Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and its characters belong to Square Enix and many others. Sadly, I'm not one of them.
Revised and edited January 7, 2007.
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Metathesiophobia or, Moving Forward
By Lady Calliope
Part Four: Atelophobia
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Stunned silence.
"So you live in Midgar now? Not just visiting?"
"Yep. All the Space Program research and plannin' facilities are here."
"The Space Program? I didn't know they'd started that up again!"
"Surprise." He downed another shot. "Shinra needed someone to run things, and apparently I'm their man."
"Never thought I'd hear you say that."
"Hell, me neither."
"Well, congratulations! No one deserves it more." A snort from him, a pause. "What about Shera? Is she here, too, or—"
"No. She's back in Rocket Town."
"But I thought she—"
"We're over, her and me." There was no bitterness in his voice, only a sigh, a release. "She can do whatever she damn well pleases now."
"Oh. I see." Beat. "But I thought the two of you were getting married?"
"So did she. But after everything that happened…I just—I'm no good for her."
"What does that mean, exactly?"
"Means she deserves someone more…nicer, less…me."
"Because you weren't nice to her?"
A spark of irritation in his face, but if it was directed at her or someone else she didn't know. "Not that. It's—she could never get over the guilt, over that damn rocket thing. Everything was always her fault. She never blamed me for nothin'."
"And that was a bad thing?"
"Hell, yeah! It was like she thought I couldn't do nothin' wrong. Like I was perfect, like some sort of, of…"
"Like some sort of idol?"
"Yeah, like I—"
"Like you always knew the answers and everything you did was right, even if it was wrong? Because she was afraid to be wrong about you?"
He stared at her. "Nail on the head." Another shot. "I take it you know a little about this?"
"More than a little."
He paused to refill his glass. "So do you ever hear from him?"
Ruby eyes tightened: a line had been crossed. He thought she wasn't going to answer. "…No. About him. But not from him." He'd hit a light switch and her face went out.
"Shit, Tif, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"No, it's fine. Really." A furtive glance at the clock, anything to get this away from her. "But I need to close up now, so I guess you—"
He'd done it. Time to retreat. "I get you. Here, keep the change." It wasn't a large tip that screamed pity, but it wasn't a small one that whispered indifference and platitude, either.
"Thanks. I appreciate it."
"You're a good bartender." He pulled on his jacket, opened the door with his back. "I'll be back tomorrow."
The laughter of the bell above the door pealed in the silence he left. And for the first time in a long time, her mind glowed with ideas other than how to pass the days of waiting.