Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII

A/N: As I saw Advent Children Complete the other day, the part where they show how Cloud found Denzel got me thinking... what happened to Tifa after Nibelheim? She's 20 in the game, leaving a gap of five years there. It's known Zangan took her to Midgar to help her, but then he leaves. What becomes of Tifa? Also, it was in Crisis Core that some man claims he's the owner of the original Seventh Heaven... my imagination took off and my fingers itched for my keyboard, so alas, here is my view of what happened. Enjoy!

She had barely turned sixteen when Zangan disappeared. Left in Midgar with no home, no friends, no family, and absolutely no gil. She had no hesitance in using her fists on unsuspecting drunks who would see her in the alleys and on the streets. It became an almost every night occurrence. The only job offer she'd gotten was at the Honeybee Inn, and she swore she'd rather rot in the sewers of the Slums than to degrade herself in that way.

It wasn't until she was six months into her homelessness that she met him. Marv.

The man smelt horrid: rubble, alcohol, and garbage. He couldn't even recall his last name, but he'd been the first man to look her in the eyes when he'd made conversation, and not her breasts. He'd shown her the best dumpsters to get food, most of them at Restaurant's where owners took pity and divided trash and left overs separately.

She asked one night, as he threw a moth eated blanket at her, what had happened to him. He'd responded that his wife and three year old daughter were murdered because of some distant cousin of hers: victims of ShinRa and the power of hate and lust of money. He recalled the events in gruesome detail, and she felt the fire like hatred for ShinRa increase within her core, leaving her in silent rage as she tried to fall asleep.

A few weeks later, he was dead, and with trembling hands, she dragged his body out of the street, and into his alley. "Sleep well, Marv." She closed his unseeing eyes and with heavy feet, walked away from her only friend.

Four months later, when she was already two months past her seventeenth birthday and even more broken, she met Trixie. A prostitute, and first class bitch. However, despite her icy exterior, Tifa came to realize she wasn't bad at all... just misunderstood. At first, Trixie had offered her a chance to meet one of her pimps, but with wide eyes, Tifa declined, stuttering in shock. Weeks passed and Trixie began to show up more and more in Tifa's alley. She brought food, clothes (though a bit more risqué than she'd normally wear) and even some gil -on a good day, that is-. And after Trixie's second proposal to her, Tifa thought hard. She was tired of the digging through food. She was tired of sleeping on dirt. Tired of fighting off every asshole that tried to touch what wasn't theirs…. tired of being on alert 24/7... just... tired. Still, she thought back to the promise she'd made for herself and for the second time, Tifa declined. With a shrug and toss of a jacket, Trixie was gone and headed to her owner.

Five hours later, she was murdered by a Turk. Her pimp had betrayed the wrong people and it cost her life.

The more she thought about Marv and Trixie, the more her anger bubbled deep inside her, gnawing on her very bones until she was so deep in rage she'd actually let it consume her. The next man who tried to touch her hadn't just gotten his ass kicked. No, he'd had his head smashed in, and his body bruised and broken before collapsing with a his final breath.

The red diminished behind Tifa's vision and she looked down at the blood on her hands. His blood. His drunken buddies had scurried off in fear, and she collapsed to her knees next to the corpse and broke down with sobs that sounded too severe to be human. They shook her whole frame and left her hollow. What if this man had a family? A wife? Kids? She'd taken him away from them. Her fault. Hers alone.

Still, life (if that's what you'd call it) went on, months progressed and Tifa wondered how she was still alive. She was a living shell, aimlessly walking around the slums; each sector different, yet the same. It didn't matter. None held the wind nor the sun. She was buried beneath the scum who ruled the Planet. Reducing her being into... into nothing. Where was her damned hero now? Most importantly, where was she? She didn't know herself anymore. Had she ever?

It didn't matter anymore. She was a murderer. She was homeless, friendless, and now she was worthless. Her anger was slowly becoming outweighed by her guilt and her shame. Would the sunlight ever reach her here? Was this her punishment?

As fate -that fickled bastard- would have it, Tifa found herself in Sector 7 on the eve of her eighteenth birthday.

"Keep yo' slimy hands to yourself you damned ShinRa scum!"

It wasn't the gruff insult that caught her interest, or the fact the drunk man had been tossed out like a bag of rice; no, it was the broad man's arm. His metal gun arm. Had anyone cared enough to notice, they'd realize Tifa was staring with unfiltered curiosity at the man's prosthetic gun arm. He looked up and locked gazes with her, as she'd been standing where the drunk landed. "The hell you lookin' at?" He snapped before turning and walking back in to what she noticed was a bar.

Tifa, for the first time in a long while, blushed with embarrassment and scurried out of vision. She hadn't known she had been staring. Interest gave her pause, however, when she noticed a woman, probably around her age (maybe a bit older) walk out with her hands on her hips, looking peeved.

"Just great, Barret! He could have had information about the Reactor!" The strawberry blonde cried in frustration. Tifa hid behind the side's railing, her curiosity peeked at the mention of the Reactor. Who were these people?

"I don't give a shit, Jessie! Ain't no man gotta touch a woman that way." Was the unapologetic reply.

For the next few nights, Tifa found herself back at the bar, Seventh Heaven. She slept just out of vision beneath the stairs, her ears absorbing anything that carried out through the tavern. Nothing much, but for Tifa, she liked it. She'd come to figure out a little girl lived there, belonging to the large man with the gun arm. Barret, she believed.

Marlene was her name, she thought as she tried getting comfortable in the small space before falling asleep. Her sleeps were never satisfying. Restlessness and nightmares plagued her, taunted her. So it was no surprise when she woke with a jolt, Tifa's eyes snapped open in alert, ready to attack when a small voice called out, "Hellooo?". Tifa's head collided with wood above and she felt her eyes water. That was painful, she thought rubbing her head before she froze in shock.

A little girl, no- toddler, was sitting cross legged next to the entrance of her makeshift bed. She looked no more than two, Tifa thought as she backed up with wide eyes, only to hit wood. She didn't know what to do. What do I do? She panicked.

The little girl frowned and crawled to her knees, poking her head in. "You're 'posed to say hi!" She said in what sounded like an accusatory tone.

Tifa licked her lips, not knowing whether to bolt, or actually appease the child. She was saved a decision as the wood directly above her began to shake and creak, leaving the indication someone heavy was walking on it. "Marlene!"

Shit, she thought, her eyes rolling to the wood above her. It was that gun arm guy. "I told ya never to come out here alone!"

"Look!" The child pointed at her, making Tifa want to disappear. She tucked her knees to her chest and buried her head. She didn't want to see the man. She didn't even want to be there! She grimaced, peeking through her hair to see a rugged face replace the little girl's. His gaze met hers and she snapped her eyes back to her knees.

"..The hell..?" She heard the man mumble.

"Go away!" Tifa snapped, her voice muffled by her arms. "I'm not bothering anyone!"

She felt her anger come back full force when she heard the man sigh in pity. With narrow eyes, she tried to do her best to appear threatening while shouting for him to just go away; however, the crack of her voice made it unsuccessful.

"You hungry?" The man asked after a few terse moments.

"No." She snarled, angry and embarrassed when the growl of her stomach loudly disagreed. She wanted to push him away so she could run. But… she knew better. He was a fighter (that much was apparent), and despite her own fighting skills, her weariness and malnutrition had her physically inept to go against such a man like him.

"Come on." He gestured, standing up and ignoring her harsh tone.

With a few moments of self debate, she reluctantly crawled out of the darkened space. She found herself twitching under the rake of his eyes across her body. It wasn't one of desire like most men, but of inspection. He was checking her over for injuries... the thought actually jolting her body in surprise. No one ever cared to look before.

"How long you've been livin' out here, kid?" He questioned, crossing his arms, his tone leaving no room for lies.

Like a moth to a flame, she was drawn to him and before she knew it, Tifa felt the words escaping her mouth without her knowledge. "Two years."

She sounded pathetic... even to her own ears. She dropped her gaze to her clothes. The same ones Trixie leant her that long time ago. They were ripped, dirtied, and smelt horrible. Suddenly self conscious of her appearance, she folded her arms across her chest, trying to shrink within herself.

"Come on, we got food an' clothes for ya inside." He sounded a little unsure, but still, that veiled layer of concern had her heart hammering in her chest.

She almost jumped right out of her skin when she felt a hand slide into her dirty, scar covered, calloused one. Looking down, she saw the little girl smile widely at her, "Come on!" The sunshine and merriment the girl possessed just by being had Tifa blinking her eyes at the sudden sting of tears. Was this the feeling she could remember before the fire? Before ShinRa? Before Sephiroth?

Before stepping inside, the man turned and crossed his arms across his broad chest. "Got a name?"

Her name? When was the last time someone said her name? Her name…

"Tifa," Her father choked out, his blood spilling through her fingers as her face contorted in disbelief and horror. "Run away… now… Tifa."

"Tifa." She answered through her closed throat with pride. "Tifa Lockhart."

Wow. I actually like how this turned out... Review? I think I want to add a chapter or two more... what do you guys think?