"Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity."
-- Seneca
-. Wait For It .-
Chapter II: Lucky
Four months earlier
"You. Piece. Of. CRAP!"
The wrench hit the furnace with a resounding TWANG, causing a deep dent in the metal that probably did little to help its state of brokenness. As if in retaliation, the tool unexpectedly swerved upon impact, ricocheting over her head and into the deepest, darkest, most spider-web filled corner of the basement. At least that settled it then. Like hell she was retrieving it to continue trying on the hopeless crusade.
Out of breath, out of stamina and out of patience, Tifa rubbed her hands together as a combo last resort prayer for a miracle and an attempt to get feeling back into her fingers. Of course, today of all days, the furnace had to fail. On the coldest day they had had in Edge since moving in. On the day her new stock of Corel wine was fully fermented and expected to sell big. On what was meant to be Marlene and Denzel's first day back from vacation with Barett. On one of the rare nights Cloud was expected to be home in time for supper.
Stupid. Lousy. Insolent. Son-of-a-
She kicked it again, as hard as she could, just for good measure/to vent frustrations. Though she was an adamant believer in the idea that violence was never the answer (no matter how good it felt), this one time proved to be the exception. For after a few glorious seconds of wheezing, the contraption suddenly sputtered to life, glowing red and basking her in one deliciously warm wave of hot air.
"Yes. Yes!" she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around the large metal cylinder, giggling in exhausted elation at the nearly burning metal beneath her cheek. "I love you! I'm sorry! I'll buy you lots and lots of oil! Or electricity. Or whatever it is you eat. Just don't ever, EVER…"
A sputter. Tifa's eyes popped open.
"..ever…"
Another, louder sputter. Then a gulp. Then a shake that sent her staggering backwards, wincing as her exposed digits from fingerless gloves were hit by a stream of boiling steam.
"No. No! NO!"
A clunk.
A clank.
Then…nothing.
She paused, resisting the urge to nurse her minor burns, hoping that maybe if she stayed still long enough not to scare it, it would continue on as usual. Alas, as she discovered later when the soon-to-be mangled piece of junk was hauled away, technically, the furnace was past its prime by many, many decades anyway and had simply reached its time.
In that moment however, it was the straw that broke the camel's back.
This time, it was the hammer that she used.
"I…hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
By the time he opened the cellar door, the episode was thankfully over and the furnace nothing but a steaming, unrecognizable pile of scrap metal. Tifa jumped at the unexpected voice, the tool-made-murder-weapon clattering to the ground as her hands leapt to her heart.
"Reeve! Hi!" As pointless as it may have been, she took a second to rake her fingers through her hair and straighten her jacket before turning to face him. Hoping against all hope that she appeared calm, collected and not at all like she had just spent that last five minutes bashing an innocent inanimate object. "H-How long have you been standing there?"
The WRO Commissioner only grinned. His usual, supportive and kindly expression that seemed to say it probably deserved it. Tifa swallowed and forced herself to return the gesture, silently thanking him for feigning ignorance.
It was just one of those days. The kind where almost everything went and would, probably, continue to go wrong.
"Happen to know any good furnace salesmen? Preferably ones that don't ask questions?"
He laughed lightly and nodded, taking out his phone to scan the contacts for references. "Depends on when you need it by, your budget and personal ethics?"
"Now. None and…considering the importance of the first two, the line is only drawn at organ harvesters. Or guys who wear sunglasses at night. Tea?"
"Please."
A few minutes later she was settling across from him at the bar, struggling to pour from the pot competently with mitten clad fingers. A feat so far failing, but at least thawing some of the frost off the wood surface.
"Sooo, I doubt you're sticking around for the coziness factor. What's going on?"
Reeve took a long sip before replying, visibly relaxing as the warm liquid soothed the aching chill that was now two steps beyond uncomfortable.
"I wanted your opinion," he stated after swallowing. His dark, serious eyes moved to meet hers, causing her to reflexively squeeze her steaming mug more tightly in her grasp. "And your support."
Business related. Of course.
"We're not joining the WRO," she reminded him in a tone that was half teasing half threatening. "Cloud and I already told you."
"No. No. I understand. This is something else. Something that may help heal the planet's...let's say psychological stability."
Tifa couldn't help but cock an eyebrow at the shoddy wording. After all, it was obvious enough want he wanted. Information. But too many formal debates and political conditioning had made it impossible for him to ask a simple, direct question anymore.
Over the past several months, the WRO had been slowly but surely building a form of government to regulate the larger, less-organized settlements of Gaia. Being the one and only barmaid in Edge, the largest municipality so far, had its political as well as financial advantages, as she was constantly picking up heavily opinionated whispers. There was no way to avoid to negative fallout from some of the organization's implementations, whether made by an unbiased committee or not, there would always be someone with a problem. Especially since Shinra had made it so difficult for the people to trust any type of structured collective, or want to give them even the tiniest form of control.
Still, Gaia needed government to function, especially in order to avoid companies over-indulging with natural resources. The WRO had merely stepped up to fill the demand and was doing it best to represent the human race as a united faction, functioning off donations and volunteers. However, judging by the increasing number of gray hairs on Reeve's head and wrinkles around his mouth, things were, of course, moving at a near glacial pace, if at all.
He sighed then and raked a hand through his still mostly dark locks, mentally preparing himself for what would surely be yet another unenthusiastic reaction.
"Before I say anything, let me remind you of all the good the WRO has been doing even with its rather pathetic resources. We've built hospitals, we've planted trees, and we're working on a rail road to unite the cities. We even have plans to-"
"No."
One word. Powerful, poignant and conveniently short.
Reeve blinked.
"You didn't even let me-"
"No one is going to agree to you implementing a tax. People are barely making do as it is. We are barely making do as it is, even with two successful businesses. It's just not gonna happen. Here." A glass of dark amber liquid was slid across the counter to him, landing perfectly two inches from his forearms that were resting on the wood. He hadn't even seen her prepare it, swift and skilled as she was, and though he usually didn't have the brain capacity available to process alcohol with all the other issues vying for dominance, she had been correct in guessing that today would be the day he made an exception.
With yet another sigh, the tips of his leather-gloved fingers pinched the rim and brought it to his lips. It was better than the tea at warding off the cold. Better still because it gave him the confidence to continue trying.
"When Denzel came to me that day, wanting to join us…"
Though his eyes remaining glued to his drink, he sensed her stiffen. A low blow indeed, but also the only way to win people over to the idea. Make it personal. Make it matter.
"He reminded me of how many kids are out there, simply wandering the streets, taking jobs anywhere they can get them. Even with the stigma gone, they still have no future to look forward to. Boys are being sent into the dark dangerous mines, and girls, girls as young as nine, I've had over eighty of them being pulled out of brothels-"
"Stop!" Tifa raised her hand to him then, eyes squeezed shut in a fruitless attempt to avoiding visualizing the horror of those poor kids…kids around the ages of her own unconventional family.
It could have easily been Denzel: covered in coal smudges with a raspy cough, forcing down dirt spotted porridge as his only form of sustenance.
It could have been Marlene: wearing too much rouge, teased hair and a short skirt, being led through the halls of the Honey Bee by Don Corneo.
Tifa shook her head. No. It wasn't and would never be like that for them. They were safe, happy children currently frolicking on the beach of Costa del Sol, being chased by Barett.
They were lucky.
"I know how bad it is out there. Trust me." Damn. Her voice, it was already breaking. "And I'm doing the best I can with all I've got. Every gil I have goes to those kids."
"But only those two kids. What about the thousands of others? Who are you to choose who lives and dies? You're not God Tifa."
"Well neither are you!"
Silence enveloped the room. Neither adult met the others eyes', each digesting the sting of the arguments. Reeve finished his drink in one gulp and, instantly, Tifa was there to refill it. Whether it was out of habit as a diligent barmaid or as a wordless offering of peace, she didn't know. She also wasn't sure of her intentions when she found herself bringing up another glass from below the counter and poured herself a larger than usual helping.
Reeve took it as a sign to continue. It was. But like hell she'd be able to listen to any more of this while completely sober.
"It wouldn't be much," he whispered in a newly humbled tone. "Five percent sales, not income."
After finishing her first big gulp which reminded her of her distaste for alcohol, Tifa nodded. Not necessarily agreeing with the tax, but with the idea that if it HAD to be done, it made more sense that the businesses be affected more than the lowly workers still struggling to feed themselves. Though, of course, that meant that she and Cloud would be one of the few hit the hardest.
"And think of it this way, our first project would be a school. A school Tifa. Your money would still be going directly to the kids. And by the time we expand, with a more stable economy aided by subsidies, your bar profits will be tripled. Filled to capacity with people celebrating, not drowning their sorrows."
Another gulp and the glass was empty, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her blood a thousand times more efficiently than the tea ever could. And as the comforting numbness settled on her brain like a blanket, Reeve's arguments were starting to make an annoyingly great amount of sense.
A school in Edge really would be amazing. As the kids got older it was becoming harder and harder for her to make home lesson plans while balancing the bar duties, especially since the departure of the stigma had greatly increased patronage. And though Cloud now helped, or at least tried to help, he just wasn't cut out for being stuck behind a counter for hours on end or at a table looking over Marlene's shoulder as she copied out lines in cursive. And the few times she had had no choice but to let him, it was almost always followed by multiple, loud, whine-pitched voices assaulting her the second she stepped through the door.
My beer was ninety percent foam! Pour it again Tifa.
Tifa! He made us read the dictionary today. THE DICTIONARY! You're teaching us tomorrow, right?
I got a mix of melon liqueur, scotch, cream and half a jar of maraschino cherries when all I wanted was a screwdriver. I mean, dude, it's a basic cocktail not rocket surgery.
I asked why the sky was blue, and we ended up in the garage for six hours, the floor covered with maps, messing with the headlights of Fenrir so that they turned on and off really fast. I mean, it was cool and all, but I still have no idea what he was talking about. He's actually making me miss math.
Well, that last one wasn't so bad in the end. Especially the hilarity that ensued the next day when Cloud couldn't figure out how to get his headlights to STOP blinking on and off really fast.
So a school, huh? A real school where Marlene and Denzel could learn from a professional, make normal friends, and give her a blissful eight hours a day to concentrate on her customers and, maybe, even herself.
In just a few short minutes, Reeve's proposal had gone from a preposterous delusion to a horrendously good idea. But it wasn't going to happen unless she not only approved, but helped spread the word of the tax's benefits to other business owners. And what fun that was going to be.
For the thousandth time that day (and it was only eleven am) Tifa internally moaned, resigning to her fate all the while thinking: Why me?
She poured herself another abnormally large portion with the assumed excuse of seeking only its warmth, exaggerating the up and down motion of the bottle so that the liquid trickled out faster.
"It better be an insanely good school," she mumbled through tight lips as the last drop filled her glass perfectly to its brim.
She didn't have to look at Reeve to know that he was smiling.
"And I mean good. There better be, like, an amazing playground."
"We're trying to avoid spending on luxuries, but for you I'll make sure of it."
"And a gymnasium."
"Well, of course."
"And a pool."
"Sure. Fine. As long as by 'pool' you mean a two foot deep hole in the ground filled with sewage? Unless you think people wouldn't mind seven percent…I'll simply send them to you if they have a problem."
"Where I will, of course, guilt them into letting it go."
"Guilt. Threaten. Potatoe. Potahtoe. Cheers to the children's not happening pool!"
Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction after so easily losing the argument, but she laughed then. Boldly, brightly and mid-sip of her over-filled glass, sending the liquid dribbling down her chin.
"Classy," Reeve teased with a newfound exuberance while taking a small, elegant sip from his own stock with his pinky raised, causing her to burst into giggles once more.
The next day, as she, Cloud and kids shared their first family meal together in two weeks (toast and hot chocolate while huddled around the open stove so that their bare fingers didn't freeze) there was a curiously early knock at the door.
Since the very idea of leaving the comforting glow of the oven was practically heartbreaking, Cloud of course was the only candidate for the job of answering it. And as he extricated himself from the pile of blankets and huddled bodies, the kids let out several small whimpers of protest, as did Tifa who had somehow ended up with her head nuzzled on his shoulder.
It had been the only positive consequence of the furnace's untimely death; the fact that she finally had the excuse to squirm just a little closer to him than usual, needing his warmth. The position had reminded her of the night they spent together under the Highwind after making it out of the Lifestream. She had thought then that such a moment would never come again, and remembered asking him to stay still, just a little longer, so that she could savor it.
And yet…here they were. Again.
Despite the now bone-saturating chill his absence had created, Tifa felt an involuntary, goofy grin make it way to her lips as she watched him walk away.
Amazing. He still smelled the same. After all these years. Of leather and cotton and soap and something tingly, like skin censored menthol. An after effect of the mako poisoning probably. It was yet another one of his odd, inhuman traits that were unnoticeable unless you were within an inch of his bare skin, and the number of times she had been in such a position were frustratingly few.
Maybe the fates were throwing her a bone for once with this heating malfunction. Not that she had any idea how exactly or if she even wanted to take advantage of it. After all, it had only been a few weeks since the defeat of the remnants and since he moved back in. And her trust in him was still far from stable, despite all the evidence that he was serious about staying.
All she knew, all she was sure of, was that she…liked having him around again. More than before, when he had been a somber and silent near-corpse that sucked every struggled-for ounce of joy from the household. But now, it was as if every once considered annoying little gesture or action of his was suddenly amusing and/or pleasantly frustrating. She liked when he casually stole fries off her plate, even though she smacked his fingers in reprimand for setting a bad example. She liked when he fell asleep at the bar while working on his maps, and she'd have pull and prod him to his feet and toward the stairs. She especially liked when he leaned in to help her retrieve something from a high shelf, lightheartedly scolding her for being too lazy to get that step ladder for behind the bar. His chest would press against her back for mere seconds before the item would be placed on the counter and he'd walk away with a sigh, going back about his previous business. Fortunately for her, completely ignorant of how flustered he'd just made her.
Those moments especially, she really, really liked. So much so that it was a tad bit frightening…but also fun. Wearisome, but also exciting. It was both good and bad, horrific and marvelous. It also explained why now she was practically bouncing in her seat, eyes glued to the kitchen door, waiting for him the return, settle down and let her feel it again.
She'd worry later about whatever the hell it meant.
He didn't come back until ten drawn out minutes had past, long after the marshmallow in his cup had melted to a floating puddle of goo and then cooled back into a solid. His expression was serious when he finally pushed through the swinging door, carrying nothing but a plain white note card.
"Who was it?" Marlene asked, her voice like her body, shivering with cold.
"Delivery," was his simple answer, his tone betraying nothing. Wearing only a thin pair of gray cotton pants and a t-shirt, Cloud was annoyingly unaffected by the temperature thanks to the mako enhancements. Still, that gave him no right to saunter over as he did then and casually flip the oven door closed.
All three of them simultaneously vocalized their fervent protests, Denzel's bright eyes flashing with nearly murderous intent as he tugged the zipper of his fleece up as high as it could go past his nose.
But the action had been timed perfectly of course. Cloud always did have a flair for the dramatic. For mere seconds after the initial curses left their lips, the unmistakable sound of the furnace starting up hit their hat and hood covered ears like the most beautiful of melodies.
The heat was back. Full, thick and rich streams of hot air blasting them from all directions, much more powerful than ever before.
As the kids made an exuberant show of pulling off and throwing their layers of winter garments into the air, even debating modeling their new swimsuits from their sun-filled vacation, Cloud discretely slipped the note card into Tifa's waiting fingers.
On it was a simple statement, no signature. Not that it needed one.
"For the good of the planet, one step at a time."
Huh. Well how about that…?
She felt a delightfully warm and strong hand place itself on her shoulder, forcing her gaze away from the note and up into those too-blue irises. In the chaos of last night, with the kids coming home and the various other issues attributed to running a bar and making dinner in below freezing temperatures, there hadn't been a chance to talk to him about Reeve's quest. But considering his lack of a reaction to this outrageous gift, she figured he had already been filled in somehow. The WRO was one of his biggest clients after all.
The hand on her shoulder tightened slowly and released, followed by the briefest glimmer of a smile before he was off down the hallway, picking up socks and sweaters in the wake of the two now jubilant children. The gesture, though brief, had held so many messages.
Not only did he know about the tax, but he was okay with it. Wordlessly, he had coaxed her not to worry about the cost of the furnace, ensuring her that it was far from a bribe as they'll technically be paying for it in the coming months anyway. And lastly; reminding her that her support was appreciated and it was all in all a very brave and yet still very sensible decision.
At least, they both hoped it would be.
Tifa sighed and tossed the card across the now empty flat and empty comforter, still unsure of her feelings even as she gratefully pulled the thick wool cap from her suddenly sticky hair. As much as she hated to admit to being so pessimistic, she was one of the many citizens who were still…unsure of placing their trust in any sort of organization once again. There were just too many things that could slip through the cracks, too many people still greedy for the planet's wealth, regardless of the plights it would cause for future generations.
As dependable as Reeve the person was, he couldn't keep his eye on everything at once. And now, with great sums of money, money they could barely spare, on the line… well, it made things complicated. It made things tense. It made things scary.
One thing was for certain, she noted, listening with the faintest ghost of a grin at the sound of amused shrieks and thundering footsteps from above her head: things were about to change.
Especially because, long minutes after his hand had retreated, she still felt her shoulder tingling from Cloud's touch.
Tifa realized then, with the heat being back on there would be no need for huddling under blankets today. And the object of her confusion would most likely pick up his regular delivery schedule now that he didn't have to worry about helping manage the kids, run the bar or haggle with repair men.
Damn.
She really did have the worst of luck.
Author's Note: To warn everyone, my outline of this story will be going back and forth between the present proposal night and the four months that led to it. Politics will not be a big part of the story line, but are just there to reinforce some odd decisions that are made.
Thanks again for your wonderful support of this story. As mentioned earlier, I have a few chapters written of this already so I decided to post another to reward reviewers. Those who don't know me can now be assured that feedback (or even a mere 'yay! Nice story!') really do effect the speed of my updates :D. Til next chapter.