"Are you sure?"

"Almost positive. He came into the shop, put his sunglasses on, and bought a gun."

"How much was it?"

"I dunno. It was expensive, maybe around 600?"

"You're sure it was him then?"

"Sure as I can be."

It seemed like ages ago that Marlene had been shot, when really it wasn't even a week. Tifa had tried to forget about it; Marlene's shoulder had healed, there was no reason to remember it anymore. But Barret hadn't let her forget. Barret never let her forget.

He brought it up over and over again, saying it was all Shinra's doin', an' they were destroying the planet, and all that. He would talk about the burning of Corel, even though it was painful for him, at least five times a week. Tifa didn't want to hear it. Towns burning, it reminded her too much of Nibelheim.

Sometimes, she wondered if he kept bringing Corel up because it was the only way he could deal with it all. But if that was the case, at the very least he could be more considerate towards her. Couldn't he tell that she didn't want to hear it?

None of the others seemed to mind; Barret's ranting was like some kind of battle call for them. Tifa began to think there was something wrong with her, not being affected by his strong speeches, so she spent her time with the only other person who minded; Marlene.

There was much more to the auburn-haired angel than one saw on the surface. She was innocent, and yet somehow not. Though it often seemed her only concern was her favorite doll's hair, Tifa knew that the six-year-old was very aware of all the corruption around her.

Yet she remained innocent. She was sweet and beautiful, and had a voice resembling that of an angel. It was in the way she spoke; she was curious about everything, but asked questions as if she already knew the answer.

They were like sisters, though for Barret's sake Marlene called her "Auntie Tifa". It was strange, being called an aunt when she was only ten years her senior, but Barret would be Barret, and it was best to keep him happy. The two of them would usually play cards while he organized "the troops". Biggs once commented on how she was more a baby-sitter than a terrorist, and Tifa agreed with him to some extent, though she never said so.

Marlene wasn't just a baby-sitting charge; she was a lesson in survival. The girl's beauty was a mystery to Tifa, having lost any beauty she once had ages ago. Midgar had taken it. It had taken the beauty of many children as well. Why not Marlene? What was different about her? Maybe, if she spent enough time with her, she could regain a little bit of her own lost beauty, lost happiness.

Barret didn't understand her. Nobody seemed to, but Barret was a little more important than the others. Somehow, someway, he had managed to raise this angel, and he didn't even realize it.

Granted, he had taken over the role of a father figure to her, if only because of her relationship with Marlene. He tried hard, though why he bothered remained a mystery. There were lots of mysteries around those two.

They were all there then, Barret, Marlene, Jessie, Biggs and Wedge. Biggs was saying how he had sold the bald shooter another gun. Jess was toying with the one he had dropped, digesting the information as they all were. Tifa didn't really see the point, but she listened all the same.

"You're sure you have no idea why he would shoot at you Barret?" Jess asked, turning to look at the big man.

"Sure I'm sure! I've said that a hundred times already, haven't I?"

"I didn't, —"

"Sure ya didn't! Ya never mean anything by it! That's what you wuz gonna say, wasn't it?"

"Barret —"

"What if he comes back? What if he shoots at Marlene again?"

"Then we'll deal with him Barret, but it would help us if we knew why he was after you."

"No it wouldn't! None of that shit matters! All that matters is that some Shinra asshole has gotten it in his head to kill either me or my girl!"

"Barret, we should get going," Biggs said calmly, looking at his watch. "Maybe we can find this guy before he finds you, huh? Jess can run a search on her computer and try an' find him, right Jess?" he looked over at her.

"Well, actually there's not —"

"Right, Jess?" he asked again, stressing the words.

"Uh, yeah, there's probably some sort of search I can run through the database. It may not give us the best results, but it's worth a shot."

Barret grunted. "Alright, lets go run this search-thing. C'mon Marlene, we're leavin'. Say g'night tuh yer aunt."

"'Night Auntie Tifa," the girl said, walking over to her dad and holding her arms up so he could lift her onto his huge shoulders.

"'Night Marlene."

"G'night Teef," Barret said, turning towards the door.

"Night Barret, see ya guys."

"Bye," Wedge said, waving as he walked out of the bar. Jess and Biggs followed, Jess muttering under her breath to Biggs, who tried his best to escape her and catch up to Barret and Marlene.

Tifa smiled a little, then walked back behind the bar to serve some customers. Black had called earlier to say he wouldn't be coming in that night, so Tifa had been free to speak to her friends without fear of losing her job.

It was probably about an hour later when someone walked up to the bar and tapped on it to get her attention.

Tifa was crouched down on the ground with her back to the counter so she couldn't see who it was, but by the grunts and mutterings of the other customers, she could tell it was no one good. Tifa's hand reached for the frying pan, as she tried to mentally calculate how far away the drawer with the gun was. Deciding that she could she could take care of any problem with her fists, she left the frying pan on the shelf, and, rising slowly, turned around to face whoever wanted her attention.

She soon found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Caught completely off guard, Tifa fumbled around for the handle to the drawer that held the gun. The other customers shifted around in their seats, wanting to do something, but knowing what would happen if they did.

Black and four of his buddies were there, the former holding the gun up in her face. Tifa thought she had never seen him so out of it. He was drunk, that much was certain. He didn't look good, as if he'd been beaten up or something. She wondered who could possibly beat up the massive owner of The Black Hole.

"What d'you think yer doin'?" he growled, his voice slightly slurred.

Mouth wide open, she searched for the words, but none came out.

"My buddies tell me yer part o'some rebel group. Izzat right?"

Tifa looked desperately over at the customers, but they only shrugged and held their hands up. There was nothing they could do.

"I don't need no rebels in my bar," he continued, waving the gun in her face.

"B-but Black, I'm not a rebel. I mean, c'mon, me? I just, I look after this girl sometimes; her dad's been talking about starting up a group. I wouldn't join even if he did."

"Yer lyin'."

"No! I'm not! Honest!"

"Anyone who says 'honest' is lyin'," one of his friends said. The others muttered in agreement.

"Really, Black, c'mon, snap out of it. I'm not a rebel. I don't want anything to do with that kind of thing." She was backed up against all the bottles, wishing she had gone for the gun. There was no point wishing, her only chance now was if someone else made the first move. None of the customers wanted to.

"I don't need no rebels in my bar!" he repeated, yelling now. He stopped waving the gun and aimed it right at her. "I don't need no trouble. I've lost good business cuz of you. Those last two fights; they were all your fault! You're costing me money bitch!"

She saw him get ready to fire and squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to look. Hoping she could duck down in time, she held tightly onto the shelf and prayed that someone would help her out.

The gunshot came and went without a bit of pain. Tifa slumped down on the floor and gasped for breath. Eyes still tightly shut, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and leaned against shelves.

This was different than in the reactor. Not because it was a gun instead of a sword, but because there was no pain accompanied with the bullet. The darkness that surrounded her wasn't as thick as it was last time; it no longer suffocated her. It was light, almost unsubstantial. Tifa felt as if she could just float around in it. It was so peaceful; she wondered where her friends were.

A voice, but it was one she didn't know. It was cold, and uncaring. Where was it coming from? Why wasn't it happy to see her?

"Get up. You're not dead."

She opened her eyes slowly, and immediately shut them again. Minutes passed before she dared to open her eyes again. When she did, it was to the same sight as before.

Black had fallen over the counter, eyes wide open, staring at her. His mouth was hanging open a little, and blood was dripping out of it. Whoever had shot the bullet, they hadn't hit her.

She stood up, and nervously shoved her former boss off the counter. Taking a deep breath, she took in the scene around her. Two of Black's four friends were also lying dead on the ground. Two of the customers were dragging out a third; Tifa recognized one of them as the man with short, misshapen fingers. He was dragging out his friend.

Pushing hair back from her face, she grabbed the gun still in the drawer and followed the two of them outside.

They dumped him around back, where the bodies from previous fights lay. They were back in the bar, presumably to retrieve another body, before her eyes turned to the only other person alive there; the man who had shot Marlene.

He looked at her for a moment before walking over. Taking off his sunglasses, he put them away in his coat pocket and took the gun from her shaking hand.

"You cost me a lot of money you know," he said in his calm, cold, voice.

Tifa recognized it as the one that had informed her that she was not dead. Her mind still not working properly, no reply came to mind. She stayed silent, going over all the things Zangan had ever taught her.

Seeing that she was not going to reply, he continued. "You could have died tonight."

"I would've ducked," she said, trying her best to match his cold tone.

"Didn't look like it when I walked in," he paused. "Why did he want to kill you anyway?"

"Said I cost him money."

"You cost me money."

"He was drunk."

"So am I."

"You don't look it."

He laughed and walked past her towards the bar. "In that case, how 'bout getting me a drink?"

"We're closing for the night."

"I saved your life."

"We're closing early."

He ignored her and walked into the bar, still holding the gun in his right hand. Taking a deep breath, she followed him inside.

Some more regulars had pitched in with the cleanup effort, and the rest of the bodies were being dragged out around back. She stopped walking and watched them pass, trying to suppress a shiver. Shaking the sight from mind, she hurried to catch up with the bald man.

He walked over to the bar, reached over, and opened up the drawer. Dropping the gun inside, he sat down on a stool and turned around to face her.

"So where's my beer?" he asked, reaching back into his pocket for his sunglasses.

"We're closing early, I'm not selling anymore drinks," she walked around the bar and began cleaning up.

"I could kill you, you know."

"So what?"

"You don't care about your life?"

"Sure I do, but there's not a helluva lot good about it, so I say, go for it."

She was risking it, and she knew it. This man had tried to kill Barret; he could do the same thing to her. If it weren't for the fact that her instinct told her he was no immediate threat, she'd probably be reaching for the gun right about then.

He chuckled, and looked up at the clock. "When's your shift over?"

She followed his gaze and looked at the clock, it read 10:55. "Five minutes," she answered, wiping the blood off the counter with a wet cloth.

"Come for a walk with me."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to."

"I think I'll pass, thanks."

"Come for a walk with me."

"Why? So you can kill me?"

"So I can help you."

"I don't need help."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't." She was getting a little fed up with this stranger.

Who asked him to save her life? And what made him think he knew everything about her?

He stayed silent for a bit, then stood up and began moving the boxes back to their original positions. By then, everybody else had left the bar. The other customers came back in, and after talking to her quietly for a bit, left as well.

He stayed. When she finished cleaning up, she went outside to lock the doors. Angie, her replacement, was walking up the road, and Tifa explained everything to her.

Angie was a dramatist, so Tifa wasn't surprised when she "nearly fainted" after being told that Black had tried to kill her.

"Us waitresses need to stick together, eh? C'mon, I'll take you somewhere to get your mind off of it."

"No, I'm fine. Look, I'm gonna try and open the bar tomorrow night, so can you come in for your regular shift?"

"There's no one to pay us! Are you insane?"

"We can run it ourselves, can't we?"

"You're weird. You sure Black didn't get your brain or something'?"

"I'm sure."

"Whatever, look, if we're out of business, I'm outta here. See ya 'round Teef."

"Bye."

Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder with an air of superiority, Angie waltzed back down the road towards the station.

Tifa cast a glance towards the stairs. He was still there, hidden in the shadows. Doing her best to ignore him, she took a deep breath and walked down the stairs, refusing to look his way.

"I wasn't aiming for the little girl," he said, his voice coming as if from nowhere.

She stopped, but didn't turn around. "You were aiming for her father."

"No, not him either."

"Then who were you aiming for?"

He walked out and put a hand on her shoulder, but didn't say anything. Walking past her, he headed towards Sector Six and said, "Come for a walk with me."

"I can't believe you made me do that! Biggs, you're gonna pay for this." Jess said. She was seated on the ground outside the Pharmacy in Wall Market. Her, Biggs and Wedge had just escaped from the clutches of Barret, who had forced Jess to run every search possible on her computer for over an hour.

"It was past Marlene's bedtime."

She snorted, "I somehow find it hard to believe that you put me

through all that just cuz it was past the little girl's bed time."

"Yeah Biggs, what's the real reason?"

He reached into his pocket and took out a small, crumpled piece of paper. Waving it in their faces, Biggs made sure to keep it just out of reach. Wedge ran around Jess and snatched it away.

He looked down at it and examined the contents. "Who's number?"

"None of your business," he said, grabbing it back. "I'll tell ya one thing though, it was well worth spending an hour with Barret."

"I don't get it, when did ya meet her?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out." He looked over at Jess, who was inspecting a scrap piece of metal she had found lying on the ground. "Hey, what do you think's up with Tifa?"

"What d'you mean?" Wedge asked, looking back over at Biggs.

"Well, she didn't say anything all night, 'cept to Marlene. It's like she only joined so she could hang out with a little brat."

"I dunno, it's kinda weird though."

"She didn't want to join us; Barret probably just talked her into it. We don't even know her," he continued.

"We don't know Barret either," Jess said quietly.

"You stickin' up for her Jess?"

"No, not really."

Wedge snorted loudly, obviously not believing her.

Jess looked over at him angrily, "Hey, you got a problem or sumthin'?"

"No, I just think it's kinda funny."

"What is?"

"You're lying skills."

"I wasn't lying!"

It was Biggs' turn to snort in disbelief. "You were so lying," he said, leaning against the entrance to the Pharmacy.

"I was not. I was only saying that—"

"Y'know Jess, sometimes I think you side with the people nobody likes, just so you have an excuse to argue."

"What! Now where the hell do you get that from?"

"I dunno. That's just the vibe I'm getting. It's either that, or you have a crush on Tifa."

"Biggs, that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Why do

you have a problem with Tifa anyway? She doesn't seem that bad."

"You're defending her again," Wedge pointed out.

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Ah, now you're defending yourself."

"Shut up Biggs. Geez, you guys are so stupid."

"Typical. Now you're resorting to a weak retaliation in order to

draw the attention away from yourself."

"Biggs—"

"Hey, is that Tifa over there?" Wedge asked, craning his neck to see better.

"Who's she with?" Dropping the piece of metal she had been playing with, Jess stood up on her tiptoes trying to see.

"I dunno, it looks kinda like that guy who shot Marlene."

"Biggs, you're just trying to—"

"No, I think it might be. Look, he's bald."

"There are lots of bald people in the slums. He's probably her neighbor or something."

"Mebbe, but I'm a hundred percent sure that's the guy I sold the gun to."

Wedge nodded. "It's definitely him. Wonder what he's doing with Tifa."

"Wonder what Tifa's doing with him." Biggs muttered. Turning to Jess he added, "Care to defend her now?"

Jess glanced over at him and muttered something unintelligible before turning to watch Tifa disappear with the mysterious bald shooter in the crowds.

"Where are we going?" she asked, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

"For a walk," he answered, neither slowing nor turning.

"Pretty fast walk."

He stopped and turned to face her. "If you don't want to come, just go away."

"Well you didn't leave me much of a choice there, did you? If you weren't after Marlene or Barret, then who were you after?"

He stayed silent for a moment, looking at her through his dark sunglasses. "Curiosity killed the cat," he muttered to himself. Turning slowly, he walked away.

The apathetic crowds made way for him, unaware that they were even doing so. He walked through them unchallenged, heading even deeper into the heart of Wall Market. Tifa watched him go, then sighed and shook her head. Pushing her way through the crowds once more, she struggled to keep him in sight.

Rude stopped when he reached a little known area behind Corneo's mansion. He was away from all the hustle and bustle of the market now, and stood with his back to the entrance, waiting to see if she would follow him.

The wall of graffiti that now stood before him seemed to represent the gloomy, sometimes rebellious air of the slums. 'Fuck Shinra', it read in large, green spray-painted letters. A padlock sealed shut the entrance to a tunnel that had once led out of the city. Shinra had discovered it and closed it down with the help of then-struggling businessman Don Corneo. He struck a deal with the company, agreeing to help stop the illegal emigrants from opening the tunnel up again. In exchange, Shinra paid him a lot of money to keep his business afloat. Corneo got paid enough to build his mansion directly in front of the entrance, killing any hopes people in the slums may have had that they could open the tunnel again. Needless to say, Corneo was not well liked among those who hoped to get out of Midgar.

"Hey! Hey, wait up!"

"Does it look like I'm going anywhere?" he asked with just a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

She made a face and walked towards him. "What's with you eh? Why'd you bring me here, of all places?"

He nodded towards the wall. "Look at that and tell me what you see."

"Graffiti. Why?"

"Do you know who put it there?"

"People. Again, why? What does this have to do with Barret and Marlene?"

"Rebels wrote that. Not very well, but they wrote it."

"What's your point?"

"Rebels are in the slums. They—"

"That's nothing new. Look, why don't you just tell me whoever it was you were trying to kill, so I can leave?"

He said nothing, and continued to look at the massive wall of graffiti. She waited for a minute; then, convinced he wasn't going to say anything, turned around to leave.

"They killed my dad."

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him. He hadn't moved since she'd gotten there, but now he was standing with his hand on the wall. Funny, she thought, I never heard him move.

An awkward silence followed his statement. Tifa moved towards him as silently as she could, not wanting to break it. She put a hand on his shoulder and he turned his head to look at her.

"Why'd they kill him?" she asked softly.

He shrugged. "I didn't even like him. I don't know why I care that he's gone so suddenly."

"Because he's gone so suddenly."

He looked at her strangely, not quite understanding what she was saying.

She sighed and moved away. "You weren't ready for him to leave yet. You may not have liked him, even thought you hated him, but now that he's gone you think you may have changed your mind about him."

"Since when are you the expert on the subject?" he asked, turning and sliding down the wall so that he was sitting on the ground.

"My dad's gone too you know."

He thought about that for a minute. The idea that she could be as lost as he was startled him. He'd never thought there was anything to her. She was always just another face in the crowd.

"Did rebels do it?" he finally asked.

She shook her head. "Shinra." When he said nothing, she continued. "He was always just the guy who got mad if I stayed out past curfew. After mom died, he changed, and got too busy with his work to pay attention to me. I hated him for it I guess, but I was still sad when he died." She sniffed a little, then coughed. "I wish he were here now."

"You had a curfew?"

She glared at him. "I'm from out of town. It's a lot smaller where I come from, and yes, we all had curfews. Whether you paid attention to them was a whole other story."

"So you've lost both your parents?"

She nodded, kicking the ground with the toe of her shoe and biting her lip. Nibelheim wasn't a pleasant memory, it was a painful one.

He stood up and dusted off his pants. Walking over towards her, he stuck his hands in his pockets and was relieved to find that someone in Wall Market hadn't stolen his gun at some point. He wasn't supposed to pay for the thing in the first place.

"Do you wanna go get something to eat?" he asked.

She looked at him, puzzled by the sudden emotion in his voice and the quiet way he spoke to her. Shaking her head, she looked back down at the ground.

"Where do you live? I'll walk you home."

"Thanks, but I can take care of myself."

"Maybe, but I'll walk you home anyway."

She smiled at him and nodded. He put his arm around her shoulders and the two of them walked through the crowds that parted before them. They took comfort in each other's misery, and left behind them the wall of graffiti that shrieked a warning neither saw, nor noticed. Above the 'Fuck Shinra' was another message. It was written in sloppy writing, and seemed to be going crooked. In spray-paint the colour of blood it cried out for caution.

'Trust no one'…