Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I

His Loving Touch

          There was a time not long after the fall when we, like everyone else unfortunate enough to be in Midgar at the time of the impact, were left with no home to call our own. That was as true for the city itself as it was for any place we chose to lay our heads at night. It had been reduced to an unfamiliar, jagged pile of ruins that would likely never know human habitation again. Everything we ever knew was gone. No Sector 7, no Seventh Heaven. Nowhere. Nothing.

          So, like everyone else, we eked out our survival at its edge. Where we were dangerously close to the wilds and its fiends, but near enough to fashion shelter from the scraps and fallen debris. Anywhere we could tilt two pieces of steel siding together to make a roof, anywhere a few planks of wood and a dirty tarp would hold together with a few nails. Anywhere the dust, smoke, and airborne chemicals wouldn’t blacken our lungs. That’s where we made our makeshift beds and got what little rest we could.

          We wandered for days. Weeks. Maybe months, who knows? Time wasn’t easy to keep track of then. When we finally found a place safe enough to settle, that’s when the real fight began. We spent the daylight building structures as sound as we could make them, little huts and storefronts huddled in a ramshackle tangle of improvised roads and alleys, until the place began to look a little more familiar. This growing town of ours started to feel more and more like the slums I’d left behind, but it was a meager living those formerly of better means would have to learn to accept.

          We weren’t heroes then. We may have struck the final blow, set the planet free to defend itself at that critical moment, but I don’t think we really ever considered ourselves heroes. It was atonement for all we’d done here before, our amends to all those who suffered in our self-righteous crusade against Shinra and their soul-stealing machines. Just another group of hands scrounging in the dirt, trying our best.

          After the day’s work was done, we spent the nights as we saw fit. Some traded, some told stories. Some mourned, many cried, and now and then, a few died. Children spent the last fleeting moments of sunset playing schoolyard games before the bonfires went alight. Barret always took Marlene there early to make sure she was among the first to eat from whatever stew was cooking in the community pots, partaking in the occasional swig of booze and hearing the stories of those who had suffered and lost. He never spoke much, just lent a sympathetic ear to those in need. And he almost always spent the night by the dying firelight with his baby girl in his arms.

          As for Cloud and I, the only escape we had was in each other. We liked to eat a hurried dinner, have a quick wash of the day’s dirt and grime, and turn in early before the crowds settled in nearby. Sometimes just to talk, sometimes to sleep wordlessly. Often to cuddle, and sometimes… something more. Something we’d spent the day thinking about, teasing with little encounters. A brush of hands, a passing touch, a stolen glance and a smile. I’d catch him staring, too hard not to notice, and he’d catch me just as often.

          No matter how early we chose to retire, there was always someone within earshot. A few too curious for our liking on occasion, but for the most part, no one cared if they heard us. And neither did we. It was all we had, and after all, we were just another pair of voices in the night. Just another song of anonymous moans and cries that dotted every dwelling and open-air cot where room could be found to occupy.

          His warm embrace gave me peace. His touch gave me life. Soft and tingling. Sometimes fast and smoldering, but always with more than enough love and devotion to fill me up and help me weather the next day. A passion I’d never known, a love and tenderness I’d saved only for him. When most memories of our youth were destined to be those of struggle, pain, and suffering, those wonderful nights would be the ones we’d cherish for the rest of our days. Memories for us alone.

          His hands were strong, but gentle. His muscles a firm refuge, as safe and inviting as they were exciting. His caresses and kisses traveled places that thrilled and delighted me. My hips, my thighs, my belly. My chest, where he loved and lingered the most, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t encourage it. But there was one spot he frequented so often, so seemingly randomly, and I didn’t understand it. Not just in the throes and heat of the moment, but in the sweet silence thereafter.

          It was for that spot that he saved his lightest, most loving touch. A small line of strokes just above my ribs, and just below my left breast. That little gesture alone relayed so many emotions. Like a whisper I could feel, saying that he cherished me, that he cared for me endlessly. Like a blessing, a shield between me and all that could do me harm, saying that he would live and die for me. But also, a sadness. A regret and sorrow as he slowed with the slightest tremble, the slightest lift away from my skin, as though he felt his fingers didn’t deserve to be there.

          Why there? Why not anywhere else, or in any other way? I didn’t know until one night, when the day’s strain left me with a familiar ache I hadn’t felt there in years. With that slight twinge of pain beneath his fingertips, I finally understood. He seemed sad and distant that night, and the realization stayed my tongue, froze my lips for what felt like hours while I searched for the courage to ask. Somehow, I knew there would be a cost for mentioning it.

━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━

          I had lied there with him for several hours before I had the courage to say anything, still and slightly uncomfortable on our bed of lumpy couch cushions we'd gathered from a number of dumpsters and discarded piles. I watched the dying firelight from the cracks between our walls and listened to the growing chatter from the neighboring huts, feeling progressively numb and cold even as I spooned with him, wrapped in his arms. And there, as his fingers traced their usual spot with that loving touch, I pondered all that had darkened his heart in the years I had known him.

          The question I had for him, I knew, could open a wound that I had hoped had closed when our battle for the planet came to an end. But I knew him. I knew his suffering, and I knew there were layers to it that I hadn’t yet seen. In truth… I was afraid. Afraid of losing him again, and I’d never forgive myself if my words pushed him away when I’d only just recently brought him back to me. But I had to know. I had to hear it in his voice.

          “Cloud…?“ I whispered softly.

          I could barely get his name past my lips. The mousiest little whisper that I secretly hoped he hadn’t heard. He hesitated. I held my breath despite myself, and everything went silent but his stirring and sighs.

          “Yeah…?“ he whispered in turn.

          He sounded half asleep. Even in his sleep, he couldn’t help this endearing little habit of his. I paused, closing my eyes and steeling myself for his response.

          “I’ve been…meaning to ask. Why…why do you…touch my scar like that…?”

          I hoped he didn’t hear the quaver in my voice, signaling my fear and dread. He sighed, his hot breath steaming my bare back. Then, silence for what felt like an eternity. I couldn’t take it.

          “...Cloud…?“

          “Tifa…“ he sighed again. “...I don’t know. I guess… to remind myself that…that we’re real. That I’m real.“

          I was confused. Real? Surely, he couldn’t mean his memories. Even after I’d helped him find himself, helped him piece his identity back together and remember the childhood we had shared, did he really still question it? Sephiroth was dead and gone. He held no power over him anymore. So…why? I could feel ice in the pit of my stomach.

          “Cloud… I don’t understand…“ 

          But I did understand. At least, I thought I did. Still, I wanted to hear it from him. My voice cracked a bit, betraying the tears that may come.

          “It's just... I mean, I know I'm real. I'm... Cloud. I don't doubt that now, and I have you to thank for it. But sometimes, I just have to remind myself... that...that I'm...“

          But the words just wouldn’t come. It was true. He still had doubts. I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes now. My mind was reeling, and then a revelation struck me. A memory of where this all began, and it made me blush from ear to ear.

Chapter Text

II

His Kiss At the End of the World

          It was the onset of dusk, and we stood in the shadow of the hulking steel of the Highwind idling above us. The blue of the sky had not yet faded. While the sun dimmed the horizon to a bed of brilliant orange and kissed the clouds with a skirt of harvest gold, a gentle breeze rolled over the plains. The whisper of wind swept through my hair and swirled the lush grass about our feet with a perfume of wild flowers.

          All was silent but the faintest sounds of nature around us, as if to calm us before the storm. To convey its trust in us, comfortably and confidently placing its fate within our hands, and gifting us peace in those final hours. To patiently allow us that tender moment we so desperately needed, and was so long overdue. For the longest time, without the lively banter of our companions to fill the void, we remained silent, as well. Searching for our first words, and perhaps our last.

          I stood with my back to him at a near distance, pensively gazing at the horizon. When he finally spoke up, it was simply to tell me he had so much to say, yet no words. I, more boldly than I felt capable, told him that words weren't the only way to convey his feelings. And then I waited, listening to the muffled crash of waves against the rocky beach we'd seen from above, not more than a mile to the north. I wondered if the planet was waiting for him to take that first step, just as I was. 

          I didn't hear him approach, only felt the graze of his fingertips upon my back between my shoulder blades. A silent call for my attention where no words would do. With a slight flinch, I turned to face him, eyes wide and mouth agape. I'd never seen him stand so deliberately close to me. Nor had I ever realized just how tall he was, his chin poised just above my forehead. My sweet, skinny little boy next door had become a man, broad and firm. 

          He took my chin in the curl of his index finger and thumb, raising my gaze to meet his. His eyes, once so very blue, now touched with the green of the Lifestream and all of the heartache it brought him. I felt myself flush as he slowly drew me into a kiss, his hand sliding across my cheek and cradling the back of my neck. 

          He'd kissed me before, days ago among the fireworks and splendor of the Gold Saucer sky. But this felt different. This kiss was with intent, with a gentle force that compelled me. And I surrendered to it, my legs folding beneath me while he slowly scooped me into his embrace and laid me softly atop the long slope of the grassy hillside.

          He partially lied atop me, his legs tangled about mine, but his hands pressed into the grass by my shoulders, propping him up on straightened arms. I felt small, trapped in a cage I didn't wish to escape, my arms drawn in and my hands folded above my chest. His face was less than a foot from my own, framing me in the wispy shade of his sunny locks.

          He gazed deeply into my eyes, and my heart raced. 

          My skin buzzed electric. 

          My hands trembled. 

          “Please… be gentle with me…“ I pleaded in a whisper. 

          I'd always heard that's what all guys wanted to hear the first time, that it made them feel strong, or something. I dunno. It felt corny, but in that moment, I genuinely meant it. I'd never given myself to any guy like that. Despite what many must have thought of me before, it was my first time. And it was with him, the real Cloud I'd always known and loved. The boy-turned-man I'd waited for at the gates on that fateful day all those years ago, and every second of the restless night before. I was as terrified as I was excited.

          My knees buckled together defensively, and I fluttered my eyelashes slowly at him. A reflexive message of honest innocence, however atypically demure. I'd never felt so weak. But I'd also never felt so safe, or so alive. A slight, hesitant smile touched the corners of my lips, and he gave me the warmest, most reassuring smile I'd ever seen grace his beautiful face. 

          He whispered lovingly in my ear, “I won't hurt you, Tifa… Never again…“

          He lingered upon my eyes only a moment, then kissed me hard. I let him take me, let him guide my hands, my arms, my legs, let him lift and flex my spine in ecstasy. The world around me ceased to be. The shadow of the Highwind and the spreading sunset fell into the same blissful darkness behind my eyelids. The rising heat in my body eclipsed the summer day. The shock and tingle of his touch hushed the tickle of the grass beneath my back and shoulders.

          In all of creation, only he and I existed or mattered, and I became sensitive to his every shift, his every twitch, every little nuance of this slow writhing. I felt the tip of his tongue, a new and enticing sensation, and it quickened me. I coiled my legs around his, trapped his embrace and stole away a bit of the control that I had surrendered. And then… a bold, new move.

          I felt his hand forcefully slide beneath my top and grasp my breast, and my mouth left his for a sharp gasp while he began kissing my neck. I was forgetting myself. My inhibitions. My modesty. And without hesitation, I lifted my top to give him full access. I wanted him to explore, wanted him to show me with his hands where his eyes had been wandering all that time, and I would not gatekeep.

          It was just then that he drew back, staring intently at my exposed and unguarded chastity. His heat cooled, his motions slowed while he caught his breath, and I was left untouched for seconds that drew out like a blade. Slow and agonizing, I came to my senses again. I was Tifa. I was… embarrassed. But still willing, and I watched his eyes, looking for the state of his mind. Not wanting, not yearning. No, just… love. Caring, transfixed on a part of me a bit lower than where I expected his attention to land.

          The silence was deafening, and my voice emerged of its own will.

          “Cloud… what? I don’t…“

          Folding his lips inward with a puzzling little look of worry that I wouldn’t understand for years to come, he leaned in slowly and placed the tiniest, sweetest kiss just above my bottom-left rib. Once, twice. Three times. It tickled, but I remained still and quiet, watching him with enamored fascination.

          “Cloud… I…“

          Just a whisper. More to myself than to him. After a long, drawn out moment of the most tender gesture I’d ever received in my life, his kisses grew heavier. Louder, wetter, and moving south. And I resigned myself to nameless euphoria once more, at last unbuckling my knees and slowly spreading my thighs in joyful surrender. 

          It was a night of many firsts. My first time with a man, with anyone. My first time with him. The first time I told him I loved him, and he told me the same. The first night I spent in his arms. The first night of our ensuing love, and the first time he ever touched my scar.

━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━

          “Cloud… the Highwind. I remember now. That night before it was all over. When we were alone. The first time... the first time we slept together. You kissed it. You kissed my scar. I didn't know that's what it was then, I just thought you were being... you know. But you did, didn't you? You kissed my scar. Cloud... Why?“

          He didn’t answer. But his breathing changed, became irregular. Erratic.

          “...Cloud…?“

          I could feel him tremble as he held me closer, burying his face into my shoulder and nuzzling the side of my neck. I could feel the wet of his tears against my skin, and the quickening pulse of his silent sobs. I would hear no more explanation from him that night, and I was too afraid to pry.

          “Oh, Cloud…I’m sorry…“

          Tears streamed down my cheeks. My own sobs weren’t so silent. Still, his hand returned to my scar. Hesitant, shaking, but compelled. I placed my hand over his, gently reassuring him that it was okay. That I didn’t mind. But there were no more words that night. Only tears and silence to lull us into the coldest, darkest, and loneliest sleep I’d ever slept while in his arms.

Chapter Text

III

Bringing Him Home

          The next morning, I awoke shivering in a near fetal position. It was cold, and his warmth was strangely absent. When I reached for him, he was gone. He'd never left me alone like that before, never let me start the day without seeing his face or hearing his voice. I didn’t know what to think. 

          With the dawn, the world outside rattled to life in a clamor that felt unfamiliar. Hammering, sawing, wood clattering, metal clanging, shouting and laughter. Sounds I knew, that I’d traveled with for so long. But… was it always so loud? So jarring? I cupped my hands over my ears and closed my eyes. 

          He’d always been by my side. Anything was tolerable when I was with him. The world felt safer, even when danger was so near. It felt more peaceful, even in the grip of all that chaos and upheaval. Without him… I felt exposed. Vulnerable. I was scared. Sad. And the pain under my scar had gotten worse in the night. I felt like that fifteen-year-old girl all over again; hurt, lost, and plopped in the middle of a filthy rathole I didn’t know and couldn’t trust.

          I shrank into myself, hugging my knees and falling onto my side, clutching the blanket to my chest with white knuckles. The tears were flowing again, and I couldn’t stop them. I was heartbroken, and I regretted ever saying anything. He’d always held me so close. I never realized that some part of him still held me at such a distance. I didn’t know there were still boundaries between us. 

          What had I done?

          I never saw daylight that day. Never left the bed. I just didn’t see the point. The thought of losing him again, of seeing him losing himself, made me physically sick. As much as I already missed him, I could only hope that he was safe. I hoped that he was simply upset with me, that he wasn’t wandering the wastes somewhere in that same shattered stupor that led him to the Sector 7 train station. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t over, and my biggest fear was coming true.

          How could this be happening? Wasn’t Sephiroth responsible for this? Breaking his mind, pulling his strings, and making him do terrible things. Unmaking who he was, and dying him in his own colors. Wasn’t that the problem all along? With that cancer of the planet gone, what could still be doing this to him? I spiraled, reasoned in circles until there were no more tears. Until there was no more energy, and all I wanted was sleep.

          My chest ached, both heart and scar. My eyes were bloodshot and dry, my hair spread around me and over my face in a bedraggled whirlwind of tangles, and I could only lie there and watch the darkness of the night fold in around me. Expressionless, depressed, and alone. He wouldn’t be coming home that night, I was sure of that. 

          Strangely, my last conscious thoughts turned to Barret. I was sure he’d missed my presence that day. Certainly, Marlene had. She’d grown accustomed to wishing me a good morning, and always with him in tow. I just hoped he wouldn’t show up in the morning. I loved him like a big brother, that would never change, but… He had a habit of being overprotective. Standing between Cloud and me whenever he upset me, or even when he simply thought that was the case. Going on and on about “going upside that spikey-ass head of his“. 

          I just didn’t have the patience for it anymore. I was tired of him pecking around our nest, and I’d given him pushback over it before. This was our love, our home to make. Mine and his, and no one else’s. I would find him. I would bring him back. I’d do it a thousand times if I had to. He would not be taken from me again.

          My last words for the night, I spoke for him, and to no one in particular.

          “I won’t hurt you, Tifa…“ I labored through a tired rasp. “Never again…“

          I greeted the morning again without him at my side. Cold and lonely, but with a welcome surprise at our doorstep. Just outside the stained tarp that served as our door sat a little pot with a tattered note. Chicken scratch. Evidently, he’d never learned to write very well with his left hand. I guess I’d never seen him try before then.

          “Hang in there, girl.“

          That’s all it said. I didn’t know what he knew, or what he didn’t know, but he apparently knew enough not to pry. I’d told him once that if he truly cared for me, he’d listen and leave it be. And he had. He also knew I hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw that pot of stew from the night before. Nearly inedible sludge by then, but enough to get me through the day. I’d have to remember to thank him.

━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━

          Getting through the day wasn’t easy, but somehow, I managed. I was normally known to be talkative and personable. I'd always guessed that was part of what made Seventh Heaven such a success way back when, forgiving the obvious. But without the happiness he usually gave me, I just didn’t have it in me that day. I avoided idle conversation, and avoided those who insisted on it even more. I did make sure to give Marlene the warm, sunny greeting she’d come to expect from me in the morning. I didn’t want her to worry, after all. And, of course, I thanked Barret for the morning slop and his kind words. Beyond that, I mostly kept my head down and kept to myself.

          I helped wherever I could, wherever I was needed, but I wasn’t proactive. My heart just wasn’t in it. My agenda for the day was to track down Cloud and, if I couldn’t get him to talk to me, at least make sure he was safe. It wasn’t long before I abandoned work entirely. He had to be somewhere, at least relatively nearby. For all I feared, I couldn’t allow myself to believe that he would just leave me like that. I believed in him. I had to believe in him. I composed myself, told myself that it would be okay, and pressed on into the rushed and busied throng.

          I hadn’t been aware of just how much the place stank, or just how choking the dust kicked up by footsteps and labor could be, until I took my first steps out the door that morning. Just another sensation that had been dulled by my infatuation with him, another discomfort I could tolerate so long as he was at my side. I wondered, briefly, if that awful, leftover stew I ate that morning would have tasted any better if he were eating it with me. 

          I felt pathetic, and I shamed myself for having come to rely on him so much. But in the end, I just didn’t care. I was strong on my own, I’d proven that much in all my time in Midgar before he came along. But it wasn't about that. I was strong, but I wasn't complete. Some part of me was missing, and when he came back to me, I felt whole again. 

          Everything was more significant, mattered more, and somehow, mattered less with him in my life. Every pleasant experience was made so much more enjoyable, every pain and discomfort made calm, every annoyance quieted. Every day, no matter what it brought, was so much more worthwhile because I knew I'd be spending it with him. For that reason, I just couldn't live without him anymore. No matter what he thought, SOLDIER or not, he truly was my hero. He always had been.

          That need made me resolute where I had earlier despaired, and gave me hope where I had nearly given up. Even the mere thought of him, the prospect of having him back, was enough to give me strength. So, I searched like nothing else mattered. It started, of course, with asking random passers-by if they'd seen him. Up until that moment, it had comforted me that he'd left his sword at Zack's grave. It gave me hope that our fighting days were over. In hindsight, I regretted it. It certainly would have made him more identifiable.

          After a number of hours, and at the direction of a few leads, I'd finally started gaining on him. Reports of sightings were becoming more frequent, more certain, and more specific. It wasn't long before I caught my first sight of him. First, at a great distance, and only for a moment before he melted back into the crowd. But my single-minded focus helped me keep track of him. Where every other person around me had faded to monochrome, he stood out in vivid color. Where every face was blurred and forgotten as quickly as I saw them, his remained crisp and clear.

          Still, I was fighting against the tide. Even after we nomads of the Midgar ruins had found a place to settle, we'd still been limited to traveling mostly by foot. And neither Cloud nor I had ever had reason to venture this far into the growing, urban sprawl. Every turn was another loss of direction. Every knot of the rushing crowd was another loss of sight. For miles, all I had to guide me was a spike or two of blond hair. A glint of light from his gauntlet or spaulder. 

          I didn't know if he was purposely trying to shake me, but I was becoming frustrated and angry. I could feel my throat tightening and the tears welling again. As the sun set, and it grew more difficult to see, I was starting to lose hope. It was only by chance that the crowd parted just long enough for me to spot him standing at the end of the clearing. And I seized the chance with everything I had.

          I sprinted toward him with careless abandon. With gravel crunching beneath my every step, I called out to him, shouting his name at the top of my lungs with no care for the attention of nearby onlookers. After having tripped twice, and completely out of breath, I finally caught him. I wrapped my arms around him from behind, tighter than I'd ever hugged anyone, clinging to him for dear life. To lose my grip was to drown, and I wanted to live. I wanted to live with him.

          “Cloud, stop!“ I shouted. Choked by tears and sobs, I could hardly speak, but I forced the words out one by one. “I'm sorry! Please, don't leave me! Come home!“

          People were staring now, but I didn't care. For the ever-present cacophany of voices around me, there was only the silence of his hesitation and lack of acknowledgment. I held him in my tightest grip until my arms began to ache, and finally, he gently placed his hand over mine. Not lovingly, but defiantly.

          “I'm sorry, Tifa... I can't.“

          Slowly, but still careful not to hurt me, he pried my grip away and let me stumble to my hands and knees. He didn't even look at me. He just kept walking, leaving me there in the dirt. I was in shock. Indignant. My face grew hot, my eyes blurred with tears. I felt powerless. 

          If I really wanted to, I had my ways of subduing a man. And I knew he'd never retaliate. He said he'd never hurt me. He never had, and I believed he never would. Still, I could never bring myself to do it. I would never be so hostile to him, and besides, what would be the point? What was there to gain by trapping him when he didn't want to be with me? I wanted, needed, him to want to come back to me. And he didn't.

          I must have sat there for at least thirty minutes, crying myself dry just like I did the night before. I'd turned away several good samaritans who offered to help, and at least a couple of men who saw it as their chance to “save“ me. I didn’t want anyone’s company or pity. When all was said and done, I did what I swore that I wouldn't when I set out to find him. I walked home alone.

Chapter Text

IV

My Wayward Savior

          Even in the worst states of poverty, people somehow find a way to get by and have a good time. And every day survived in the growing city of Edge was reason enough to celebrate at night. By the time I had pulled myself together enough to make my way back home, I had to find my way by the firelight spilling from every doorway. And in every doorway, people were celebrating in their own way.

          Modest family meals. Children’s bedtime stories. Meager parties, chats with friends. Music and dancing. Booze. Sex. Love. People being people. It was the same in the slums. Nobody had anything, but just about everyone had someone, and that was something. Someone to keep them going. Someone to live their lives with, to live and die for. And I…

          I felt bitter. Hollow. I was losing my person, and I didn’t want to go home. I couldn’t stand the idea of walking through that door and not seeing him there. I didn’t want to spend another night sleeping alone in the dark, not knowing where he was or if he was okay. I lingered in the shadows outside a few of those gatherings, deliberately stalling my progress, staying out of sight and hoping to bask in the warmth of their happiness for just a little while. But I knew it was wrong. I had no place there. It made me miss the days of Seventh Heaven.

          As hectic as my pursuit had been, I had attempted to take note of landmarks wherever I could. But navigating back in the dark, especially through the fog of my depression, proved more difficult than I expected. I had lingered too long, and before much longer, I regretted dragging my heels. One by one, the firelights began to go out as the people within turned in for the night. Soon, it was just me, the moonlight, and the silence.

          Now, on top of the loneliness, I was beginning to feel unsafe. There is no environment more hostile than a desperate one. While most of us had good hearts, and the desire to uplift one another and uphold the greater good, it would be a fatal error to assume the best of everyone. There are always those who are only motivated by personal gain, even at the expense of the innocent. Whether for their own survival, for those they wish to protect or for whom they wish to provide, for selfish desire, or simply out of malice. In any case, a knife or gun in the dark is just as lethal. I still didn’t want to go home, but I didn’t want to be there.

          Just as my surroundings began to look familiar, the silence gave way to nearby mumblings, and then laughter nearer still. I quickened my step, but the sounds followed. I was being stalked. That wasn’t the first time in my life I’d found myself in that situation, but given my mental state, it was among the most unnerving. I didn’t have the patience or focus for it and, I feared, I might not have had the strength, either.

          Just as I approached a nearby alley, a hooded figure emerged from the darkness. A slight, unshaven man in a hooded coat, trying his best to sound magnanimous. 

          “Now, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out at this hour? There are a lot of scumbags out here, you know?“ He droned in a patronizing lilt and flashing an unsightly, yellow grin. 

          “There sure are,“ I huffed.

          “It’s not safe. Why don’t you let me walk you home?“

          “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.“ With balled fists, I stormed past him. He grabbed me by the wrist.

          “Oh, I insist.“ He spat, drawing a small blade with his other hand.

          Sometimes, to be underestimated could be a boon. Before he knew what had happened, he found himself face-down in the dirt and his knife hand paralyzed in a standing armlock. How many losers just like him had I ejected from the bar just like this over the years? How many of them because they thought they could have their way with me, just like him? After having spent my entire day trying to bring home a real man, the man I loved, and after having to walk away nursing a broken heart, I had even less tolerance for it.

          “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink tonight. Why don’t you go home and sleep it off?“ I asserted, wrenching the joints in his arm with a sharp crack. The offending knife fell from his impotent fingers, and I kicked it away. In my anger, I failed to hear the footsteps approaching from behind me. But I heard the click of the pistol’s hammer just fine. Of course, he had friends. Cowards rarely hunted alone.

          “Alright, missy, that’s quite enough of that.“ My unseen assailant pressed the barrel into the back of my head. With gritted teeth, I slowly raised my hands, and the bastard I’d just had beneath my heel clumsily rose to his feet.

          “You’ve got some fight in you.“ He chuckled with a cocky little smirk, wiping the blood and shame from his lower lip. 

          The man behind me spoke up again. “Don’t make this any harder on yourself. Just keep quiet, and we’ll–“

          But his sentence was cut short. With a sound of violent struggle, he gagged and fought to breathe. Then, a vicious crack, and a harsh thud followed by silence as his pistol came rattling to the ground beside me. I watched the confidence of the would-be molester in front of me shatter. With a look of terror upon his face, he stumbled and scrambled off into the night.

          I picked up the gun and snapped my gaze behind me. The gunman lay in a mangled, brutalized heap. Unconscious, a horribly broken and dislocated arm, and his neck looked twisted. I couldn’t tell if he was breathing, but if he was alive, he likely wouldn’t be for much longer. Frozen in shock, I only just barely heard the footsteps of my savior sounding down another nearby alley before they faded away. 

          He’d already wandered too far for me to see clearly, more shambling than walking, but I’d know that silhouette anywhere.

          “Cloud…?“ 

          I’d meant it to be a call, but in my gut, I was afraid that he’d hear me. I was also afraid to follow him. He saved me. Protected me. That made me happy, of course, but… The state that man was in. Cloud had killed before. We all had, there had been no choice. But this was brutal. And he’d done it with his bare hands. It wasn’t like him. And after all of that, after saving my life, he was still avoiding me. 

          I remembered the way he looked when he attacked Aerith. The look on his face when Sephiroth was manipulating him. I was terrified that I’d see it again. And I remembered… I remembered what it looked like following the black cloaks, the way they mindlessly shambled. Aimless, yet guided. Completely unaware of anyone else around them. When I saw him walking down that alley, I believed that’s what I saw. What was happening to him?

━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━

          When I finally made it back to our neighborhood, even as exhausted as I was, the idea of going home felt worse than ever. I decided that I’d visit the bonfire instead, the one Barret and Marlene most often frequented. Maybe he’d still be awake. I just wanted someone to talk to. I didn’t know what I’d tell him, or how he could really help. And I kind of feared that he might do something drastic, whether or not it was warranted. But I needed someone. Without Cloud, he was all I had left.

          By then, little was left of the fire but dying embers. Most had left, those with no homes to call their own had already curled up near the heat and gone to sleep. As usual, Barret was there, Marlene sleeping comfortably in his lap while he stroked her hair with one massive hand. He always cut an intimidating figure, but nobody could deny that he was a loving father. It softened everyone's impression of him. 

          He saw me approach and waved, then raised a finger to his lips. He didn’t want to disturb her, and neither did I. So, silently, I just sat nearby and gazed emptily into the bonfire’s smoldering remains. He’d greeted me with a smile, obviously happy to see me after my absence, but his expression quickly fell to one of concern. He could see the pain on my face. He knew something was wrong.

          Slowly and gently, Barret placed Marlene on their sleeping bag and tucked her in, kissing her sweetly on the forehead. I’d only seen him do it a few times, and it always brought a smile to my face. With his lap free, he scooted closer and spoke to me as quietly as he could. 

          “You good?“ he whispered. I could only shake my head. 

          “Wanna talk about it?“ He asked in that guttural growl of his. It was hard to accept a kind word from him sometimes when he spoke it in that voice, especially so close to my ear. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but still.

          I thought I did want to talk. That’s why I went there and sought him out. But when he asked, I couldn’t find the words. I slowly shook my head, my face contorting. I didn’t want to cry in front of him, but I wasn’t going to be able to stop it. With a wry frown, he made a noise somewhere between a huff and a sigh. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

          “Is it Cloud?“

          I didn’t answer. And that was answer enough for him. He sighed and rubbed his forehead with frustration. 

          “Well, you know what I wanna say…“

          “Yeah…“ I sniffed, wiping away a few stray tears and drying my nose. “I know what you wanna say.“ My tone may have been a little more combative than I intended, but he didn’t seem to mind.

          “Well… I won’t. Thing is… that boy’s done right by you. By all of us, I think. He’s got problems…“ 

          I shot daggers at him from the corners of my eyes, and he recoiled for a moment. 

          “I guess we all do, okay? But he’s good in his heart. Marlene don’t run from him no more, right? And she’s the best judge of character you’re gonna get. Look, what I’m trying to say is… I believe in him. And not just him, both of you. You think I couldn’ta set up a home for all of us by now? I didn’t even push to take that hut for me and Marlene for her sake. 

          “No, I wanted you two to get some privacy. It was time for that. You’re young, and you got your future to think about. Maybe a rug rat of your own, one day.“

          I blushed, clearing my throat to insist that he stop.

          “You two, you’re gonna go far. I know that. So, I ain’t gonna ask what’s goin’ on. And I ain’t gonna protect you, ‘cuz I don’t think there’s nothin’ to protect you from. I think that’s his job now, and he’s doin’ a damn good job of it, too. I think you should go home. Maybe it’ll hurt, maybe it won’t. But it’ll be okay. ‘Cuz if it ain’t, well… you know what I’m gonna do.“

          He smiled and slugged me in the arm. My sob turned into a laugh, and almost into a cough. “Yeah, asshole. I know what you’ll do.“ I hugged him, and he gave me that bear hug that I always expected, but for which I never had enough air in my lungs. He’d given me all the courage I needed, and I believed him. Cloud would be okay. I would be okay. We’d be okay.

━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━

          I had left Barret with a smile on my face, but by the end of the walk to our front door, it had faded. I knew he was right. It would be okay. I had to believe that. But this home of ours felt so unwelcoming now, so painful. I stood outside, hesitant to move the tarp and take that first step, and then I heard it. A low moan, drawn out and obviously troubled.

          It could have been anyone, as far as I knew. Maybe those bastards had more friends, and they’d followed me, figured out where I lived. Maybe it was Cloud. Even if it was, I was still terrified to face him. But there was nowhere left to go. I couldn’t turn back, I wouldn’t. If it was an intruder, it would be the last intrusion they ever made. If it was Cloud, I swore, I’d take him back no matter the cost.

          As I slowly pulled back the tarp, the moonlight spilled in, and there he was. Cloud, slumped against the wall in the far corner of the room opposite our bed. Moaning, head lolling. He looked and sounded very much the way he did when I first found him in Midgar, sick and broken by the train tracks. My blood ran cold.

          “Cloud…are you…“ I whispered, likely not loud enough for him to hear. I stepped closer, feeling my hair stand on end as I reached for him. Then, I saw the bottle as it announced its presence with a singsong rattle, rolling away from his hand and into the light, still containing a swallow or two of its amber swill.

          “Tifa…“ He looked up at me with bloodshot eyes, his breath hot and acrid with the scent of cheap bourbon. 

          I stood and backed away from him, repulsed. Revolted. Taking his time, he staggered to his feet, as well.

          “Cloud, are you… are you… drunk?“ I could see on his face that he could hear the sour, disappointed venom in my voice.

          “I…“ he wretched and gasped, digging for the breath to speak his next words. But I wouldn’t hear them.

          I stepped back a few more paces, near hyperventilating as my trembling fingers framed my face and touched my temples. With a few sharp, building gasps, I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration and rage.

          “You ASSHOLE!“ I shouted directly in his face. He covered his ears and winced. I’m sure it did hurt his head, but the gesture only made me angrier. I shoved him into the wall, and another putrid, boozy exhalation escaped his lungs into my personal air.

          “Where were you?! Do you know how worried I was?! I looked everywhere for you! I almost got killed chasing after you!“ I shoved him again. This time, he stumbled with the impact and slid back down the wall. I didn’t know how much he was listening, and I didn’t care. I could barely see straight, let alone speak.

          “I thought that you…! I thought I’d never…! God, how could you do this to me?!“

          I collapsed on the bed of couch cushions, burying my face into one of them and screaming again as hard as I could. I had to get it out of my system, and I was sure I’d already disturbed many of our neighbors. I didn’t want to disturb the rest. My head was pounding, I was dizzy, and my body was racked with sobs. I’d never cried so hard in my life, not even on the day my dad died. 

          “Tifa… I’m sorry…“ His voice was muffled by my headache. I could feel his fingers brush my back, and I shrank away from him, curling in on myself as tightly as I could. I was disgusted with him. I didn’t want him to touch me, much less all boozed up like that. I’d never feel clean again. To his credit, he didn’t force himself on me. He’d never do that. I heard him fall to his side with a grunt, and there he stayed for the night, at a distance we both felt was fair.

          A few hours into the night, when my breath had grown shallow and my voice hoarse, I spoke to him. “...I almost died, Cloud. They might’ve killed me. Or worse…“ I choked out in a stifled, silence-dotted rasp. I didn’t even think he was awake. But he responded.

          “I know. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I’ll always protect you, Tifa. Always keep you safe…“

          Somehow, through all my anger and disgust, those words gave me just enough peace to finally let me sleep.

Chapter Text

V

His Redemption

          When I awoke, with a sneeze, to find him missing again the next morning, I was still sad. But partially relieved. I was still upset, and it might have been awkward. He said he found my sneezes cute, and I wasn’t ready to be teased just yet. However, he hadn’t left me entirely alone this time. There was something laying next to me in his stead, tickling my nose. 

          I’d been half-awake a number of times in the night, just a flutter of the eyes here and there. Enough to see him fiddling with something by the light of the gas lantern at its lowest flame. Enough to see him watching over me as I slept. I didn’t want him sleeping next to me, but I did feel safer with him there after what had happened.

          I picked up the object that had sneezed me awake and studied it curiously. A little, yellow bird, stuffed and slightly dirty with tall, ticklish crown feathers. Sunny locks, just like him. Very cute. Very sweet. It was getting a little harder to stay mad at him.

          Next to the bird, a tiny, somewhat sickly flower and a note. Where he managed to find a flower at all in that dusty mess, I still have no idea. But he definitely must have been looking diligently for one in all of that wandering. “A+“ for excellent effort. I held the flower to my nose, and a smile sharply cut through the torrent of anger I was still feeling. It smelled much like the rest of the filth outside. Not sure why I expected any better. I wrinkled my nose and turned my attention to the note. On its cover…

          “PWEEZ 4-GIV ME“ With a very silly, frowny face with spiky hair. He wasn’t an artist, but it did the job.

          I’m not sure what anyone would have called the look on my face. A furrowed brow of perplexed confusion, the curled lip of a smile desperately grappling with a grimace. An involuntary chuckle, and turning a little pink. What on earth was this? This wasn’t the Cloud I knew. He’d once said he wasn’t a romantic, and he certainly wasn’t. He could be sweet, yes, but this? I could imagine the otherworldly cringe on his face as he wrote it. He really must have been desperate to make me smile if he was willing to go this far. 

          I flipped open the note and read. Proper spelling this time. Not the best handwriting, but better than Barret’s.

          “Tifa,

          I’m sorry. There are still some things I find hard to think about, and even harder to talk about. I’m not very good with feelings and expressing myself, and all that. You know how I am. But that’s no excuse. I needed some time alone, but I shouldn’t have left you like that. I know I made you worry. I won’t do that again.

          I’ll be home tonight, I promise. And we can talk whenever you’re ready.

          Love,

          Cloud“

          Not heartfelt or romantic, but honest and sincere. That was the Cloud I knew. With a sigh, I reclined and held Cloud, Jr. over my heart; I’d decided on his name immediately. I lied there for several minutes, gathering my courage and serenaded by my newly hated alarm clock of rattling construction noises.

          “Well…“ I said to myself, “He’s already making an effort. It’s not gonna fix itself.“ Fighting stiffness and sore muscles from the physical and emotional strain of the night before, I sat up and started brushing my hair. Time to start the day.

          He hadn’t wandered far. I found him at a new project at the nearby market alongside Barret, lifting a metal wall panel onto a wooden armature with three other men. When he saw me, he completely abandoned the effort and jogged over, leaving the burden to crush the four of them while they strained to keep the panel erect. 

          Even muscle-man Barret folded under its weight. I guess they weren’t aware of just how much that SOLDIER super strength was lending to the effort. I felt bad for them, but if I’m honest, I found it attractive. I was kind of… turned on. Or, maybe just proud. Yeah, definitely just proud.

          “Well, shit, Cloud, take a load off, why don’tcha?!“ Barret complained in a raised voice. “Don’t worry about us… we’ll hold down the fort…“ He trailed off in an irritable grumble, tossing me an annoyed little wave. I returned his wave with a nervous, somewhat humiliated laugh. The laugh was cut short when Cloud stood before me, a little too close.

          “Hey…“ he greeted in a half-whisper, eyes averted. He looked terrible. Tired. It was probably the hangover, I thought, but I didn’t want to discredit the feelings that he’d tried to relay. I knew the guilt must have kept him awake, too.

          “Hi…“ I meekly replied, staring at my feet.

          “So, listen-“

          I interrupted him with a short peck on his cheek. “Thank you for my bird… And thanks… for saving me last night…“ A pause settled between us at an uncomfortable length. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this.

          “Well… I’ll see you tonight…“ I muttered, turning my back to him.

          I’d only taken about ten steps before he caught up to me and grabbed me by the wrist. Not with aggressive restraint like the creep from last night, but gently. His grip loosened almost as quickly as it locked, hooking me only by the tips of my fingers and a light squeeze of my palm. I could have stepped away easily, much more easily than he did when I caught up to him yesterday. And I wanted to… but at the same time, I didn’t.

          “Cloud…“ 

          I turned to face him, and he was standing even closer now. His lips slightly parted, staring at mine. He leaned in to kiss me, and I didn’t stop him. I’d missed his warmth. I leaned into it, my hands on his shoulders, my right foot slowly lifting from the ground. It lasted only a few seconds, and I only opened my eyes when I tasted a lingering hint of alcohol on his lips from last night. Without much force, and very slowly, I pushed him away. I bit my lip. I couldn’t look at him. I wanted him, but I wasn’t ready.

          “I…I gotta go…“ I turned and escaped while I could. He let me go. 

          I didn’t want to wander far. Deciding I wasn’t up for hard, manual labor that day, I chose instead to help drum up sales at the market. There was an old woman selling root vegetables from a field just outside of Kalm there in the early afternoons, and she enjoyed my company. I could use a friend, and it would do my heart good to stay nearby.

          I was glad Barret would be there to keep an eye on him, but as it turned out, that wouldn’t be necessary. Cloud deliberately stayed nearby, keeping me in sight. And he kept looking at me. He even got yelled at a few times for being distracted while on the job. It was… well, cute. I could tell he was still ashamed. He wanted me to see him. He wanted to see that I saw him, and that I knew he was purposely staying within arm’s reach. Putting himself on a leash for me.

          My mind was fighting itself. I wanted to keep watching him, but I didn’t. I wanted to talk to him, but I still wouldn’t know what to say. I’d started off using all my sales experience from my days at the steamed bun cart and the bar, reeling in customers with a smile. But my smile faded. My greetings grew shorter and less genuine. The old woman I worked for could see that I didn’t want to be there, and I thought she could tell why.

          “It’s okay, sweetie,“ she said, putting a hand on my shoulder and giving me a forgiving smile. “You don’t have to stay. Go home and rest up. You’ll be right as rain tomorrow.“

          I nodded, but I didn’t have the energy to even so much as fake a smile anymore. I took my leave and headed home. I spent the rest of the day in our bed, lying on my side and playing with Cloud Jr. in the lamplight, asking him for advice his little, stuffed head couldn’t answer. Then, long before sundown, Cloud Sr. came stepping through the door.

          He stood still, making eye contact with me from the doorway, but I didn’t stand to greet him. Silently asking for permission to join me, I guessed. So, I just lazily reached my hand toward him, resting it on the floor palm-up in pantomime exhaustion and giving him a tiny, lip-tucked smirk of welcome. He got the message.

          He approached, taking his time as he disrobed. Not all the way, just to an acceptable level of comfort, like me. He lied next to me, facing me, very close. He’d been bold a couple of times today, why stop now? I thought we’d talk, but there were no more words. No more apologies. We spoke with our eyes. He stared into mine, like a puppy desperate for a lap. I stared into his, like a child desperate for a hug.

          He brushed a wisp of hair from my face and cradled my cheek, never breaking his gaze. I cupped my hand over his, nuzzling it with my eyes closed, drinking in the sensation. God, I missed this. It had only been a couple of days, but it felt like it had been years. It might as well have been.

          I felt his lips again, soft, but motionless. Waiting for mine to move, to welcome them. And they did. Slowly at first, then harder. More familiar. Wetter. I didn’t taste the alcohol on him anymore, thankfully. Suddenly, the clatter outside, the laughter, the shouting, faded away again. My shield was back. My home was home again.

          I pulled away from him with an exhalation of cool relief and hot engagement, looking up into his eyes again with a very different expression. I had let him in completely. I was ready. Without breaking eye contact, I turned Cloud Jr. away to protect his innocent little eyes. I reached down to feel him, and he rose nearer to me with a thin gasp through slightly bared teeth, his knee crossing over mine. I needed no words to give him a proper welcome, and the welcome would last well into the night. Well after the gas of the lantern conceded to a much more comfortable, peaceful darkness.

━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━

          That welcome home, while nice and deeply refreshing, was the beginning of a dry spell. He didn’t touch my scar that night. Avoided my chest entirely, in fact, which was very unlike him. And very, very disappointing. He’d made my scar off limits every night we shared that bed thereafter, as well, which were already few and far between. Most nights, he’d opted to sleep on the hard floor across the room. Sweetly, he surrendered the cushions to me. Said he’d been used to sleeping like that while he was still in uniform, and that “he’d live“.

          Even when we did spend the night in that bed together, nine times out of ten, it was just to cuddle. Or just to sleep, barely touching at all. He was gun shy, and so was I. The incident had carved a distance between us that lasted for months, until I just couldn’t stand it anymore. 

          We were lying in the dark, as usual, and I heard him tossing and turning, stubbornly grunting and groaning against the floor. Honestly, it started only because I was tired of listening to the noise. So, I reached across the proverbial aisle.

          “Cloud,“ I whispered just loud enough for him to hear me. “I know you’re awake. I miss you.“

          He didn’t answer. More tossing, more groans. I sighed, exasperated.

          “Cloud… Please?“ I whispered as invitingly as I could.

          It may have been my pleading, it may have been just to shut me up. Either way, begrudgingly, he lumbered over to the bed. I rolled over to face the wall, giving the opportunity to spoon. He did, without hesitation. I was glad for that. We lied there at great, agonizing length without movement, without sound, before I finally felt a change.

          The very tips of his fingers, scarcely past the quick of his nails, lightly slid beneath the hem of my shirt. Then, a little faster, a little more deliberately. I smiled, a tingle of hope rising to the surface of my skin. But then… he backed off, his hand returning to my hip where it had been resting before.

          I was disappointed, annoyed, but I resolved to be patient. Gently, I curled my fingers around his and guided them to my scar. He tutted slightly in protest, but he didn’t resist or retreat. He stayed, frozen for a moment, and then proceeded with that familiar, wonderful touch I loved so much. I sighed with relief, making sure that he heard me.

          “Cloud…“ I spoke softly, “I love you. With all my heart. If this is what all the trouble was about, I… When I asked you, I wasn’t repelled by it. I didn’t want you to stop. No, I just… I wanted to understand. I wanted to be closer to you, to know what it meant.

          If you’re not ready to talk about it, I understand. But I would never, never turn down a touch so sweet and obviously meaningful. And it’s not just that. It’s unique to me. Because it’s my scar. It’s meant only for me. I love it, and I love you, and I never want you to stop. Okay? So, please…“

          He kept rubbing. A bit more boldly now, long strokes that rode high into my cleavage, almost to my collar bone where the path of the blade had ended. Not so shyly brushing against my breasts, and I moaned quietly. He chuckled in that way he rarely did, but he always meant sincerely. Not teasing me, just happy.

          “Thank you, Tifa. I love you, too. I do, even when it might feel like I don’t. But I’m…not ready to talk about it. I’m sorry. There are still parts of me that I don’t understand. Parts that I fear, for your sake as much as for mine. 

          I’m just not good at talking about it yet, and I’m afraid to try. But I’m getting better. Please be patient with me. I swear, one day, I will explain. For now, just know that it is exactly as it feels. It’s out of affection, and it really is just for you.“

          Nothing else happened that night, but nothing else needed to. His fingers never left my scar, and I fell asleep to the sensation, more grateful than ever to have him at my side.

Chapter Text

VI

His Promise

          After that night, the distance slowly closed, and our life of joint struggle and honeymoon returned to normal. It’s been three years since that night. A number of fights later, and another great period of his self-isolation and avoidance, which we’ve also overcome only to make our bond stronger. I haven’t seen a shred of doubt in him for quite a while. Our love life and our romance have become routine, as one could expect of any couple. But I’ve never questioned his love for me, or his dedication. I’ve never been happier.

          Sadly, for quite some time, that touch of his has seemed to be a relic of the past. Something he only did to cope in those days of uncertainty. But last night, as we lied in our bedroom at the back of our bar and he rested up for this morning’s delivery, he did it again. Unconsciously, in his sleep, but he did. I lied there for hours trying to process it, to decide how I felt about it. At last, with great trepidation, I decided to ask again.

          With a little wiggle, I gently jostled him awake. I wanted him to discover his hand there. He did, but strangely, he didn’t recoil. He kept doing it, more concerned with me than anything else.

          “What’s the matter?” He asked groggily. “Are you okay?”

          “Oh, you’re awake.” I said, playing dumb. Before he had a chance to move his hand, I placed mine over his.

          “Cloud… my scar. Do you remember how you used to do this in the days before the bar? Do you remember… how it…“ I hesitated. The memory wasn’t particularly fresh, but it was still painful.

          “Yeah,“ he interrupted, sparing me from scratching at the wound. “I remember. It’s okay.“

          “Are you… ready to talk about it now?” My hand hadn’t left his, and for the duration of that conversation, it wouldn’t. Maybe it was my little way of keeping him from running again. I was nervous. Maybe I shouldn’t have been, I was confident in him. But this was a topic we hadn’t discussed in a long time, and it ended in disaster last time.

          This time, he didn’t hesitate.

          “Tifa... you saw my mind. You touched it. You remember what I remember. I saw you die. Not once, but twice. I was still conscious after we fell from that mountain as kids, and I saw you bleeding from your head. You were so little, taller than me then, but... I think I saw you the way the adults did in that moment. So small, so fragile. And I thought you were going to bleed to death.

          “I didn't know why I followed you up that mountain. I didn't know why I did anything back then, or why I treated you the way that I did, why I was rude and avoidant. I never understood my own feelings very well. Hell, I didn't even understand them two years ago, so what chance did I have as an eight-year-old, right?“

          “...Mmhmm...“ He sounded somber. I bit my lip nearly hard enough to make it bleed, listening in nervous anticipation. He hadn't spoken like this since before Denzel and the Geostigma. I could only pray that he didn't still blame himself. 

          He continued. “All I knew was that... I cared. I didn't know why, but I did. I knew what you were going to do, and I couldn't let you do it. I couldn't let you go through with it. And it wasn't just because it was the right thing to do. If it had been one of the other boys, I probably would have just watched. Just like they did. 

          “But you were special to me, even though I couldn't have told you why. And I couldn't lose you... like I lost my Dad. I lost him up there, too, you know? I’d heard the stories, just like you did, about the dead crossing the mountain. I considered chasing him up there, too, but I knew it was only death waiting for me up there. And I knew that’s what was waiting for you, too. I'm not sure if that's what I was thinking then, I was just panicking. But thinking back, that was probably it.“

          I remained quiet, rubbing his hand. A consolation and an acknowledgement of his good heart. 

          “Anyway... when I saw that, saw you dying right in front of me, I was dumbstruck. My heart shattered, and I was just a kid. I didn't know how to process it, and I didn’t know what to do. I had no words. And I still had no words when the grown-ups came for you, yelling at me. Blaming me. I... I failed. I'd never felt so weak and helpless. I failed.“

          “Cloud...“ I whined. I knew my voice betrayed the tear sliding down my cheek, and I knew he could feel the trembling in my hand. I was afraid again, my confidence diminishing by the second. I was afraid like I was when he stopped answering my calls. This couldn't be happening again. I squeezed his hand, desperate to make him stay. 

          He sighed and continued. “I couldn't accept it. That's why I shut down. Why I went quiet for five years while you hung out with the other boys... I forget their names...“

          “...Emilio...“ I squeaked. He interrupted me before I could finish. 

          “Yeah... them. Whatever. I might not have talked, but I listened. And… I was jealous. Of course, I was. They all loved you, and I loved you most of all, though you’d never known it. I heard them fighting over you. Heard the promises they made to you. Glitz, glam, and all that. Promising you the good life. Well... I had a promise, too. But just one.

          “I didn't know how to say it, but I knew what I had to do. I had to be the best. To be the strongest, and to never be weak again. To be a hero, like... him.“ He rubbed my scar again. I knew who he meant, he didn’t have to say it. 

          “To be strong for your sake. Indestructible. To be...“

          “...my hero. To be my hero.“ I finished for him, trailing off dreamily. I’m not sure if I even heard myself say it aloud, but he swears that I did.

          “...Yes...“ He continued. “So, you can imagine how it felt to come home in that lowly, shameful Shinra Security uniform. You were so beautiful, Tifa. And so strong. You were everything I hoped for and more. And I... hadn't grown at all. I was ashamed. And I... I watched you die. Again.“

          “Cloud, please, don't do this again... please, don't...“ I was crying by then. I couldn't even try to hide the sound of it. But he kept talking. He’s told me since then that he knew I’d be okay. He had to finish, and I needed to hear it. 

          “Tifa... that scar... to me, your scar is my every failure. But more than that, much more than that, it's the last remnant of the pain and suffering I wasn't around for. It's the story of what happened when I left and never came back. My everlasting shame.

          “The night I kissed your scar was the first time I ever saw it, and the memories all came rushing back. Once again, I didn't know what to say. You were looking at me with love in your eyes, vulnerable, and asking why I was staring in a way that didn't make sense to you. Expecting an answer that I didn't have. Expecting confidence that I couldn't find.

          “I thought of him, that… that son of a bitch…“ I could actually hear him gritting his teeth, the muscles in his neck tightening. I hadn’t seen that kind of hatred in his eyes for years. It scared me. I patted his hand, trying to calm him down.

          “The clearest memory I ever had. The one I just knew was real, the one that made me real, no matter what lies that bastard put in my head. The heartbreak no brainless puppet of Hojo's could have ever felt. 

          “I saw him do it to you all over again, and... I just didn't know what to say. Because I never knew what to say. But I could act. I could show you. I found the confidence you needed from me. And once again, I knew what I had to do. 

          “Tifa, that kiss was another promise. One that I tried to tell you without words. It was a promise that I would never let it happen again. That I would never lose you again. That you would never lose me again, and that he would pay. Tomorrow, it would be him falling to my sword. Just the same as I watched him do to you in that reactor. And I would come back to you. 

          “Every time I've touched your scar since, I've made that same promise in my heart to remind myself that I'm real, that we're real. I will never lose you again. You will never lose me again. And I will always, always come back to you...“

          My breath caught in my chest. All of my pain, my fear, came to a sudden halt. I turned to him with the glaze of tears still in my eyes, but eyes clear with revelation. My face was on fire, but the tears weren't flowing anymore. I knew he’d never seen me look at him like that before. And I’d never seen a more confident, more certain, or more loving smile on his face.

Chapter Text

VII

The Warrior in My Garden

          Our life is still one of struggle, no doubt. There is still little comfort to be had, and we still have to make every day count toward keeping in business. Scrimping and saving, fighting for our survival. But… things have changed. It may not be our final destination in this life, but we’ve found our place here. A home with a solid, sturdy roof. A routine. Children who need a mother and a father, where only we could fill those roles. For all intents and purposes, even without the pageant and rings and garter, we had long since been betrothed and wed.

          We’ve been domesticated in a way we never were before. And yet, we spend so much of our time apart. We’ve been forced to function alone, holding hands only in our hearts much of the time, instead of clinging to one another as our only light in the darkness. I have never questioned our bond, and I love him more than ever. But we’ve been tested, given no choice but to adapt, and I’d begun to think that the path of our lives may not permit us to stay young as long as most.

          Last night, I felt… new. Remade. Able to conquer weariness in a way that I only could in those darkest of times we once shared, when the everyday aches and pains could never be enough to stop us from finding our reason to live every night. We were both tired. I had already felt guilty for waking him, as he’d have to be on the road in under five hours. And he was sore from the ride not but a few hours before, but… 

          I could see it in his eyes. In that moment, he felt exactly as I did. It was just him, me, and what was left of the night. We were young. So much younger than we’ve been allowed to feel these past couple of years. Despite the harsh winter around us, we still had the springtime. The chains of routine and pre-spent hours fell away. For the first time in so very long, the clamor and unpleasantness of the world around us fell silent once more.

          My eyelids drooped as my gaze traced the lines of his face and rested upon his lips. My own lips parted, wider and gasping as I approached his, inhaling his breath and life. Our mouths locked in the softest embrace, and the fullest kiss we’d shared in ages. Tongue, for the first time all over again, as shocking as it had been in our first intimate moments below the Highwind. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed his tongue, nor did I really know just how long it had been.

          We like to think of white rose petals, black lace, and red lingerie in our romantic fantasies. I certainly did, like so many other women my age. But when our living space, cooking space, and child space so disjointedly overlap, when most of our cash is spent keeping the liquor shelves stocked, we did the best with what we had. He’d have to settle for peeling down white cottons with his teeth and stripping me of his own not-too-dirty tank top I'd borrowed on laundry day.

          We'd been lying in low light, as we often did. Whichever of us fell asleep first, we'd agreed, would give the other the chance to watch and memorize their peaceful face for the next day apart. On intimate nights, in my modesty, I preferred the light to be off. I'd rather feel than see, guided by subtle shadows and moonlight. 

          Tonight, the light stayed on. 

          He had asked to undress me standing, said he wanted to appreciate my beauty from head to toe. Embarrassed as I was, it was as sweet a request as it was unusual. How could I say no?

          He lifted my top over my head, and I covered myself in self-effacing reflex as my hair threaded through. He moved on without protest, kneeling, caressing and kissing my belly and my legs. To my shock and surprise, he actually did use his teeth to remove my panties. This was completely new, and I laughed in delight at the audacity as I fell to my seat at the foot of the bed, watching him pull them past my knees. 

          As I swung my feet to remove them, he remained kneeling, kissing a zigzag path up my inner thighs. I gasped and fell back to my elbows, hunching my shoulders and bracing myself.

          “Are you…are you gonna…? Gonna…ah…” I gasped again and sighed with a bluster strong enough to stir his hair.

          I lied back in anticipation, unable to watch. He hadn't done this in ages, much less in the light. He really was being bold tonight, every movement a new surprise to take me off-guard. And I loved it, gleefully surrendering control. 

          That first graze of his tongue struck through my core like a thunderbolt, arching my spine and raising my body on the lattice of my tightening back. I placed my hand over my eyes and forehead, feeling feverish and losing my natural breathing in a fit of sharp inhales and stuttering exhales as I felt him enter in an undulating whorl.

          It didn't last as long as I would have liked. I'd been squirming, unintentionally creeping my way up the bed until I accidentally bonked my head on the bedframe. He rose atop me with genuine concern, but I was already laughing at my own clumsiness by the time he'd mounted.

          “Aww,” he chuckled. “poor baby…” He kissed my forehead. My laugh stifled and my smile fell slackjaw as he made eye contact, piercing my soul with the blue-green starlight in his stare. And I was back in my cage, small and pinned again between the stony pillars of his arms.

          Sweet memory swept me away. The comforter beneath my back became the tickle of the grassland hill. The still air became the cool ocean breeze and perfume of wildflowers. The light reflecting from our walls became the sunset dancing in his sunny locks. And I was a virgin again, unsure what to do next.

          “Hey… be gentle, okay?” Not the shy plea for mercy of a tender, 20-year-old girl, but of a slightly older girl's recently unaccustomed anxiety.

          He smiled, probably immersed in the same memory. “I won't hurt you, baby…”

          Missionary had been our norm, but since we'd gained the luxury of a bed, he liked to indulge in the occasional cowboy. He'd said he liked to see me, to admire my beauty in the little moonlight he was allowed. As flattered as I was, I called him on it and crassly joked that he probably just liked to watch them shake. I blushed when he didn't deny it. 

          As I felt him glide within me, I closed my eyes and escaped to that same nameless, primordial euphoria that had claimed me years ago. Unaware of myself, I gripped and massaged my breasts tightly. It always helped the sensation, and they were more sensitive than usual tonight after the shock he'd just delivered to my system, my nipples hard and slightly sore. But I'd taken the usual darkness for granted. I'd always done it in secret, and in losing myself, I had forgotten that he could see everything.

          My eyes snapped open with the realization, and I saw him staring down at me with an uncommonly intense desire. His movement had stopped, and he was captivated. For a moment, I froze, feeling indiscreet, caught, and ashamed. But then, I found my own measure of boldness. For once, I wanted to be more than his wholesome girl next door. I wanted to be the concubine of his dreams. His pretty, little scandal and infidelity to our otherwise innocent, straight-edge life.

          I changed my mind. I wanted it rougher tonight, to feel unabashedly alive and free. And I wanted to encourage him to feel the same, to forget just a bit of his restraint and gentleness for my sake. To use just a bit more strength, a bit more recklessness. Pushing down all of my shyness and embarrassment, I had made up my mind. If he liked what he saw, then I would give him something to see.

          Slowly, I reached my hand up to his face and redirected his eyes. Locking his gaze with mine, I squeezed and kneaded slower, more rhythmically, alternating left and right. I reached for his seduction, soft moans, hard breaths, and a sultry look.

          I watched the signs of wonder and elation spread over his face, felt his skin set aflame, and felt him swell and our connection tighten. I felt powerful. I was in control now. And I would bring him to me, have him as I wished. 

          Trapping him in my eyes with a fire to brand my name into his heart, I slowly lifted my left breast below my lower lip, leaving bare the scar he so attentively nurtured, and spoke to him in a bewitching whisper.

          “Are you watching?”

          He swallowed hard.

          “Tifa… baby…”

          I closed my eyes and slowly ran my tongue over my skin, relaxing my features in this dance for his private viewing, regaling him in a siren's song of melodic moans. Never stopping, I opened my eyes and looked at him in submission. I was his toy, I told him silently, his treat to selfishly savor.

          His brow furrowed. His teeth bared with a hissing pant. His eyes grew intense. Bestial. With an aggressive grasp that wrenched and stung my skin beneath his fingers, he tossed my hips upward to collide with his. Every thrust like the blow of a hammer, rattling me. Undoing me like a calamitous earthquake, pain and pleasure entwined. 

          I hurriedly braced my right arm behind my head to shield me from the bedframe. I clasped my lips around my nipple, tugging at my skin. It was as much for me now as it was for him, carrying me higher on the wings of his satiety and my sensitivity. 

          Then, my muscles failed me. My limbs went limp, the fragile control I'd secured crumbling beneath this joyous punishment. Crying out, reaching for nirvana, I waited for it to be over and never wanted it to end. 

          He released first, his heat spreading through my loins. The feeling was enough to propel me over the edge. The world was white light, time stopped, and my skin burned while my sweat grew cold.

          When the head rush subsided and I came to my senses, he was bent over me. Kissing my scar, as sweetly as the first time, renewing his promise to me for a count I had long ago lost track. I still hadn't caught my breath, but what little was there escaped in a laugh. A real laugh of relief and liberation as his true heart finally touched and merged with my own. 

          Laughter gave way to tears. Not sadness. The purest happiness I had ever felt, and so much that it spilled from my heart, atop my eyes, and across my cheeks. But they never made it to the bed. He kissed them away, every last one, kissing me softly and nigh-eternally when the job was done. 

          I was in love with him. I had been for years, but last night, I fell in love for the first time a second time. My childhood butterflies returned as, at long last, I truly knew the boy I thought I'd always known. In hindsight, I should have always known. 

          This whole time, he's been watching me with four sets of eyes. The little boy who bore shame in silence, who watched me from afar, loved my music, and who suffered the trauma of my near death. The young trooper who bore shame in secret, who loved me with nameless humility, and who watched me die at the hands of a hero. The man who bore shame in shadow, who loved me from beneath a veil of phantasms and illusions, and who found his life in our memories. 

          Now, the fourth shares my bed. Three broken hearts made whole and true in him, this new man who fights for me not on the battlefield, but in this bar, on the road, at the market, and hand-in-hand with Denzel. My partner. My lover. The warrior in my garden, my heart and home.

          We didn't sleep any more while together that night. I told him I'd close at noon for a nap, and he told me he'd find a bench. I asked where he'd find a bench in an open field, and he told me that he had it on good authority that grassy hillsides are quite comfortable. I pinched him for teasing. He laughed, and so did I.

          What little time we had left was spent on a second round, and talking as if we'd only just met. Our usual missionary, this time; caring, gentle, and sweet. A slow rock and churn between banter, laughs, smiles, and even a few tears. Post-climax sweet nothings while he stayed inside, a goodnight in the last tremors of ecstasy. A lullaby to make my toes curl. I don't know when I fell asleep, but I awoke at sunrise, still nude beneath the sheet with Cloud, Jr. in my arms and an alert on my phone. A message from Cloud:

          “Leaving an hour early gets me home an hour early. I'll just grab a snack at the gas station. Don't be mad, I don't need one of your delicious salads every day. 

          I love you.”

          I wasn't mad. I was over the moon, and I couldn't wait for him to get home. I took a picture for him, a cute one. Tucked under the blankets with Cloud Jr. on my head.

          “Hurry home, SOLDIER boy”

          My thumb hovered over ‘send’, but I had second thoughts. I think I’ve grown more modest since our days in that hut, and certainly since the days of the first Seventh Heaven. The days of the tight, white tank and black miniskirt. I never really set out to fish for attention, nor did I really even like it. I just found it comfortable. But… I didn’t mind it. I’d grown used to it, and it did bring in customers.

          These days, while still sporty, I cover myself quite a bit more. He can get jealous sometimes, but it’s not really for him. Not directly. It doesn’t stop the stares completely, but I don’t like men ogling me anymore. I can no longer tolerate it. I don’t want to send the wrong message, and I don’t want to entertain flirting. I am, now and forever, for him. My heart, my soul. My body.

          For him…

          I lied back and thought of his face last night, that bestial stare. My heart fluttered, my face grew hot. I bit my lip with a devilish smirk and tossed the blankets aside for a second shot. 

          “Hurry home… Hero…”

Chapter Text

P.S. ... A Morning Phone Call

– Cloud calling… –

– Answer –

TIFA: Hey, honey…

CLOUD: Jeez, babe! You almost made me crash with that picture! 

TIFA: Well, what are you doing checking your messages while you're driving, anyway, dummy? Be safe!

CLOUD: …Fair enough. 

TIFA: …You didn't like it? 

CLOUD: I don't tend to be startled by things I don't like, babe. Although, I wasn't planning on being jealous of Cloud, Jr. today. He definitely has a more comfortable seat than me right about now! 

TIFA: Heehee. Well, hurry home, and you won't have to be! Besides, you owe me a kiss for the one I didn't get this morning. 

CLOUD: You think I didn't kiss you this morning? 

TIFA: You did? 

CLOUD: I wasn't gonna leave without that in my back pocket. That's my lucky charm! I was just extra careful not to wake you up. 

TIFA: You're sweet. I guess it wasn't just a nice dream, after all.

CLOUD: …UGH! Damn it!

TIFA: Cloud?! Are you okay?!

CLOUD: …Yeah, just hit a pretty bad pothole. 

TIFA: Jeez… I should let you go. You need to focus on the road, and I need to open the bar, anyway. 

CLOUD: I guess so. 

TIFA: …

CLOUD: …are you still there? 

TIFA: I miss you. 

CLOUD: I love you. 

TIFA: Don't eat anything too gross! 

CLOUD: No promises.

TIFA: Well, I'm making your dinner. And you're gonna eat every last bite, mister. You hear me? 

CLOUD: I'm looking forward to it. Do I get dessert? 

TIFA: Of course… Heehee…

CLOUD: …Seconds?

TIFA: As much as you want. 

CLOUD: Yummy.

TIFA: Have a nice day, hero. And no more reading texts while driving! 

CLOUD: Only if it's from you.

TIFA: I love you. Be safe. 

CLOUD: I love you. Stay beautiful. 

– End Call –