Splintered Dreams
Chapter Nine
"Feel the Sting"
The bar was empty and quiet when Zack returned from his errands. The trip had been more fruitful than expected, and quicker. In the item shop he'd had to rifle through unmarked bins for supplies, but he'd found a number of usable ones and, after storing those, he had taken water, batteries and blankets to some of the other sectors, leaving them with families he knew were in need. Another quick stop at a weapons shop and then he had headed back home.
Home.
He wondered when he'd come to think of this place as home. Part of him knew that it wasn't so much the place as who else resided in it. But he didn't want to dwell on that—wasn't ready to dwell on that.
"Hello?" He shouldered through the door and set his bags onto a nearby table. No answer. He moseyed to the back room and found it vacant as well. "Hello?" He poked his head into the kitchen, then the office. No one. "Tifa?"
"Tifa's downstairs," a giggling voice informed him. Quick, light footsteps pattered down the upper staircase. With a juice box in hand and a toothy grin on her face, Marlene stopped a few stairs from the bottom so that she was nearly eye level. "Hi, Zack."
"Hey there, kiddo." Zack ruffled her mop of hair, earning another giggle. Marlene had become like a little shadow to him. More often that not she could be found trailing behind him and asking questions and sometimes, when weariness or her odd-maturity kicked in, she could be found just sitting quietly beside him, and Zack—unsurprisingly, had become very attached to her. "Whatchya up to?"
"Gonna go play outside."
"Sounds like fun. Stay close to the bar."
"Duh." She bounced off the steps, then paused and looked up at him with wide, interested eyes. "Zack?"
"Yeah?" he glanced down.
"Can you really kill people with your smile?"
That made him blink. Could he do what exactly? "Huh?"
Marlene angled her head, took an unhurried, gurgling sip from her straw—complete with satisfied belch—and repeated the question. "Tifa said that you have a killer smile. So can you?"
Double blink. "Wait, what? Tifa told you I had a killer smile?" His ego shot up with his eyebrows.
It was Marlene's turn to shift a bit under his question. "Well, no." And back down went the ego.
"She told Jessie." And up. "I just overheard them."
Interested, Zack dropped to one knee. When he spoke, his voice was conspiratorial. "On accident, I'm sure."
"Oh, no. I was listening on purpose," she stated, unapologetic.
Zack snorted. Leave it Marlene to just lay it out there. "Oh, I see."
"Jessie said you looked delicious and Tifa said she had drool on her chin and then Jessie said something about biting you and then Tifa said that Jessie's hora--horra--horramoans were acting up— "
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Zack cleared his throat, choked on a laugh. "I don't think you were supposed to hear all that."
A dainty shoulder lifted, Marlene apparently unconcerned with that trivial little fact. "But I did."
"I know you did, but maybe you shouldn't repeat it, okay?"
"Ok." She was agreeable.
Then—because curiosity was eating at him, "So...what else did Tifa say?"
She finished her juice. "But you just said I wasn't supposed to repeat it."
"Right, right." He nodded, rose to his feet. "Good girl."
She gave him an exasperated look, as though he were the child and she the adult, before she scampered off and left him alone. Zack waited for the bang of the front door before he resumed his search.
As Marlene had told him he would, he found Tifa in the cellar. She was busy restocking the bar inventory. Dressed in work boots, worn jeans, sleeveless top, and suede, fingerless gloves, she looked like a woman on a mission.
"Hey." At the foot of the creaky steps, he lowered his head to avoid the overhang. The cellar was remarkably well kept, Zack noted. Boxes and various tubs were stacked and organized, complete with handwritten labels, and dust was at a minimal.
"Hey." She glanced up from her clipboard, flashed him a bright, welcoming smile. "You're back sooner than expected."
Was he? He couldn't remember. How was he supposed to think when she gave him that mega-watt smile. "Where is everybody?" he asked when his brain decided to kick back into action. He settled himself onto the edge of one of the wooden crates.
"Hm? Oh, Barret took the others with him to see if they could gather some more information on Don Corneo."
"Don Corneo?"
"Mmhm."
"As in the Slumlord of Sector Six? That Don Corneo?"
"Yup." Tifa made a face, blew a strand of sweat-damp hair from her eyes and set her clipboard and pencil aside.
Zack leaned forward, elbows on bent knees. "What kind of information are they looking for?"
She pushed a small step ladder in front of her. "It looks like Corneo could be Shin-Ra's big witness."
"Corneo?"
"That's what Barret says. Hand me the Cactuar Juice, please."
He lifted the small bottles from their cardboard housing and held them out for her. "Corneo? Really?"
She took them. "Thanks. And, again, yes." Handily, she set the green bottles—labels out—onto the shelf. She bit her lip, scrutinized the placement, then made a small "ah-ha" and nestled a rolled up package of cactuar needles beside the bottles. The satisfied look on her face made his lips quirk.
Looking at her now, Zack couldn't help but admire—and not for the first time—the subtle strength in her form. It was…appealing…to watch the graceful way she moved. He cleared his throat and shifted on the crate.
"Scum working with scum. Makes a certain amount of twisted sense, I suppose. How much does he know?"
Tifa leaned her hip against the shelf and lifted one shoulder. "Not sure. But I intend to find out."
The hard edge of her voice brought Zack's head up. "And just how do you intend to do that?"
Another shrug. "I'll go see him. Find out what he knows."
Zack felt the sides of his mouth tense. "The Don?"
"Yeah." She pushed her thick ponytail over her shoulder, placed some olive jars overhead. "Barret told me to leave the lecher alone, but I want to hear what he knows."
"No."
She hopped down, her hands riding her hips. Her voice was chipped from ice. "I'm sorry, did you just tell me no?"
If he told her that the idea of her in a place like that turned him inside out, he knew she would take it as him not having confidence in her—which was as far from the truth as a person could get—but he knew her now, and knew what she'd think. She may not like it, but what she was thinking was way too risky and Zack was prepared to be stubborn.
"It's too dangerous. What if he recognizes you? Besides if Corneo really does have information on us, I'm sure Shin-Ra is all over him."
"Well, I'll just have to be extra careful then, won't I." She wiped her hands on her jeans, picked up a few scattered empty boxes and tossed them into the corner. She was halfway up the stairs before he realized she was fully intent on brushing off his cautionary statement.
He hurried after her. "Tifa."
She kept right on walking.
"Tifa!"
She paused at the top of the stairs, with her hand on the knob, and spared him a glance over her shoulder. "What?"
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go after the Don— "
"So you said." She gifted him with a small, slightly smug smile. "But, then again, I'm not asking permission." The door closed behind her and a moment later he heard the bolt lock slide into place.
"Damn it." Zack took the remaining steps two at a time. She was quick, he thought, half-amused. He gripped the handle and debated shouldering through. He could do it easily enough, but then he'd have to fix the lock and listen to Barret gripe about the damage.
With a sigh, he made his way back down the wooden stairs. He shoved some crates around; stacked them beneath the small basement window and cursed and wiggled his way out with as much dignity as possible.
Behind the bar, wiping the top down with a damp cloth and whistling nonchalantly, Tifa barely glanced up when he strode in the front door. He took the stool directly in front of her and waited for her to acknowledge him.
When she finally looked up it was to find him staring at her, his dark brows raised in what could only be described as questioning-irritation.
"That was mean," he told her, without heat.
"That's what you get."
"For what? Trying to talk sense into you?"
"No. For being so arrogant."
"Ah." He smirked, leaned across the counter and brought that smile a little bit closer. "That's just my nature."
Tifa shook her head and fought back an answering smile. It was hard not to smile at Zack.
Ever since the night they'd shared in his room, after the supply line encounter with Shin-Ra, the silent camaraderie between them had deepened. That bond of shared pain and past was enhanced by a subtle undercurrent that Tifa couldn't even begin to identify—much less explain. It made for easy smiles and playful banter, but also lingering stares and closer proximities. She wasn't altogether sure what to make of it, or how she felt about it.
"I'm serious, Tifa," Zack said, pulling her back to the matter at hand. "Going after Corneo is a bad idea. Let me and Barret handle this."
All traces of humor dissipated. "Why? Because you think I can't?"
"I didn't say that—"
"You sure as hell implied it."
"All I'm suggesting is that you don't rush headlong into a trap. Give Barret and me a chance to feel things out. Everyone knows that Corneo frequents the Honey Bee Inn. All we have to do is get in there and—"
"It's not exactly the type of place you can sneak into," she told him. "Not unless you want to dress up as a woman of course."
"Uh, no thanks. I'll pass on that. Besides, not just women that frequent the Honey Bee," he countered.
"True, but it's pretty unlikely that Corneo will be there to socialize with other men, Zack."
His eyes narrowed into slits. "Just what exactly are you thinking of doing?"
"The Honey Bee is always looking for new girls..." She let the sentence and implication trail.
"Tifa. No."
"Zack. Yes."
"I'll tell Barret what you're planning."
Of all the low-down... She shot him a frustrated look. "That's low."
His shrug was casual. "I never said I wasn't above blackmail. Barret would have a fit if he knew you were even thinking of placing yourself in that kind of situation. It's way too—shit!"
Wood scraped wood as the barstool toppled backward and Zack vaulted behind the bar.
Startled by his abrupt appearance at her side, Tifa tensed up. "Zack?"
"My sword," he hissed. "Get me my sword."
She placed a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?" She couldn't see anyone else around, it was just the two of them. Confused, she followed his gaze to the bar top and had to forcibly contain a balk of laughter.
A black spider, no larger than a gil, skittered over the scarred top. Another quick glance around the room verified that this was the cause of Zack's agitation.
With calm, careful movements—and still trying to hold in her mirth—Tifa lifted her cloth and ushered the scurrying arachnid onto it.
"Wait, don't touch it!" he scrunched his face and looked away.
She coughed to cover her laughter and maneuvered carefully around him, made her way to the door. She deposited the spider outside onto the planks.
"You're just letting it go?" Zack demanded, incredulous.
She closed the door. "What's wrong with spiders?"
"They have eight legs and a billion eyes," he stated, matter-of-fact.
"It's just a spider, Zack."
"Eight legs, Tifa!" As if that justified his reaction.
She couldn't help but smile now. "Big baby," she laughed a little, and when his lips formed a sullen pout and he glowered, she laughed some more. The phone beneath the counter started ringing. "Answer that," she told him, "it's probably your mom. You can tell her all about the big bad spider."
Zack picked up the phone, poked his tongue out at her. "Seventh Heaven, this is Za... Oh...uh, hey. Hi." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "How are you? That's good. Me? No, I'm good. Yeah, I know...Sorry about that."
Tifa paused, her attention caught by the subtle shift in Zack's posture and the slightly defensive way he turned from her and hunched into the phone.
Definitely not his mother.
"No, I've been meaning to call. It's just things have been kind of hectic." He shot Tifa a look over his shoulder. "Uh, Tifa? Yeah. No, no. She's fine. Yeah, I'll tell her. What? Now? Okay." He dropped the phone down below his chin. "Aerith says hello."
Oh. The girl from Sector Five. Zack's former girlfriend.... That explained it.
"Hello back." Tifa replied. When he once again turned away from her and shifted beneath her gaze, she decided that this was a conversation that probably needed some space, and she stepped quietly outside.
Once there, she leaned back against the closed door and heaved out a breath. Zack had hardly mentioned Aerith in the past few weeks, and never in depth. Sometimes, Tifa wondered if it was because he had moved on, and sometimes she wondered if it was because he hadn't. She really didn't know much about their history, only that they had one, and she hadn't pried.
Cautiously she peeked into the bar through the slats of the window. Zack was still turned mostly away from her, but she saw a slight quirk of his lips on his profile, indicating a smile. He'd be all right, she thought, satisfied. Whatever the case, he'd be okay.
Not that it was any of her business. Not really. When all was said and done, Zack owed her no loyalty and no explanation. If he chose to leave, then that was his right. He had stayed, he had fought, and he had helped their cause. That was more than enough.
His past and hers were intertwined, but that didn't have to mean that their futures were too.
Tifa took a step away from the door to brace her hands on the porch railing. If that happened, and Zack did leave, she couldn't lie to herself and say she wouldn't miss him, because she would—probably more than she ought to—but she wouldn't blame him either. He had friends, a family, a life to return to.
She didn't begrudge him that happiness. She hoped for it for him. Part of her, she realized, actively wanted him to leave the violence behind, even if that meant leaving her. Unconsciously, her fingers tightened on the rail, causing the wood to groan in protest.
After a time, the door behind her creaked open and drew her from her thoughts.
"What're you doing out here?"
She lifted one shoulder, but didn't turn. "I didn't want to be in the way."
Zack shifted around to face her, his back pressed against the railing and his arms folded over his gray tee-shirt. "It's your bar," he pointed out.
"Not what I meant," she replied evenly.
"I know." He leaned toward her to give her a quick shoulder bump, his expression unreadable. "And you aren't."
Tifa nodded and continued to watch the open area in front of the bar where Marlene and a couple of other kids kicked a beaten red ball back and forth. Their feet were bare and their clothes tattered, but their smiles were genuine and they drew one from her.
When Zack didn't speak, yet continued to hover beside her, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye."Everything okay?"
"Yeah." He turned so that his pose mirrored hers and watched the children play. Silence blanketed the space between them. Finally, Zack spoke. "She wants to see me."
Tifa nodded. She had assumed as much. "And?" she prodded, sensing there was more he wanted to say.
"And...I think I should go see her."
Tifa angled her head, studied his profile. "She's important to you, right?"
"Yes. Very."
"Then you should definitely go see her."
" I will; I am, but... I wanted to make sure we're cool."
"Why would I care if you go see Aerith?"
He blinked, a bit startled, and inclined his head toward her. "I meant about Corneo."
"Oh." Well, that was foolish, she thought, embarrassed. The ground was suddenly very fascinating.
Zack's hand gently clasped her upper arm. "Tifa...I..." He ruffled his hair, started to speak, seemed to think better of it, and opted for, "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid while I'm gone. Wait until we can all sit down and discuss options. Okay?"
There was genuine concern in his deep blues, and it was all Tifa could do to hold his gaze and say, "I won't do anything stupid." It wasn't quite a lie, she consoled herself with. Going after the Don was a sound plan, and she knew she could get information if she could get close to him. Zack didn't need to know that she had already made arrangements with Johnny's family to watch Marlene while she waited for the Honey Bee's carriage to come and pick her up. He had his own issues to deal with.
Apparently satisfied with her answer, Zack pushed himself away from the banister and went back into the bar to retrieve his Buster Sword from the rear wall. He returned a moment later. "I won't be long. We'll talk when I get back." With his natural agility he swung himself over the railing and down to the dirt below. "I mean it, Tifa. Wait for me," Zack called to her, walking backwards and pointing a finger.
She lifted one hand in silent farewell, neither confirming nor contradicting. Only when he was out of sight did she allow her hand to drop and the smile to fade from her face. "Bye, Zack."
Just outside the gate of Sector Seven, Zack paced back and forth and rubbed a hand over his face, scratched at the day old scruff there. He probably should have shaved. He would have shaved before. He sighed again and agitated his hair. It had taken him longer to get there than he'd planned, due to increased Shin-Ra patrols, but even still he found himself stalling—had been for a good ten minutes. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Aerith, because he did. He missed her. Her smile. Her cheerfulness. Just her.
But the simple fact was that he didn't know how to approach her now.
It had been different before because he had wanted her. He was a natural flirt and playful banter came as easily as breathing for him, but now—well, now things were different. There was too much time between them, too much that couldn't be reconciled...and Tifa. If he was honest, there was Tifa. He wasn't sure he liked being honest about that.
He wasn't sure he was ready to feel the things he was beginning to feel for her, and besides that, there was the unavoidable fact that she was supposed to have been Cloud's. That alone kept him from delving too deeply into his emotions regarding her, but still—and despite that—he was self-aware enough to realize that the feelings he did have were growing.
For the past few weeks, maybe months—hell, maybe from day one—he'd felt a connection with her. An attachment of sorts. Initially, he believed, it was based off their mutual pain, and although that link was still there, it was more, and it was deepening. And he didn't know how to stop it—wasn't altogether sure he wanted to.
"I didn't think you were going to show."
Zack whirled guiltily and faced the woman he had once called the love of his life. "Aerith."
Dressed in pastel pinks she looked as fresh and as delicate as the flowers she tended. Her long, chestnut hair hung in a neat braid down her back, held in place by a familiar ribbon. The fact that she still wore it warmed him and shamed him all at once.
"Oh. Uh, hey." Wow, eloquent, Fair. He gave himself a mental shake, wiped his hands on his dark pants and moved toward her. "Why wouldn't I come?" he wanted to know. "I said I would." She lifted a shoulder, bounced a ringlet."You've said that before."
Zack winced imperceptibly, but successfully managed to quell that flare of guilt. "I didn't exactly have a choice then."
"I know," she agreed with a small nod, letting him know that she understood that much at least. She paused, looked at him, the ground, then back at him as she weighed out her next words."You've never told me what happened to you."
It wasn't a time he wanted to relive, or a memory he wanted dredged back up, so he asked quietly, "This isn't why you called, is it?"
She kicked a pebble beside her low-heeled boots, slightly dejected. "No. I called because... I...missed you. And I was worried." She looked up with eyes that shimmered. "I saw the news, Zack."
Well, shit. With less certainty than he probably should have felt, he reached for her, and was relieved when she stepped to him. He nuzzled his chin into her hair, let out a long breath."I'm sorry you had to see that."
She shuddered, once—hard—and pressed her face into his chest. "So...it was you?" She didn't sound like she really wanted the answer, but he couldn't lie to her.
"Yes."
With a muted sigh, she moved back. "I had hoped it wasn't."
He told himself that the disappointment in her voice didn't hurt. He could still lie to himself, at least.
"Why?" she asked him, whisper soft, voicing what her eyes had been asking since he'd looked at her.
She was staring up at him expectantly, but he had no ready answers for her. He had done what had to be done and he had done it well. And chances were, before this was all over, he'd do it again. He recalled Barret's words to him. "Because someone has to."
Hands clasped loosely in front of her, she turned away from him. "All the fighting. All the death. Don't you want to be free of it?"
More than anything, he thought. But he couldn't be. Not yet, not until Cloud was avenged and Tifa was safe. His jaw tightened. "Shin-Ra has to pay for what they've done."
"But...you used to be one of them."
He felt that one to his gut. She wasn't accusatory, her voice held no censure, but he felt her words like a physical blow. "That was before," he defended.
Her slender brows were furrowed when she looked at him. "Before?" Without knowledge of all he had endured, he knew it was hard for her to understand and that made it all the harder—for the both of them.
He shoveled a hand into the roots of his hair. "Yes, before," he stated. "Before they betrayed me. Betrayed everything." He felt restless; agitated. "Can we walk?"
She nodded, and—to his surprise—linked her arm with his. They strolled, side by side, with only the rustle of her long skirt breaking the silence.
"When Tseng told me you were dead, I didn't believe it," Aerith finally spoke.
"Tseng." The name was a bitter sting on his tongue. "He's the one that told you I was dead?"
"Yes."
Of course he was. Then he could be the one to comfort Aerith in her grief. That bastard.
"I'd never seen him show emotion before," she murmured, almost to herself. "Or since."
Maybe he really had believed he'd died during his escape, Zack conceded grudgingly, but he still found himself hardened toward the man he'd once considered friend. Tseng had to have known where he had been trapped, what Hojo had been doing. While he and Cloud had been trapped like rats, swimming in a sea of green, torn open and put back together by the maddest of mad scientists, Tseng had been in his cushy Turk office, loyally licking Shinra's boots.
If he closed his eyes, Zack knew he would still see glinting spectacles; hear the raw sounds of flesh ripping and pain filled screams. Ifrit knew he heard them often enough in his dreams. He shook himself, desperate to be free of the clinging cobwebs of memory.
"Why didn't you believe it?" he finally ventured, glad that his voice held steady.
It was her turn to be slightly evasive. "I just didn't," she replied slowly. Then, "I didn't feel it."
Her words pricked at elusive fragments of memory. Of one voice among hundreds. Soft. Gentle. Comforting. His steps slowed. Memories swirled through his mind, as tangible and elusive as fog. "Sometimes..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, focused.
"What?" she prompted when he stalled.
He turned, kept his eyes even with hers. "Sometimes...in the dark...I thought I heard you."
If at all startled by that, she didn't show it. In fact, she seemed relieved and pleased. "You did?"
"Yeah."
Her warm smile was a gentle caress on his wounded heart. "I prayed for you."
Genuinely touched, Zack bowed his head over hers, "Thank you."
She studied his face, and with a hint of sadness, murmured, "You're never going to tell me, are you?"
He hadn't expected that comment, so it surprised him, but he didn't avoid it. "What happened...it's not something I want to drag you into."
"No. It's more than that, I think." There was a trace of hurt in her voice. "Have we lost all the trust we had between us?"
He wanted her to let it go. What was the point in dredging it all up again? It wasn't about him not trusting her with it, it was about the pain. His pain. He didn't want to feel that now. Not now.
Not ever again.
Zack knew he had hurt her, and didn't relish the idea of hurting her anymore than he already had, but he didn't want to invite any more questions either, so he gave her the best answer he could—an honest one. "It's not about trust. What it is, Aerith, is that there are so few good things left to me that I don't want to taint the ones I have with burdens of my past. I nearly died trying to be a hero, and I watched a real hero die in my arms. Shin-Ra took from me the life that was ours, and even though I can't get that back, I refuse to let them keep it without paying for it."
As he spoke, she studied his face, his eyes, the set of his jaw and sighed a soft, little sigh. Her hand was light and cool against his cheek. "My, my, Zack Fair, how you've grown." Her tone was only slightly less serious, slightly teasing.
"Had to happen sometime." He took her hand, kissed the palm, brought it down, and held it as they continued their walk.
When they rounded the corner, Aerith pulled up short. Her laugh was light and chipper—a ray of sun through dark clouds. "I can't believe it's still here!" She let go of his hand and hurried toward a large moogle-head with an excited squeal that quirked his brow.
If there was one thing about Aerith that Zack had always appreciated, it was her ability to roll with life. She was never down for long and despite wearing her heart on her sleeve, and her desire to know everyone else's, she took what was offered and demanded nothing more.
"Come on, Zack. Hurry up," she called, climbing atop the moogle-head. "Can you believe it's still intact?"
I he was honest, he'd have to admit that he was surprised to see the park still standing. Most everything else had been destroyed, demolished or decayed as a result of Shin-Ra. He unstrapped his sword and placed it alongside the ladder, climbed up.
"Remember our first date?" she asked him when he squatted down beside her.
"Yeah," he nodded, grinning at the memory. "You were so sweet."
"And you were so full of yourself."
"Hey!"
She giggled, pushed his shoulder. "You were. I remember."
"Yeah, yeah. So do I," he chuckled ruefully. He stretched one leg out and propped an elbow on his knee. "Still am if you ask Tifa."
Aerith tilted her face toward him, her eyes veiled by her lashes. "I liked her."
"She's likable," he stated, keeping his answer as neutral as possible. Zack hadn't meant to bring her up. Had actually made mental note not to bring her up. He couldn't imagine a much more awkward conversation than talking to your ex-girl about the girl you thought you might, maybe, could be—hell even he didn't know how to explain what Tifa was to him.
"She's very brave, fighting like she does."
He nodded. That one was easy. "She is."
"She seemed nice."
Another easy one. "She is."
"She's very pretty too," she added almost as an afterthought.
Crap. "Is she? I hadn't really noticed." Liar, liar.
"You're a horrid fibber, Zack Fair." She poked him in the shoulder. "A man would have to be dead not to notice those curves."
All right, awkward just hit a whole new level. He cleared his throat and found anywhere to look but at her.
Her fingers toyed with a button on her skirt. "So... are you...are you two close?"
Shit. This was another line of questioning he wasn't ready for, but Zack knew he owed Aerith at least some explanations. "We are," he answered truthfully.
"I see." Her tone was mild but he could sense a subtle tension that shimmered around her like a second skin.
"Aerith, I—"
She held up a hand, stopping him. "It's okay, Zack. We both know things are different between us and we can't go back. And even though I can't help but wonder at the could have beens..." She faced him and her smile was genuine. "I like the promise of what can yet be, even more." There was no anger, no resentment, only warmth and light and Aerith.
He felt the knot in his stomach uncoil and tension seeped out of him. He grinned at her, opened his arms, and hugged her tight.
She startled him when she rose abruptly to her knees. "Speaking of..." A gilded carriage rolled through the front gates, pulled by two bright plumed chocobos. "That girl. On the back," she pointed. "Looks kind of like Tifa."
Zack sat up straighter, his eyes narrowed. "She wouldn't have," he muttered under his breath. She had said she wouldn't do anything stupid. She was back at Seventh, probably meticulously organizing the toothpicks. It wasn't her on that carriage. It wasn't. He chanted it in his head.
The carriage swung past allowing for a better look at the woman on the small balcony. A familiar black leather skirt and white tank-top—complete with suspenders—sealed the deal. It was her, damn it.
Even from his position Zack could tell something was different about her. Dark hair, usually kept back in a long ponytail was loose and free around her shoulders, and she'd done something to her eyes. They looked heavy, almost slumberous and her lips were a dark red slick against creamy skin.
SEX.
She looked like sex.
He supposed it was the look she was going for, but that didn't change the jarring effect it had on him. With a muttered curse, one that would have done Barret proud, he shot to his feet. "Aerith, I'm sorry, but I have to go."
Aerith stood as well, brushed her hands against her skirt. "Was that Tifa? In the Honey Bee carriage?"
"Yes, damn her." He leaped from the moogle-head, landed with a soft thud and swung his sword up and around his back. "I'm sorry," he repeated, paused. "Are you okay to get home?"
She rolled her eyes. "I got here didn't I?"
He hesitated still.
"Go," she waved him toward the gate. "I'll be fine."
"I'll call you soon," he told her. "I promise." If she had a response, he didn't hear it, he was already running after the carriage.
The Honey Bee Inn, located just outside the crowded Sector Six Wall Market, was as busy as it's namesake. Patrons of all types went to the Honey Bee, some for the obvious reasons, and others for the escape that the raunchy, bright, fun atmosphere provided. Most nights there was a line out the front and down the steps.
Which was the case when Zack arrived. Music from the showroom filtered out the bronzed front doors each time they opened and the crowd on the steps reacted with anxious excitement each time. They murmured, pushed and crowded the doormen to the point where they were ordered back down.
Zack elbowed his way through the throng of people only to be pulled up short when some guy caught him by the shirt sleeve. He turned, prepared to jerk free, but paused when he saw a mottled freckled face and a swatch of familiar rust colored hair.
"You're Tifa's boyfriend, what the heck are you doing in a place like this?"
Zack blinked. "Johnny?"
"I mean, what the hell? If I had a girl like Tifa..." Johnny was angry and wistful all at once, nearly comical in his consternation.
"Look, man, it's a long story." Zack peered over the heads of the crowd, searching for any sign of long dark hair. "Have you seen Tifa?" he asked.
"What? You brought Tifa to a place like this? What kind of guy are you?" Johnny released his shirt, stepped back and shook his head in open disgust. "You're a piece of work. It's a good thing I'm leaving Midgar...or else...or else!" He shook his fist, turned and ran.
Caught somewhere between annoyed and amused, Zack watched the younger man run off. Johnny was a frequent front-stool patron at Seventh, a good kid with little ambition, a heavy crush on Tifa, and a big mouth. Zack imagined half of the sector would know he'd been spotted at the Honey Bee Inn before he got back to the bar.
With a dismissive shrug, Zack started back toward the steps. Jumbled bits of half conversations reached his ears, as well as some pretty lewd suggestions, which only served to hasten his steps. He had to get Tifa out of here. Wall Market was scary, especially for a female. The faster he found her, the faster he could get her to safety...so he could throttle her.
"Hey asshole! Back of the line!"
Zack whirled, faced down the drunk grabbing at his arm. Not normally a man that used intimidation to get what he wanted didn't mean he was above it. With a sneer, Zack leaned forward, towering a good six inches above the other man and snarled, "Let go of my arm," he paused for effect. "Or lose yours."
The unnatural hue of Zack's eyes coupled with the giant sword strapped to his back hastened the other man's reaction. With a yelp, the man let go and nearly fell backwards down the steps. Zack sent a chill look toward the other patrons nearby before resuming his climb; uninterrupted.
At the door a thin, well-groomed gentleman—if one could call anyone employed at the Inn such—with dark hair, in a dark suit and floral bow tie smiled at him. "Welcome to the Honey Bee Inn, where even a man like you can meet his destiny."
"You know a girl named Tifa?" Zack asked in the same clipped tone he'd used on the drunk.
Thin-man's smile wavered only slightly; obviously a man used to threats and intimidation. "Hey, there, you're pretty fast. Tifa's our newest girl."
Zack stepped forward. "I want to see her."
"Of course, but unfortunately, she's having an interview right now. All of our girls are screened and inspected very carefully for your ultimate satisfaction."
What the hell did he mean inspected? "I'm sure they are," Zack bit out, "but I want Tifa."
Thin-man nodded again, his false smile widening to near painful proportions. "I understand. A man wants what a man wants, and here at the Honey Bee Inn we do everything in our power to accommodate him. Tell you what, come in, relax for a bit, enjoy some of our many entertainments and when Tifa has completed her interview, we will, of course, give you first dibs."
First dibs? Zack resisted the urge to plant his fist in the guy's too-white teeth. Instead, he flashed a wicked smile of his own. He could hunt her down himself once he was inside. "Sounds like a plan" he replied with a wink.
Thin-man flushed and bowed at the waist. "We hope you find everything you're looking for."
"Oh, I intend to."
"Well, Tifa, so far so good. We've found all of your answers very satisfactory."
Tifa regarded the interviewers seated across the table with a calculating eye while maintaining her plastic smile. The man directly across from her, a Mr. Harold Hardwick (she doubted that), sported a gray beard and large mole and had been the one who had done the most talking. He'd asked her the usual questions about her reasons for wanting to work at the Honey Bee and what she'd heard of the establishment, all the while making the pretense of adjusting his glasses in order to get a better view of her chest. The man beside him, Bringham Jones—who preferred to be called B.J.—was as oily as fried chocobo and twice as plump. He smoothed one fat hand over his thready comb-over and licked his lips.
"Thank you. Thank you so much," she bowed her head so they wouldn't see her revulsion, a sign which they mistook for respect.
"Once the second portion of the interview is complete we will begin filling out your new-hire paperwork."
Tifa blinked. "Second portion?"
"Oh it's nothing to fret over, my dear," Mr. Hardwick stated, rising from his seat. "It's all just part of our standard hiring procedure. If you'll follow me."
Tifa rose to follow with chubby Mr. Jones trailing behind her. They left the interview room and walked down a red velvet corridor until they came to an equally red door. Behind the door was a large, dark stairwell that led to the most disturbing room Tifa had ever laid eyes on.
It was sparse with no furnishings, save a table, in the shape of an X, complete with manacles and straps, in the center of the dark room with a spotlight overhead, flanked by a silver tray with an assortment of instruments. It looked like a torture chamber.
Appalled, she turned on the two men. "What is this place?"
"Nothing to fret over, dear. This is just the examination room." Hardwick slipped on a pair of rubber gloves.
"Examination room?" she echoed, suppressing a shudder.
"Y-yes." Mr. Jones dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. He licked his lips. "Undress and h-hop on the t-table," he wheezed, fidgeted and groped the front of his pants.
There was no stopping the shudder that rippled through her. "I don't flipping think so."
Two sets of eyes narrowed on her, both men crowding her. "If you want the job, then you need to be examined. We must assure ourselves that our clientèle will be, erm, satisfied with you. "
Tifa knew then, what these two perverts did. Broke, hungry, and desperate girls who came to the Honey Bee looking for money, or lured by the bright lights and the promise of glamor were easy marks. How many had laid there beneath that spotlight while greedy hands fondled and tormented them on the pretense of examination?
Her own eyes hardened and narrowed into crimson slits. "How about you get on the table," she practically growled. "Let's see how you like it." With a suddenness that neither man was prepared for, she reached out, grabbed Hardwick's forearm, twisted and flipped him up onto the table face-first.
She snapped the manacles closed around his wrists before he could catch his fetid breath and she swung her legs up, latched her ankles against Jones' neck and jerked down. His flailing arms were strapped where her legs would have been, and his fat face was planted firmly between Hardwick's ass cheeks.
Grinning at her handiwork, she took the stairs back up two at a time. She ignored the muffled shouts for her to stop and for help from the struggling twosome below. She had no patience or sympathy for the likes of them. Let them squirm.
At the top of the stairwell she opened the door slowly, and cautiously peeked out into the hall. Empty. Confident that the coast was clear she shut the room behind her and, as nonchalantly as possible, made her way towards the back rooms where she had seen some of the women in Bee costumes lingering.
Zack shifted his weight, careful not to brush against the man next to him, and wondered again just how in Gaia's name he'd ended up here with them. He had been searching the hallways for any sign of Tifa when he'd come across a room occupied by an oiled, muscular individual that proclaimed to know all the ins and outs of the Honey Bee.
Mukki, as he introduced himself, was an employee and a patron of the Inn and had offered to assist Zack. Exactly how remained to be seen.
"You look nervous, Bubby." A beefy hand groped his thigh, squeezed. "Relax."
Zack inclined his head, pushed his damp hair back. "I'm fine."
Mukki's thick mustache twitched. "That you are, Bubby."
Murmurs of ascent went around the hot tub. Several eyes flickered over him and there was no mistaking the near predatory interest in them.
"Bathing is great. It soothes the body and the heart. How is it for you, Bubby?"
"To tell the truth it's a little crowded for me," Zack answered.
"Ah, you must be more of a one-on-one intimate type, " Mukki's smile widened, and up until that moment Zack wouldn't have believed it possible. "But that's okay. You get used to it. Try counting to ten."
"I don't feel like counting."
Mukki's smile turned into a pout and that beefy hand was back on Zack's thigh. "How old are you, Bubby?"
"Twenty-five." Zack maneuvered his leg away.
"So young," Mukki licked the corner of his lips and winked. "Wanna join my 'young bubby's' group?"
"Not particularly, no."
"That's too bad. We have a weekend get-a-way planned in a rustic cabin. Very macho. I think you'd have a good time. I know I would if you came."
Deciding that he wasn't particularly fond of being on the receiving end of so many double entendres or ogled by the other men, Zack shoved himself to his feet, sloshing steaming water as he rose. Normally some time in a jacuzzi would be welcome and relaxing, but not one this crowded. With men. Shirtless-bikini-brief-wearing-men.
"Where are you running off to?" Mukki's pout deepened. "You should stick around and play a bit."
Zack stepped from the tub, wrapped a towel around his waist. "You told me you knew where I could find Tifa," he reminded him. "So where is she?"
Mukki leaned back against the hot-tub wall and sighed. He rubbed a hand over the wet curls on his chest absently. "Hmmm....Tifa...Tifa...." He opened his eyes, smiled. "I don't think I've met her yet."
"What?" Zack hopped on one leg, pulled his pants on. "But you said—"
"I said I could help you find what you were looking for," Mukki interrupted with a wink. "Or so I'd hoped." He leaned on one arm, peering up at Zack. "You sure you wanna rush off, Bubby? We're about to turn off the lights."
Zack buckled his belt, tugged on his shirt. "I'm flattered," he said. "Really. But no thanks."
"Hm. That's too bad. You know where we are if you change your mind."
"Uh, thanks." Zack was out of the door, leaving behind murmurs and chuckles.
He tousled his steam-damp hair as he stormed back down the hallway. He'd wasted a good twenty minutes with Mukki—although the impromptu back rub had been nice—and he was no closer to finding Tifa than when he'd first stepped through the front doors.
He still couldn't quite believe the fact that she had lied to him. It wasn't that he'd never been lied to before, because he had, plenty of times—he'd worked for the biggest liars on the planet, after all—but for it to be Tifa lying to him. It was a jagged pill to swallow and he didn't like it.
He jammed his hands into his hair, expelled a breath. She had no right to worry him like this. What if he was too late? What if something had already happened to her? What if—
A door at the opposite end of the hall opened and a familiar voice filtered through it. "Okay, at the end of this hall? Thanks." And then there she was. Safe and sound.
Relief and anger warred in his gut. He didn't realize he'd said her name until her head lifted. When she caught sight of him, her eyes widened marginally. "Zack?"
The surprise in her expression irked him. He started towards her. To her credit she didn't run, or flinch, or, hell, look even remotely concerned by his rapid approach. In fact, she looked irritated.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded when he was closer. Yup, irritated.
"What am I doing here?" he echoed, incredulous. "What are you doing here? You agreed to wait for me and Barret."
"I did no such thing."
Another door opened, prompted him to grab her hand and pull her into the shadows beside the wall. "You did." His voice was a harsh whisper. "I thought you'd wait until I got back so we could talk about it, but no, you have to go off and do exactly the opposite."
"I agreed not to do anything stupid," she corrected. "You just assumed that meant I wouldn't come here."
Zack shook his head at her, his jaw set. He wasn't letting her off that easy. "You can twist the logic any which way you want, Tifa, but the bottom line is you lied to me."
"I'm not going to stand here and debate with you, Zack," she stated. "If you wanna be mad at me because I didn't consult with you or wait patiently, twiddling my thumbs for you to give me some sort of go-ahead, then fine, be mad, and stay mad, because that day isn't ever going to come. You don't get to decide for me. No one does."
"Now, wait a damn minute—"
"No, I will not wait a damn minute. If you came here to lecture me or babysit me, then shove off. I'm more than capable of looking after myself."
"What the hell is the matter with you?" His expression was wounded. "I know damn well you can take care of yourself, Tifa. I've seen it. But that doesn't mean I don't worry or care, because I do care. Probably too damn much." His tone was accusatory. "If you think I came to babysit or lecture, well, you're wrong. I came because we're a team and we're supposed to be friends, or at least I thought we were."
"We are friends."
"Friends don't lie to each other."
He could tell he'd surprised her with his anger, but she didn't lash back out, didn't defend. Instead, she stared up into his face and, after a moment, her eyes softened. "You're right." She said finally. "I shouldn't have mislead you."
It was the best apology he was likely to get, he knew. She was stubborn like that.
Since he'd rather them not be angry with one another—even though he was in the right—Zack shifted topic. "So, what have you found out?"
She made a face. "Aside from the fact that there are a lot of creepy people in this place?"
He chuckled, relieved at her easy acceptance of the unspoken white-flag. "Yeah, aside from that."
"Not much, unfortunately," she replied with a disappointed sigh. "So far, Don Corneo is a no-show tonight. I've talked to a few of the girls and they said he hasn't been in."
Zack considered that. "Have you checked the upstairs rooms?"
"Upstairs rooms?"
He ruffled his hair, lifted a shoulder. "The rooms upstairs are designated for more, uhm, personal interaction. Chances are, if he's here, that's where he'd be and employees are forbidden from revealing the clientèle."
A slender brow arched in speculation. "And just how do you know so much about brothels?"
He cleared his throat, scratched at the nape of his neck. "Soldiers talk," he answered finally.
"Uh-huh. Sure, Zack." Her lips quirked. It was a rare thing to see Zack flustered, and Tifa wasn't above enjoying it.
Before he had a chance to comment, or skillfully change the subject—as was his intention—the door at the far end of the hallway slid open and a trio of Honey Bee girls, in full bee costumes, strode through. As they passed, one of the three—a woman with a mass of wild red hair and vivid green eyes—did a double take, stopped and turned back toward them. "Zack Fair? Is that you?" She blew a curl from her eyes and peered at him. When recognition finally kicked solidly into place, her smile was a mile wide. "Oh, my Gods! It is you! I haven't seen you in...years! You're just as yummy as ever!" She grabbed his face with both hands and planted a long, lipstick kiss firmly on his mouth. "Mmm. Still taste good."
Zack blinked rapidly, pulled his mouth free. "Hey there, uh..." Shit. He was completely blanking on her name. What the hell was it? It was some kind of plant. Something that matched her personality...
"Ivy," the woman supplied, giving him a perfect pout when he failed to remember her.
Right. Clingy Ivy. "Ivy," he repeated. "Long time." He slid a look towards Tifa, who was watching the exchange with an expression of amused confusion.
Ivy followed his eyes and turned toward Tifa, gave her a once over."One of the new girls?"
"Tifa," Tifa offered her hand and a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Ivy."
Zack was impressed. Many people, he knew, would look down on Ivy—being what she was, where she worked—but Tifa's smile was genuine and there was no pretense to her.
After a moments consideration, the other woman took the proffered hand, gave a firm shake and an equally warm smile. She gestured to Zack with her free hand. "You're a lucky girl if he's yours tonight." She winked saucily. "He knows how to treat a lady, and can go for hours. All them SOLDIER-boys can."
At this, Tifa's quirked lips formed a small "o" and her cheeks flushed dull red. Zack felt his own color rise at the speculative look she gave him.
"Just be careful with this one," Ivy advised. "He's a heart-breaker."
Tifa nodded, winked back. "That's okay. So am I." She linked her arm through Zack's, brushed her lips fleetingly against his chin. "So what do you say, want to show me if those SOLDIER rumors are true?"
Zack nearly choked. What the hell was she doing? "Uh..." Smooth as ever, he thought, as all the blood left his head.
Tifa slid a sly look at Ivy. "Can I just take him to any room upstairs?"
"You don't have your own room yet?"
"No." Tifa shook her head, pouted a bit and gave a low laugh. "I don't think I'm supposed to yet, but...well, look at him. Could you wait?" She ran one hand up his chest, smoothed it across his shoulders.
Zack tried not to let his surprise—or anything else—show.
Ivy's gaze lingered over Zack and she let out a slow breath. "Here." She pulled at the gold chain around her neck, dragging a small key from her cleavage. "You can use mine. It's door number 4."
Tifa took the key with a grin. "Thanks."
"No problem, sweetie. Enjoy yourself." Ivy cast a longing look in Zack's direction and gave his backside a pat when she walked by. "Break her in nice, okay."
With Ivy out of ear shot, Zack leaned against Tifa to whisper, "Quite the little actress, aren't we?"
Her eyes sparkled into his. "When I have to be." She lifted the key like a trophy. "Got us upstairs, didn't I?"
"I suppose you did," he agreed with a grin. "Clever girl. But then again, I do have irresistible charm... and of course, this face." He preened for her, making her laugh.
She wiped at the corner of her eye. "So, uhm, you and Ivy, huh?"
Zack snorted, pinched the bridge of his nose. "For Ifrit's sake I was eighteen—" he began, stopped and as he stared down at her there was a moment—no longer than a blink—that pain flashed in his eyes.
Zack shook himself. No use remembering just how much time Shin-Ra had actually stolen from him. So, instead—in typical Zack fashion—he cast off the hurt in favor of a grin and playful banter. "But I left an impression."
"Apparently," she agreed.
"And it's true."
"What is?" she inclined her head and pocketed the key.
"What she said about us SOLDIERs." This time when he bent to whisper, his mouth brushed her ear. "I can prove it, if you don't believe me."
"You," Tifa whirled and jabbed her index finger into his chest, torn between humor and something else. "Try and behave."
His lips curved up in a wicked smile."Well, if I don't, you can always spank me."
"Zack!" she hissed, bright red.
Zack decided then and there that he'd have to make her blush more. She looked damn adorable. "What?" he blinked at her with false innocence. "There are entire rooms here for that sole purpose."
She glared up at him, then, after a short pause and with genuine interest, "Really?"
"Tifa!"
As she walked away her warm laughter pulled him. "Come on, Heart-breaker."
AN: Wow, SOoooooooo sorry about the delay. Lack of internet posed a problem. Hopefully the length of this chapter helps appease. ;) The next chapter is already mostly done, so no long delay. Thanks for all of you that read, and especially to those that take the time to review. It is VERY appreciated!!