Disclaimer: The usual.

[ Sorry, this chapter is a little short and slow, but I hoped it helped set the mood. ^_^ ]

Chapter 2

It was Sunday, and boy was she happy about that. Sundays were her days off, originally taken so she could be with her family, but now that everyone was gone, well… she really didn't have much to do other than clean or mend something.

'How domestic.' She thought with a smirk. 'I can finish off the likes of Emerald Weapon with these hands of mine, but here I am, dusting and washing dishes.' There was a time she used her fists for a purpose, they had a reason, but other than for herself, now there really wasn't much to do with them. They were relatively idle and that wasn't enough for Tifa Lockhart, especially with everything on her mind that she didn't want to think about.

With appraising eyes, she took the room in, noting her dark hardwood tables and chairs. Ordinary. The white walls with chipping paint and plaster in some areas. Spartan. The overall monochromatic layout. Lifeless. Even the pictures on the inner wall were black and white. 'Now those were some old pictures,' she mused. She walked towards the photographs with a towel in her hand and studied them.

They were mostly photos that she had managed to quickly snap during their journey. They were all there, even Reno and Rude. These weren't her personnel photos. These were the most artsy, less intimate glimpses of their journey. Still however, every person who she had fought side-by-side with was represented in some small way. The images may not have been obvious, but they were there, if one knew where to look. Shadows, footprints, clothing, hair, a silhouette, or a weapon were often the conspicuous clues but in several, a few of their gang smiled back at her camera, catching the vestiges of one of the few truly happy moments of their journey.

Sometimes, she would get questions about the photographs, often to compliment or ask what location it was taken in. Tifa was all too eager to share and the patrons were delighted to hear the tales of the Planet's heroes. Accordingly, many reverent eyes strayed to and lingered on the image with the woman wearing the pink bow, looking over her shoulder and smiling. Tifa always directed them to that picture, to the real hero, to her friend.

There were three girls in their team and while Yuffie was a welcome bundle of energy, Aeris and Tifa shared a bond that went beyond their mutual affection. They didn't have the chance to talk much considering the nature of their situation, but they didn't need to have to know that. It was just a shame that their friendship couldn't develop before tragedy struck. Tifa extended her hand and let her fingers brush over Aeris's smile and ghosted one over her own lips.

"Were you ever lonely, Aeris?" Tifa asked softly. Tifa knew that she wasn't strong enough to be on her own. It was truly the one thing she was afraid of and just didn't know how to deal with… with no relatives left and friends who never seemed to stick around long enough… Tifa hated it. That was part of the reason why she didn't have a problem running the Seventh Heaven. The endless number of people who filed in daily filled the bar with an energizing atmosphere that helped sate Tifa's emptiness. She knew however, that her own loneliness didn't come close to making it up to the countless lives she forever altered in Midgar. When that plate fell… how many other people were just as lonely as her? How many families lost someone because of her?

"I deserve this though… after all I did… all we did." Her sins from AVALANCHE never left her and committed her to this… life without a sun. Tifa inhaled deeply and looked upwards, trying to keep her tears in check. She had not cried since her mother died and she wouldn't start now, especially not for herself. The woman bit her lip and set herself by tensing all her muscles. With nothing needing cleaning, to be bought, or fixed, she ran upstairs and opened the bottom drawer of her chiffonier and pulled out her leather glove.

Laying the pair on her bent knee, her fingertips ran down the stitching soothingly. Memories came flooding in as she ran down the thread. Images of dark, mansion passages filled her vision. The sounds of explosions and ticking bombs accosted her ears as the smell of flowers and smoke alternatively stifled her nose. It was the memory of her fists impacting however, on monsters and enemies that sent her heart racing. The speed of battle, as much as she hated to admit it, excited her. It thrilled her. The simplicity of the fight was a welcome change for her turbulent mind. By going through the motions of her deadly dance she didn't have to focus on what was going on within her heart and in her head. All that she had to be aware of was what was in front of her and her own body. It was with Cloud though, that she learned to also be aware of who was fighting beside to her.

Tifa replaced the leather glove and pulled out the Premium Heart. It was with this pair that she fought Sephiroth. 'His blood was probably still in its threading,' she mused, despite the thorough washing all her clothing and items had gone through after they had fought him.

She swiftly pulled on her glove and made a fist, simultaneously relaxing and perking up with the sound of the materials rustling and crunching between her fingers and palm. It still felt right; comfortable as an extension of herself. A smile developed on her pretty face and she descended her stairs and headed towards the door, locking it behind her. It was time to rustle up some monsters. Cloud can't have all the fun.