It had been raining hard all night. Tifa remembered that much, at least. She had no idea how long she'd been walking, where she'd sat down, or when. She couldn't remember anything other than the biting cold and the storm. Her head was pounding. Had she been drunk? No, that couldn't be right. She ran out immediately after closing the bar. She'd had nothing to drink all night. But where was she now? Tifa slowly opened one eye. She was in a dark room, leaning on something hard. "When did I come inside?" she asked under her breath. Tifa lifted her head a little farther and saw that it had been resting on a wooden table. At least she had an explanation for the headache. As she opened her other eye and her vision cleared, she realized that she had been sleeping in her own bar. She was sitting in the booth closest to the door, with a rag under one hand.

But I'm sure I left. I had another fight with Cloud and…

It had been a slow night and by closing time there was only one other customer in the bar, a well dressed business man with no reason to go home. He'd been friendly with Tifa and she chatted politely. When Cloud came home late, he assumed that the customer was bothering Tifa, and stepped in. "But, he wasn't bothering me," Tifa thought to herself, "Cloud was angry and that's why I left." Tifa had told Cloud that she was fine. He told her that she was too friendly. The customer had immediately backed down, apologizing to Cloud for hitting on his girl. Everything seemed to happen at once. Cloud instinctively denied that he and Tifa were together. The customer stood up and told Cloud to stay out of his business if he wasn't interested in Tifa. The men had traded insults and nearly come to blows. A drink fell to the floor and the glass shattered. "I know I left because I threw a rag at Cloud, told him to lock up the bar, and ran out. Didn't I? It all seems so petty now." Tifa walked over to the bar. Shards of a broken martini glass still lay in a puddle on the floor.

A flash of white.

Blue eyes, hard as steel. But the voice was soft.

Warm arms carrying her. A heartbeat.

Suddenly, Tifa's damp clothes felt heavy and they clung to her body as she squirmed beneath them. "I know I went out last night. But who brought me home?"

"We'll be ready for takeoff in an hour, sir. You'll arrive in Junon by midday." Tseng looked critically at Rufus, but received no response. "Sir? Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes." Rufus turned his gaze to the helicopter. But what if she is not?

"Sir, one cannot become a Turk without anticipating your concerns. I've already sent Elena," Tseng proceeded delicately, "to investigate the situation at Seventh Heaven."

Without any attempt to hide his response, Rufus smiled.

A/NThere it is. Hopefully I cleared up some of Rufus and Tifa's motivations, which I felt were unclear last chapter, and hopefully I kept them both a little bit more in character this time around. Love it or hate it, review for me either way.

-- ---