I wrote this for Clan Dragoodle. She's seen various drafts of it, but this is what I like to call the final one.

Elena is on duty when the fire starts. Tseng has had them watching the old Sector 5 Church since it became a land mark, since the spring well cured Geostigma, since men started seeing a ghost of a woman in a pink dress standing in the middle of a field of flowers.

It catches fire, but Elena stands and watches it burn. She does not think to dial the WRO emergency relief center as the scaffolding flakes, and the shadows flare. Elena watches the rafters shudder, and black charcoal falls in chunks.

Movement at the front door catches her off guard. Elena reaches for a grenade to lob—which seems a little silly, what with the burning building and all—but she almost drops it when she identifies the figure.

Tifa Lockhart freezes, clutching at her left glove, her shoulders stiff. Elena swallows. For a moment, she wonders what Tifa is doing there. But then the green glint in the left glove, the dropping window sill, and the look of pallor on Tifa's face culminate, and even she isn't dense enough to miss it.

Elena really does drop her grenade then. It rolls, the pin still stuck, into her left foot.

"You…"

Tifa unclasps her glove and starts to run for it. Elena bends to scoop up her grenade and bolts after Tifa. The dirt under her boot, the soot in her nose, her eyes watering.

Luckily, Tifa does not go back inside the church, but merely skirts to the left, ducking below a slanting beam as fire licks it. Elena understands Tifa tries to evade her, but Turks will always best AVALANCHE in the bob and weave.

Elena leaps over a smashed stone gargoyle, snatches at Tifa's bicep, and tackles her to the ground. They skid along the dirt of Sector 5 into what resembles a broken down crane with WRO logo plastered on the side. Tifa pushes off a thick, rubber tire with her right foot and slams Elena onto her back. Elena flops over and grabs Tifa by the knee as she begins to stand, bringing her to the ground again.

"Fine," Tifa shrieks. "Just get off me."

Elena lets go of the joint, brings herself to a sitting position as she watches Tifa curled on the ground, and blows her bangs out of her face.

For a moment, neither party says a word. The flame roars behind them.

"You set the Church on fire," Elena says, a little dazed.

"You Turks are good," Tifa complains. "What tipped you off? The sneak out the front or the panicked run?"

Elena doesn't have anything to say to that. It isn't like she had something to say in the first place. She just—talks. That's what Reno always tells her. She never has anything to say, but that doesn't stop her from saying it. For once, though, she's silent as she watches Tifa uncurl and stand above her, hands folded in front of her. Tifa's still covering the fire materia lodged into her left glove.

Rufus and Reeve issued a ban on all materia, claiming it still sucks energy from The Planet, which doesn't quite make sense to Elena, as, if the materia is already formed, the energy is already gone, but she supposes it's a principle more than a practical directive. "How did you get that one past the ban?"

Tifa at least has enough respect for Elena to give up when she's been discovered. She uncovers her glove and gestures to the green glint lodged into the slot on the back of her hand. "Reeve let us keep them in case."

"In case you needed to burn down the old Sector 5 Church?" Elena scoffs.

"It's—complicated."

"I see Cloud here all the time," Elena says. "It doesn't seem complicated to me. In fact, if I were you…"

"Is that why you aren't calling the WRO?" Tifa glares. "Because of Tseng?"

Elena swallows, feels rage turning her bones black, tries to calm herself, and ultimately fails.

"Fine." Elena reaches for her PHS, but Tifa's hand darts out and snatches it from her, tossing it to the ground.

"I can't let you do that," Tifa says.

"Wow," Elena mumbles, "remind me not to date you."

"Why does everyone think it's Cloud? It isn't like Aeris and I were ever friends. I couldn't possibly miss her. Poor Tifa, Cloud will never see past Aeris. Just shut up."

"It isn't like I implied that you were dating Cloud—or anything." Elena suddenly feels small. Her sister had a habit of making her feel small by raising her voice, and Elena thought she had gotten over it by sheer force of big-headedness, but here this AVALANCHE member is, making her want to shrink.

Tifa kneels, grabs Elena's PHS, and hands it to her. "I'm sorry," she says. "You're right. It isn't worth it. You need to call them."

Elena doesn't really get it. The sudden change of heart, the way Tifa's shoulders have relaxed, the remorse in her face. She looks like she's going to cry. But Elena does what she's told, flips open the phone, and presses "4" for WRO Disaster Relief.

"Hello," she says to the secretary, "Yeah, this is Elena. There's a fire at the Church."

"We're aware. Emergency vehicles are en route," the woman says. "Can you report how it started, Turk?"

Elena shuffles in the dirt. She can hear the fire growing behind her, but still, she hesitates, licks her lips. She sees Tifa clutching her sides and gritting her teeth. The Turk recognizes that look. It's the "Please, someone, just talk to me" look, and Elena wonders how someone with a rack like Tifa's would acquire such an expression. Then Elena remembers the way Reno "talks" to women who look like Tifa, and she bites her lip.

"Elena?"

"Yeah." Elena purses her lips. She is watching Tifa's expression. The flame from the rafters touches her skin, making it look orange, fractured, like she is on fire and not the church. "I started it."

Tifa's head jerks up, her eyes widen, and Elena snaps the PHS shut before either she or the secretary can react. Elena hears the whir of the helicopter blades overhead, and she watches the hardness return to Tifa's face.

"Why would you do that?"

"I don't think before I talk," Elena admits. "I'm sure you remember the first time we met in the Mines."

Tifa's pupils flare. The fire is no longer on her skin, but in her eyes, roaring and throwing embers. The air is thick and dry, and Elena's tongue feels cottoned. "Don't do things for me. I don't need it."

"You sure?" Elena puffs out her chest, trying to feel as big as she talks. "You looked like you did, but then, if this were just for you, why would I take the blame? Wouldn't it be easier if I just said I didn't know?"

"Because you didn't think," Tifa says.

"Well, maybe." Elena scratches the back of her head. At this point, she can see the dark spots of three helicopters approaching the remains of Sector 4. "Shouldn't you be running?"

Tifa sucks on the insides of her cheeks. "I'm not going to owe Shinra anything," she says. "I own up to what I do."

As the helicopters get closer, so does Tifa. She is glowering, and Elena feels a sense of smug satisfaction growing. The panic of having just admitted to arson and having to face Tseng and Rufus for it will set in eventually, but right now she feels as if she has beat AVALANCHE at something, and that's good enough to keep her going for the helicopter ride.

Maybe.

The splash of air throws Elena's bangs back in her face and almost unsettles her, throwing her forward into Tifa. As it is, she reflexively reaches out and grips Tifa's shoulder. When Elena's hair leaves her face, she sees Tifa swallow, the stiffness in her chin drop. A spray of water hisses past their faces, drizzling on Elena's blue uniform and darkening the wool.

One helicopter lands, and Elena covers her face with her free hand as wind whips at her. One operative in a black suit drops from the hull and heads toward them. Neither Elena nor Tifa budge, and Elena thinks this is the most ridiculous contest of wills in which she has ever participated.

The man frowns. He opens his mouth, and Elena can't hear what he says over the whir of the helicopters, but she can read lips. "You both better come with me." Then he waves his arm and gestures toward the helicopter clicking behind him, using his other hand to pull back his hair.

In the helicopter, Tifa and Elena are situated in the back, on leather seats, and given ear mufflers without microphones, as enemies of the state—cough—should not need the opportunity to corroborate a story. The mufflers don't do much to block out the sound of sky beats. Elena sneaks glances at Tifa, who is making an effort to avoid letting Elena know that she is sneaking glances at her.

Elena takes a moment to wonder why she decided to tell the WRO Disaster Relief line secretary she lit the fire. She decides it's because she wants a fuss, not just because Tifa looked like she would fall apart if she faced this alone. She wishes she knew why Tifa actually did it, since burning down the church because she is angry with Cloud for choosing Aeris over her seems flimsy to Elena as well.

After all, Tseng still chooses Aeris over her; he had forgotten the dinner invitation, which was fine with the whole almost dying thing, but he also makes sure a Turk stands guard outside "Aeris' Church" every day. No one calls it that but him. Elena doesn't burn down churches.

Elena decides Tifa's right. She and Aeris were friends, and maybe that still doesn't explain why she burned down the church, but it's something Elena has finally heard over the din of the flames. In a moment, she feels compelled to put her hand on Tifa's shoulder, but Tifa jerks away from her as if wounded. Elena makes a face, pretends to have intended to swat an imaginary fly, and promptly sits on both her hands.

"Elena, you're an idiot," she mumbles. Of course, no one can hear her, especially herself. For someone wanting a big fuss, she is quick to make her fingers go numb to avoid a small one.

The helicopter creaks as they shift in the air. Elena knows this trajectory; it isn't far to the WRO Headquarters. She removes her right hand from under her thigh and, this time, puts it on Tifa's shoulder without an awkward display. Tifa freezes for a moment, but then she leans into it, and neither of them says a word or budges the rest of the ride.

Elena no longer thinks the use of mufflers without microphones is an attempt to prevent corroboration, as she and Tifa are dumped unceremoniously into a holding cell together. The man in the black suit stands, wobbling on the sides of his feet, at the door, and Elena supposes he is waiting for one of them to make a bid to contact either Rufus or Reeve, but again they are engaged in a bizarre contest of wills, and they sit stubbornly on the steel benches on opposite sides of the room, glowering at one another. The man nods, closes the door, and shuffles down the hall, his feet brushing the tiles, his pant legs rubbing together.

The cell isn't uncomfortable, as Elena imagines holding cells should be. She has experienced much worse conditions with Rufus and the other Turks braving abandoned warehouses in winter and rain. Tifa shivers across from her, and Elena knows it isn't the cold.

"Well, uh, so why did you light it on fire?"

"You aren't afraid this place is bugged?" Tifa remains staring at her feet.

Elena starts to laugh. "The WRO isn't that advanced."

"Don't laugh at Reeve. This isn't Shinra. It's a good thing."

"It isn't like Shinra bugged their holding cells either," Elena mumbles.

"I know."

Elena raises an eyebrow. "You know?"

"How many times do you think Shinra caught us while they let Sephiroth and Jenova have free reign?"

"It isn't like you weren't killers and terrorists or anything." Elena puffs out her chest. Again.

When Tifa glares back, Elena loses her gumption and shakes herself out. "Sorry, reflex."

"Don't apologize," Tifa says. "What you said wasn't wrong. I think it's admirable, the kind of loyalty you have. I just don't think Shinra deserves it."

Elena bites her tongue. She reminds herself that Rufus' father glossed over the fact that his pet project burned down her entire village and killed her family. Regardless of her feelings on whether or not it was Shinra Senior's fault said pet project enacted said spontaneous destruction, or if Rufus should be blamed at all, she could give her that.

Her eyes rove inside her own head for something to say. "You're loyal like that, aren't you? You stuck with Cloud. In ways, I think I had it easier after Meteor. At least Rufus cared about something."

"I'm not a Turk," Tifa says.

"Of course not." Elena shakes her head. "Turks don't want loyalty in exchange. It would drive them mad."

Tifa's nostrils flare. She looks as if she is groping for something else caustic to say, but the fire has already burned through her, and she crumbles. "It does drive you mad."

Elena feels like she should cross the cell. She makes a motion to stand, feels the pressure of the bench drop as she shifts her weight, but then she imagines Tifa glaring again and resumes her seat. She kneads the crease on her pants in the right leg.

Tifa clears her throat. "There isn't much for us to talk about, is there?"

"I wouldn't say that," Elena says. "People say I can always find something to talk about. It doesn't matter to me if anyone talks back."

"And you let them say it?"

"It's true, isn't it?"

Tifa frowns, cracks her knuckles, and leans back against the wall.

"Hey, you slapped Scarlet around." Elena grins. "That's something we can talk about."

"I did that when I was running away from a gas table." Tifa makes a fist.

Elena decides, for once in her life, she should probably shut up. "Sorry," she says.

"Excuse me?"

"It's what I should have said before, when you mentioned it. You were a terrorist, yeah, but you were desperate. I've been there. You didn't deserve what we put on your head."

Tifa is stunned, silent. Elena imagines her falling off where she is ensconced on the bench and suppresses the laughter. It makes her feel better about apologies. She hates them. Elena always feels like she had to apologize for things her sister did, for when their father got angry. She makes too many of them, and she shouldn't have to.

"But if anyone asks, I didn't say that." This time, Elena does stand. She walks over to Tifa and lowers her face, trying to put on the best superior look she can muster. "Only the boss is allowed to say things like that. He means them, you know. Rufus means everything he says now. But I'm not allowed to say them, or anything, because if I regret an order I carried out, I'm not a Turk, understand?"

Tifa frowns. "That answers that question."

"What?"

"You still really believe in what you do."

Before today, Elena would have asked her, "And you don't?" but burning down the church symbolizing all AVALANCHE's achievements—in a way—answers that question for her. Elena wilts. Her foundations crisp, and she squats in front of Tifa, trying to catch her eyes. The arsonist remains intent on staring at her lap.

"It's not like you don't have anything left," Elena mumbles. "You have your bar, and that's—well, we destroyed one eighth of a population for that thing. It's got to mean something to you."

"Did you ever see the ghost?" Tifa side-steps the conversation.

Elena brings herself to a stand again to avoid falling over. She scratches the back of her neck. "You mean Aeris' ghost? In the church? The one people said they saw?"

"Well, you are there all the time, aren't you? Tseng has one of you blue-suited monkeys there every day."

"I'm not a—"

Tifa's head jerks up. Her jaw is set. Her eyes spark.

"Well, I mean…" Elena shuffles her feet. "I think it was an illusion because ghosts can't exist. Everyone just goes back to the Lifestream, so why would there be an imprint? But, once. Kinda bent over the stream, like she was picking flowers that weren't there, you know?"

"I wouldn't, actually. She never appeared to me," Tifa says. "Not once. And I do believe that if anyone made an imprint, it would be her. It made me so angry every time I heard about it that I wanted it gone."

Elena paces back and forth, watching the light catch the steel, marveling at how soundproof the room seemed. She could hear nothing outside Tifa's voice. "Once, when my sister was teaching me how to shoot, I thought she was talking down to me, and I put all her clothes on her bed and lit it on fire. Of course, the fire spread to my bed, and that was pretty bad, and then there was the part where my dad made me run and give up school for a couple years—"

Suddenly, Elena steps outside her own painful recollection long enough to see Tifa holding her face. The green materia still glints in the glove—Elena suspects the WRO suit feared suggesting a rub down—and Elena realizes Tifa's body is shaking. She's laughing.

"Need I remind you we're jailed for arson?" Elena complains, puffing out her chest again.

"That story," Tifa chuckles, "explains so much about you."

Elena glares. She screws up her face in a manner Reno has told her many times resembles a constipated mog doll. Mentally, she attempts to straighten it out, but Tifa's chuckles keep forcing her eyes pinched again.

"Thank you," Tifa says, catching sight of Elena's face and straightening out her skirt. "Sometimes it helps to trivialize loss. I don't think any of my friends would have bothered to try."

"Well, Nibel—"

Tifa bolts to stand and covers Elena's mouth with her hand. "Please don't ruin this for me."

Elena feels Tifa's fingers, arching through the holes in the fingerless gloves, wrap around her lower jaw. They're warm, like all the incidental touches have been, only it isn't violent or awkward this time. It's just there.

Tifa must see the reaction in Elena's eyes, as she jerks her hand away and leaves it, limp, at her side. "I'm sorry," she mutters. "I'm touchy about—"

"Your entire family dying? I wonder why." Elena chews her tongue. "Sometimes, I just don't know when to stop. I don't have filters. They never got me anywhere, so I just stopped bothering."

Elena stops talking when she sees Tifa's defiance. Her shoulders are spread back, her chest caved. Elena remembers the stance from their exchange in the tunnels and feels suddenly crushed. She is angry, Elena realizes, because, in a strange way, by being here, Elena is taking this from her, too.

"I did it for you," Elena blurts, suddenly, and realizes she means it.

Tifa narrows her eyes, but her shoulders remain taught. She spreads her feet. She doesn't say anything at first.

"I did it because you looked like you wanted someone to stick up for you. So I did it for you."

The fire returns to Tifa's eyes, then. She crosses her arms in front of her. "I told you I didn't need anyone doing anything for me."

"I never said you needed it."

"And I don't owe Shinra."

"I didn't do it as Shinra."

"You and I both know that's a lie. You and I both know you're never anything but Shinra."

For a moment, the two of them stand there, glowering at each other, trying to puff out their chests in another ridiculous battle of wills. Elena bears over Tifa, and Tifa bears over Elena. They are close enough to hear each other breathe.

Elena looks at Tifa, the arch of her shoulders, the way she holds them like pauldrons to guard her, the way her eyes roar even when she doesn't have anything to be particularly angry about. She tries so hard for the first time since she was young to not feel like a Turk.

But, of course, she can't.

She leans in to kiss Tifa anyway.

By leans in, Elena means grabs Tifa's shoulders and pulls herself up because Tifa is much too tall for Elena to lean and kiss her. Elena feels her fingers twist through the oak of the soot-covered curls. At first, Tifa doesn't kiss her back; she leaves her lips tight around her teeth, but then she leans into Elena, and Elena can taste the ash from the fire still in her mouth, on her tongue.

It feels like reforging old weapons until they have the texture of water. It feels right.

They both know it will never happen again.

The realization dawns on them both at once, and it makes Tifa tug at the contact between them, but Elena clings harder to her shoulders, presses her mouth more insistently, peeling apart lips, running her tongue along the faces of teeth. Then, finally, Tifa's shoulders buckle. She bends, and the two of them drift into the bench on Tifa's side of the cell.

Elena straddles Tifa's waist, perhaps in order to avoid letting the other woman change her mind and stand up as easily. They're still kissing, and Elena realizes she has forgotten to breathe. She pulls away for a moment, but she feels Tifa's fingers press down on her neck and shove her mouth back to hers.

Tifa's fingers start to undo the buttons on Elena's blouse, as if she is avoiding the blue jacket altogether. Elena feels her thighs stiffen underneath her as she tilts back Tifa's head and mouths along her neck. The buttons give. Tifa's hand graces the tops of Elena's breasts as she leans back against the wall and shudders.

Elena's left hand fumbles for Tifa's waist. Her fingers wriggle over the bare flesh and up the fabric of her top, stretching the elastic. Tifa's skin is soft, easy to touch, burning, and Elena occupies herself counting the ribs she brushes with her fingers.

When Tifa undoes the last button on Elena's blouse, she grips Elena by the waist and rolls her onto the bench. Elena feels the rising objection in her throat to being manhandled, but Tifa's hair spills around her face. The light is gone. All pretenses have fallen. For one moment, when Elena sees Tifa's lips curl, her hands go numb, and then Tifa's mouth is between her breasts, and Elena is biting her tongue to keep from moaning.

Tifa moves up and kisses under Elena's jaw, her hands moving over the zipper of Elena's slacks. Just then, Elena finds the feeling in her hands again and goes about yanking off Tifa's shirt. Elena feels Tifa's skin against hers, the curve of her breasts hovering over Elena's chest, and her fingers flail at soft skin. Tifa reaches into Elena's underwear and slides a finger across her clit.

Elena's throat goes dry. She moans and moves her hips into the finger as the rest of her body stiffens. Her hands find Tifa's shoulders, and she's pushing Tifa away. Startled, Tifa backs off Elena's lap, but then they're both on the floor, having rolled off the bench, and Elena is straddling Tifa. Tifa's hair draws dark circles on the floor. Elena bends down and kisses her, sucking the lower lip into her mouth and feeling Tifa's breasts heave against her as she forces her fingers between Tifa's legs, under her skirt, and through the elastic of her underwear.

Tifa bites her lower lip. Elena sees her face scrunch as her hands fly up to Elena's hips, and they're rolling again on the floor. Elena's back slams into the top of the bench. They're both on their sides, limbs tangled, and staring, breathing. For a moment, it appears to Elena that regret is registering on Tifa's face before Lockhart shakes out her hair, the smell of ash and perfume dizzying Elena, and they kiss again, tongues sliding against one another. Their hands fumble through each other's clothes. Elena feels Tifa's fingers thrust between her thighs as she slides her index finger over Tifa's clit. Their free hands grip each other's shoulders, their mouths, their breasts.

Elena angles her hips as she feels pressure rising in her stomach. She doubles over, her face in Tifa's neck, groaning, as the pressure builds all the way through her, and the orgasm rips up her throat. As her body writhes and spasms, she can feel Tifa inch away from her, but Elena grabs her waist and shakes her head.

"Stay," she mouths, still fumbling with the folds of flesh between Tifa's legs. Tifa whines and shudders, flopping onto her back. Her stomach is tight, her shoulders digging into the linoleum. Hair is spilled around her in vines. Her eyes are on fire.

But then there's a sound at the door. Tifa's hand grips Elena's wrist and jerks her away. They both fall apart, trying to stand up as sex and sweat deadens their limbs. Elena rebuttons her pants and is trying to figure out whether or not her shirt is inside out, let alone where her bra got to, when the door opens.

Reeve Tuesti strolls through the door, his face blank, but his eyes clearly staring at Elena's breasts—for about a second before they fixate themselves on Tifa's. Then he, perhaps subconsciously, clears his throat.

"I can leave," he says.

"It would be nice," Elena says, but Tifa waves her off.

"Just a moment."

Reeve totters around, pretending to stare at the opposite bench—Elena's—while Tifa pulls on her shirt—Elena tries to suppress a sigh—and Elena find her bra wedged between the back of the bench the wall. When they're both sporting tops and finishing the buttons on their flies, Reeve turns back around.

"There's a matter of—ummm…"

"The Church burning down?" Elena offers, aware that her face is bright red and that her legs would rather she not still be standing. "Because I did it."

Reeve, distracted, purses his lips. "Is that so? Interesting."

"She didn't," Tifa says, "and I don't need her covering for me. Regardless, it's better if we have this conversation later. You know where to find me." Tifa runs her fingers through her hair and stalks out the cell door Reeve left open.

Even through the haze and dizziness of post sex glow, Elena swallows and feels her stomach catch on steel. Tifa means Reeve should talk to Elena now, and her later. Separately.

Because they both know it can never happen again.

Elena stands at attention. "Okay, Tuesti," she chimes. "What's my punishment?"

As Reeve struggles to ignore the circumstances in which he found himself, Elena crosses her arms and waits. Any punishment for starting a fire when she didn't had to better than the one she received starting a fire that blazed away.

Review.