "Don't look at me like that," he said. "I didn't tell you this because I wanted your fucking pity. What happened to me, I brought on myself. So don't you ever look at me like that."

It would have stung less if he'd just slapped her physically. "Why didn't you tell us? We would have helped."

"And made us break contract? There is honor among thieves, Tifa, whether you want to believe it or not. Whatever glorious thing you're imagining, forget it. It's not any of your damn business anyway." His words were so bitter that it hurt to listen to him.

"Then why are you telling me now?"

Reno laughed. The sound didn't have even a passing relationship with humor. "I don't know. Maybe I was hoping you'd understand." He reached out and lightly touched her cheek with his fingertips. "Maybe I just don't ever want to see that look in your eyes again. I'm still just a man, no matter what they... did to me. You never have to be afraid of me."

Cursing herself as the worst sort of fool, Tifa covered his hand with hers. "I'm not afraid of you." She laughed. "I've eaten scarier things than you for breakfast."

In one motion, he pulled her up to him, holding her so tightly that it squeezed the air out of her lungs. "That's what I wanted to hear," he whispered, his cheek against hers. He drew back slightly to look her in the eye, searching for any hint of dishonesty. Then he lowered his lips to hers, his kiss demanding that she surrender.

A thrill ran down Tifa's spine and her eyes slipped shut, even as she reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair. His teeth grazed her lip and she gasped, which was perhaps what he'd intended. He pulled up the back of her shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on the bare skin of her back even as he deepened the kiss. She could do nothing but arch against him as her knees suddenly went weak.

Reno caught her before she lost her balance, pulling her back up, her weight completely in his arms. More by instinct than thought, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He drew back for a moment, a hungry smile on his face and need raw in his eyes. "Why haven't you told me to stop?" he asked, his voice genuinely puzzled.

She was aching with a need of her own, now. "I don't want to." She pulled his face back down to hers, kissing him fiercely.

He carried her to the nearest wall, resting her still bare back against the warm wood . He went from her mouth to her neck, biting gently at first, then harder when she tightened her legs around him. His shoulders trembled, even as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of her skirt. "I think," he murmured, his voice husky, "that you're making me afraid of myself." His erection, restrained by clothing, pressed against her thigh.

She traced the lines of his cheekbone with her fingers, marveling at the tiny scars she found. Gently, she tilted his chin back up, so that she could look into his eyes. She felt like she would drown in them if she looked too long. "You don't have to be afraid," she said. "I'm here." Reno moaned softly, capturing her mouth again as she pulled his shirt open, scattering buttons across the floor. After that they were far too occupied to speak.

Someone knocking on the door downstairs woke her. She rolled her eyes up, barely able to catch a glimpse of the window, which was afire with sunset. It would be her customers, then, wondering why she still wasn't open. There was no way for her to get up without waking Reno; she was wrapped securely in his arms, his chin resting on top of her head, their naked bodies pressed tightly together.

He was already awake, though. "What is it?" he asked.

"Customers."

"To Hell with them."

"I really should - " Whatever else she was going to say was lost as he kissed her and drove all thoughts of customers out of her head.

It was dark when she woke up again, chilled with only a thin blanket over her. The steady warmth of Reno was missing, his part of the bed cold. There were no sounds of him in the room, either. Worry gave her rather sore limbs life, and she scrambled out of bed, pulling on the nearest clothes she could find. The bedsheets were tangled into a huge knot, and the room's chair had been knocked over - how had she slept through that? The top floor was dark, but she knew her way around so well that she could have found the stairs with her eyes closed. She hurried down them, drawn by a small spark of light from the bar.

Reno sat at one of the tables, a pack at his feet. He was staring out the window, but at her approach he looked back.

"What are you doing?" she asked, taking in his clothing and the pack in one glance. Her stomach tightened. She remembered the same look, the same everything from Cloud right before he had left for the last time. She wasn't going to let it happen again.

"Letter came this morning. I should go back to Midgar," Reno said.

Her eyes stung, but she kept her voice even. "You don't have to. You can stay here as long as you want. I think we've established that you can earn your keep."

"I could. But I shouldn't." His smile was a parody of his normal expression. He stood up, taking a step toward her. "I didn't want to leave without at least saying goodbye."

She took a step back. "This has nothing to do with a message from Midgar," she accused. "The mail doesn't come on Thursdays."

Reno laughed sheepishly. "You got me there." He took another step forward as she took another step back.

"Then what is this about? Were you just waiting until you could get into my pants? Wanted another notch in your nightstick before you left?" She kept backing away, hurt at the betrayal. She should have known better than to trust him. She should have known that he didn't have a decent bone in his body, that he was just out to betray her.

Her words hurt him a little, at least, she could tell by the pain in his eyes. "It's not like that at all," he said.

"Then what? What is it? Why do you have to go now, of all times!" She ran into the bar; it made a solid line against her back. She didn't have anywhere else to go.

Reno stepped in close, cradling her face in his cool hands. He forced her to look up at him. She could find no dishonesty in his eyes. "I never told you how I came to get stabbed in the middle of your bar, did I?" he asked. "When they tried to hire me to kill you, I told them where they could stick the contract. They said fine, they'd just have some of their own men do it. So I came here, and I waited, since I knew they weren't smart enough to give it a couple days. It was my own damn fault I had a little too much to drink, because frankly knowing that if you had an idea I was here you'd throw me out was kind of depressing. When the fight started, I got the guy with the knife off your back."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked. The tears she was barely holding back threatened to spill from her eyes.

Reno leaned down and kissed her softly, tenderly. "I guess I'm trying to explain that I care for you, as much as I'm capable of caring for anyone." He kissed her again, and hot tears dropped on to her cheeks. Reno was... crying? "While you slept, I dreamed, and I remembered. I remembered what it sounded like when you screamed in pain, and I remembered trying to break you in half with my bare hands." A bitter smile twisted his lips. "I was right... you'd have sympathy even for the Devil if he walked in your door. I've got so much blood on my hands, Tifa, and I can't stop. It's who I am. It's what I am."

"No... don't do this, Reno..." she begged, uncertain of what he was intending to do but knowing it would destroy the feelings she'd barely mended together.

There was the sudden sharp smell of ozone, and pain lanced through her head. Her body went stiff and burned like fire as electricity coursed through her. But how? Reno hadn't had any materia with him. It ended as suddenly as it began, and she went limp, darkness clouding her vision.

Gently, Reno lowered her to the ground, kissing her one last time, his fingers laced through her hair. His tears fell on her face, hot and fast. "I can't ever be the person you want me to, Tifa. I'm sorry, and I love you. Goodbye."

'But,' Tifa thought as she faded away from consciousness, 'if I love you as well, it's because of who you are, not who I want you to be...' She tried to say as much, but none of her muscles seemed to be listening to her. The darkness swallowed her whole.

When she woke the next morning, stiff and sore from being shocked and then spending several hours on the hardwood floor, he was long gone.