Stuck

He likes to tease her like her mother used to tease her hair when she was five. She still hates the memories of the hairdo that had her carrying the nickname 'Poofa' for a year.

When he's brave, and she's not completely sober, he'll throw it in for kicks.

It's easy to get lost in a world where others don't exist; she'd like to think they could stay there forever...just stop time and not have to worry.

But life isn't like that and he's cold when he's not warm with liquor, and her fingers feel like spider-webs blowing in the wind when she reaches out for him and he's not there. It isn't fair, and it isn't easy, even he realizes this...but part of life is living hard even when you want to just live easy. If she was content with living easy, she'd never have joined AVALANCHE.

If she was content with living easy, she just would've died at that reactor.

But she didn't.

And he didn't, and he thinks he's been stuck ever since that night.

She looks like a flower sometimes when her hair is lose, pedals touching the floor. She looks as delicate as one too, until they get into a fight and she'll punch his arm.

Then he'll remember her fists are hard as bricks, and carry the weight of the world with them.

Then she'll be delicate again when she's bandaging the scrape on his arm after a run in with ShinRa guards. She'll scold him for being stupid, and her fingertips will feel like silk until he gets too riled up to sit there or even remember to say thank you. He always mumbles it the next day.

She can tell he doesn't like being in debt to other people. It's not that he doesn't mind repaying people, he just thinks he should've never had their help in the first place. For as strong and cocky and arrogant that little SOB can be, he really doesn't think he's strong at all.

She can see it in his eyes sometimes, when the lights are dim enough in the bar, and there's enough customers for him to blend in. His eyes will shine then, not really focused on the present, but his muscles taunt beneath skin, ready to spring at a moment's notice.

Every now and then he gets a wild, feral look to his eyes, especially if he's cornered, and not even in a dangerous situation. Even if it's one he knows he can get out of, he's still thinking of all the ways things can go wrong, and all the ways he can make them go right again.

She can't imagine what ShinRa did to him to make him quit SOLDIER. After all, that had been his dream, his reason for leaving Nibelhiem in the first place. That's what he had told her, right? That night, when she acted like a girl with a crush and made a boy make a promise he didn't have to keep.

But he's here, and he can, and she doesn't know if he will.

Until he tossed out the guys that cornered her one night after the bar closed. He knew perfectly well she could've handled them herself, and he didn't say anything about the promise, so she won't...but still...

It had caught her off guard, and she knows Barret would've done the same thing if he had walked in on that.

That's what's so confusing about him.

Because he's not supposed to care, or he acts like he doesn't until he gets into a fight with her about being stupid and she punches him. Or when he stays up two nights in a row waiting for her to wake up.

Barret wouldn't tell her that. He thinks he's bad news as it is without him caring for her.

Wedge did.

She thinks she may never know what ShinRa did...but she's almost glad that they did. He could still be working for ShinRa...she could've fought him. She could've killed him or been killed by him. She wonders now if they would've even recognized each other in that situation. She thinks she would've recognized him, but who is to say anything when it comes to him. He's unpredictable, and she can see his personality shift before her very eyes sometimes, like he's battling within himself. He doesn't realize it, and she barely realizes it herself...but there's a difference to his posture. He's silent and arrogant, and then he's silent and watchful...taking everything in with his eyes, like he's trying to learn as much as possible. Arrogant people don't try to learn as much as possible. They already believe they've learned everything there is to learn.

She doesn't understand it and she thinks she never will.

What she needs to do is stop holding back and tell him what happened to Nibelhiem. Unless he had been there after the attack...the fire...and seen the ruins... but still, he wouldn't really know what had happened. He could tell there had been a fire, but not what caused it because of the cover up...because ShinRa never does anything wrong and had no part of it. He wouldn't even know who caused it.

Him. His hero.

Barret's hand hits the counter top and she jumps, shaken from her reverie.

"Hmm? What is it?"

Barret sighs. "I hate him."

She doesn't have to ask who.

She sighs, putting her hands on her hips. "And?"

"I need his help."

"Oh?" This is becoming amusing.

"Shaddup. You know this is hard as it is, girl." He sighs again. "We need brute strength...we're doing it. Jesse's got her bomb ready. We need to take out that reactor. We need to make a statement. AVALANCHE will not stand silently anymore. We'll hit 'em where it hurts."

"That's great! When do we–

"Whoa. Not we–

"What?"

"Listen to me girl...I know it's been a while since ya got shot, but I don't want to risk it–

"Barret." This always happens.

Well, she doesn't always get shot, but he almost always finds a reason.

"Don't worry...you'll get the next one, I promise. I'll need both of ya then...this reactor is a bit easier to get into and out of. I need to test him out, make sure he's as good as he thinks he is."

She shakes her head. "What makes you so sure that he'll agree? He's never shown any interest before."

"Hell, he said he was a mercenary! And as much as I hate usin an ex-SOLDIER, he would come in useful."

She takes a deep breath, staring at the grain of the wood. She follows the pattern with her eyes.

"I suppose... but it's dangerous putting you two anywhere together without me there to moderate..."

"I'll behave."

"Maybe," she sniffs. She crosses her arms stiffly. "When is it?"

"A week." Barret holds up a finger, pointing at her. "Ask him tonight, would ya? Everybody wants vengeance against ShinRa... he is an ex-SOLDIER. That's gotta count for somethin."

"I suppose. Alright." She nods her head, and Barret cracks a toothy grin.

"Just make sure he behaves too."

"I make no promises."

xxx

It's incredibly late that night when he finally shows up. He comes in quietly, shutting the door softly behind him. He doesn't notice her sitting behind the counter. She's got a half empty glass bottle resting up against her lips, and her hair fell out of its tie about two hours ago. It was a horrendously busy night, and while she'd just like to go to sleep, it's been eluding her.

He starts to head for the pinball machine that lowers into the secret room when he spots her in the hazy, orange light.

He walks over slowly, pulling his mammoth sword off his back, and resting it up against the wall.

"You're still up."

She glances at him, the bottle slipping off her lips and nicking her teeth.

She swears as the sensation sends jolts up to her brain. She lightly grips her mouth, and glances at him from beneath her bangs.

He scrapes the stool out across the bar from her and plops down, snatching the bottle out of her hands swiftly. He takes a quick swing, and clunks it back onto the counter top and stares at her blatantly.

"Long day?" she asks, folding her arms before her.

He shrugs with one shoulder before lifting the bottle back up. She watches as he chugs the remains with ease, and sighs throatily when his lips finally part from the bottle.

She raises an eyebrow, reaching blindly under the counter to pull out another bottle.

"You don't usually drink," he says after taking the first gulp.

She shrugs. "You don't usually talk," she shoots back, stealing her bottle from him. "I didn't get this out for you."

"Moody..."

"Thief." But she slides the bottle back to him after her next sip.

He takes another healthy gulp.

She watches as his Adam's apple rises and falls, little beads of sweat clinging to the ridges in his skin. He would've caught her staring but he's too busy taking another deep gulp of the amber liquid.

She glances away as he sets the bottle back down.

"What is it." It's a statement, not a question.

She glances at him, watching him warily.

"It's...nothing."

He grunts, unamused.

She sighs, rolling her eyes. It's okay for him to not want to talk, but if she doesn't want to talk...well, that's just ridiculous.

He raises his eyebrow in time with the bottle, and she narrows her eyes before conceding.

"Do...you remember... that night by the well?"

She thinks for half a second he nearly chokes on the liquid, but then somehow he's back to normal, staring her down.

He doesn't answer her question so she goes on.

"I guess you haven't been home in a while. That would've been..." She plays with the bottle cap, sliding it across the counter top. "...the last time."

He narrows his eyes slightly, but she's too busy tracing the wood grain with the bottle cap to notice.

"It's gone." The words slip easily from her mouth, made slick across her tongue by the liquor. "You came here...to join something...that destroyed us. I don't blame you... I, we all thought...everyone."

She sighs, pressing her fingertips to her temples.

She suddenly looks up with conviction in her eyes. "It's been seven years since you left Nibelhiem. Seven years since I last saw you. You left to be a SOLDIER. What happened? What made you change your mind?"

He says nothing at first, stares straight at her as if confused, then glances off to the side. "A lot can happen. A lot did happen."

"I–I know...but...what happened to our home–

"A tragedy." His gruff voice sends chills up her spine. "Five years...that night..."

She blinks, her vision slightly bleary and she tries to blame it on the alcohol.

"What?"

He glances up. "It's been five years. He killed them...all of them. That's reason enough...to be here now...and not where I was."

This statement is so mixed up on so many levels her mind can't even begin to wrap around it. He was acting like he knew what happened...like he had been there himself.

But he hadn't...the only ones...

That man, Zack...

And that monster...

Her face suddenly contorts into a grimace as she thinks of that night. She shudders, rubbing her rib cage slightly.

His eyes flicker to her hand, then back to her face.

"Why are you asking this now?"

She glances up, as if woken from a deep slumber. "Because." She stands slowly, picking up the empty bottles, and carrying them to the bin. "Barret wants to hire you for an AVALANCHE mission. He thinks you have a reason to resent ShinRa. He's right."

It was suppose to be seven she thinks...not five... he hadn't been there...had he? Maybe it is the alcohol...

Maybe it isn't.

But what is she suppose to say to a two year difference? What could've happened to him...what had happened to him? If he had been there that night, which he hadn't, she would remember...if he had been there that night, what had happened to him after? Did it have something to do with the state of mind she had found him in?

He had pulled out of that, but she could see the relapses that lasted just for a few moments, or seconds. Is she supposed to say she didn't remember him being there? That he is wrong? How can she prove him right? How can she prove him wrong?

She grips the bottles tightly in her hands, studying the full trash bin.

She can't say anything... maybe her mind is just playing tricks on her. She just isn't thinking straight...she's just too tired and too drunk to put the pieces together.

She doesn't even realize she's swaying until he steadies her, grabbing her elbow lightly. She glances at him, and he takes the bottles from her into one hand, and drops them into the bin. He closes it, and turns to look at her.

He stares at her with a raw look, open and caught in such a turmoil of emotions she can't begin to pick them out and sort them. His eyes are a hazy blue green, and she swallows, feeling small under his stare.

She probably freaked him out with all the question and answers.

"I should...go to bed. You should too."

Her head is spinning, and her stomach feels like it's tied in knots as she takes a step towards the stairs. She doesn't know if it was the liquor or the conversation that's making her feel this way.

He's still got a hold of her elbow though, and that's probably the only reason why she's still standing up.

He leads her up the stairs, and into the tiny bedroom with the creaky bed. She lays down on top of the covers, tucking her boot clad feet up against her thighs and closing her eyes gratefully.

"Thanks," she breathes, nuzzling her nose into the pillow.

There's a creaking as he shifts on the floorboards, and he presses his lips to the corner of her forehead.

She opens her eyes and stares him down.

And he kisses her.

Or she kisses him.

But all she knows is that his lips are on hers, and he's softer than he looks, a lot softer. Her eyelashes brush his cheek, and she sighs against his mouth. He smells like the earth, like dirt and leaves...like Nibelhiem which is impossible because he hasn't been there in seven years or five years or however the hell long, and she wants to bottle that smell up and save it for days when she'd just like to be normal...days when she'd just like to be the girl next door, and him be the boy that stayed home.

But he wasn't, and she isn't and he pulls back slowly and stares back down at her. She'd like to stay in this moment, stuck her forever, but she can't keep her eyes open because she already thinks she's dreaming.

And dreams don't last for that long.

xxx

When she wakes it feels like there's someone rattling boulders in her head, and piercing her eyelids with needles. She has no idea how she got where she is, and she's pretty sure she's in the bed, but she can't be too sure. It still feels like she's in her clothes from yesterday, but at least she managed to get her boots off, and under the covers.

She manages to crack one eye open, spotting an unfamiliar sight.

He's sitting at the foot of the bed, his eyes staring blankly ahead, his hands clasped loosely before him.

"Cloud?" Her throat feels like someone's laid gravel in it.

"I'll do it."

Her forehead wrinkles. "Do what?"

He glances at her. "Barret's job."

"Oh...okay..." She has a vague recollection of Barret telling her about the job, but not much else.

She watches him stand, and leave the room, still confused.

She's too tired to care anyways.

But as her eyes close, for some reason, she's got the numbers seven and five stuck in her head.

A/N: This is the end of this story...this one never really had a plot, just a tying of a couple things and reasons why Tifa and Cloud could've gotten close during their short time before the whole friggin incident known as FFVII. I tried to tie in the fact that some people like to blame Tifa for Cloud's mental instability because she didn't say anything about how their memories were different...but I tried to show that she was confused...I mean, what the hell do you say to something like that? It's like people who get the number of years they've been married mixed up. Ah well...I also find it believable that they could've shared a kiss, when drunk, and been too drunk to remember it (AKA Tifa) or didn't want to admit that they had done it in fear of the other not remembering it. I mean, come on...in all the history of drunken kisses, I'm sure just a little peck like that one could've happened...and yes, this leads nearly right up to the beginning of the game. I know I'm sort of cutting this off unexpectedly, but this just begged to be written, so I wrote it.

Thank you all soooooooo much for the reviews I got for this. This story isn't exactly 'mainstream' since it isn't post AC, but I don't mind. I hope you enjoyed this short little diddy that took months to finish. I need to go to bed now.

On a completely unrelated note, I hate Mineralogy.