#unguilty teaser

[meteorstricken]

FFVII Rare Pair Week Day 5 Prompt: Words

“Argument”

**The following is an edited-for-excessive spoilers version of a scene that will occur several chapters into my ongoing Seph/Tifa multi-chaptered fic, Un-Guilty, where a pre-Nibelheim Sephiroth is thrown into a future where he must come to terms with both himself and everything his post-Nibelheim self did. As they say in the Remake trailers, "Developmental footage subject to change."**

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Tifa herded the inebriated Reno and Elena, who'd overstayed last call by about an hour, out Seventh Heaven's front door waving, "Bye, guys."

"Hey, you sure you don't need a hand...an hand with..." Reno made a gesture over his forehead in the shape of arched bangs, tripping backwards into Elena.

"Don't worry about me, Reno," Tifa reassured him. "You two should get going and take care of yourselves."

"Yeah, c'mon, Reno. Tsheng said he's mentally non...not legal. Lethal. Probably," Elena slurred, making a stumbling recovery from her near-fall.

"Elena's right. No real problems here," Tifa said, quickly shutting and locking the door. She pressed a hand against it, tilted her head back, and sighed.

Between the Turks' babysitting and Cloud's surprisingly fast-blossoming life outside her own, it might not be too long before someone ate an undeserved fist. The Turks were just being Rufus' faithful lapdogs as usual, and were at least polite enough to order something whenever they stopped in to pry, but Cloud's near-dismissal of Sephiroth's renewed presence in their lives had come as a shock. He almost never asked about him, even though word was spreading that she was keeping an eye on their former and would-be nemesis. None of his old protectiveness had reared its head. It almost felt like he didn't care. For all they’d been through, weren’t they at least still friends? They'd separated on good terms, regretfully agreeing they didn't know how to stop smothering one another. There hadn't been any serious hard feelings, or so she thought. She'd expected it to be awkward for a while, but he still mattered to her.

Maybe he was just afraid and avoiding the situation for his own good. Maybe he was trying to give her space.

Or, she might have been more of a burden to him over the long haul than she realized. Maybe that's what he was figuring out—that he was angry with her in a way he didn’t know how to confront yet. She was too afraid to ask.

Tifa wasn't so sure what she was supposed to be doing to get ahead herself. She was just going through the motions, opening and closing the bar one day after the next, helping out with Reeve’s supply coordination plans on the side, going to bed at the end of the day and getting up to do it all over again. Occasionally, Barret would drop off Marlene, and playing or teaching her how to cook was a welcomed distraction from the grind, but that was it.

Barret, who still had no idea about her newest employee, she considered. That was another bridge to cross.

Sephiroth stepped out of the kitchen, finished with the night's dishes. "If necessary, I can start leaving earlier," he offered.

"Mm. No," Tifa replied tiredly. She gave him an odd look. He must have heard Reno. “We’d already be dead if you wanted to kill us. But here you are, cleaning my kitchen in exchange for meals and chump change. The man who burned down my...probably wouldn't..." She stopped, uncomfortable, squeezing her hands together in place of coherent thoughts.

"I'll be going in a moment," Sephiroth said quietly.

Tifa winced. Her and her big mouth. "Actually, no… Let's talk."

"About?"

"You. Me. Life. How things have changed. When Cloud and I were still...living…together, we weren't so great at talking."

"I know very little about…that".

"Not even a fling back in SOLDIER, huh?" Tifa blurted, and immediately regretted it, because of what she knew about him already, and what it might seem like she was implying.

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes at her. "If Reeve has shared as much of my past with you as he's conveyed, then you know I was raised and worked under S.R.D. and Turk surveillance. I had a fan club named for me as a result. I did not care for it. They did not care for me, though I suspect Hojo's purpose for them was ultimately procreative."

Tifa grimaced, pulled down a random bottle of booze from a cupboard, and poured two double shots. Offering one to Sephiroth, she said, "On the house. We could probably both use something to take the edge off."

"...I am not susceptible to liquor."

Tifa paused. "No, I guess you wouldn't be," she admitted, flustered, retracting his glass and pouring it into hers. "Soda?"

"Water is fine," he replied, fixing her with a calculating stare. "It pains you that Cloud doesn't wish to guard you anymore," he stated plainly. "However, it grew tiresome when he did. You told Elena and Cissnei as much."

Tifa frowned and took a deep breath. "Didn't have you pegged for an eavesdropper."

"Everything for Cloud's sake," he continued, "leaving nothing for your own purpose."

Tossing back half the glass, Tifa plopped down onto a barstool and leaned forward onto the counter, glaring at him, feeling her temper flare. Memories of how, when he'd lured them up north, his other self had mocked her, threatening to use her memories against Cloud poked at the forefront of her mind. "I can play that game, too, Sephiroth. You—"

"Everything for a mother I didn't know, and no longer wish to," he interrupted sourly. "Neither of them."

Tifa stared down at her drink, already feeling tipsy and somewhat surprised. Embarrassed, actually. So he wasn't trying to provoke her; he was making a sloppy, very Sephiroth- flavored effort to relate. Using some heavy scar tissue, no less. She felt ridiculous, but the words weaseled their way out after a groan, "I wanted a silly childhood promise to be enough. For him and me. Now I’m wondering if things would have been easier on both of us if we’d never made it."

"I thought the truth of my conception would free me from what I am," Sephiroth echoed bitterly.

"I suppose what we are to someone else was always supposed to be who we are," Tifa mused, taking another sip.

"'Who' is...difficult," Sephiroth replied. "I'd rather not think much of it."

Tifa's face softened. She knew that feeling too well. So long as she'd been there for her friends and especially Cloud, thinking about her own reasons didn't matter. It was just too big to tackle. "There's a hole where 'who' is supposed to be, and no matter what I try to put in there..."

"Nothing is enough," he finished for her. "And..."

Tifa eyed him expectantly when he failed to finish. "And?”

His brows creased; a deep scowl etched into his face.

"I was--I am the one who caused you this uncertainty," he said.

"You would have been," she corrected, but instantly averted her eyes when she said it.

He would have been, and he had been. They had to contend with both realities. There was no running from it. She wanted to be understanding and fair for this version of him, but the resentful, stubborn ache that formed in the pit of her stomach when she thought back to Nibelheim was steadfast as always.

"The consequences remain. It makes no difference." A small tremor entered his voice. He shook his head, seemingly scolding himself. “Perhaps I will seek employment elsewhere,” he said.

Tifa planted her forehead on the counter and grumbled, “How am I supposed to watch you if you aren’t around?”

“My presence harms you.”

She perked back up, offended. “…You’re wrong about that.”

“Am I?”

“My memory of what you would have done is what hurts, Sephiroth,” she retorted, raising her voice. “But you know what? Maybe I am waiting for the bottom to fall out. It has to be coming, right? No, I don’t trust you. You terrify me, but you act like a wounded, frightened child. How am I supposed to feel?”

Sephiroth lowered his eyes. “Do you not trust Vincent and Reeve to monitor me?”

“It has to be me,” she insisted.

“Why?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she spat. “Look…I’m sorry. Quit if you want. The W.R.O. probably has something better anyway. I don't know why I…”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Do you want me here, Tifa?”

“I…would rather have you around than not,” she conceded. “You do good work. I don’t have to double check anything, and you never complain.”

“That hardly justifies it,” he pushed back.

“It’s enough for now.”

"…Until tomorrow, then," he relented, quickly grabbed his coat, and left.