Forgiven
It played like a broken record.
Once Reno left her, Tifa retreated to her room in a stupor. The realization dawned on her after slipping between the sheets, hitting like a freight train to deliver a mixture of restlessness and marvel. Sleep mostly evaded her as the night's events kept her wide awake, the beat of her heart resistant in dropping its rapid pace to a steady thrum.
When the morning sunlight slipped through her bedroom blinds, she attempted to place the picture on pause—she would have to relish in the memory another time.
Unfortunately, her mind had other ideas; returning to the moment when his warm breath clawed against her skin and his lips claimed her own. How all of her defenses collapsed at the taste of him, and how she eagerly consummated his offer.
She was aware of the additional consciousness that invaded her senses throughout the union; a mental ghost she tried to forget. Instead of blocking him out entirely, she interwove him into the liaison and created a point in time where she had exactly what she wanted, even if it was only part pretend. It hadn't been her immediate intention when she accepted his offer, to fuse the lost object of her affections with him, but its manifestation she inevitably embraced.
Descending the stairs and stepping into the bar, she noticed the broken glass first, retracing her footsteps to the supply closet, recalling it as her last destination before she was intercepted. A chill slithered along her spine in remembrance as she made haste of her work, collecting the shards into a dustpan.
Her mind scattered from one image to the next, much like the fragments splayed out before her. The task was finished in a sort of haze, moving on from the floor to the countertop as per her regular routine. Guiding one of the chairs into its designated table, she envisioned them there; two bodies melding together in union, joined by their mutual appetence. Her hands trembled as she pushed in the rest.
Concentration was utterly decimated. She stared into the open air as her body responded to the visions, a spark of an electric current surged unimpeded as she traveled back in time. She wanted to lose herself in that lustful revelry all over again.
Giggling voices and playful footsteps sounding down the steps forced her to shake out of her contemplative trance. Pushing her most recent memories into the corners of her mind, she proceeded to make breakfast in anticipation of Marlene and Denzel's growling stomachs and a visitor to greet them all.
It was Barret Wallace that would arrive that afternoon, gracing the home with his larger than life presence. His continued work with the World Regenesis Organization (WRO) kept him particularly occupied for long stretches of time. With his hands directly in the weeds in locating additional energy fields, his work for the people and the Planet was a never-ending obligation. It was probable his need for repentance for his own troubled past would never relinquish its hold over him, and he would continue to lose precious time with his loved ones—the greater good was always calling to him.
He was dearly missed by them all, Marlene especially, and his appearance was due to rectify that.
The man always brought a levity that she hadn't noticed was missing until he returned. The laughter, the smiles, the swearing all culminating into a welcome ambiance of family that nearly made her weep with joy. The children's attention was solidly engrossed with him and his grand tales around the Planet while Tifa tended to other household affairs. He held a surprising amount of patience for Denzel's one hundred and one questions and Marlene's incessant correction of his grammar and admonishment of his swearing and both were all too excited about their trip.
A four day weekend was hard to come by for Barret, but with additional hires and a bit of forward planning, he secured the rare opportunity and took advantage of it. And he couldn't think of anything better than sand, sun, and family. Tifa was typically against the children missing unnecessary school days, but given the circumstance, she simply couldn't argue. However, she opted to stay behind despite the persistent requests to close the bar and head to Costa Del Sol with them. While she loved Marlene and Denzel like her own, essentially being their sole caretaker was taking its toll. She would be grateful for the break and was looking forward to being alone for a change.
Evening fell before Tifa would open the bar to the public, keeping it closed through the afternoon to spend some quality time with the trio before they would depart the following day. While it was likely on his mind and on the tip of children's tongues, no one brought up the elephant in the room during their time together. She preferred it that way.
It wasn't long before Reno trekked through the door behind Rude. They claimed their familiar stools and she served them their normal drinks as pleasantries were exchanged. On the outside, all appeared normal.
It became impossible to suppress the emphatic hammer of her heart between her ears, obnoxious and deafening, as her nerves sought steady ground. While the events of the evening prior were left unmentioned, she felt a shift in the air between them. Something had changed.
Perhaps it was her imagination.
Reno presented himself as somewhat of a substitute for her pleasures and desires, and she rode them out like a wave from the ocean that all but drowned her in its vastness. Taking part in the act was beyond any behavioral trajectory she could have foreseen, having so thoughtlessly fallen for the charismatic charms of a self-professed ladies' man. Yet, despite her colorful accusations, it would be a lie to say she hadn't wanted it...wanted him. Now that the deed was done, her vision of him was no longer so clear, seeing him differently, and it left her extremely conflicted.
And there was of course, the other matter.
For years, perhaps a decade, her attention had been fixated upon her childhood friend; the spiky haired ex-Soldier who promised way back when that he would save her, be her hero. The childhood promise was essentially fulfilled many times over, and she also had her fair share of saving him in turn. But with time came growth and maturity, and with that maturity came a change in priorities. As fantasies from this young impressionable girl became tainted by reality over time, so did her vision of companionship. She just couldn't rely on him to 'save' her anymore. She wondered if maybe the Turk was right, that she was indeed wasting her time on a roamer.
The projection infinitely looped on of their tryst, recurrent and consistent in her purview as she tended to patrons, cleared and cleaned the bar and tables while simultaneously engaging in small talk with those who needed a friend. She wasn't sure if she was subconsciously avoiding the Turk duo, but Tifa found herself stuck between avoidance and intense observation.
When Reno nearly caught her less than cautious stare, she abruptly broke her gaze to focus on something else, anything else to distract her. Color rushed from her neck to her ears, recalling the searing heat of their intimacy. Two consciousnesses joined together, she took him until the flames had all but scorched her raw and the release from years of sexual tension burst forth like a firestorm. But the conclusion of their one-night romance was not without some lingering guilt and regret.
There was a peculiar feeling of remorse in the aftermath that intensified when she saw him, wondering how he must have felt to hear another mans' name. However, he was her proxy, right? The vessel to do what she would with him, and it was in this that allowed some fragment of justification.
Still…it just didn't feel right.
Tifa worried she may have been overthinking it all. It was one night; no strings, no binds. Just two people, two friends, sharing a moment of carnal pleasure. Be selfish.
The mantra didn't come easy and convincing herself 'that's all there was to it,' wasn't either. She felt terribly confused and anxious from it all—as if that were anything new.
The creak of the stairs alerted her to Barret's arrival from above. He descended the stairs with a grin; time with the children always lifted his spirits.
Those spirits crashed once he set his sights on the Turks.
They turned their gaze to him with cool regard as the air grew thick with tension. She held her breath as the scene unfolded, hesitant to intervene as all roads would likely lead to conflict.
There seemed to have been an unspoken agreement between them, however. Without contention, the pair collected their drinks and occupied their old corner table, their backs to the walls as a silent precaution.
Tifa felt a lump in her throat as Barret claimed the spot Rude had vacated, like a dog marking its territory. Like Cloud, he was unhappy with their company but was quite a bit more physically and verbally candid about it.
She placed an Edge Elixir in front of him, waiting for the pressure around him to dissolve into a less oppressive aura.
A few minutes passed before Barret spoke up, predictable and dripping with venom. "Them Shinra cronies still show up here? I swear to God and all that is Holy, if one of those mother fuckin' Turks' sneezes wrong, I'm takin' Big Bertha outta retirement and unloading a full belt into each one of their no good Shinra asses."
She further tensed at his hostility toward the gentlemen, shaking her head in disapproval. She did all that she could to keep her line of vision from trailing in their direction. "I don't want you shooting up anyone in my bar, Barret."
"Come on, Tifa." He leaned forward, his thick baritone dropping something akin to a whisper as a dour smirk spread across his mouth. "Jus' say the word, and I'll send 'em back to the swamp from where they spawned."
A sigh of exasperation escaped her as she leaned in to follow suit, keeping their conversation hushed. "People can change, you know. They have been rather helpful in settling some of the disputes when things get a little out of hand here." Among other things.
Barret scoffed, seemingly unimpressed by the information. "They must have some ulterior motive. People don't change, Tifa. Least of all Shinra rats."
"Reeve was in Shinra," she countered, "and you're working with him. He technically double crossed us using Cait Sith as his tool. So, isn't it possible that they saw the light too?"
"He didn't exactly try to kill us all," he hissed, nostrils flaring.
"Maybe not directly. But the Turks…they did aid in the Meteorfall evacuations of the Midgar Sectors, and they helped with the Remnants, Sephiroth. With Geostigma," she reasoned. "Maybe we should give them a chance to prove that they mean to really change things?"
The irony wasn't lost on her. As someone who had lost so much from the Shinra Electric Power Company, there she was defending its employees, former and current. There was a time that she would have been just as reluctant as her friend to accept the potential change of heart but given her consistent exposure with some of its prominent members, it was impossible not to shift her perspective. And if she were ready to admit it, a little something else triggered her defense. But of course, she wasn't keen on facing that truth just yet.
He bristled at her words, frustration clearly displayed within his brown eyes and his rigid frame. After several moments of what seemed to be careful reflection and consideration, his argument visibly deflated, his shoulders relaxing as he glared at the beer in front of him. "Shit...maybe. But I still don't trust 'em."
"Just like I told Cloud," she briefly noticed the pain in her chest wasn't much more than a dull throb that passed as quickly as it came. She also noticed Barret's attention shift to her, as if waiting for something to break with the mention of the name, "they are paying customers who have given no reason for me to refuse their service. They are also frequent visitors...it's good for business."
He waved his metallic hand dismissively, nursing his beer in defeat, "Okay, okay! I get it – but I'm watching them; and you should too."
A smile. "I definitely am."
As their exchange came to an end, Tifa suddenly felt as if her skin were burning to cinders. She pulled back from her friend and slowly turned her gaze toward the Turks. As engaged as they appeared to be in their own private discussion, she could have sworn she'd felt the heat of his gaze only moments ago.
A silly bit of wishful thinking she reasoned, even as she found her own gaze lingering a touch too long in his direction.
Did he put any thought into what happened last night? Was he so used to his love 'em and leave 'em mentality that their time together was out of his mind after he left her company? Was he angry that she thought of someone else during their time together? She simply didn't know.
Maybe it was better that way.
Barret nearly caught her glazed expression and heavy stare before pulling herself from her anxious inquiries and returned to her work.
Tending to a small party at the end of the bar, she just barely spied the two Turks making their exit. It was quite unlike the duo to be so abrupt, yet she supposed a farewell was out of the question given that there was an obstacle of a man in the way. Still, a feeling of anxiety pooled at the base of her stomach. She felt foolish as she followed their fleeting figures as the glint of a familiar broken shard of glass caught her eye. Glowering at the fragment, she thought it might be mocking her.
Try as she might, her habitual fail-safe of ignoring it all was no longer proving effective, the internal mess continuing to accumulate and grow. Still, she drowned herself in her duties—distractions were all she had for now.
Reno always had a bit of a wandering eye, interested in tasting the various flavors the Planet had to offer. They each had their own unique nectar—no two ever the same. His powerful curiosity kept him moving from flower to flower, anxious to sample and savor until he fluttered off and located the beguiling scent of another.
Tifa Lockhart was his most recent flower, one he didn't think he'd ever get to taste.
Before this, the allure of random women began to slowly lose its appeal, the chase not quite what it used to be. It was fuzzy, when the thrill of the pursuit began to fade, but it sure as hell agitated the shit out of him. What was once a simple kind of existence was becoming more complex, and Reno sincerely disliked complex situations.
There was something else that bothered him which he found to be an even greater mystery. It shouldn't have mattered to him, honestly. It certainly wasn't the first time that happened. He made a deal with her and she accepted the terms and fulfilled her end of the bargain. He essentially asked for it.
So what if she called Strife's name during the height of her ecstasy? Why did that matter so much to him? It shouldn't, but it did; and it was absolutely infuriating. Deliberating why he gave a shit was twisting his mind into a frenzy of monumental perplexity. He couldn't understand why this time, of all times, it would be so pointedly different than the others.
He sat through a meeting with his fellow Turks' while pondering these quandaries.
Tseng was at the helm of the discussion, providing details of an upcoming rendezvous between Rufus Shinra and Reeve Tuesti. It seemed the intention was to become officially intertwined, some sort of financial negotiation as each organization either sought atonement for past transgressions or moved forward to improve prosperity of the Planet and recover new energy reserves in lieu of Mako. With Shinra money and WRO.'s vision, the two would be a winning combination.
Focusing was thoroughly impossible for Reno, capturing bits and pieces of the assignment as he found himself turning the events of the previous night over, trapped in a fog of perpetual confusion and distant longing to recreate the endeavor. His conscience was loud and foreboding, bellowing in rare form how unwise such an idea would be. He couldn't get her attached, it reasoned. The nice ones always fell hard, and he didn't enjoy their tears of woe any more than he enjoyed kicking a puppy.
But he had a habit of playing with fire, even if he was bound to be charbroiled to the bone.
Aside from Presidential guard duty, it would appear not much else would be required of them. The Turks, once a small brigade of assassins, kidnappers, spies, and anything else that Shinra deemed necessary, was not much more than high profile security guards these days. Borderline meaningless and mundane, but it was better than having any more blood on his hands.
Those hands were stained through and through. It wasn't until he was clearing Sector 4, after the Calamity, had he realized just how complicit he had been. He often looked at his assignments as just a job and suppressed any thoughts of remorse from his mind in case he grew an inconvenient conscience. But despite his best efforts, one formed and grew anyway, making deep roots and expanding beyond his control.
He wasn't the only one either—Rude was plagued by guilt as well. He could see the reluctance in his stature during some of their past missions and scattered moments of unusual hesitation. Had Meteor not fallen, he wondered if his partner might have broken ties on his own before Rufus realized being a pseudo dictator nearly killed them all, much like his father before him. Try as he might to be a cold hearted bastard, the guy was soft as a cotton ball once the rock hard layers were peeled back far enough.
Rude asked to join him at Seventh Heaven later that night, and a flutter of doubt had him waver in accepting the request. He still hadn't quite come to terms with what happened between himself and Lockhart, and he wanted to make sure she was alright with the arrangement. It was to be one night, and that's it.
There was something about his friend's mannerisms that had him reconsider. Something was evidently troubling him, and he was interested to know what. Perhaps he just needed a bro's night. It could be like old times – before he got himself tethered to a ball and chain.
It was the first time in a long while Reno felt actual trepidation before setting foot in any establishment, let alone a bar. While he maintained his externally confident bravado as he crossed the threshold of Seventh Heaven, internally he was a bit apprehensive. The feeling was foreign, as was the mild churning in his gut. He allowed Rude to take lead, slipping into their usual spots at the bar.
It took him but a moment to locate her, his eyes locking on like a magnet. Remaining calm and cool, he flashed an impish grin as he signaled for their usuals. He projected nothing more than his normal, sardonic self and kept his mouth shut when it came to their dalliance from the night before.
But he couldn't stop thinking about it.
Could she?
Having fulfilled their orders, they exchanged brief small talk before she buzzed away to assist other customers. There was nothing in her actions or demeanor to suggest anything was on her mind aside from her current responsibilities. She was too good—and he didn't like that at all.
Whether it was his ego or something more he wasn't certain, but he knew he was daunted by her ability to seem utterly unfazed by his presence. He expected a shy smile, a twinkle in her eye, something. He thought he saw her looking his way, but as he shifted his attention from his beer to her retreating form, he felt an odd swell of disappointment.
He should have known, having made it a pastime to observe her as she stuffed all other emotions away while none were the wiser to her grief and sadness. But he knew – he always knew. Yet here she was, successfully concealing any hint of emotion or lust or yearning she might have had for him. Then he remembered.
She called someone else's name.
Why the fuck did that bother him so Goddamn much?
This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to successfully be detached. Instead, his palms were sweating beneath his fingerless gloves, and he had trouble ignoring her voluptuous figure. Erring on the side of caution, he cast causal yet penetrating glances her way as she moved about; tending to customers with elegance and grace, the hint of smile here and there, a kind word or compliment, sometimes a flirtatious wink, utterly innocuous yet tantalizingly delightful.
He pulled a smoke and lit the end with steady hands while the restless beat of his heart was throbbing in his skull and the bounce of his leg was indicative of his frustration.
Maybe he would try to have her once more, to scratch his incessant, exasperating itch. It didn't matter whose fucking name she called out, that's all it really was after all—an itch.
Wasn't it?
"Hey...nine o'clock," Rude muttered at him.
In his peripheral, he spotted a familiar man standing not more than a few feet from the pair. As he turned to look at the massive figure—unflinching beneath his murderous glare or the threat of his metallic fist—he caught Tifa's figure stiffen at the sight of him. It was clear by Barret's stature and puffed up chest that they were unwelcome, but they were also aware he had no authority to throw them out. Deep seated hatred wasn't just cause for their removal and they all knew it.
Lucky for him, the Turks were capable of compromise.
Without a word, Reno gripped his cigarette between his lips as they took their drinks and left their favorite stools behind, retreating to the corner table they had at one point grown very fond of.
They proceeded to sit with their backs to the wall, taking cautionary measures in the event someone got a little testy and went for the sneak attack—not that Barret was very capable of stealth. Regardless, they didn't want any trouble and had a growing reputation of keeping the peace, not spreading disorder. Challenging the Avalanche member was a fools' errand and would most certainly put Reno out of favor with his favorite barmaid.
A few minutes passed them by, the mood settling into neutrality before the habitually quieter of the two spoke up. "Cassie hates Shinra"
He hadn't spoken to the girlfriend much outside of their initial meeting, Rude preferring to take his time with his new romance before officially introducing her to the inner circle. He liked to play for keeps. "Gee, so do most of the people in this town. Didn't you figure that shit out before you started banging her?"
Rude stiffened slightly, taking a drink from his Whiskey. "It's personal with her. We experimented on her brother."
Of all the things Shinra was responsible for and participated in, the experiments were some of the worst. It left thousands of lives in shambles—the victims and their loved ones' alike. It was an everlasting domino effect. "Oh. I guess that really hits home." He paused, brow lifting curiously. "Is she leavin' you or something over it?"
"No. But it got me thinking." He removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose in thought. It was a rare sight to see his hazel eyes. "Do you think we can be forgiven?"
It was clear his friend was troubled, the weight of their past pressing heavily on his shoulders. It was easier to ignore when you didn't have someone who suffered at their hands, whether directly or indirectly, to go home to. Turks often avoided courtship; getting close to anyone was risky for a plethora of reasons. Reno was witnessing one of them firsthand.
"She's really done a number on your head, hasn't she?"
The slight narrowing of Rude's eyes was enough for him to realize dodging wasn't going to work this time.
Questions like these made him personally uncomfortable. Acknowledging their misdeeds was bothersome, sometimes painful, and he tried to avoid being stuck in the past. He really didn't want to admit that he often wondered the same thing.
"Yeah, yeah. I know." He sighed and took a drag from his smoke, the exhale slow and deliberate as he gathered his thoughts. "I don't know. We've done...a lot. Most of it I personally wish I could take back, but we aren't exactly time-travelers. Hojo didn't live long enough to figure out that formula. I don't really have an answer."
Silence overtook the table, both lost in their separate contemplation. Reno wondered then, what it truly meant to be forgiven. Is forgiveness being forgiven by those who your actions directly affected? Was being forgiven forgiving yourself? Was it all of the above? Adept in psychology he may have once claimed, but this was one area of expertise he did not excel in nor a subject he traversed often, if ever.
Rude returned the shades to his face, obscuring his eyes from view once more. "Reeve offered me a job at WRO."
Reno didn't disguise his disbelief. "Seriously? I heard through the grapevine that they were on the prowl for new recruits, but I didn't think they would pluck straight from the hand that feeds them, yo. When was this?"
"Recently," he answered. "Details aren't worked through."
"Damn..." Reno whistled, leaning back into his chair, "Rufus is sure getting fucked in this upcoming deal."
His sights drifted to Tifa, engaged in a seemingly tense conversation with Wallace. Her features were tight, possibly attempting to smooth the discord caused by their arrival.
Observing intently, he felt his self-control begin to wane as he watched her with interest, recalling just how soft and plush her lips were against his own. His hands twitched with the memory of her skin beneath his palms, smooth and taut. His suit began to chaff at the vision of her body pressed perfectly to his own as she took him, rode him, controlled him.
Just before she tossed her glance and caught him, he snapped from of his imagination and returned his attention to Rude—who had been observing him the entire time.
His expression projected indifference, but the beat of his heart increased its tempo.
"You'd be making a mistake, Reno."
"Excuse me? Is someone jealous?"
Rude quirked an inquisitive brow to his partner. "Of?"
Reno laughed it off, but he nearly showed his hand. Given Rude's reaction to his hungry stare alone, dropping the bomb of he and Tifa's shared an experience was out of the question. "Well, you aren't exactly a free man, so there goes your window of opportunity, buddy. I'm fair game."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Save yourself the trouble. You don't stand a chance, anyway."
"Strife ain't here, yo," Reno said. "That why you never made a pass? Afraid big bad ex-Soldier-not-soldier boy would come and swoop his Princess right from under your nose?"
For as long as they'd known them, Tifa and Cloud were something of a pair, yet it was difficult to ascertain how official they were. Reno still didn't know. What he did know, however, was Strife could be off God knows where, and she'd be waiting patiently for his return.
It bothered him, that dedication she had to him, but like many things over the past several weeks, he wasn't sure why.
Rude's countenance grew pensive. "It's not Strife, it's us." He sighed, "I have no right to touch her...not with what we've done to her."
The statement struck Reno in a way that he had trouble deciphering. It took residence in his mind, but it was an entity too foreign for him to understand just then.
A persistent buzz suddenly sounded from the Rude's coat pocket.
He pulled the phone free and flipped it open. Reading the text, a rare smile both genuine and tender appeared on his face. He must be in love. "It's Cassie. I've gotta go." He stood, adjusting his blazer. "Are you staying?"
Reno spied a glance toward the bar only to see Tifa occupied with a small group at the far end. Another look to the large Avalanche member perched there made his decision for him. "Nah, I think I'll call it an early night."
Together, they exited the bar, Reno taking lead this time. A cool breeze brushed against his skin, chilling the thin veil of perspiration that layered his skin. The cigarette between his lips flickered in the wind, wisps of milky tendrils coiling and fading into the night air. He looked to his friend, eyes heavy with thought. "Do you think we can be forgiven?"
Rude responded with a small shrug to his shoulders. "Don't know. Maybe getting out from under Shinra's thumb could help."
Reno chuckled, but it was mirthless. Shinra was at one point the face of evil, and they were the men and women who helped carry out some of their most heinous atrocities. He didn't believe leaving Shinra would remove the blood from their hands, forever soaked in sin.
He thought of Tifa then, how over time she had opened herself to his friendly advances and spoke with him on a level likely reserved for close acquaintances and perhaps even friends. They shared a moment of time he couldn't shake loose, a one-night affair he apparently wasn't so quick to let go.
Reno snuffed his cigarette beneath his shoe, grinding it to ash and fiber. "You know...I'm changing my answer. I think we can be forgiven. I don't know what it takes, or how long it takes, but we can. If you can find the love of a woman who suffered at the hands of us, well, anything's possible."
"I'm sure you're right."
Reno smirked at his partner. "Ain't I always?"
Even with the self-assured declaration, Rude's earlier admission resounded through his mind like a hollow drum.
I have no right to touch her...not with what we've done to her.
It haunted him all the way home.