Alone
For the first time in a long time, Tifa was alone.
Barret and the children left that morning to embark on their coastal adventure. The keys to Cloud's villa exchanged hands, having received a spare set some time ago and found it silly not to share the property with family. Its owner often forgot it even existed.
Their time together before the inevitable departure was largely uneventful, until an innocent inquiry from Denzel nearly sent her into a downward spiral.
Do you think maybe Cloud is there at the Villa?
She was at loss then, unable to understand herself why his hero found it necessary to venture off. She wondered if somehow she was at fault, that she did something wrong to drive him away again. She couldn't know – it was difficult to get inside his head, all jumbled, muddled, and locked up like a steel trap. The future looked hopeful for him after Geostigma, but his gradual retreat told a different story, one she was unable to translate. The exodus was a subject rarely broached, but within her own extended misery she failed to see the extent of the damage it might have had on the young boy. She tried to be everything for him, but it wasn't enough. She hoped one day it would be.
Upon their exit, when she heard the rubber hit the road, the familiar coils of loneliness enclosed around her heart but in normal Tifa Lockhart fashion, she rebuked the emotional cascade that threatened to drown her and deflected her attention elsewhere.
Her mind wandered to the moment just before they left, when Barret introduced the idea of doing something for herself in their absence, to take some me time. It amused her that he was the second man to encourage some sort of self-care – she must have really seemed frayed around the edges.
But what would she do? Read? Deep clean the bar? Organize cabinets? The surface thoughts were laughable, discovering that she had been so engrossed in the normal day to day that she'd driven away any desires or passions she may have been able to manifest and feed because she waited for something, for someone, that may never come. She'd put her life on pause for an apparition.
How long was long enough? When was it okay to move on, to accept that your endless optimism and hope was no longer useful? Limitless support was provided to the wanderer, and he was seemingly allergic to his loved ones. Perhaps the time had finally come for her to take hold and move on with her own life without feeling as though she may be leaving him behind. Guilt – it had no place here anymore.
As a flurry of enthusiasm fluttered to life, she took a ballpoint ink pen and tore a sheet of paper from a notepad by the register. Wheels began to spin in rapid succession, jotting down anything she wanted to do within her lifetime. It didn't matter how menial or extreme the idea, it was ending up on that list.
Surf, paint a portrait, learn the Samba, buy a punching bag, learn to operate a helicopter all made the draft. Even slightly more mundane things like nap and less time overthinking were added. Her smile was bright, feeling a renewed sense of excitement for the future. She'd removed the heavy weight that held her down, and little by little she would move forward with a purpose. They would be brought to life, every single bullet point. She'd make it her new mission.
On a roll, she had included a few additional entries before she stopped cold, slow to realize what she'd done. In delicate, purposeful strokes, she read the name out loud, over and over, echoing off the walls like the soft timbre of a bell:
Reno.
The revelation struck her. Buried within the recesses of her mind was a man she couldn't quite shake away. His presence, whether in the flesh or dreamscape, encapsulated most minutes and hours she dared to recollect. It was an admission that was frightening and exhilarating all at once. The forbidden fruit that might ruin her should she dare another taste. Was there even a path for this hazardous endeavor? Obstacle upon obstacle, endless reasons why pursuit of any kind was dangerous or futile in probability. The most important query had presented itself then, and she simply didn't have a solid answer:
What did she really want?
The question she continued to ponder as the bar opened on its nightly hour and found herself glancing down at that list now and then throughout the night, tucked between the counter and register. Her eyes were drawn to one entry alone, the tips of her fingers gingerly brushing the indented print. The name and the man triggered something that had laid dormant. She knew who he was, there was no question about that – the sardonic Turk with a flaming red mane, piercing aqua eyes and a salacious reputation that made her toes curl if she thought too much about it – but that didn't seem to matter to her anymore.
And where did he stand? Should she dare ask? The thought of doing so all but petrified her, pulse booming to her eardrums. But perhaps there were ways to uncover the mystery indirectly. She wanted to know. She wanted more than just to know. She wanted…
It was late in the night when he arrived, just before close. His typical Turk suit was rather disheveled, more so than normal – it actually looked like he may have slept in it. The sight was a curious one, assuming perhaps it had just been one of those of days. She could certainly relate.
The earlier buzz of the establishment had died down to a whisper, sighting only one other customer across the way that was at the tail-end of his beverage. She couldn't help but feel the apprehension fill her gut as Reno took his usual stool. The last time they had been together without the buffer of their respective friends was during their intimate interlude. Her eyes fell to the very spot of their liaison and she quivered with the memory.
He took a quick survey of the bar and its lack of clientele before turning to her with tired eyes. "No bodyguard tonight?"
Tifa pressed the chilled Cosmo brew she'd retrieved upon spying his arrival into his awaiting open palm. "No bodyguard. He and the kids are gone for a little while."
"That so?" he asked, tapping his fingers against the side of the perspiring bottle.
She sensed a distance, and it shook her resolve. Perhaps it was a bad idea to pursue.
It didn't seem to stop her.
She pressed her palms against the counters' edge and boosted herself with the tips of her toes, casually leaning forward. She was quite mindful of how she presented herself to him in that moment – the low-cut white top providing ample exposure to her assets, the pressure from her arms accentuating the view. "Three whole days. It'll be nice to have some time to myself. You know, so I can be selfish."
This seemed to catch his attention. It flickered to the center of her chest before he caught himself, redirecting his sights to her face. He pointedly avoided her eyes however, staring between them. "Oh yeah? And what are you planning to do with all this time to yourself, Ms. Lockhart?"
Tifa shrugged, tilting her head in mock contemplation. "I don't really know. Thought maybe you could give me some ideas."
Whatever coldness that had been present before was beginning to thaw, his face loosening from its neutral countenance and becoming slightly more animated. A twinkle appeared in his eye. "Have a drink with me, after close."
Butterflies took flight, full of life and flapping away. "I don't know…"
"Afraid to be alone with me?" his tone was playfully suggestive.
The color rose to her cheeks faster than she could turn to hide it, fiddling with a cloth to wipe down the counter that was already spotless. "Of course not."
He took another drink, his focus on her remained steadfast. "Then what's the problem, yo?"
She remembered the list and how not long ago she was determined only to falter in execution. Why was her foot applying the brake already?
Mentally shaking herself from her uncertainty, she returned his gaze, the deep flush of her skin settling to a soft pink tint, "There's no problem. Let's do it."
Reno watched as she closed up shop, addressing the lingering customer that he didn't have to go home but he couldn't stay there. With a wobbly shuffle of the visibly inebriated mans' feet, he left and Tifa locked the door behind him.
His head was an unspeakable mess. The booze he'd consumed earlier hadn't helped, leaving him tired and drained. His time with Shinra was just another foggy workday filled with paperwork and filing, feeling closer to a desk clerk than anything else. It at least provided a needed distraction since the nightmare began when he returned home.
Within the confinements of his apartment, he ingested copious amounts of alcohol and watched the most lewd and scandalous content he had on hand to alleviate the itch himself. Yet no matter how violently he'd scratched, there was no relief to be found.
Falling in and out of consciousness throughout the night was one of the more pathetic displays of his existence. Lying fully nude on his living room floor, Rude's words repeated incessantly within his skull and all he wanted to do was wipe his mind clean of the last 48 hours so he couldn't remember her heart-shaped face or her plush lips or the grip of her thighs around his waist or how a voice in his head was trying to convince him it was all so wrong and toss himself into hell already.
All attempts at talking himself out of visiting Seventh Heaven, to stay in and call up a gal from his little black book to take the edge off, failed. Ultimately, something much more powerful guided and brought him to her. Still unsure as to why these complexities were so overwhelming that he couldn't just say fuck it and ignore it all, he inevitably succumbed to the glow like a moth to a flame. Knowing he'd burn for it, he threw on his crumpled suit anyway and somehow made the trek in slow-motion blur.
Despite the Siren's call, part of him still tried to resist, a last-ditch effort to create some sort of detachment between them. It was only supposed to be one night, yet his internal resolve had been floundering from the first time he'd touched her. But of course, she effortlessly destroyed his attempts not so much with her actions, but with her words:
Be selfish.
It felt like a code, and secret call to arms. But he resisted – he had to.
Tifa returned behind the bar, flashing a coy smile his way. The unwelcome twist of his gut told him many things, none of which he was currently equipped to accept. She reached for a bottle of red wine and he called out to her mid-grip. "Hey, wait – let's be a bit adventurous and dive into something stronger. Ain't like you've got anywhere to go. Time to celebrate your temporary freedom." There was a voice in his head commanding him to pump the brakes, that he was about to run himself off the road.
She peered at him, curiosity swirling. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you're trying to get me drunk."
"Can't get anything passed you, can I?" The impish grin was alive and well on his features in response. "Come on now, let loose a little. You don't have any kids to take care of, so what's a little hangover?"
This was dangerous. He was partway to stumblesville himself and his decision-making process was already encumbered. But Reno was nothing if not a risk taker, and he sped right past all warnings his subconscious delivered.
Tifa hesitated before pulling back from the wine and instead retreated to the kitchen. When she emerged, there was a full bottle of liquor in hand, its contents crystal clear. Swiping two shot glasses from the rack as she passed, she rounded the counter and took the stool beside him.
With his slightly blurred vision, he squinted to read the gold and green label. "Cactus Kick? Don't think I've heard of this one."
"And here I thought you'd be a connoisseur in all things mentally numbing," she teased, pouring for the two of them.
"I'm a high functioning alcoholic, mind you. Not exactly interested in its regional procurement. You could give me lighter fluid and if it does the trick, I'm in." She pushed the shot his way and he purposely brushed the length of her fingers with his own as he intercepted. The sharp shiver that transferred from her skin made him grin. "I'm more interested in how much you can handle."
Tifa reached for her beverage, eyes downcast as to avoid him. That rosy hue was back, and it equally frustrated as much as relieved him that she was holding back. "To be honest, I'm not much of a drinker. Here and there, special occasions, but it's not really my vice."
"Like the drug dealer who doesn't sample their own product," he snickered. "You're a pusher."
A lively smirk splayed over her lips and he felt his heart skip a beat. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said.
"Don't act so innocent, sweetheart." He brought the drink to his nose and felt the hair recede into his sinus cavity, "I seem to recall you lived in the Sector 7 Slums for some time. Pretty nefarious stuff was exchanging hands on those streets."
Her face fell blank, like a washed-out canvas, and he internally scolded himself for bringing up her old home. He was the Turk who carried out the order to destroy it and countless lives. How many was it exactly? He was almost curious enough to find out once, toward the end of the Shinra era when the Calamity almost ended life for everyone. Not one to actively live in the past, he stuck to the bottle and silenced the demons instead.
It was but a moment before the canvas came to life again. A kind smile spread across her visage, almost sympathetic in nature, as she raised her glass to him. "To new beginnings."
Shoving away the more unpleasant judgments his conscience was pushing to the surface, he threw his head back in tandem with hers and swallowed. His throat burned as the bitter fluid traveled to his stomach where it proceeded to sizzle. "Good Gods, woman. That's some strong shit, yo."
She recovered gracefully, much to his surprise. "Cloud received it as a gift for one of his runs." Her expression was indifferent in explanation. There was something she wasn't expanding on, but he didn't press her. He didn't want to hear about Cloud, anyway. He wanted other things he dared not vocalize or they would become far too real, and he wasn't prepared for it.
Reno planted his elbow into the counter and laid his chin into his palm. "So... you wanted ideas for things to do, eh?"
A glimmer of remembrance sparkled in her eyes. "Yes, I actually made a list, now that I think about it. Not necessarily things to do in three days, but just…in general."
His own lit up in interest and curiosity. "Let's see it."
She abruptly turned away to conceal whatever may betray her, hands fidgeting as she picked at her nails anxiously. "Oh, I can't remember what I did with it. But I can tell you some of the things on it."
"Uh huh." Suspicion danced, but he settled for pouring them another round with his free hand instead. The about face was a little odd, but he chose to let her off the hook this time, "Please share with the class."
"Napping," she mused, accepting the refill. "That might be my favorite one, actually."
He chuckled. "I do love a good nap. The best ones are in Tseng's office."
"Does he have a couch or something?"
"Nah, I just like pissing him off. If you ever wanna make the boss man mad, clear his desk off and sleep on it," he smirked wryly. She laughed, genuinely and purely. He fought to keep his hands steady as he gazed at her expectantly, lifting his glass to her. "To more naps."
Following his lead, she clinked her glass with his, downing the shot in a single gulp. The fire water seared his insides, but yet again she appeared to remain unaffected by its sting – it kind of pissed him off.
"Seriously, are you trying to kill me?" He coughed, pounding a hand against his chest.
"Says the guy who said he'd drink lighter fluid," she winked, a mischievous inflection to her tone.
"Aren't you a barrel of laughs," he huffed, moving to pour another. "What else?"
She looked skyward, as if attempting to recall the entries. He couldn't help but stare at the way her eyelids fluttered when deep in thought or how her lips pouted in her quiet deliberation. "Oh! Learn to fly a helicopter."
Reno looked at her inquisitively. Something was definitely different. "Where'd this sudden interest come from?"
"You mean...flying a helicopter?" she asked, slightly confused.
"This whole list thing, really. It's kind of...unusual for you."
The smile was soft and reflective. "I guess I just want a change. Be my own person."
"Well, that's right up my alley, yo." An enthusiastic grin spread over his face.
She swiveled on him with wide, hopeful eyes. "Oh yeah, you guys flew those things all of the time."
"And we still do." He wanted to choke back the words that pranced on his tongue, but his self-control was fading. "Looking to get a ride out of me?"
It took a moment for the innuendo to sink in, and the visible mortification had Tifa fidgeting. Scarlet rushed furiously to her face. "No! I mean…I didn't..."
He just couldn't help himself. "Ah settle down. Little do you know it'd be multiple rides, anyway. You can't learn to fly too fast or ya might find yourself a charred pancake. Same thing with changing."
She nodded, the color receding as she composed herself. "Of course, can't just rush in." She took in a deep breath and exhaled. Reno was very aware of the rise and fall of her chest in that moment. "I didn't mean to come on so strong."
"Don't worry, you didn't – I'll be sure to let you know, otherwise. You know though, we haven't discussed the most important part of the lessons: payment."
She rolled her eyes. "I seem to recall you told me I couldn't afford your therapy; I'm sure I can't afford your helicopter lessons, either."
"Oh, don't worry…I'm sure we can come to some kind of mutual agreement." The offer was as suggestive as could be.
Another shy smile, and he was nearly undone.
Reno pushed the refill to her and once again raised his own. "To future helicopter rides."
As they drank their third, the very real effects of the liquor coursed through Tifa, a liquid warmth spreading from her fingers to the tips of her toes. She felt flush, radiating a heat that made both her hands and neck clammy to touch. Time began to slow, all things moving a half beat off rhythm, and could clearly hear the heightened tempo of her heart beneath her breast.
A blink or two to clear her vision was barely enough for her to reclaim her wits. The bar around them was silent aside from the thump of her heart and the hitched breath from her parted mouth. She studied him then, from the sharp slant of his jaw to the way his lips curved into its signature grin. When she came to his eyes, they were staring back at her, heavy-lidded and fully transparent.
"Tell me what else you're going to do for yourself, Tifa." His voice was smooth and an octave lower than its normal pitch.
"From the list?" Another drink appeared in front of her, his already within his grasp.
"How about off the cuff," he gestured to her before taking in the fourth.
Tifa mirrored him, and she couldn't hide the scorch that singed her insides that time. She thought she heard him laugh at her expense, her features contorting of their own accord. Her lips tingled, and she slid her tongue along the trail of residue to relieve the sting. She heard Reno drop his glass on the counter, and she would have been amused if she didn't feel she may be equally uncoordinated.
"Do you have a suggestion?" she asked. It felt like a game, and in rare form she was anxious to play. Whether it was the spirit that altered her judgment, or she had come to this of her own volition she wasn't prepared to analyze. She had wanted to know where he stood, if this was all for naught.
When she looked at him again, the heat of his gaze was smoldering. "I can think of a few things."
Was she sweating? It felt like a furnace, with her hairline damp and palms perspiring. She hid them, pressing them against the top of her thighs. "Please, share with the class."
The throwback earned her a laugh, short and clipped. He leaned further forward, peering into her face as if to stare right through her. "I don't think this student is prepared to hear the assignment."
The room teetered for a moment, causing her to blink her vision back into focus. She felt her confidence grow as liquid courage swept through her veins. "You shouldn't underestimate your pupil – she might outperform even you one day."
He inhaled, long and full. His eyes reflected a raw and primal need as he continued to stare her down. She sensed he was trying to hold tight to whatever control he had left. It was a very familiar moment; one she had been longing to replicate. "Tell me what you want."
There was an involuntary snap inside of her. Tifa's mind reeled for her own sense of control, but her hands slipped from the reins and she found herself flailing for them. All she was left with was her unmistakable hunger for him and all he had to offer. Within those glassy, burgundy orbs, her wheels turned, and body shifted as she struggled to reposition herself – the heat between her legs calling for relief. A hand gripped the counter to keep balance, knuckles white with tension. She cast a fervent gaze before the name rolled off her tongue like plea. "Reno."
In a flash, his boot darted forward and hooked beneath the bottom rung of her stool. With a powerful jerk, it skid across the floorboards and nearly collided with his. She lost her hold, reflexes failing, and jolted forward before he caught her by the arms to slow her momentum. Eyes widened with surprise, but they were free of any inhibition – she wanted this.
But did he deserve this?
The bellow of Reno's doubts was drowned by the roar of his desires. He slipped his hands around the back of her neck, fingers diving into her dark tresses, taking hold. She couldn't look away if she wanted to, their faces mere inches apart and lips within dangerous proximity. "My name…say it again."
"Reno."
With his name like a shockwave to his pelvis, her mouth was his. Their lips danced, that fiery hunger released and consumed him. He felt her clutch his thighs, digging her nails to create crescent indention's through the fabric. Her actions encouraged him, his hands coming to rest on her bare waist, his grip firm and unyielding. He was rewarded with the increased fervor of her kiss, of which he accepted graciously.
Something broke open deep within his chest, growing hot and tender. It ached in the most delicious way, leaving him weak. It was unrecognizable, the feeling that suddenly flooded and threatened to overwhelm him. It twisted and constricted, pleasure and pain all rolled into one. He heard that voice again, shouting something unintelligible, but he was too wound up to pay it any mind, too anxious to hold Tifa tight, to take her in ways he'd only fantasized about. One night be damned – he'd make an exception.
She broke from him breathless, and he couldn't disguise the disappointment. However, she silenced his fears by taking his hand, slipping from the stool and silently leading him upstairs.
It hit him violently then, the liquor they had ingested. It felt as if his legs were made of cement when he hopped off and stumbled, each step forward a feat of the highest order. His vision was mildly skewed, but not so much as to not see Tifa struggle to keep straight. A giggle escaped her, and he knew she was a goner as well.
It was this display that caused his sudden hesitation, doubt that curdled at his core and allowed him to retain control over his arousal. The voice became clearer as he honed into its warnings, familiar and foreboding. Second thoughts were not synonymous with the Turk, but on occasion he'd pay them heed.
By some miracle they made it to the landing, and she wasted no time in claiming his mouth at the top that he eagerly returned, his hands roving over her body as they clumsily passed the children's' room. Tripping over their own feet, they crashed across the way and against a closed door in their haphazard trek to her bedroom, Reno taking the brunt of the collision. Tifa choked on her laughter, parting from his lips to bury her head into his chest to stifle it. Her cheek against his flushed skin was welcome, taking a moment to savor the connection as he wrestled with his inner demons.
He was being pulled in different directions, and he couldn't focus on anything long enough to decide either way. His inebriation wasn't helping either, only working to exasperate the already problematic circumstance.
She recovered from her amusement to look into his face in the darkened hall, eyes alight with mischief and desire. The warmth expanded within his chest as he thoughtlessly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The smile they shared left him lightheaded.
Pushing off from the door, he followed her lead into her bedroom. She fumbled for a light switch, then gave up to turn back and face him, bathed in the glow from the slice of moonlight that hit the window blinds.
He heard it now, loud and clear. That awful, callous reminder that embedded into his subconscious the moment it invaded his psyche. The more he'd try to ignore it, the louder it became. And there he stood with her, free to claim what he'd been yearning for – to ease the itch that plagued him.
Yet seeing her with hopeful, glassy eyes and a wobbling gait deflated any pleasure he would have garnered from the encounter. She'd be the one who'd get attached. He'd ruin her. He should protect her from himself.
Tifa approached him with shaky hands – with desire, nerves, or intoxication he wasn't sure – and gripped the lapels of his blazer to push them from his shoulders. The gentle clasp of hands to her wrists halted her advances and stilled the tremble, an expression of confusion overtaking her features.
A knot in his gut formed, the palpitation of his chest thundering and unrelenting, and no one was as shocked as he was with what he was about to say. "I think maybe…we shouldn't do this." All other words he had thought to say fell flat on his tongue and back down his throat.
The confusion lingered, as if the information was slow to absorb. And when it did, it came hard and fast. She wretched her wrists free with a step back and he gave no resistance. He could see she was struggling to comprehend the sudden rejection, and he just wanted to close the gap between them and take it all back.
He was angry he cared so much.
"It's not you…" he started and stopped, feeling so pathetically stupid. It was for her own good, he reasoned. He was garbage.
Tifa stared at him for a long, agonizing moment. All the hurt and loneliness was on full display within those eyes, just as tired and drained as he was. He could have explained himself, told her this was a mistake and she'd regret it. That she had no business sleeping with the man who helped destroy parts of her life, even if she forgave him for it.
When she spoke, her pitch was soft, a decibel above a whisper. "It's okay. I'm used to this." She turned from him then, crawling into her bed as if under some hypnotic trance, forgetting he was standing in the middle of her room, watching her fall apart before him.
As much as he admonished Cloud for leaving a woman such as Tifa Lockhart behind, Reno knew he wasn't any better.
He was just frozen in place to observe her misery.
It would have been best for him to have left then, but he couldn't. There was an unfamiliar ache that seized his chest, a lump in his throat that blocked any and all words he might have said to lessen her pain, but if he was honest with himself, there was none to give.
Never had he found himself in such a position before. He'd broken hearts in the past, and the detachment was much simpler, the severed cord an uncomplicated and painless snip. But as he gazed upon Tifa's form, a gentle tremor of her body and muffled weeping, he wanted to mend the broken thread.
Cautiously, step by precious step, he approached her, the room taking a spin or two before leveling out again. Closer now he heard her; over and over she apologized for something, to someone, he didn't know. He found himself sitting at the edge of the bed, a muted creak sounding beneath his weight. He reached a hand to stroke her hair, but stopped short, hovering. A glance to the door, then back; he was conflicted again. Would he make it worse? But Gods, to listen to her cry was just too much for him to take.
He was responsible for this – for the drinks, for the coquetry, for their one-night affair. He was to blame for her racked sobs and her dead friends and her demolished home and why does he give such a shit about any of this?
Reno knew why – and that was why...
"I'll tell you why, one day." He wondered if she could even hear him above her sobs.
Rising from the bed, he crossed the threshold of the doorway and left her in hopes he did the right thing.