AN: This is the one, guys. This is the fic that transformed me from a reader to a writer back in the summer of '06. Little did I know that what started out as a self-indulgent desire to see my favorite ships in one story would become a universe I'd keep returning to.

I thanked my beta, Jim, in the original—who has graciously come out of retirement to beta for me again. In this updated one I'd also like to thank a few people who have been extremely generous with their time and thoughts. NineShadows, Hayacall and Johnny, your conversations and support are deeply appreciated.

Tifa makes a decision.

According to the bolded hot pink cover line on this month's issue of Mideelmoiselle, today was the first day of the rest of her life.

What are you waiting for? it asked in a 36 pt. subhead. And as Tifa stood in the check out line, half-listening to the sounds of her groceries getting beeped and bagged, she wondered the same thing.

What was she waiting for? she asked herself again on the tram ride home. She didn't know yet, but hoped the answer to that and other questions plaguing her were next to the celery in the bags between her feet.

Like, why had her fighting skills hit a plateau? (Stuck in a fitness rut? Five ways to dance out of your routine!) Why were her scrambled eggs always slightly on the runny side? (Your kitchen dilemmas solved + three easy summer recipes!) Why was her wardrobe predominately black? (What's your best color? Take the quiz inside!) And why were her breasts what men wanted a conversation with? (How to get him to talk—and like it too!)

Tifa couldn't wait to get home and find out.

Her revelations were curtailed, however, by an unexpected visitor. Barret was finally ready to take Marlene to their new home in Corel. When he invited Denzel to come along to make her transition easier, Tifa smiled weakly at the meaningful look Barret sent her. She should've told him it was a kind but wasted favor.

Though Cloud's unexplained absences had lessened and he made a point to smile more, not one move had been made, not one word had been spoken, in regards to a shared future. In fact, the only thing he was willing to talk about was the frequency of Vincent's visits. So in the spirit of keeping the peace, she'd begun cutting back on those—and now Vincent had stopped answering his phone.

But she thanked Barret, told him with a wink that she'd use the month wisely, gave the children bear hugs and promised to miss them every day. And after they'd all left and she'd had a chance to collect her wits, the bar felt quiet, empty and—

Lonely.

How Tifa hated that word. As an only child, it had been an unwelcome companion; as a motherless daughter, a reason not to stay indoors. But as an adult living with a friend and two children, the word—lonely—smacked of failure, an inability to be someone who was wanted by someone else. She was tired of it, but most of all she was tired of it always being her fault.

What are you waiting for?

Tifa spied her copy of Mideelmoiselle on the end of the counter. The bold hot pinkness of it was a bright swath of color amid the concrete monochrome drabness of the room. It beckoned to her. I can help! it brazenly exclaimed. Open me and find your answers!

Yes! Yes! A slow smile spread on her face as she grabbed it and headed upstairs to run a hot bath. She had four hours until the bar opened, and if today was the first day of the rest of her life…she'd better get started living it.

It wasn't until around midnight that the steady stream of patrons had slowed to a trickle. Ever since a news crew had caught the bunch of them outside the Sector 5 church just after the Geospel rain, 7th Heaven had become a magnet for the thirsty, the grateful and the curious.

Cloud, who usually kept himself hidden from all three in the sanctuary of his office, had come downstairs while Tifa was at a table and was surreptitiously raiding the refrigerator. She wasn't surprised; she was annoyed. Because she knew as soon as his plate was heavy with food, he'd retreat back up the stairs and into his room—no matter how busy it was, or how tired she looked, or how dirty the bar was left, it was the same every night.

Lonely.

There it was again, that word; it made her lip curl. And it was time to do something about it.

The door chime tinkled. She squinted up from the tray of drinks she was unloading and made out the dark suits of Reno and Rude filling the doorway. Light glinted off a pair of goggles and a bald head as the two men idled on the threshold, scanning the room. When they caught sight of her, something that looked a little like surprise, but mostly like delight lit up their faces. They saluted her—a double point from Reno, a wave from Rude—before detaching themselves from the entryway and making their way toward the bar.

Tifa returned their greeting with a late and slightly bewildered wave of her own. Delight at seeing her? But why? Bemused, she watched the stilted exchange of nods between the two Turks and Cloud before they took their usual seats in the middle of the bar.

The duo had begun coming in almost weekly since the Remnants and Geostigma had disappeared. Though it had been uncomfortable at first, their earnest attempts at conciliation had gone a long way in softening her resistance to them. Seeing Shinra—and the Turks specifically—managing the displaced and the orphaned of the city, as well as helping with rebuilding efforts, had won her grudging respect.

Reno and Rude, in particular, often went out their way to stop by, much to the enjoyment of Marlene and even Denzel. The two seemed hellbent on reinventing themselves—something Tifa had never before thought possible—and she was now at the point where every moment spent in their company took another chunk out of the wall she had erected.

After collecting the gil from the table, she tucked the empty tray under arm and made her way to the counter, wondering if a day would ever come when the wall was completely gone.

Why not tonight? a bolded, hot pink voice asked. What are you waiting for?

As Cloud passed her on his way to the stairs, a plate of cold chicken and fried potatoes in hand, she thought, Yeah, what am I waiting for?

Tifa deposited the gil into a drawer with hands that were suddenly clammy. Her mind was made up, but she had to figure out where to begin—and since hanging a sign from her neck and flipping it from "Closed" to "Open" wasn't an option, flirting was her only choice. Tifa hoped she remembered how.

She grabbed the Turks' usual two beers from the mini fridge below the bar, twisted off the caps, and slid them across the counter. As they both tipped the bottles back, Tifa took a deep breath and let it out through her nose, several times, just as Zangan had taught her. Then, before she could second guess or talk herself out of it, she blurted, "So how are my favorite Turks tonight?"

Reno's bright blue eyes went wide above the bottle. Rude choked and nearly spit out his beer.

Tifa bit her lower lip and thought, Oh dear.

However, Reno—being Reno—was the quickest to recover. He swallowed his mouthful, set his bottle down carefully, and said with a deliberate calmness, "Well, I can't speak for my partner here, but I, for one"—he put his free hand on his chest—"am totally peachy."

Rude cleared his throat behind a fist and added, "I'm good."

The red spikes of his hair caught the low house lights as Reno cocked his head toward her. "How 'bout yourself, Lockhart?" he asked. "How's our favorite bartender doing tonight?"

Tifa wiped her hands on her apron and waited for some last minute warning voice to tell her that what she was doing was foolhardy and reckless. But there was nothing, nothing but expectant silence.

What are you waiting for?

"I'm open now," Tifa heard someone cheerfully announce. It might've been her.

"You're…what?" someone else said. It might've been Rude. Probably Reno.

"I'm...open now?" she repeated, somewhat confused. Wait—oh gods, it had been her. She had said that and now she had to salvage it. "I'm open now...to...to..." Think! Think! Thi—yes! "To experiencing new things! Yeah, I'm open to experiencing new things," she said triumphantly. "Now."

Reno stared at her, eyes heavy-lidded with speculation. "New things, huh? What kind of new things?"

Tifa grinned. It worked! Or it looked like she had been successful at piquing Reno's interest, at least. And Rude—who could tell with Rude? Those sunglasses he always wore made it hard to guess his thoughts. But she'd heard rumors.

"Well…" Tifa began. "The kids will be gone for a month." When a table signaled her for another round, Tifa grabbed several shot glasses from under the counter and placed them on the bar. "And I've decided to take advantage of this time to do a few things for myself."

"Yeah? What things?"

"Like…" Tifa turned to pull a few liquors from the back wall shelves and bounced off a chest that she could've sworn hadn't been there a minute ago. "Oof! Cloud, what are you doing?"

He steadied her with a hand around her upper arm, and set his half-eaten food on the counter with the other. "I thought you might need some help," he said in an undertone.

"Now?" Tifa whispered, incredulous. She gestured to the room. "There's hardly anyone here."

"Exactly." He aimed a pointed look at the Turks.

Tifa rolled her eyes. "No, I don't need your help—unless you want to help me clean up later."

He shifted his scowl to her. "And what are these things you're talking about doing? Don't you think you should've discussed this with me before them?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because they don't involve you. Now do you mind?" She slipped her arm out of his grasp. "I was working."

Without waiting for an answer, Tifa slid past him to search the back shelves for her drink orders. After all, why should he care now? Why should she?

When she returned to the counter with her bottles, Cloud was grimly eating a chicken leg next to Rude, who appeared less than stoic about the new arrangement. Tifa didn't blame him; she might've thrown her arms up in exasperation if they weren't full of liquor.

Reno, apparently figuring he had more to gain than lose despite the literal dark cloud at the end of the bar, prodded at her while she poured out her order. "Hey…" he said in a near-whisper. "What things are you gonna do for yourself?"

A fork clattering onto stoneware stopped her from answering. At least three heads swiveled to Cloud, who had gotten to his feet and was holding a plate of chicken bones as menacing as he possibly could. He glowered at the Turks, at Tifa, but especially at Reno.

Tifa set the filled shot glasses on a tray. "Oh good. Since you're so kind to volunteer, could you take this"—she slid the tray down the bar to him—"to the table in the corner, Cloud?"

"But I wasn't—"

"Please."

Even smiling sweetly couldn't deflect the dirty look he threw at her, but Tifa didn't care. "Don't say anything until I get back," he ordered before he stalked off.

Tifa pursed her lips, wondering how she was going to deal with this new wrench in her plans. Should she put the conversation off in the hopes that Cloud would eventually get bored and go upstairs? Carry on and ignore him? Wait to enact her plan another day?

Her fist clenched. No! She was a grown woman, dammit, and she was done putting off the rest of her life for someone who didn't love her.

As Tifa blinked back the stinging in her eyes, she noticed the empty bottle in front of Rude. "Another beer?" she asked, and reached under the bar to the mini-fridge without waiting for an answer. She popped the cap off the bottle with finality, took a long sip and placed it in front of him. Rude stared at it, mouth slightly agape.

"Sorry," Tifa said, though she didn't really mean it.

"It's cool," Rude replied, and sounded as though he really meant it.

An empty tray clattered unceremoniously down on the counter as Cloud huffed back onto his stool. He glanced briefly at Rude's beer before sending a disapproving look to Tifa.

"So don't keep us in suspense here, yo," Reno cut in, either oblivious to the strained mood or too single-minded to care. He folded his arms on the bar and leaned toward Tifa. "What're you talking, like a manicure? Taking a day at Healin for the spa treatment?"

"Tifa doesn't get manicures," Cloud informed everyone.

Tifa shot him a dirty look. "Not yet I don't." She leaned an elbow on the counter and angled herself toward the Turks, effectively cutting Cloud from the conversation. "I meant more like getting out and doing stuff. Fun stuff."

"Dancing is fun stuff," Reno suggested.

"Tifa doesn't dance."

"Dancing does sound fun," Tifa agreed.

"Going to try a new restaurant?" Rude asked.

"Tifa prefers to cook at home."

"I also like to go out," she told Rude.

"What about amusement parks?" Reno wanted to know.

"Tifa hates crowds."

"I haven't been to one of those in forever," Tifa mused.

"Ever hang out in a coffee shop?" Rude wondered.

"Tifa doesn't drink coffee."

"I'm up for anything, really," Tifa said through her teeth. "Really."

Reno peered down the counter at where Cloud sat stewing, then he swung his attention back to Tifa. There was a shrewd, very knowing, very Reno look on his face. "So…you planning on doing all this stuff alone, Lockhart?"

Tifa smiled what she thought was her sweetest smile. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to."

Then Rude surprised her, surprised everyone—probably even himself—by asking, "Mmm, does this mean you want to do these things as dates?"

Tifa nodded. "That's exactly what it means."

There was a sound of metal scraping against concrete as Reno stood up. "And it also means the line starts behind me," he said, and jerked a thumb at his chest.

Yes! Yes! And when Reno smiled and winked at her, Tifa thought her bar had finally lived up to its name.

AN: Did you know? It takes days, sometimes weeks, to bring you an update. It only takes a few minutes to leave a comment with your thoughts. Please take that into consideration before you exit this story.