"I'm going to get some coffee. Would you like some?"
Mary Ellen looked up from the crossword puzzle she had been doing.
"No, no thanks."
The other nurse nodded then faded quickly down the hallway, heading for the elevator. Mary Ellen glanced up at the clock and saw it was nearly four. Two more hours to go, she thought.
She probably would go out and get some breakfast. There was a small diner down the block from the hospital that served the most heavenly French toast. She wasn't sure what they put in it but it had this exquisite nutty taste. One of these days she had to ask the cook for the recipe.
It took a certain kind of person to work a night shift. Staying up all night took it's toll on you, as well as adjusting to sleeping during the day. She had never minded. She had always been a night person. She remembered reading books by flashlight under her covers in bed long after she was supposed to be asleep when she was a child, or trying to dial a station in on one of those little portable radios, straining her ears while trying to keeping the volume low enough so that her parents wouldn't hear. She couldn't count how many times she had arrived bleary eyed and late at school after having stayed up nearly the entire night when she had been in college, or at work when she had first gotten a job during the day. No, a night job was definitely her thing, not to mention the fact that, working in a hospital, the night shift was often where you started out. Most people moved to a day shift as an opening became available, but Mary Ellen was perfectly happy doing just what she was doing.
A soft whimper caught her attention. She looked behind her at the darkened ward, then stood up, walking back among the beds, among the children.
There were twenty two of them, ranging in age from less than a year to almost twelve. She had been working in pediatrics for two years now. She had always liked kids, even though she didn't have any of her own. Her husband had brought it up a few times, but she had always talked him out of it, telling him it just wasn't the right time.
And maybe it would never be. When you worked with kids who were dying every day, it was hard to bring another one into the world.
Sometimes she thought she might be better off working in another department. Like most idealistic young people, she had gotten into the medical field out of a desire to help people, to contribute something to society, to save the world. Unfortunately there wasn't much world saving going on here. Her ultimate goal had been to save lives, but here...
She sighed. Just like it took a certain type of person to work the night shift, it also took a certain kind of person to work with terminally ill patients. There was no getting better here, no happy ending for these kids. In a week, two at the most, they would all be dead, and another group would be here to take their place, and every year, every month, there seemed to be more and more of them.
It wasn't fair. These kids had never done anything wrong. They hadn't had a chance. It wasn't fair that they should all die. Seeing that happen, day in and day out, took it's toll, not only on the children, but on the people who cared for them too. Drug abuse was common, more common than anyone would admit. The burn out rate for workers in this ward was the highest in the hospital, as well as the suicide rate.
It got to her too. She wasn't immune. There were plenty of days when she would go home and just cry and cry. She couldn't remember how many times she'd thought about asking to be transferred to a different department.
She never had though. She wasn't sure why. The bottom line was, someone had to care for these children. It might be inevitable that they die but they weren't dead yet, and while they were still alive they still had all the wants and needs and fears of an ordinary child. They still needed someone there to comfort them and who would do it if not her? Their parents couldn't be there twenty four hours a day. The worst thing was that some of the parents hardly came by at all. She wasn't sure why. Maybe they just couldn't deal with it, or maybe they were afraid. No adult had ever gotten the disease, but that didn't stop ignorant people from believing they might be the first, or, more realistically, might pass it on to other children. If it wasn't for her and the others here like her, these children would have nothing, would die alone and that shouldn't have to happen to anyone.
She slowly walked the length of the ward, but heard no other sound. Perhaps just the whisper of a bad dream.
She returned to the nurses station, picked up her pencil, and stared at her crossword puzzle. It was nearly done and she had a firm belief that all would be right with the world if she could only figure out a four letter word for circle dance.
A movement made her look up again, expecting her companion to have returned. Her head rose more fully when she saw that was not the case.
It was another woman, from her garb not a member of the staff. It took a moment, but then she recognized the woman as one of the children's parents. Tifa, Tifa Lockheart. The mother of Karisa, one of the younger members of the group. They had met once or twice before and the woman had seemed quite pleasant, and genuinely concerned about her daughter. There were visiting hours in the morning and afternoon, but the parents of the children were allowed to come up at any time if they so chose. Still, not too many people showed up at four in the morning.
"Miss. Lockheart," she said, standing up. "Can I help you?"
Tifa didn't reply, just walked right past her. For a moment Mary Ellen just stood there, not sure what to make of this behavior. She could see Tifa was headed straight for her daughter's bed. After a moment, Mary Ellen followed.
Tifa reached her daughters bedside and immediately grasped the zipper on the plastic cover that separated them, pulling it down and open.
"Miss. Lockheart, what are you doing?" Mary Ellen said behind her.
"I'm getting my daughter," Tifa replied.
She pushed the plastic aside and reached in, then stopped, her hands just barely touching Karisa. The little girl was sound asleep, curled up under her covers, her head turned to the side, resting lightly on her pillow, one arm wrapped lightly around the stuffed chocobo Brent had give her. She wasn't coughing now, her face didn't look pale in the dim light. She looked perfectly normal, peaceful. It just made Tifa's heart melt to look at her.
She lifted Karisa up, folding her into her arms, blanket and all. The young child stirred, her arms automatically wrapping around her mother's neck.
"Mommy?" she said sleepily.
"Yes honey, it's me."
"Where we going?"
"Home. I'm taking you home."
"You can't do that," Mary Ellen exclaimed. She was standing right behind Tifa now. "She has the plague. She'd contagious. You know that as well as I do. Believe me, I don't like keeping the children in here anymore than you do but it's necessary! You don't want the disease spreading to other children, do you? You don't want to be responsible for more deaths. You can't take her!"
Tifa turned and stared at her, the smoldering look in her chocolate eyes forcing Mary Ellen to take an involuntary step back.
"Just try to stop me."
"There's no smoking in here."
Drax took a long slow puff from the cigarette suspended between his lips, glaring at Dr. Singh, who glared right back at him. After a moment Drax removed the offending item from his mouth and stubbed it out on the nearby counter. Most anyone else in the place wouldn't have dared to say anything at all to him, but for the moment, Dr. Singh had some pull
For the moment. After what had happened last night, that might not be true tomorrow.
Drax, like most people, didn't like being woken up in the middle of the night, but when the President of Psi Co calls directly, well, that's not something you can dismiss until morning. There had been a break in at Psi Co, a break in in a very sensitive area. When the President went on to mention the research lab it didn't take a genius for someone in the know to figure out what he was talking about. It had to have something to do with the cure, and with that, whatever drowsiness that still shrouded him had disappeared. In all his years at Psi Co, nothing like that had ever happened.
It was exciting. No one had ever had to guts to attempt to steal the cure. It wasn't just anyone who would attempt something like that. No, it took someone with balls of steel. Just the kind of person Drax would enjoy hunting down and killing.
Finally, a challenge.
"I really don't understand why I must remain here answering these infernal questions," Dr. Singh continued. "My wife is hurt. I need to be by her side!"
That was, if he could get some information out of these moronic scientists who seemed to think that the people who had done this were standing outside the front door of Psi Co headquarters waiting patiently to be captured.
"So what did they look like?" he asked, ignoring the doctor's protests.
"I already told the security guards," Dr. Singh replied. "Can't you get that information from them?"
"I'd much rather get it from you," Drax answered, trying very hard not to sound impatient.
"I really don't have time for this," Dr. Singh continued. "I have to get to the hospital to make sure my wife is all right. Don't you have video cameras you can look at?"
"They were disabled," Drax told him. "And I'm sure your wife will be fine." He had heard some of the story from the guards who had let him in. Dr. Singh's wife had been taken to the hospital, but a pool of blood still remained on the floor where she had stood.
"There were three of them."
It wasn't Dr. Singh who answered. Drax tilted his head toward the man beside him, a middle aged balding man in a lab coat identical to the Doctors.
"And you are?"
"Dr. Herman Hudson. I'm Dr. Singh's assistant."
"And you were here when this all took place?"
"Yes."
Drax nodded slowly. He got the impression Dr. Singh was one of those flighty scientist types who really didn't have much of a grasp on the realities of the world around him, a man with an independent streak who didn't like to be questioned even by someone who was trying to find the people that had injured his wife. It didn't make much sense to Drax but then these people were a breed apart. Perhaps this man's assistance would be more forthcoming.
"Go on," he prodded.
"The man was slim, about your height, with bright red hair."
"Red hair you say," Drax repeated, his eyes narrowing.
"Yes, in a pony tail. He had some kind of... electrical weapon that he used..."
"A Mag-rod," Drax told them, a humorless smirk beginning to cross his face.
"A what?"
"Never mind, continue."
"Not much else to say about him. The other man was..."
"Bald?" Drax guessed.
Dr. Hudson stopped.
"Well, I was going to say tall, but yeah, he was."
Drax nodded. It all made sense now. That was certainly easy.
"How do you know that?" Dr. Singh questioned.
"Never mind," Drax replied. If the good doctor wasn't anxious to cooperate with him, he was more than happy to return the favor. "What about the girl?"
"She was young, in her twenties maybe, and a real looker. Dark brown hair and big boobs."
"They were threatening to kill you and you were checking out her tits?" Drax questioned.
The man shrugged.
"Well, they were kind of hard to miss."
Drax frowned. The description seemed somehow familiar. He'd heard that Reno had been hanging out with some chick lately. He'd been keeping tabs on his old rival. He stood there for a moment trying to pull the memory from it's hiding place in his mind. Yeah, yeah, it was that... that Avalanche girl. What was her name? He didn't remember at the moment, but it wouldn't be difficult to find out.
There were half a dozen guards in the room, as well as a few maintenance workers. They were milling about, wandering around looking for clues or waiting for the orders to clean up. A low murmur in the background testified to their presence but suddenly they went silent.
Drax turned slowly, sensing from the abrupt silence that something had changed, and saw the world's most powerful man walking into the room.
Stanley Del Greco was not a particularly imposing specimen. He wasn't exceptionally tall, or particularly dangerous looking, or even that handsome. He was in his early fifties, but looked younger, a full head of blonde hair, neatly coiffed and parted on the left, on his head. It was almost certainly dyed. His weathered and well tanned features gave him a rugged outdoorsy look, yet his chestnut colored eyes were set a bit to far apart, his nose a bit too large, to really be considered exceptionally attractive. He wore a blue business suit, crisply pressed, a white shirt underneath and a navy blue tie with what looked like a silk screened picture of a skyline on it. Junon? Drax wasn't sure, he couldn't see the whole thing. It wasn't important anyway. Black shoes that looked recently polished but probably weren't filled out the man's attire. He wore no jewelry, not even a watch. One of his little quirks, Drax knew. No, there was nothing about his appearance that stood out, that gave away the fact that he was President of Psi Co., yet the manner in which he walked, the deference shown to him by the others in the room, made it obvious he was someone special. You don't get to be head of the most prominent company in the world without being a ruthless competitor. His temper was legendary, though Drax had never been at the brunt of it, and he planned to keep it that way. The man would crush anyone who got in his way, would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. He was one of the few people in the world Drax truly admired.
The President spotted him and immediately walked over to him.
"I want these people found, and I want them killed," he stated.
Just like that. Right in front of everyone. Another man might have taken him aside, might have been a bit more discrete about ordering someone to kill people. Not President Del Greco.
"I know who they are," Drax said.
The slight raising of one eyebrow was the President's only indication of surprise.
"Do you now? I'm impressed. Tell me more."
"It was Reno, the ex Turk, and his cronies," Drax said.
The President took a moment to ponder this.
"You're sure?"
"The description was unmistakable," Drax replied.
For a moment it seemed as if the President didn't know what to say. Drax had a feeling the man had come here ready to snap someone's head off. Well, if that were the case, he'd have to look elsewhere.
"Well, that does make things simpler," he said finally. Then he looked at Drax. "This Reno fellow, wasn't he a friend of yours?"
"I know him," Drax replied. "We used to be in the same street gang, a long time ago. To call us friends would be... inaccurate, however."
The President looked at him. It was a cold stare. It seemed to be the only expression he was capable of. Drax returned his gaze, refusing to be intimidated.
"Good," the President said. "So I take it you don't have any problem with..."
This time he let the threat hang in the air, though no one in the room misunderstood.
"No sir," Drax replied, a slow smile forming on his lips. "No problem at all."
Tifa opened her eyes, blinking in the bright light that filtered in through her curtains. She was lying in bed, on her side. She could see her pillow, part of the bed, and the wall of her bedroom in front of her. The sheets were soft, the blanket on top of her keeping her pleasantly warm. She was content.
She lowered her gaze to the small bundle of warmth that was curled against the body. Karisa was sound asleep, her small body cradled protectively by Tifa's. Tifa smiled and wrapped her arms around her daughter, careful not to wake her. It felt so good, so good to have her back. The aching hollow feeling inside her, the feeling that she had begun to think of as part of herself, was gone. For the first time in a long time, she hadn't cried herself to sleep last night.
Slowly her eyes shifted to her night table, to the small bottle that stood upon it. She had given Karisa her first dose of the cure as soon as they had gotten home. Tifa wasn't a medical expert, but she was proficient enough to be able to administer the dose by herself. Karisa had cried, which made Tifa feel bad, but of course it was necessary. Her hand reached down, her finger slowly running along the small bump on her child's arm where she had given the injection, her daughters arm moving to the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed slowly in her sleep. Two days, two days of giving her the drug and it would be over, the nightmare would be over and Karisa would be cured.
If the cure actually worked. If Dr. Singh hadn't been lying to them again.
"Oh God, please don't let that be true," Tifa said softly.
She didn't think she'd be able to take that, she didn't think she'd be able to take another setback.
There was no sense in being pessimistic. For the first time she had hope, and she wasn't going to let her doubts spoil that. Her daughter was with her, that was all that mattered.
Her eyes traveled past the bottle, to the small alarm clock beyond. It was well after noon
"Oh, it's so late!" she exclaimed, sitting up in bed, the blanket settling down around her waist.
It wasn't like her to sleep this late. It wasn't like Karisa to let her sleep this late. She had to get up. She had things to do!
And yet, upon further review, she realized that she didn't.
Well, that wasn't technically true. She did have things to do. Laundry, cleaning, going to the store to pick up some milk. Still, none of those things were particularly pressing, none of them required her to leap out of bed this very moment. She had time, she was on leave from work, she had nowhere she needed to go, she could get to those things later.
With a contented sigh she lay back down in the bed. There wasn't any reason to get up now. She could indulge herself for a bit. She deserved at least that. After all, she hadn't gotten to bed until almost five in the morning. She had nothing more important to do than to lie here with her daughter. She could do it all day if she let herself.
Thump thump thump.
Tifa's head turned. She remained poised there for a moment, then let her head fall back onto her pillow with a sigh. She could lay here all day, unless, of course, someone knocked on her door.
She pulled herself out of bed, being careful not to disturb Karisa. She was wearing only a t shirt and underwear. She opened her closet and threw on her robe, the same terry cloth one she had worn the day she had first met Reno. It wasn't really that cold in the apartment yet she shivered, feeling a chill after getting out of her nice warm bed.
Thump thump thump.
"All right, all right, I'm coming!" she grumbled as she walked into her living room. She was pretty certain who it was, though, knowing him, it did seem to be a little early for Reno to be up.
She opened the door, just a crack. Her robe was a bit on the short side, and she didn't want just anyone to see her. It could always be a salesman or something.
It was indeed Reno. She looked at him for a moment, standing there with that crooked grin of his on his face, then pulled open the door all the way.
"C'mon in," she said.
She turned and walked back inside, brushing her hair out of her face. She had just gotten out of bed, she must look a mess. She walked into the kitchen and proceeded to put on a pot of coffee.
She turned around to see Reno standing right behind her. She stopped. She hadn't expected him to be standing right there. He had a peculiar expression on his face.
"What..." she began.
For a moment he just stood there, then his hand came out from behind his back.
A red rose.
She looked at it, for a moment of incomprehension followed by a slight widening of her eyes.
"For me?" she said slowly.
"Well, duh," he said after a moment.
She looked up, into his face. He seemed perfectly sincere, and, she couldn't help but note, more than a little uncomfortable, if the unsteady shifting of his feet was any indication.
She didn't move. She hadn't expected him to do something like this. Again he had proven unpredictable, but did that really surprise her anymore?
"Well, are you going to take it?" he said after a moment.
She blinked, realizing she was standing there like a fool. Hesitantly she reached out and accepted the rose, cradling it in her hands and looking at it for a moment. She hadn't gotten flowers many times in her life. Hardly at all. In fact the last time she had gotten one...
A flower? For me?
The last time, in fact, the only other time, had been when Cloud had given her one.
She raised her eyes again. It was only a flower. Why was it men thought such a simple thing could make everything all better?
And yet, she had to admit it was a nice gesture on his part.
"Thank you," she said softly.
She turned away, looking for something to put it in, smiling to herself at Reno's mumbled reply, his attempt to brush off the fact that he might have actually done something nice for once.
Tifa rummaged through her cabinet for a moment, until she found a glass tall enough to hold the flower. She didn't have a vase. She put a little water in it, then placed it on the kitchen table, where Reno had plopped himself down in a seat.
"How's Karisa?" he asked.
"She's fine," Tifa said, smiling one more time just at the mention of her daughter. "She's sleeping."
She glanced over at him, but he wasn't looking at her, instead seemed to be intently inspecting his fingernails.
"Would you like something to eat?" she questioned, then felt her hair again. "Or maybe I should clean myself up first. I must look terrible."
"No, no, you look fine," he reassured her. "Food is good. Actually I was hoping you'd ask that."
She smiled ruefully, then mollified, set about to making them breakfast. Or lunch if one was overly preoccupied with time. Reno watched her, her back to him, bending over the stove, his eyes focused on the smooth curves of her thighs below the short robe she wore. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
He hadn't really planned on coming over here this morning. He had planned on heading over to the bar. He was going to go last night but for once in his life he had been more tired than thirsty. He had set off this morning in search of someplace to quench his thirst, feeling the need to get seriously drunk, to celebrate the success of their mission, as if he needed an excuse. Yet he had passed up a number of bars, not really sure of the reason and had eventually found himself not far from Tifa's. Like a moth to a flame he had been drawn here, and if she ever knew the truth, with pretty much the same result, as far as he was concerned. He'd stopped at a newsstand down the street and picked up the flower. A spur of the moment thing, or so he told himself. He'd been pretty harsh with her the night before and he felt bad about that. Not much, but a little. Kind of like a peace offering, he figured. He still couldn't believe he had called her a two faced bitch last night, or that she hadn't slugged him for saying it. He had just hoped she wouldn't make a big deal out of it.
Tifa turned away from the stove and proceeded to set the table. Her leg brushed against his as she put the plate in front of him.
"So what brings you over here so early?" she asked.
"Early? It's not early."
"It is for you, isn't it?" she asked.
"Well, yeah, I suppose," he admitted. "I don't know, maybe I'm turning into an early riser."
The look she gave him made it clear she didn't think there was a chance in hell of that happening.
She returned to the stove. The bacon was almost done. It sizzled and crackled in the pan in front of her.
"Mommy?"
Tifa's head turned.
"I'll be right there honey," she called out. She was surprised Karisa has slept this long, she was usually up around seven in the morning, but her ordeal had left her drained, and it wasn't over yet.
Tifa looked at the food she was preparing, most of which was almost done, then turned toward Reno.
"Can you go see what she wants?"
"Me?" Reno questioned, the tone of his voice making it obvious that he would be a very poor choice for this assignment.
"Yes you," Tifa replied. "Who do you think I'm talking to?" she continued, unable to contain herself and knowing he wouldn't take offense at a sarcastic response to his rather foolish question. It certainly wasn't an opportunity he would pass up if given it, that's for sure.
"Umm, I'm not really that good with kids," he told her.
She turned around, her spatula held in front of her.
"I've seen you with her. You're better than you'd like to admit."
He had no reply to that and again she took some amusement in his embarrassment.
"She's a three year old girl, Reno," she said. "She's not going to bite."
Reno stood there for a moment more, then acquiesced.
"I don't know," he muttered as he walked into the other room. "I've heard three year olds have pretty strong teeth..."
"She's in my room," Tifa said, ignoring his comment while sliding the bacon out of the pan and onto a plate.
The sound of Reno's footsteps faded down the hall. Then, a moment later; "She says her head hurts," wafted in to Tifa as he placed the plate on the table.
"Give her some headache medicine," Tifa called out. "There's some in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom."
"Oh jeez," she heard, or something similar. She just shook her head and turned her attention to the eggs.
She heard the medicine cabinet open and Reno fumbling around in it for a minute.
"How much should I give her? It says on here that three and under you should consult a physician."
"Give her half of one," Tifa replied. She'd done this often enough to know.
"Half of one, how am I supposed to do that?"
"Find something to cut it in half with," she retorted. "If you don't have anything on you I'm sure there's..."
She stopped, her mind going back to last night, and that horrible knife Reno had used. He wouldn't...
"Come in here!" she exclaimed, pulling open a draw by the sink and extracting a kitchen knife.
"I have to come all the way back in there?" he complained.
"Yes!" she responded. "And would you like some cheese with that whine?"
"I'm not whining," he whined, lowering his voice as he reentered the room.
"Whatever you say," she replied pleasantly. She held out the knife as he came over to her.
"You don't have that knife with you, do you?" she asked.
"What knife?" he asked, taking her offering.
"The one you had last night. The one you used on that woman."
For just a moment he didn't reply.
"No."
She cocked her head, giving him a look. She didn't see anyplace he could conceal it, but she still wasn't sure she believed him. She didn't ever want to see that knife again and she certainly didn't want it in her home.
Hoping she'd got her point across, she turned back to her cooking while Reno took his newly acquired utensil and returned to the bathroom.
Tifa shut off the stove, the cooking done, and placed the eggs on the table as well, and a pitcher of orange juice for good measure. She thought about making some toast, but decided to see if anyone really wanted any first.
"How do you do this?" Reno's voice came to her. "They break into little pieces whenever I try to cut them in half."
"Oh good grief," she muttered. "Okay, hold on, I'll be with you in just a second."
She put the pan back on the stove, double checking to make sure she had turned it off, then walked rapidly over to the bathroom.
"I swear you men are so useless," she muttered as she walked. "I don't know how you've survived all these years on your own, Reno."
She entered the bathroom and saw Reno standing by the kitchen sink, the remains of two or three small white pills scattered upon the counter in front of him.
"Sorry," Reno mumbled. "I had no idea that the ability to cut pills in half was an essential survival skill."
"It is when you have kids," Tifa replied, taking the knife from him and stepping in front of the counter.
She teased another pill out of the bottle and held the knife on top of it, then pushed down. The pill split neatly in half.
"Even pressure," she stated, filling up a glass with water.
"Even pressure. Oooh, I get it," Reno replied, making a great pretense in appearing interested.
Tifa paused for a moment, then stuck her tongue out at him.
She took the pill and the water and walked into her room. Karisa lifted her head, her hands reaching out for the glass. Tifa sat down on the bed beside her and gave her the pill, then the water to wash it down. She put the glass down and felt the child's head. She was warm, but that was to be expected. She had been running a light fever for the last few days, and even with the injections it wasn't likely to disappear instantaneously. They would just have to be patient.
"Are you feeling well enough to eat something?" Tifa asked.
Karisa shook her head.
Tifa's hand came up, caressing her daughter's cheek.
"Okay, but if you want anything later, you just let me know, all right?
Karisa nodded rapidly.
Tifa looked around a moment.
"Do you want me to bring your coloring book in here?"
Karisa nodded again.
"Yes please."
Tifa got up, going into her daughter's room and and quickly found what she sought, a coloring book filled with animal pictures and some crayons. Only the first two or three pictures had been colored. Karisa still has some work to do to master the stay inside the lines thing. Tifa brought them in to her daughter, who accepted them gratefully, then returned to the kitchen to find that Reno had once more made himself at home in her kitchen chair and was already helping himself to the food.
Oh well, Tifa sighed to herself. So he wasn't Mr. Manners. It wasn't like she hadn't known that already.
"So what are your plans for today?" he questioned after he had finished about half of what was on his plate.
"I don't know," Tifa said with a shrug. "Nothing really. Just going to hang out all day with Karisa. I don't think she's well enough to go anywhere."
"Well, you could get a babysitter," he tossed out.
"No," Tifa retorted. She shook her head. "No, I'm not going to leave her again. I'm going to spend every minute I can with her until..."
It seemed like it had been so long since she had had any real hope. She had almost felt herself begin to say, until she's gone, but that wasn't true anymore, now was it?
So she hoped. So she prayed.
"Until she's cured," she finished.
Reno nodded, but didn't say more, instead concentrating on his food. He quickly wiped out what he had on his plate and most everything else on the table. That didn't escape Tifa's attention but she could only shake her head at it. Did he eat like that all the time? If so, she couldn't understand how he kept such a slim frame.
When every scrap was gone, Tifa stood up to clear the table. Reno sat back in his chair, bringing his hands up behind his head.
"So, wanna rent a movie or something?"
The day passed, well, not really slowly, but not very quickly either. They spent most of it in the bedroom, Tifa playing with Karisa, or reading to her, or just talking, while Reno threw in a wry (or rude) comment every now and then, almost always making Karisa laugh. Reno never complained, or whined about being bored, or went and got a video as he had threatened, and even more surprisingly, the two of them got along fine. Later on, when she was ushering him out, insisting that she had things to do and just had to get them done, that laundry and cleaning still had to be finished, she actually felt a tinge of regret to see him leave, but she wasn't ready yet, if ever, to let him make her apartment his second home.
She closed the door after he had left, then turned and leaned against it. She felt better today than she had in, well, a long time. It was strange, Reno could be quite pleasant when he wasn't being a jerk. It almost seemed as if he were two separate people at times. The man was an enigma. And schizophrenic. A schizophrenic enigma. Geez, what a combo.
She shook her head, then lowered it, looking down at herself. She was still in her robe. It ended well above her knees, and maybe she should have changed into something a bit less revealing. She didn't want to give Reno anymore ideas, but in truth he had acted like a perfect gentleman, and hadn't stared at her at all. Okay, well that wasn't completely true. She had caught him a few times giving her a long look when he thought she couldn't see, but she supposed she could forgive him that, in fact, for him, that might be considered the epitome of discretion. On the other hand, she didn't think she looked all that appealing right now to begin with. She hadn't changed all day long, had never even taken a shower, or put on make up.
She walked into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, bringing her hand up to lift up a few strands of her unkept hair. Damn, she looked like a witch. The way she looked, he probably would never want to lay a hand on her again.
And she couldn't seem to decide if this was a bad thing or a good thing.
She shook her head, her hair flying around her before coming to rest all akimbo, the strands covering her face like one of those dogs who you are never sure actually have eyes or not. Then she brought up her hands and parted it to the sides again. She was tempted to take a shower, but it was getting late and it seemed rather pointless, especially since all she would be doing afterwards were chores and then going to bed.
"Tifa Lockheart, you are such a slob," she said to the mirror.
It didn't reply.
She walked out of the bathroom and back into the living room, then into the kitchen, picking up any stray objects along the way. There weren't many of them. Most of their time had been spent in the bedroom and that was where most of the mess lay. She turned on the light, for it was dark out now, and eased herself down into a chair.
She sat there for a long time, looking at the glass on the table, and the rose it held.
It was sweet of him to have done that. Sweet. Now there was a term she had never thought she would ever associate with Reno. When he acted like that, she didn't have any problem being friends with him.
Or perhaps more?
She reached out and delicately lifted the rose out of the glass. She sat there for some time, just looking at it.
She was lonely, there was no denying that. There was also no denying that she did feel an attraction for Reno. At least, she thought she did. Oh it was there all right, but she couldn't help wonder how real it was and how much of it was just her reaching out for someone, anyone, because she just didn't want to be alone. Brent was gone. She thought back to all the men she had been with after Cloud had left. She hadn't really loved any of them. They had taken what they could from her, and she from them, and then they had parted ways. Would it be any different with Reno? Her heart didn't skip a beat when he walked in the room, it wasn't like he mesmerized her, like she couldn't take her eyes off him. She didn't feel a constant aching need for him, to be with him.
Like she had with Cloud.
She brought the rose closer to her face, inspecting the soft petals, taking in it's fragrance.
That had been a long time ago. She had changed since then, matured. Perhaps... perhaps love changed as well. Perhaps that aching need was just the longing of lost youth, something that would have vanished regardless. She couldn't see people who were together ten, twenty years still feeling that way. People matured and their love did too. Perhaps it changed from an aching need into something else, something more comforting, more lasting.
Maybe she had never felt again the way she felt with Cloud because that was just the way the world worked.
The problem was, there was no way to tell. Life wasn't a fairy tale. Her knight in shining armor wasn't going to show up at her door to sweep her away. At least, it didn't work that way for most people. Sometimes you just had to muddle through as best you could.
It was the eternal problem. Wait, possibly forever, for the perfect mate, or take a chance with someone, well, not so perfect and hope for the best. Either way had it's perils. If you wait, you could wait forever, for you may never find that perfect person. On the other hand, if you settle, what do you do if the perfect person shows up later on?
Hesitantly she reached out and replaced the flower in the glass.
It was all moot anyway. Reno was not the perfect person, was so not the perfect person that it wasn't funny. In fact, he was pretty much the anti-perfect person. Sure, he had been pleasant tonight, pleasant before, but the vicious thug was still there, lying in wait, submerged, just waiting for it's chance to reappear, as it inevitably would. She wanted someone to love her, she wanted to be a whole family again. In spite of how pleasant Reno had been, could be, he could never provide that for her. It was true, what he had said. She hadn't given him a chance. She couldn't. For deep down inside, she would never believe he had changed. She just didn't think he had it in him. On the other hand, from his actions, he hadn't done anything to prove to her that he could. Every time she had thought maybe he had changed he always regressed somehow.
She sighed and shook her head abruptly. It was silly to even be thinking like this. It wasn't up to her to forgive him. It wasn't up to her to judge him. All he had said, after all, was that he wanted to be friends.
She stood up, feeling a sudden heaviness weighing on her. She hadn't really done much today, but she felt suddenly tired. She turned off the light, making her way to her room. She was tired of thinking about this. Friends she could live with, for now, and she'd just let the chips fall where they may.