Chapter Text
Tifa wrenched the old water filter out of the tank, fighting the urge to gag from the rotten-egg smell. She slid the new filter into place and made sure it held. (The first time, she hadn’t checked and it had cost Marle two free replacements to make up for the damages.) That was the last one for the morning, and she had more than enough time to get down to the station before the next train.
She settled accounts with Tabby, slid on her gloves, and headed for the station.
The train was just pulling in when she made it to the platform. A warm cluster of butterflies refused to leave her stomach, no matter what breathing techniques she used. The doors slid open and passengers began pouring out. Tifa began to scan faces; the warm flutter in her stomach grew. There had been letters and phone calls and e-mails and text messages, sure, but seeing someone face-to-face, live-and-in-person...
A cry of “Mini Zangan!” and Tifa was swept up into a crushing hug that she returned just as strong. Zack Strife, taller and broader-shouldered than she remembered, pulled away and grinned—his smile had stayed the same. “Welcome to Midgar, I guess?”
Tifa had gotten a long, sealed letter with an offer of a place to stay courtesy of Cloud when she had finally left Nibelheim for Midgar. She’d refused the place to stay—the Strifes had already done too much for her, in her opinion—but had accepted the rest of the letter: advice and well-wishes from Zack and Cloud. She felt confident enough to take what she wanted and stand on her own. First rule of life on the ground floor: the only one who’ll look out for you is you.
“Welcome back to Midgar, then,” Tifa answered. They’d set this up about an hour after Zack and Cloud had returned to their apartment, less than a week ago. It had cut into her sleep, texting back and forth with Zack into the night, but how couldn’t she? After so long apart, her friends were here, with her.
Tifa made a quick scan of the platform. The butterflies in her stomach had to be the size of chocobos by now. “And Cloud?”
“Busy.” A been-there-done-that roll of Zack’s eyes. “People who want to hire him started beating down the door our first morning back.”
Tifa felt her stomach sink. There’d be other times to see Cloud, of course, but… “Did Cloud ever tell you what it is he did, exactly?”
Zack was making a slow circle of the platform, taking everything in. (Not that there was much of anything to take in.) “Yeah. I’ve… actually started helping him out, a bit.” He stopped and faced Tifa again. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Tifa crossed her arms and lowered her voice. “A little bit of everything.” Zack snorted. Tifa cleared her throat and began speaking and standing as usual again. “Been down in Lower Seven before?”
Zack stilled, then closed his eyes for a few breaths. There was a slight shake of his head. “If it was when I was a kid, I don’t remember.”
Tifa grabbed Zack’s arm and dragged him down the platform and towards the center of Lower Seven. “I’ll give you the tour, then.”
Tifa made their first stop her home, but there wasn’t any need to rush. Good thing, too, because along the way, Zack kept on looking around and began ducking into stores. (“What are you even looking for?” “I’ll know it when I see it.”)
Eventually, they made it up the hill and stopped in front of a two-story apartment house. Tifa swept her arm towards the building. “Here’s home, Stargazer Heights. I’m up on the second floor.” She smiled and headed for the stairs. “Not very big, but it’s a place of my own.”
Zack let out a low whistle, then began to follow her. “You sure you don’t want to take Cloud up on--”
“Tifa, dear girl!” Tifa hadn’t even noticed Marle coming out of her apartment door. Tifa stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to face Marle, who looked right at Zack and narrowed her eyes. “Who’s your young man?”
“Marle, this is Zack Strife.” Tifa didn’t miss the way that Marle’s eyebrow arched at “Strife”. “Zack, this is my landlady, Marle.”
Zack aimed one of his smiles at Marle. “A pleasure, ma’am.”
“Not very often we get a visitor from on high,” Marle said dryly.
Tifa put her hands on her hips. “Zack isn’t like that, Marle.”
Marle sniffed. “That remains to be seen. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my best girl is coming over and my home still looks a sight.” She ducked back into her apartment and closed the door.
Zack jerked his head back towards Marle’s door. “She always like that?”
“Marle’s nice. Really. She’s helping me get settled, finding me jobs.” Tifa shrugged. “She knows practically everyone here. I’m making connections, you know?” Second rule of life on the ground floor: a few hands are better than one.
Tifa went up the stairs and waited for Zack to follow her. She passed the door to her apartment and headed for the ladder up to the roof.
Tifa liked the roof for the view. It wasn’t like being in the mountains, not at all, but she could sit high above and watch the rest of the world go by. She neared the edge of the roof and sat down on cross-legged. Most of Lower Seven spread out below them. She looked up at Zack. “So, what is it that you’re doing to help out Cloud?”
Zack sat down at Tifa’s side, dangling his legs off of the edge of the roof. “Well, Cloud took a job to look for someone.”
“A disappearance?” She tried to recall news of any kids of rich business people or courtiers that had gone missing.
“An investigation. Into the Angel of the Slums.”
Tifa’s stomach dropped. (Like that day in the mountains, when the rope snapped, the bridge gave way, and…) She tried to keep her voice steady. “What do you want with the Angel?” Third rule of life on the ground floor: those on high only care when they want something. Tifa knew better than anybody that Zack and Cloud weren’t like the rest of them, but...
“It’s an investigation,” Zack said again. He frowned. “Do you know something?”
Tifa chewed on her lip to buy a little more time. Her hands pressed down into the solidness of the rooftop. “I know what everyone else knows: she steals from the rich to give to the poor. Who’d she steal from, anyhow?”
Zack shook his head. “Never heard of them, but according to Cloud, they’re assholes.” Which was, Tifa knew, typical of who the Angel targeted.
Tifa clenched her hands into fists, still pressing down into the roof. “Peacekeeping was down here ‘asking questions’ a few days ago; I guess it was about the Angel.” If there was even a hint of crime against the Crown or the Court, Peacekeeping would turn up disturbingly fast. “Somebody probably hired Cloud because Peacekeeping couldn’t find anything.” He couldn’t have known, Tifa knew. They’d still been away. “If Cloud finds her and turns her in... lots of folks here won't be happy. Just... please stop asking me questions.”
“But Cloud wouldn’t--” Zack stopped himself. He let out a huff. “All right, no more questions.”
When they tired of the view, they went back down again and circled back towards Seventh Heaven. They got a table, ordered some drinks and a few snacks, and started to talk again: rehashing the time they’d spent together in Nibelheim, explaining what they’d been doing in the months afterwards. Anything except the Angel.
Tifa’s jaw was aching when they finally returned to the platform, just in time for the last train out. She stayed on the platform until the train had gone from sight. “He’d know something was wrong,” Tifa said to herself. “He’d know.”
She walked back to her apartment and went straight to bed; a good long rest cured anything.