Title: smoke and mirrors

A/N: For the Cloti BB, I am once more attempting a chaptered fic. Wish me luck!

Summary: Midgar, a city full of promise, a city full of darkness. A city of humans and a city of magic. Tifa was used to straddling the line between the two worlds, whether it was as a detective by day or a bartender by night. After a fire destroyed everything she knew and loved, she now lived life just struggling to make ends meet.

At least, it was until her childhood friend Cloud stumbled back into her life once more. Now a hired hand, Cloud was colder than the boy she once knew, with no intentions of reconnecting after years apart.

Yet, when he's pinned for a crime he didn't commit, they have no choice but to work together as they discover just how filthy Midgar's underbelly can get. And maybe uncover the truths of that fateful fire that tore them apart in the first place.

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The Avalanche Detective Agency was a simple place with simple rules: always get your client's payments upfront, don't take any shady tasks, and maintain the privacy of your clients. But there was one rule above them all: don't insult the clients.

It was also the rule that tried Barret's temper the most. The tension was palpable inside the tiny office. On a good day, it was comical to see the giant hulk of a man sit on the small, yellow couch, the soft seats sinking underneath his weight, his dark skin contrasting against the brightly painted walls. Every part of him looked too big and awkward for the space, even if this closet of a room was the best they could both afford for their business. Even the pinstripe suit they got for cheap just barely fit his massive frame.

Today, though, he towered threateningly over their client. The petite woman sitting across from them looked like a mouse facing a tiger, though she didn't seem aware of just how close danger loomed. Tifa smiled stiffly as she sat next to Barret, watching him from the corner of her eye in case his thin thread of sanity snapped. The telltale signs were there: the tightening of his jaw, the twitch in his eye, the way he was starting to actually swear instead of keeping swallowing the curses down.

Any minute now, he would blow.

Heaven help the suburban housewife. Her broad-brimmed hat wasn't going to protect her. Maria's hands clasped on her lap tightly as her eyes narrowed, her red lips forming a pout. "Are you certain she isn't cheating? She's been working late every day now."

"No," Tifa repeated for the nth time, not trusting Barret to answer anymore. To be fair, the client was testing her patience too. She could barely keep civil herself. Her right hand formed a fist and she discreetly punched the couch. "She's merely working late."

They'd gone over this several times already. They'd investigated this matter for months by now. No matter how many questions Maria posed, the answers wouldn't change. You'd think she'd be happy to know her spouse was loyal.

Maria crossed her arms and looked away with a huff. Disappointment was etched clearly on her features. "If you're certain…"

Barret twitched. His prosthetic left arm started to heat up and she prayed he wasn't actually going to activate the alchemy stored within the artificial appendage. "Lady—"

"We are," Tifa interrupted immediately. They couldn't afford another hole in the office. They also couldn't afford another suit for either of them. She was down to her last pinstripe.

"Tsk." Maria scowled. A gloved hand reached into her purse and she pulled out a thick, manilla envelope. Sliding it across the table, she said, "I don't believe you, but here's your payment as promised." She tapped it, her glare deepening. "But if I find out she's cheating, you won't get out of this unscathed."

"You're lucky to get out of this unscathed," Barret grumbled under his breath.

They were almost out of this. Tifa elbowed Barret in the gut without dropping her smile. "We'll keep that in mind, ma'am."

"Good." Maria stood up, clutching her purse tightly. With a last displeased click of her tongue, she spun on her heel and marched out of the room. Her stilettos clicked on the tiled floor angrily.

The second the door closed behind her, Tifa heard something crack next to her. It was a sound she knew all too well. She sighed. "Barret, we can't keep buying new mugs."

"Sorry." He did not sound sorry in the least. "Still can't control this new-fangled arm of mine. The strength isn't the same as before."

"Uh-huh." She gave him a disbelieving look. He'd said that last time. And the time before that. It had been months since he'd upgraded the prosthetic. At this point, she was certain he was lying so he'd have an excuse handy for times like these. Still, a mug was better than a door or a face, so she let it slide.

"Crazy dame," Barret grumbled, sweeping the shards of the mug into his hand. "It's like she wanted her wife to cheat."

"It'll help her divorce settlement." As the words left her mouth, Tifa was hit with a wave of exhaustion. Just when had she gotten so jaded? Back when they'd first started their agency, she'd been so eager to take on jobs. They'd help people, right wrongs, make the city a better place.

Now she knew better. Most of their clients were after more mundane 'justices' and personal gains. Affairs, lost pets, business leverages, and alternative wills—every case felt petty and she was starting to dread the small chime that rang each time the door opened. Tifa felt as grimy as their smog-polluted city, as though the lies and grudges were darkening her soul as much as the coal and gas did the sky.

"I told you we're not doing any more of these boring cheating cases!" Barret grumbled, getting up and dropping the mug shards into the nearby bin. "Let 'em catch their husbands. We've got better fish to fry."

As much as she wanted to agree with him, they'd be out of business in a month. Reality was cruel. Tifa sighed again. Maybe she really was getting jaded. "We'll go in the red, Barret. We can't reject them, it's our bread and butter."

"Sometimes you need jam." Barret scowled as he leaned against the wall. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor. "I want a real case."

"You and me both, but they're just not coming." Tifa stretched her arms above her as she relaxed back into the plush sofa. For something they found in a second-hand shop, it was in surprisingly good shape. "Our name's just not big enough for those yet."

She glanced at their door. The brass letters on the glazed window still gleamed as brightly as it had a year ago, when they'd first rented the place. In all honesty, they should be proud they'd even gotten this far. When Barret first suggested the partnership three years ago, they'd worked out of closets and on the street, grinding to the bone every day to get even a single client.

Now they were in a proper office. She'd hoped that'd mean proper cases, but in the end, it was just more of the same. There were other, better places for troubled clients to go. Agencies with well known names and connections. Detectives were a dime a dozen in this town.

"We'd do a better job than those two-bit con-artists," Barret said crossly, as though he read her mind.

She knew the incoming rant by heart. She also knew how to avoid it. Tifa pointed at the clock on the wall. "Hey, doesn't Marlene's school end soon?"

"Huh?" Barret glanced at the time and paled. "Shit. I'll be late." Without a second thought, he bounded to the coat rack and grabbed his hat and coat, slinging them off his arm. Without looking over his shoulder, he shouted, "I'll leave closing to you!"

"Of course." Tifa chuckled, expecting that. She waved as he disappeared through the door. "Say hi to Marlene for me."

The door shut with a soft click. Now it was just her. The only sound in the room was the ticking clock. Tifa glanced at the picture on their desk of her, Barret, and Marlene. They were dressed in ratty suits in front of their office's doors, all smiles as they celebrated their opening. Just looking at the four-year-old girl, it was obvious she was his adopted daughter. Seated on her father's shoulder, she looked even tinier compared to his giant bulk. More importantly, her grey wolf ears poked out of her hat, her tail curled around her waist.

A werewolf, an orphan, and an idealist. The three of them made an odd family.

Tifa chuckled as she stood up and walked over to the window. Through the blinds, she watched as Barret dashed down the busy sidewalk, the sea of people parting to give him way. The narrow, crowded streets of their side of town were filled with all sorts of people and magical beings. Even up here, she could spot an elf and a dryad.

It had taken her a while to get accustomed to the sight. When Tifa had been younger, she'd only known the edges of magic. An ancestor of hers had excessive strength and his powers had diluted through the generations until she had a much-weakened version of his skill. It had been treated as a fairy tale, almost forgotten except for the odd bursts of strength when someone lost their temper.

And now she lived with a man with a magic arm, his werewolf daughter, and they did cases that sometimes landed them on the more enchanted side of life.

A flash of gold caught her eye and Tifa leaned closer to the window as she tried to catch sight of it again. Unfortunately, it disappeared, leaving her with only an ache in her chest at the thought of yet another childhood memory.

Cloud.

Just how long had it been since she'd last seen him?

Would she ever see him again?

-x-

The Seventh Heaven speakeasy was crowded, as usual. While it didn't take more than a bottle of moonshine and two chairs to make a speakeasy, Seventh Heaven was big enough to accommodate a cool thirty patrons at time. Mismatched chaises and chairs littered the bar, men and women of all races mingling together like no one's business as they shared a drink and a smile. In a place that was already breaking the law, social norms were a forgotten thing.

On a small platform, a black woman in a fur stole serenaded the audience. Her sleek blue dress sparkled in the dim light. A pale man with long black hair played the piano next to her, his fingers flying across the keys in elaborate patterns.

Tifa barely had time to listen to the song as she poured drink after drink. This had been a side job at first, more for the money than anything else. There were bills that needed to be paid and the trifling they made at the agency would have kept them in the red. Now, though, her role as a bartender had come in handy more times than she could count. There was no better place to keep an ear to the ground. Her drunk patrons were always eager to share a secret or two.

"Hiya, Tifa," Jessie said as she slid onto a bar stool directly across from Tifa. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a practical ponytail and her business suit indicated she'd just come back from a job. Despite that, she looked as fresh as a daisy, her eyes bright and smile even brighter.

Tifa felt weary in the face of her eager informer. After standing for hours, she just didn't have energy to do more than a smile. Pulling out a glass, she nodded her greeting and asked, "The usual?"

"Do I even have one? I ask for something different every time." Jessie laughed, stretching her arms behind her back. From the corner of her eyes, Tifa noticed several people turn to the cheerful woman. And Jessie noticed it too, her smile turning flirtatious as scanned the room. She wouldn't be going home tonight.

"You always have the same one after a job well done." Tifa opened a rum bottle and poured, watching as the amber liquid ran over the ice before covering it entirely. Cracking off the top of ginger beer, she carefully filled the rest of the glass with it before topping off the drink with a lime slice.

"Aww, you know me that well?" Jessie turned her seductive smile to Tifa now and batted her eyes. There was a reason she was popular. It was hard for anyone to say no to that face. "Makes a girl feel real special."

Tifa didn't bother to comment. Knowing Jessie, she was only half-serious. Pushing forward the glass, she changed the topic. "Thanks for the help."

"It was an easy job," Jessie scoffed, her hand delicately curling around the glass. "Stalking someone is child's play. Give us a harder one next time."

"Only if we get one…" Tifa bit back a sigh, remembering her day so far.

Jessie hummed as she took a sip. Licking her lips, she gave her approval. "Good as ever. You sure you don't want to just stick to bartending? I know a place you can make big bucks."

Tifa snorted. How many times had she heard this offer? Clearly, Jessie was getting a cut from the place. She shook her head as she pulled out another glass for the next clamoring customer. "I'm not in it for the money."

Her companion scoffed, "With the way you run your agency? That's obvious."

She flinched, unable to deny it. It was the roaring twenties and it seemed like all businesses were booming but theirs. "We're getting better."

"Uh-huh." Jessie shot her a disbelieving look. Her eyes narrowed. "Barret scared away another customer, right?"

Tifa almost dropped the glass. "How'd you—"

"You look like you're under a cloud." Jessie grinned, tapping her glass with a finger. "You're not the only observant one here."

She bit her lip. And here she thought she'd been hiding it. Weakly, Tifa defended her partner, "He barely held it in."

Jessie pouted and took another sip. "Awww, too bad. Guess I owe Biggs a buck."

"You really shouldn't be betting on this." Rerunning Jessie's words through her mind, Tifa scowled. "And you really shouldn't be betting that we'll lose a customer! It's not good for you either."

Shrugging, Jessie rolled the glass between her hands. "So, you got a new job for us?"

Tifa stiffened. Embarrassed, she rubbed her neck. "That…not yet."

"Darn." Jessie downed the rest of her glass and licked her lips. Setting down her glass with a soft clink, she smiled predatorily. "Guess I'll just have to find some fun for tonight then."

The woman looked like a panther on the prowl. Tifa never fully understood how Biggs' and Jessie's open relationship worked, only that it did. "Just be careful."

Jessie grinned. "Aren't I always?"

It's Tifa's turn to snort. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Mildly offended, Jessie scanned the various tables and seats. "Does it look like—oh, is that the Don's new man?"

"New man?" Tifa leaned forward, trying to see whoever Jessie spotted. While she was used to cigar smoke trails in the air, it sometimes made it hard to see faces, especially those further away. "I didn't hear anything about that."

"You gotta keep your ears open." Jessie leaned back against the bar. Her voice lowered slightly. "The Don hired a merc a few weeks ago. Said it's to 'beef up his security during the election', but he's probably just paranoid a rival gang's gonna snuff him out."

Tifa shuddered. Nothing good came out news with the Don. He was infamous in Midgar, his hand in almost every black market in the city. Brothels, speakeasies, drugs, and more—you named it, he had business in it. Despite his sleazy appearance, he was good at his job and the cops were either in his bankroll or unable to gather evidence against him. "He isn't even running for the election."

"Does it matter if he did?" Jessie asked bluntly, shrugging her shoulders lazily. "Shinra's gonna win the re-election anyways. Bet he'll stuff the ballots."

Tifa curled her hand into a fist. Despite how well known the corruption was, it was impossible to do anything about it. "He might not win."

Her words sounded weak to her own ears.

"He will." Jessie rolled her wrist, unphased by it all. She'd lived in this town longer than Tifa had; maybe at some point, Tifa would get used to it too. "He's got plans for our side of town. No way he's gonna let anyone stop him."

It was a depressing thought. Tifa couldn't shake it off. "So, the merc he hired—is he any good?"

Jessie jumped for the topic change. "I don't know, but he sure does look the part. He uses a gun blade that looks really customized. Wedge and Biggs just want to run their hands on it. Me, on the other hand…" Jessie smirked wickedly as she trailed off. "He's hot and runs cold. A real challenge."

Rolling her eyes, Tifa flicked Jessie's arm. One day, her flirting would get her into real trouble. "He's dangerous."

"So he's a bigger challenge." Jessie rubbed her skin. "Don't worry, I won't bite off more than I can chew."

Tifa derided the very idea and rolled her eyes. "Tell that to Biggs and Wedge. What was that guy's name, the one you—"

"Hey, that was one time!" Jessie whined, glaring at Tifa. "You're never going to let that go."

"It was twice, and no, never letting you forget that." Tifa suddenly felt a brief pang of pity for her father and her teachers. She'd been a brat as a kid. This felt like karma.

Jessie grimaced. "Fine. Twice. It won't happen a third time." Straightening up, Jessie fluffed her hair slightly. "I think I know how to entice him."

"Where is he?" Tifa squinted as she peered across the room. She could salvage today with at least one useful piece of information. It was always good to know the Don's movements and men.

Jessie gently tapped Tifa's chin to the left. "Right there, the blonde fellow."

Just as she said those words, Tifa's eyes landed on a familiar shade of gold. Slouched on a seat, a man with spiky hair lifted his head as though hearing them. Bright, electric blue eyes met hers and Tifa almost dropped the bottle in her hands.

Cloud.