AN: I know I took a lengthy break from this but now the plot bunny is back on track.

I just have one tiny request. Please, if you're going to favorite or add this to story alert, please, pleases drop a review. I realize this sounds very wheedling and childish but I'm really fond of this particular fic out of all my others and I'd love to hear your thoughts. I know you're out there, the story wouldn't have reached 2k in hits otherwise.

And lastly, a big round of applause and early Halloween treats for: mom calling, vLuna, Vanilla Raindrops, gingerbreadbear and Dawn. Fire. Angel.


'Oh what became of the Likely Lads?'

-The Libertines


Chapter Three

Who had a great fall?


For an instant, Cloud could feel his heart pounding; it was difficult to get his breath, and when he spoke to keep his voice steady. There was no reason to suspect any foul play. He needed to keep his views and emotions under control if he was to take charge of the situation.

Denzel was trembling, and looked expectantly up at Cloud. His eyes were round, complete trust flickering in his young transparent face. Cloud prayed he was worthy. He remembered what it was like to store all his hopes, dreams, and confidence into one single person and idolizing him. In the end, it had disastrous results.

How could he make it up if he disappointed the child?

"What do we do?" Denzel whispered.

"Nothing," Cloud replied grimly. "There's very little we can do right now. I know this sounds wrong, Denzel, but we just have to wait this out. Where's Marlene? I need you to stay with her. Come inside with me first, we'll go see Tifa then I need you to find Marlene.

Denzel didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded his head. "'kay." His face reflected a conflict of fear, worry and contempt. "Tifa's upstairs talking to a WRO officer. He kicked me out."

"I see," Cloud said very quietly. "When did he come?" They moved through the kitchen and Cloud quickened his steps to follow Denzel. The confusion was all beginning to swell inside him again, making it hard to connect his thoughts. He thought aloud. "There can't be much to tell. We only know Mr. Bell because he's a customer."

Wordlessly, Denzel led the way up the stairs. Cloud could hear voices now, one muffled and one distinct, along with a third, sniffles and whimpers. When they reached the top he squeezed Denzel's shoulder and watched the boy slip into Marlene's room before entering down the dim hallway.

He found them sitting in the den. The window was open, a cool breeze rustling the curtains provided a distraction from the tense atmosphere. Tifa was still wearing her jacket, her hair wild and windblown. She was frowning and rubbing her arms as if to keep warm while she duly answered the man whom Cloud assumed to be the officer. He was tall, nearly as tall as Cloud himself, but tighter knit, and with a stiff countenance. There was a moustache on his face and when he spoke, his voice had a rich tenor. Cloud judged him to be about forty- years. The customary red cap of WRO lay on the table beside the pistol and gunman's vest.

Cloud's face darkened. He wondered at the presence of the weapons, then looked away. It would do no good to protest, especially if his complaint was read as an attack on standard procedure. He cleared his throat and rushed inside.

"Tifa, what's going on?"

She turned. "Cloud! You're back."

"Yes, but what's happened? I came home and found Denzel, pale as a ghost, who tells me Mr. Bell had an accident. That he died, Tifa. Is that true?"

"Yes," her voice was shaky and Cloud had to mentally restrain himself from sitting next to her and holding her. "But it's not how you think it is. There was a near accide-"

"Excuse me," The officer said sharply, raising an eyebrow at Cloud. The pair paused and jerked their attention to him. "I was talking to Miss. Lockhart and I don't care much for interruptions. Identify yourself, please."

Not to be cowed, Cloud squared his shoulders and met the officer's gaze directly. "Strife. Cloud Strife. I live here; this is my home."

If his name registered at all in the man's mind, then his face did not show it. It remained stoically blank, though he bowed his head fractionally in apology. "I am sorry, I did not know. My name is Inspector Merain."

Cloud shook his hand formally. As expected, Merain's grip was strong and Cloud smiled tersely at the Inspector.

"So what happened?" he prompted again after they were settled. "Were there more than one crash today?"

Merain looked up at him. "No, no, there was just this one. However, as Miss. Lockhart here has stated," he gestured to Tifa, "it was only a near accident. The truck was running a red light and Mr. Bell was unfortunately the last person crossing, but he was not struck by the vehicle. The truck came to a screeching halt though the fright alone may have knocked Mr. Bell down. Regrettably, the driver did not stay and took off as soon as the old fellow collapsed."

"If that was it, why isn't he alive?" Cloud cried incredulously.

"Because Mr. Bell had a weak heart," Tifa interrupted, glancing at Merain for confirmation. He nodded gravely. "Cloud, did Denzel tell you the accident occurred near the town centre? 'Cause it didn't. After the people helped Mr. Bell to his feet, well, you know him, he likes to be independent so he waved them off. It was only when he reached town that he collapsed of a stroke."

Cloud rubbed his eyes tiredly. The bewildering change of circumstances from what he had envisioned threw him in a loop. He took comfort in the nearness of Tifa and her surety of the event. "Alright, so let me get this straight. Mr. Bell was almost run over but didn't. Was helped and got back on his feet only to die a few blocks later."

"That's the gist of it," Merain said impatiently. "We have a theory the pressure in his heart valves may have spiked drastically as a result of the experience, causing his cardiac arrest a later."

"But what does this have to do with us? We could have found this out in the newspapers tomorrow."

At last, Merain coughed and had the grace to appear embarrassed. "Before you came in, Miss Lockhart was explaining to me how she ran into Mr. Bell earlier this morning. And he was a regular customer at your diner, was he not? I'd hoped to find someone who could answer some of my questions."

Cloud hid his feelings on what he perceived as an interrogation but nodded guardedly. "Shoot."

"Can you advise me as to what he was like?"

Tifa spoke first. She rose from her spot, slapping a hand indignantly on the armrest. "He wasn't the least bit shady," she retorted hotly, "He was nice, kind and sincere. A bit gruffy if you catch him on a bad day but what old man isn't after they pass fifty. I can't believe anybody would want him dead."

"I see." Merain turned his gaze on Cloud. His voice was neutral. "And you, Strife, how did you see him?"

"The same way," Cloud said, looking reassuringly at Tifa. She flashed him a small, grateful smile. "He was a good man. He didn't come here often but he was always pleasant."

"What did the man do for a living?"

"I'm not sure. I think he was a construction worker."

The Inspector nodded thoughtfully then continued. "Did he ever talk about how he got that permanent discoloration on his face?"

Cloud shrugged. "No, he never said anything so we didn't ask. It wouldn't be right."

Merain persisted ruthlessly. "Do you have a guess?" He fired this question at Tifa.

"We assumed it was a leftover mark from Geostigma," she pursed her lip, "it's not uncommon and he did receive the cure late."

He asked a few more questions, thinly disguised queries on the reputation and character of Mr. Bell. When it became obvious, the pair would not budge on their opinion of the dead gentleman he switched tactics.

"And he lived alone."

"He was a widow." Cloud corrected. His eyes slid to Tifa. Her hands were clenched and she was biting her bottom lip as if trying to keep her mouth busy and closed. Then he remembered the kids a few doors down and wanted to order the inspector to leave.

"Can you elaborate more on that, please." Merain's eyes were bright and keen with interest. He pulled a notepad from his breast pocket.

"I'm sorry. That's not our place to say. If you want to rummage through his past you'll need to contact his relatives." Tifa snapped, glaring at the man. "Now, Inspector Merain, we've helped you all we can. I've told you what happened earlier and we've both attested to Mr. Bell's character. Whether you believe us or not is entirely your prerogative though if you ask other people, I'm sure you'll get the same response."

She strode over to the table and collected the items. "I think you should go. Mr. Merain. It's 8 o'clock and I have a family to feed. " Her voice was civil and brook no room for argument. She opened the front door. "Good night, sir."

An expression of annoyance crossed Merain's face only it was so fleeting, Cloud half wondered if he merely imagined it. Dipping his head to the both of them, Merain echoed Tifa's sentiment then walked into the darkening night.

"And good riddance!" Tifa slammed the door but then her nerves seemed to vanish and she collapsed on her knees, moaning. "I can't stand that man."

Amused and agreeing whole heartedly, Cloud crouched down and told her so.

"Really?" Tifa gripped his arm for a moment, then eased away. "You don't think I was too rude do you?"

"I think you were very rude." He smiled widely. "I was kind of impressed. Tifa Lockhart gets mad at a stranger. There's a first time for everything."

"Cloud!"

Suddenly serious, he grabbed her hands and held it between his. They were trembling. Cloud frowned, this finding didn't endear Merain more to him. "Look at me."

Tifa lifted her head.

"You've gotta realize the man was an ass, Teef," Cloud rubbed her fingers gently. "He had it coming. I know being an inspector, asking questions was his job but he didn't need to plant all those insinuations. What you did was right. You defended Old Man Bell. He would have been proud and Merain deserved to be kicked out. Okay?"

His heart lightened at the grin spreading across Tifa's face as she nodded.

"Good."

He stood up first then offered Tifa his hand and hauled her to her feet. He wasn't lying when he said those words to cheer her up. He really disliked the man. Merain reminded him of a bloodhound, quick to sniff and growl, seizing any form of information, eager to present it to the higher ups.

Except even all this Cloud could forgive, however, that was still no excuse for his manipulative behaviour. In hind sight, he supposed he was glad Tifa showed Merain out the door when she did. He would have been less polite in his method.

"I'm hungry," he said with a grin. "What's there to eat?"

*****

After dinner, Cloud was in the kitchen rinsing the dishes. Tifa was in the bedrooms putting the children to sleep, and he knew, probably explaining to them what happened earlier. Denzel was the most curious, peppering Cloud with questions during the meal which he refused to answer. Marlene had stayed silent but by the end of dinner, a semblance of her old perkiness returned.

As he scrubbed the plates, his mind replayed the events of his delivery and churned with possibilities and scenarios. Though the Jones never explicitly stated if their conversation was confidential, Cloud knew he needed to tell Tifa about Lisa.

But first he needed to review the facts. The girl disappeared two months ago. Her parents were obviously frantic for her safe return so she was clearly wanted and loved. This was not a case of gross parental negligence. She was last seen in Kalm wearing a purple dress, and heading off to school.

Cloud sighed and rubbed his forehead with the back of his sleeves, careful to avoid the suds on the glove. He couldn't shake off the creeping dread that once a child was missing for such a long length of time, they had no intention of coming home.

Or they were dead, his mind whispered.

The copper scourer squealed against the porcelain surface of the pot. Cloud swallowed thickly, trying to block the screams of the villagers, of the SOLDIERS, of Zack, of Aerith, those who died on the streets of Geostigma and of everyone who fell under his sword. Death, he knew, didn't discriminate and touched everyone.

Who was to say it couldn't touch an eleven year old girl named Lisa?

Cloud shut his eyes, concentrating on the feel of hot water lapping against his hands as he scrubbed. The heat soaking in through the rubber gloves brought a welcome distraction from the images whirling in his head.

He wondered if Tifa discovered any more news about Neely's brothers. Before they parted last night in front of her bedroom, she'd told him she was going over to visit Neely's in the morning and see what she could do to help.

All three missing kids had yet to reach the second decade of their lives. They were young. Very young. It was strange feeling, he thought, though he was still no more than ten years older than the eldest, Leron, he suddenly felt very old, and weary in comparison.

Leron and Jerome

Lisa

Leron

Jerome

Lisa

Their names repeated, hissing faintly like a broken record. Then his eyes flew open as a new thought hit him with all the force of a lightning bolt. Maybe not now, but soon, would there more to add?

*****

Whispering good night, Tifa pulled the door closed behind her and tiptoed down the stairs. Despite her efforts to hide it, she was still shaken over what happened and the kids knew it. Marlene was extra quiet tonight, and even offered Tifa her favourite moogle plushie to hug while she went to sleep. Denzel had been similarly passive, choosing not to ask her any questions, instead giving her a warm hug and telling her not to worry.

When Tifa neared the kitchen, she heard mutterings and hurried her steps. "Cloud?"

He was standing near the sink, a towel in one hand, and a plate in the other. Several of the dishes were already placed on the rack but a column still lay untouched on the counter. "Don't worry, I didn't break any."

A few soap bubbles were clinging to Cloud's bangs and there was a huge wet stain on the front of his shirt. Tifa smiled warily. This was an old quibble between them. She always reminded him to wear an apron when he was washing the dishes but he never complied. Then unexpectedly out of nowhere, the utter normalness of the situations struck her and she could feel her legs buckling. "Oh my god, Cloud, Mr. Bell died."

Cloud was instantly by her side, supporting her back. As he led her to a chair, she tried to read his expression but failed to discern if he was expecting this sudden outburst or not. Tifa chewed her cheeks. She should have realized sooner clamping down on her emotions would only result in a delayed reaction.

"I know, I know." His voice was gentle, filled with understanding. "It's a shock."

"And poor Neely," Tifa wrung her hands. "Her brothers, missing! They weren't just running away, Cloud. Neely suspects something. I know it. She said so herself. Apparently the boys were caught up in a money-making scheme and wouldn't tell her where the gil was coming from."

She felt drained and lowered her head. "Neely believes they were up to something illegal. And I hate to say it, but I think so too."

Cloud blinked at her solemnly. He extended a hand to her and she took it gratefully, his warmth seeping into her skin and reviving her strength. Sometimes she wondered if she was relying too much on Cloud but she was too scared to confront him.

Together they sat silently at the table, each fixed on their own thoughts, until Cloud drew back and held her gaze in a level stare. "Teef, there's more."

Tifa was puzzled. "What?"

"There's more. I was delivering a package today in Kalm and I ran across this couple named Jones. Their little girl is also missing, Teef. She's only eleven year old."

Her eyes widened, a chill tingling down her spine. "What?" she repeated weakly, "Sorry, tell me again. This time start from the beginning, Cloud."

As she listened to his story, her heart sank further. Lisa sounded like a sweet girl. She was simply going off to school when she was abducted. Brown hair and brown eyes. A cheeky smile and an insatiable curiosity. If not for the detail that she was eleven, Tifa could have sworn the description fit Marlene perfectly.

"Do you think she's connected? With Loren and Jerome."

"I don't know," Cloud murmured, a heavy tone of regret laced his voice. "At first I thought it might but now they seem completely unrelated. Especially if Neely's brothers were mixing in illegal activities. There's no way an eleven year old could run with that crowd"

"You're right," Tifa reached over and squeezed his hand. "We'll just have to buck up and get to the bottom of this. Your clients probably won't mind if you take a couple more days off and I can shut the diner for Sunday and Monday."

Nodding his assent, Cloud glanced at the wall clock then stood up. "We should get to bed then. We have that meeting with Yuffie tomorrow in the morning," he said, tucking in his chair. "And we'll need all our energy for that."

Tifa rolled her eyes. "Of course."

They remained in the kitchen for a few more minutes to tidy up then moved upstairs. As usual, they reached her room first and parted.

"Cloud?"

He turned around and silently padded back. "What is it?"

And as usual, the words froze in her mouth. "Never mind. Good night."

She would try and tell him next time.