P R O L O G U E
Put your faith not in riches, nor power, nor religion,
For these are but passing things and with time and death forgotten.
What defines what is to come is none of these trifles of man,
But rather their children – for their future is yet unwritten
And their potential and possibilities limitless in every imaginable way.
Tifa Lockhart sighed as she carefully worked her fingers around the edges of her patient's wound, chewing her bottom lip as she tried to concentrate with the chaos around her. Sweat gathered on her brow and she impatiently puffed dark hair out of her eyes as it threatened to delay what was already taking too long in her mind. Though her fingers shook from rattled nerves, her will to mend the injured soul quickly and efficiently gave her the necessary encouragement to focus on the task at hand – after a few strained minutes of fumbling her eyes narrowed, then opened wide with a sudden clap of her hands together.
"There," she exclaimed triumphantly. "All done – and a new record at that!"
Tifa sucked in a slow breath as she stood and inspected her work, gaze meeting the patient's a moment later. Despite the din and bustle around them there was an awkward silence between the one who had tended the injury and the recipient of her care until at last she ducked lower and brushed her hand over his cheek. To this the injured finally locked his eyes with hers and despite his mood for the current circumstances he managed a tiny smile in return.
"So how is it? Any better?" Tifa pressed with feigned worry.
"Uh-huh," A muffled reply came, hidden behind a wall of boyish pride and a frown to spare. "..I think so. ..Sorry."
"You really should be more careful next time," the dark haired beauty offered gently to the boy. Standing fully again she threw out a dramatic sigh and now stepped back to look him over before motioning him up. "But I know you won't be. So go on, get back to whatever you were doing – but more carefully this time."
As if released from a cage the boy brightened and pushed himself off the bar-counter he'd been sitting on top of and landed with an encouraging thud of worn shoes to the floor. While Tifa watched he tested his own weight by shifting from foot to foot, noting with a simple smile that the bandage she had applied to the badly scraped knee would hold up under movement. From under a thickening head of tufty brown hair grateful eyes beamed admiration back up at her before his whole body leapt forward in a sprint toward the door. Tifa gasped as he barely dodged a customer, apologizing bashfully as the gathering lunch crowd watched the speeding boy with various comments and laughter. He was practically gone but she still called out after him. "—a-and make sure Marlene stays out of…trouble."
The barmaid turned den mother sighed as she stared at Denzel's quickly disappearing outline through the nearest window to the street.
"Hey Tifa," one of the regulars crooned from the barside seats. "That kid of yours is a regular goddamn chip off the old block! When're ya gonna start his martial arts lessons, huh?"
She blinked at the burly customer and laughed embarrassedly while retrieving a serving tray she'd set down to work on Denzel's knee. No matter how many times she'd accepted her role in her ward's life, that question still brought a flush of color to her cheeks that she'd gotten very good at hiding after so long. That didn't mean it wasn't still there.
"Not anytime soon thank you very much. He gets into enough trouble as it is already, or haven't you noticed? Anyways thanks for volunteering to be his first sparring partner if it ever happens!"
That brought a round of laughs from those patrons closest to her. As they returned to their conversations and drinks Tifa stepped around and back to the serving side of the counter, instinctually wiping down the length of the bar as she went. She worked at a particularly stubborn smudge and tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, smiling as she often did at the circumstances of her hard-earned life where scraped knees and keeping the customers' throats liquored were her greatest concerns. If ever there was a world that had been worth so much sacrifice this was it. This bar – this home - really was her heaven.
"Just perfect," she murmured gently at her reflection in the glossy wood as it stared back at her. She even smiled at the mirror image just to remind herself about how often she didsmile now.
"—what is?"
That snapped her back to reality – briefly. Tifa turned to find the unmistakable form of one Cloud Strife coming stair by stair down from the second floor, his gaze finding hers for explanation. She stared for a moment but caught herself as she always had to when her eyes, striking as they were in the right light, utterly faltered in comparison to the mako-hued blues looking back. It happened almost every time regardless if he knew it or not.
"T-the bar," she lamely fibbed without understanding why. After so much time and so many battles Tifa still had trouble with certain moments between them. Others came easily but still others never did. The realization had her sighing inwardly but she found a convenient explanation as she motioned her hand over to the door and smiled.
"It's hard work, you know? Denzel gets more cuts and scrapes than I can count these days. If he keeps it up we may have to start using potions on him. In any case you just missed him."
Cloud gave up one of his half-smiles and came around to the customer side, seating himself with nod to the patron next to him. A few others looked up to the virtual celebrity but he didn't pay any attention, instead meeting her gaze again quietly. One gloved hand placed his folded black phone down while the other's knuckles came to prop his chin up. Tifa noted his quiet demeanor and blinked at him curiously.
"Give me something hard," he murmured roughly. This time she outright frowned but nodded, hands busying themselves with his favorite drink. Cloud never ordered a stiff drink without a reason and never this early in the day. Though she already knew the answer she asked her question anyways while gazing at him through his own reflection in the bottles lining the mirrored wall.
"Another job?"
"Yeah."
"Something simple," she asked, pausing a moment. "Or something for the W.R.O.?"
No reply came this time.
Tifa's jaw tensed as she turned and set the finished drink in front of the would-be mercenary. What met Cloud's look was a mixture of apprehension, disappointment and mild irritatation. The blonde man lifted his glass to his lips and silently waited for whatever was coming which based on past experience could be anything from a tongue lashing to a silent stare. Either way he had steeled himself for Tifa's reaction from the moment he had taken the phone call upstairs. What he didn't expect was the barmaid's bare hand gently coming to rest atop his over the phone.
Cloud blinked down at the hand and then back up to her, seeing her expression had completely changed. There was something softer in those dark windows to her soul and whatever it was, it wasn't anger. He set down his glass without even having taken a sip yet but was stopped short of an explanation by Tifa placing her idle hand's pointer finger against his lips. Despite wanting to explain he was rendered speechless as intended.
"Cloud," she spoke up finally. Her brow was knotted in some kind of worried expression and it only emphasized her words. "It's been hard but in the end you've always kept your promises. You even came back for me, time and time again."
Now Tifa slipped her fingers lightly between his and squeezed, dropping her gaze to her changed reflection in the bar's clean wood. For some reason she couldn't meet his gaze at the moment but she knew in her heart that he was nodding in agreement.
"So then promise me," she continued. "That if I let always let you do what you do from now, you'll always come back to them. I won't fuss about it anymore, okay? Whatever the reason you keep doing this, do it for all of us, of course – but more importantly do it for them. Come home as soon as you can."
"I won't make that mistake again," Cloud offered with a tight frown. It was the first time in years he'd brought up his selfish act of all but abandoning hope – and them – when he'd been afflicted with Geostigma. "Not ever, Tifa."
"I know you won't, Cloud."
The dark haired woman finally seemed to calm and even hinted a smile as she finally looked up again to see honest and concerned eyes there behind blonde wisps she adored. She traced her fingers lightly over his knuckles then hesitantly drew them back with a nod. So much to say, but once again she would find a better time to say it – she still had time after all. Cloud would come home to them and to her.
"So it's a promise, right?" she urged. Thankfully there was no hesitation on his part in nodding back before he picked up his drink again and eyed her over the glass.
"Yeah," Cloud murmured cooly. "It is."
That brought her spirits up enough to slowly release a long breath that she'd pent up. Much like her lifelong companion had told her long ago she could honestly say it felt like a weight had been lifted. There was still the matter of the job – or rather his chosen profession and where it might take him even when threats lurked beyond the horizon, but it amazed her that she hadn't thought of simply having this simple talk sooner. While the so-called "SOLDIER-who-never-was" nursed his drink she tore her gaze from his and found that same window she'd watched Denzel disappear through. Her head tilted slightly in thought and she leaned her weight against the bar as something new and yet unshared occurred to her.
"It's funny that I never thought about it before," she murmured aloud without realizing. Cloud stopped drinking for a moment and regarded her. When she didn't finish her thought he squinted oddly and cleared his throat.
"What is," he fished.
"Huh? Oh," Tifa stammered and let out a tiny chuckle over the distracted moment. "It's just that when you think about him – Denzel I mean. In the end he really does want to be so much like you: fighting monsters, saving and helping people, all of that."
The swordsman nodded his agreement and took a long pull from his drink.
"— after all we've been through; and him. He's kind of like your living legacy, don't you think, Cloud?"
And he stopped cold.
Between staring happily at the window and turning to tend to a customer who had just waved her over Tifa didn't notice the dumbstruck expression on his face, wide-eyed from the realization not only of what she had said but that she was also right. He practically gaped at her until a high pitched chime from his cel phone shook him back to the present. Blues lowered to see the message window blinking, a sure sign it was probably time to see Reeve about that favor he needed that was taking him from home in the first place. Cloud sighed and set the suddenly unwanted drink down on the bar-counter, now finding himself staring out of the same window that had Tifa so entranced just a minute ago – the one Denzel had probably run right past when he'd been upstairs agreeing to this latest assignment.
He had missed the boy by mere moments it seemed.
"My living legacy, huh," he uttered to no one.
He would make sure to be there next time.
It was a promise after all.