personalapocalypse | [FFVII] Various Fics (Barret/Tifa, various ratings) (Reply)

Posting some of these to a separate entry, for linking purposes. These were all written for

fic_promptly. I linked to a few of them before.

(It's past bedtime... I'll get the others done at some point.)

Title: Trust
Rating: SFW
Summary: Tifa finds someone in Midgar that she can trust.

Tifa had been quite the mountain climber when she'd been younger, much to her father's disapproval. After her mother died, she'd take every chance she could to explore the mountains, even after her fall. She'd fallen because of a bridge that couldn't bear her weight, after all; if she learned not to need the bridges, and could travel without them, she'd be fine. Rocks were sturdier, anyway. (She learned quickly that she wasn't always right, but by then she'd managed to get her hands on some better safety equipment, so when the rock crumbled under her feet she didn't fall too far - just enough to frighten her, to make her remember.)

She had to be careful, after all. She couldn't always rely on anyone being there to catch her if she fell, so she'd have to learn to catch herself. That was why she'd insisted on taking lessons in martial arts, too - she had to learn to fight for herself, because she didn't know for sure if anyone would fight beside her.

When she ended up at Midgar, she'd thought that it would be more true than ever. If she wasn't careful, she'd end up dead, right? The slums were a dangerous place, and she was lucky she could take care of herself. So she struck out on her own, and she did all right, for a while. It was a lonely life, and she spent a lot of it keeping an eye out for the Shinra guards and gritting her teeth against the urge to punch the more obnoxious ones in the throat, but she survived.

Then she'd met AVALANCHE by sheer accident - she'd been in Sector 7 at the wrong time, she supposed. She hadn't thought much of them at first; they'd seemed too disorganized to take seriously. Their leader, Barret, was too angry, and the other two were too young and careless. And what kind of revolutionaries let a little girl tag along with them?

But she was curious and did some digging, and once she'd found out who they were and what they believed in, she had decided to join them; she'd rather fight than keep her head down for the rest of her life. But she'd gotten careless. It didn't happen right away, but after a few skirmishes, she'd made a mistake.

She remembered it vividly; she should've seen that the metal in the access tunnel was under too much strain. She should've noticed it before she'd tried to run across it, before it gave way under her feet. There had been a drop below her, at least twenty feet. It should've hurt her badly, if not killed her outright. But then she'd felt a jolt, and something had pulled her back - and then she'd been standing there, terrified but safe, watching the platform crash below.

"Dammit! You okay?" It was Barret, the rag-tag team's leader, who'd grabbed her and pulled her back. She nodded, tried to say something else, but the words didn't come fast enough. "There's another way back up," he said. "C'mon, follow me!"

They ran into one of the other tunnels, Tifa hot on Barret's heels, running from the guards that were looking for them. The place was old and dark, full of cobwebs, but they kept going until they were back on ground level again, somewhere in a sector she'd never visited.

They had to lay low for a while; the trains wouldn't be safe until the heat died down. But it wasn't too hard to find a place to lay low in the slums. People didn't care where anyone else slept, as long as they didn't steal from anyone else. It was when they were trying to catch some sleep in an old drain that she finally spoke up. "Hey, Barret?"

"Hm?" He'd been curled up in a blanket he'd scavenged. It barely covered his broad shoulders, let alone the rest of him. "What's up?"

She didn't know how to say it, so she closed her eyes and let it come out quickly. "Why'd you catch me?"

He'd given her a funny look, like she'd told him she could read minds, or something. "Why wouldn't I?" he'd finally answered.

"We barely know each other, for one," she said, looking away.

"Yeah, well, you're fighting with us. I ain't letting nobody who I'm leading fall down if I can help it." He smiled a bit. "You feel me?"

"...yes," she said. "I think so. And, um, thanks."

"Don't mention it," he said, trying again and failing to get everything under the blanket. At least Tifa was having a little more luck with the one she'd found. "Let's get some sleep. We'll scope out the tunnels tomorrow and get back to Sector 7, find out if the others got out safe. They were ahead of us, so let's hope they stayed that way."

Tifa nodded and turned away, curling up under the blanket. It was the first time in a long time that she'd thought that someone else had her back, even if she made a misstep. She was going to be all right.

She couldn't be careless, though. Someday, she might be the one who could catch them when they fell, and she wanted to be ready.

Title: Holding Hands
Rating: SFW
Summary: Marlene falls asleep faster when someone holds her hand.

Marlene liked it when someone held her hand when she was sleeping; the slums were very dark and dangerous, and she was sure that there were lots of monsters out there, so she'd sneak into Papa's room and take his hand and curl up on the bed beside him, until he realized how scared she was and moved her bed into his room so that it would be easier.

When they met Miss Tifa, and if Miss Tifa was there and Papa wasn't, she'd ask her if she could hold her hand too, and Miss Tifa didn't mind; she seemed happy that there was someone who wanted to, and so they would doze off too, Marlene's little fingers tight around her long fingers.

Secretly, Marlene thought it would be better if she could hold both their hands, so that she'd have twice as much protection against the dark - or maybe she could hold one of them, and then they could hold hands and protect each other too; yeah, she thought that would definitely be better.

Title: Never More Than Two Drinks Away
Rating: SFW
Contents: Alcohol use
Summary: Everyone assumes Barret's a big drinker.

The patrons all assumed that Barret was a big drinker.

No surprise, Tifa thought. He was big and loud and usually angry, so naturally people thought he'd had a few too many. Besides, whenever he wasn't busy with something else he'd sit at the bar, beer glass in hand, taking a few drinks now and then. The anger he usually directed toward the Shinra always simmered just below the surface, unless Marlene was around to call him a grumpy bear and make him smile. Nobody wanted to get too close to a drunk, angry man with a gun for an arm.

If they had gotten closer, they would've noticed that there was never any booze in what he drank. Usually it was the rotgut sodas that they made in Sector 4, because it was the best they could get and tasted better than the local water supply. Sometimes, when she could get it, he'd enjoy some real cider from the orchards outside of town, but never anything with even a trace of alcohol.

It wasn't any of her business, and she knew she should let it be, but it still puzzled her - his stubborn refusal was loud and frequent, even when she hadn't even asked. But he never made fun of anyone else for drinking, either. When Wedge had first had a few drinks, Barret had been the one to help him into the alley with the cleanest trash bins; he'd even given him a few tips on how to stave off the inevitable hangover, all advice that Tifa had heard before. There was no looking down his nose in it, just sympathy and maybe some irritation when Wedge missed one of the bins.

He never judged anybody else, but Tifa thought that there was something else going on, something he wouldn't talk about. What most of the patrons thought was anger in his eyes was actually sadness; she'd known him long enough to know the difference. When he was angry he clenched his fists, couldn't sit still; when he was sad he just stared, holding on to whatever he could find as hard as he could.

She had kept her mouth shut until one particularly long night, after a particularly nasty shift. The patrons had been rowdy, and not in the good way. Tifa didn't usually have to kick anyone out, but she'd sent a few home that night - hopefully they'd had a home to go to, but she couldn't think about that when they were threatening the guys around them with brass knuckles.

They'd had a lot of clean-up to do. Barret had been in charge of taking out the trash, while Tifa finished wiping up. Jessie and the guys had gone back with Marlene, because Barret had insisted it was his turn to help out. He'd come back for the last time grunting, stretching his good arm. "Hell of a night," he'd grunted, then hissed through his teeth as he rotated his arm. She should've offered to help, she thought with a pang of guilt - but then, he was the one who'd offered in the first place. "Here's hoping that tomorrow's not gonna be so bad, huh?"

"It won't be," she said. "I have a feeling." She'd overheard some of the chatter that night - something about a big gang fight going down in Sector 4. Most likely they'd head over there on the trains and watch from a safe distance.

"Well, you're prob'bly right. You're good at that." He looked around the bar a bit longer, then stopped to stare at something Tifa couldn't see. "Shit," he said. "You gotta be kidding me."

"What's wrong?" Tifa asked, mentally steeling herself. If someone had gotten sick under one of the bolted tables again....

He walked over, picking up a bottle and holding it up. The lid hadn't even been taken off. "Look at this," he said, holding it up so that she could see the label. "This is the good stuff, right? Imported from halfway 'round the world."

She peered at it, trying to remember. She'd gotten it from one of her contacts in Wall Market, a man very good at getting shipments from outside of Midgar without having them pass through customs. She thought she remembered the crate of it. It hadn't been too popular once the novelty had worn off; too strong, most of the patrons had said. "I knew it was from outside," she admitted. "It checked out, though."

"Damn right it did. This's one of the best brews out there." He shook his head, putting it down on the bar, his hand still curled tightly around it. "The hell is wrong with these people? Pay good money for a good drink, then not even touch it."

She looked up at him, at the distant look in his eyes. "You sound like you've had it before," she said.

He sighed, and she could hear him mutter something under his breath. "Yeah," he said, a little louder. "Long time ago."

She cleared her throat. "Well, my offer still stands. If you want one -"

"No," he answered, a little too quickly, then relaxed. He laughed, a short bitter laugh. "Guess it must look weird, huh?"

"No weirder than a lot of other things I've seen," she said, and he smiled a little more at that. "I'm sorry, I know it's not something I should be worried about. I just wondered."

"Naw, don't apologize. I know you ain't offering out of spite or whatever. I didn't wanna get all cranky about it, but... I ain't gonna do it. Not anymore."

"All right," she said, blushing a bit - why had she been so worried about it? She had no right to be. "I'll take this back."

"Yeah... that'd be good. Thanks."

She walked back quickly, put the bottle back in her private icebox. She wasn't gonna serve it, since it had been out for a while; beer tasted better if it stayed cold. Still, if she ever wanted to try it, it wasn't going to hurt her or anything.

arret looked up at her when she walked back. "Last time I had a drink of that beer," he said, his voice a little deeper and quieter than it had been before, "it was with an old friend I ain't seen in years, on the porch of an old house that ain't there no more."

She walked over to him. "You don't have to talk about it, Barret. I was out of line -"

"But I wanna say it," he answered, taking another deep breath. "Yeah, I had a few drinks back then. And a few more after. Times were tough, you know." He looked down at his gun-arm, and shook his head. "Thing is, when I get a drink or two in me, I end up seein' those things again. And when I think about then, and then look at what's going on now, it's just tough to handle. Easier to just stay dry, you see what I mean?"

Tifa nodded. She'd never been much of a drinker - a few sips of wine when she or one of her friends could smuggle it out of their homes, and that was about it. She could hold a few drinks when she wanted to, but didn't care for it. But she could understand not wanting to think about some of those days. "It's easier not to remind yourself."

"Yeah." He stood up, pushing himself away from the bar. "And there's always something reminding you anyway." He picked up his mug of soda and took one last drink. "Anyways, we ought get back. They others have to be tired about now."

"Let's hope Marlene's tired too."

"Ha!" He gave her a real smile at that one. "Yeah, we don't need her sneaking around no more!"

Tifa reached for his arm, and he let her take it. "I'm sorry about being nosy," she said.

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't say upfront. Guess we both messed up. No big deal as long as we remember it. Agreed?"

"Yeah," she answered with a nod. "Agreed."

They shut the lights off and walked out, leaving the bar cold and empty behind them. It seemed like they'd left some of the tension back there, though, because Barret's steps seemed lighter than before.