Author's Notes: My second Final Fantasy VII fic. It's CxA and T+C…for those of you who don't understand, Cloud and Aerith are a couple, and Tifa's in love with Cloud, though it's unrequited. It is also post-game, so Aerith is dead, meaning Cloud is grieving over Aerith's death as he never got the chance to when she actually died, for the need to destroy Sephiroth was too urgent to ignore or put off. Heh…I write so many angsty stories! ^_^;; Anyway, I don't know how long this'll be, as I'm writing it as it comes to me (most of my stories are like that). It might get a tad wordy in parts, but please bear with me.
Final Fantasy VII, Cloud, Aerith, Tifa, and all the other characters don't belong to me, but to Squaresoft and the other people responsible for their creation. They beat me to it, dang it…
I'll Always Be Here For You By Annie-chanTifa looked at the calendar and sighed. It had been exactly one month since the defeat of Sephiroth and the destruction of Meteor. Had it really been that long? On the other hand, had it really been that recent? The Planet was going back to normal again, and life was proceeding as it has been for millennia. The mako reactors had had been shut down permanently, and Midgar had been deserted, due to the overwhelming destruction done to it by Meteor's near-hit. The traditional energy sources now in use as they had been before the discovery of mako power were not nearly as efficient as mako, but they came at a much, much lower price to the life of the Planet. Things such as wind power and waterpower had no cost to the Planet at all.
Avalanche and its members had been disbanded in all but the official sense. There was no actual declaration of the death of Avalanche, but it's sparse members had all gone their different ways to do their own things. Cloud and Tifa had taken up residence in Nibelheim. Though the townspeople were put there as a cover-up that Nibelheim was destroyed and rebuilt, the landscape they had grown to love in their childhood was a comfort after years of the Midgar slums. Barret and Marlene had returned to North Corel. The first thing they and the townspeople did was getting that train wreck cleared off the deserted railway tracks. The town wanted to get rid of all signs of Shinra, and was now in the process of rebuilding, hopefully to the point it had been at before Shinra burned it down. Red XIII—Nanaki, properly—was now in Cosmo Canyon. As the new leader of the Canyon, Red XIII was busy with getting used to being the one everyone turned to for advice, as well as absorbing as much knowledge he could out of the vast and ancient store of books and other manuscripts in the Canyon's libraries. Cid was back in Rocket Town, helping rebuild form the damage caused by the rocket being launched less than fifty feet from several of the buildings. Tifa wondered if Cid had started being a little more polite with Shera. Yuffie, who had been pleased as pop to get Avalanche's materia after Sephiroth was defeated, had gone back to Wutai, presumably to finish her ninja training. More likely, she was neglecting her training like she had before and was being her same obnoxious self around town. Reeve and Elmyra were in Kalm Town, and Tifa had absolutely no idea what they had been doing. The last she had heard from them, they were adjusting well to the small town scene, glad to get away from the doom-and-gloom that was Midgar. Last, but not least, Vincent had disappeared off somewhere. Tifa had a hunch that he was probably in or around that secluded cavern they had found Lucrecia in.
I've forgotten someone, she thought, with a twinge of pain. Aerith…
As she thought this, she turned the corner in the hallway of the small house she and Cloud were sharing, and entered the kitchen. Through the window above the sink, she could see Cloud outside, sitting on a large rock in the back yard, his head tilted slightly upwards, eyes closed. He sat very, very still. For the past month, he had seemed to be growing more and more distant. Yes, he had never been much of an up-front and open person before, but for the past month, he had been withdrawing more and more than he was prone to.
He misses her, Tifa thought, her eyes stinging. Aerith had been a good friend of hers, and Tifa missed her a lot as well, but somewhere deep in her heart, she was appalled to find something akin to gladness that Aerith had been killed. Tifa's irrational, jealous side accused the warmhearted flower girl of stealing Cloud from her, of taking the man she loved away just when he seemed to be starting to notice her. Aerith's death removed her completely from the picture, and that same irrational and jealous train of thought saw the path to Cloud to be clear now.
I can't do it, Tifa thought miserably, glad her rational and intelligent side was stronger. He loves her, not me. He only sees me as a friend. If I advanced on him now, it'd only hurt him. He's still too deep in his grief to be open for another person. She wiped a tear off her cheek as a horrible thought passed through her head. I may never be able to tell him I love him. She turned suddenly and hurried out of the kitchen, terrified that he'd turn and see her crying and be able to guess the reason behind her tears.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Cloud had been sitting on this rock in the same position for nearly an hour, and he was getting stiff. If he stayed like this much longer, it would be painful for him to start moving again. He didn't care. He had very little motivation to move or do anything else…hadn't for a long time. Oh, sure, he didn't shirk his work, which was helping to guard Nibelheim from the mako monsters that roamed the landscape, having no mako reactors to go home to anymore. Still, besides that, he was getting more and more inactive. Lately, his sleep was being cut short, making him overtired as well. He had been plagued by nightmares for the past two weeks, much of it concerning blood and fire and Sephiroth's hellish green eyes mocking him through the flames. He usually didn't get much sleep after he was forced awake by the dreams.
Aerith…so soon after realizing he loved her, he witnessed her murder at the hands of his bitter enemy. He had been tempted, sorely tempted, to let Jenova destroy him as she descended on the party after her "son" left. Losing the girl he loved so suddenly and so cruelly like that tore a deep hole in his already flimsy psyche. The loss was almost too much for him to bear.
He remembered Enchantment Night in the Gold Saucer, where they were all staying until they could get a ride back to North Corel. Aerith had let herself into his hotel room and literally shoved him out the door, proclaiming they were going on that date that she owed him for protecting her in Midgar. He had been surprised, to say the least. That had been the last thing on his mind. But, he hadn't regretted it. Sure, that impromptu play they had to stumble through was a little embarrassing, but he had had a good time in the long run. Sitting in the gondola with her as it sailed above the amusement park was unforgettable. While Aerith took delight in the fireworks and other sights, Cloud had barely noticed, his eyes instead resting on her. She had looked so beautiful in her joy over what the park had to offer…her smile had absolutely dazzled him. After they got off the ride and were walking back toward the hotel, he had suddenly stopped and glanced around to see if anyone was nearby. When he saw there wasn't, he had reached out and stopped her from walking any farther away from him, turned her to face him, made sure she was looking directly into his eyes, and confessed his love for her. She had looked surprised, even a little shocked, and before she had a chance to respond, he had—almost without thinking—kissed her. He thought he had scared her when he felt her reflexively stiffen, and was about to pull away when she returned his embrace. It was the single happiest moment of his life.
And now…she was gone. Not even a week later, she had been killed, murdered as she prayed. He had felt as if nothing was holding him up, as if the world had suddenly abandoned him in a cruel sea of grief and sorrow. Only his burning lust for revenge had kept him going, and that was gone now. The pain wasn't as keen as it had been at first, but he still felt set-adrift with no way back to shore.
There was a way to let the tension out. He had been doing it at least three times or so a week since Sephiroth's defeat, and although it disturbed part of him deeply, the other part of him felt comforted as the pain bled away, at least temporarily. He had been wearing long sleeves lately to conceal it, as he didn't want Tifa, his dearest and oldest friend, to find out and get worried.
He glanced back toward the house to make sure she wasn't where she could glance up and see him as he pushed up his right sleeve from his wrist to slightly above his elbow. The skin on the underside of his arm was crisscrossed with numerous thin, straight scars, and he lightly touched his fingers to them, brushing over the rough tissue. The knife he had used to make them was strapped to his thigh underneath his loose pants, as it had been constantly since he discovered this method of tension release. Its presence was also a small comfort. His left arm looked the same as his right, and in fact had the newest scars of all. They had been made yesterday, and he still had bandages wrapped around his arm three inches above his left wrist. His sleeves were always loose to conceal any bandages he was wearing.
He glanced over to the small stream that ran behind their house, as well as several neighboring houses. He always did the cutting in the middle of the night and over the stream, a piece of leather bitten between his teeth to keep himself from screaming. That way, no one would see him, and the blood would be washed away downstream. He was partly ashamed of doing something he felt he had to hide from everyone, but that argument was drowned out against the fact that slicing himself like this brought relief from the otherwise unbearable sorrow he had been immersed in since Aerith's death.
Thinking of her brought on a fresh wave of loss, and he squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out.
His eyes snapped back open and he stared at the scars on his arm. Again, he thought. I have to do it again. Tonight.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He was dreaming again.
Oh no, he mentally groaned. He must have fallen asleep while waiting for a late enough hour to do the cutting.
He glanced around at the drab, uneventful landscape he was in. It was flat and gray, and the sky was a dull blue with no sun in it. It was all rather surreal.
No surprise, he thought. I hear the human subconscious can think up some pretty odd things.
As he thought this, he turned around to look behind him and let out a choked scream.
On the flat, gray dirt lay Aerith. Her torso was flat on its back, but her waist was twisted so her legs were lying as if she was on her side. Her eyes were open and staring straight up, devoid of any spark or light to indicate she was alive. Her mouth was slightly open, but no sound of breathing came from her lips, and her chest was not rising and falling in even the faintest degree. The worst part was her middle. A deep, vividly red stain was slowly spreading outwards from under her ribcage, exactly where Sephiroth had run her through. The blood was running down to the ground, the pool of it she was lying in widening with every second, soaking her clothes, her hair, the dirt…
He had had many nightmares concerning her death before, but always hazy and almost stylistic. Never this real…never…
He sobbed once as he dropped to the ground, his hands and knees landing in the still-warm blood. It was so real…he could feel it…he could smell it…
He slammed back into consciousness so suddenly, that he bolted upright in bed. He was breathing hard, almost gasping for air, and he was drenched in a cold sweat. There was a warmth on his face, and he realized he was crying. He was terrified…he couldn't speak. He couldn't even think.
As if it was reflexive, he grabbed up the knife that had been next to him on the bed, tore it from its sheath, and sliced it through the flesh of his right arm. He stared at the wound in horror as the blood dripped down onto the sheets, flowing bright and hot down his chilled skin.
He fled.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tifa awoke suddenly with an almost overwhelming feeling of wrongness. Something was awry. She tried to dismiss it as the aftermath of some forgotten dream, but she couldn't shake it. It felt like a tight, cold knot in her chest, squeezing her heart and compressing her lungs. She sat up in bed and took several deep breaths to help calm the feeling. When she felt better, she stood up, wrapped her robe around her, stepped into her slippers, and went out the door.
Her first instinct was to go to Cloud's room on the other end of the short hallway. His door was ajar, and she felt a twinge of apprehension as she pushed it all the way open.
He wasn't in bed. She could see that the bed had been slept in, as the sheets were ruffled, but he himself wasn't there. She turned on the light to see if he was sitting at his desk or something.
Her eyes widened as she bit back a scream. A bloodstain marred the white sheets on the bed, and a trail of blood splatters where on the floor from the bed to the door, continuing down the hallway. She had walked over them without even knowing it. It wasn't a whole lot of blood, but it was blood just the same.
She hurried out of the room and followed the blood trail, turning on lights as she went so she could see it clearly. Cloud had apparently been wounded, but how? The trail seemed to be leading toward the back door. Why was he going outside if he was hurt? The only thing that made sense was that it looked like he had been going quickly, as if feeling an urgent need to get somewhere. Understandable if you're wounded, but why go outside? Why not wake Tifa up, or at least go to the bathroom and get bandages out of the medicine cabinet?
When she opened the back door and looked out across the dark yard, she saw his outline near the back property line, and was surprised to see he was apparently standing in the middle of the stream. His robe and slippers had still been in his room when she went in there. Why was he standing barefoot in the middle of the stream at this hour? All he was wearing, she guessed, were those white slouch pants he normally slept in. He must be freezing!
She was about to call out to him when the clouds in the sky parted and let the rays of the full moon fall to earth. Cloud was indeed standing in the middle of the stream, his head tilted up toward the sky, his face twisted in what looked like sorrow and fear, tears streaming down his colorless face. He was holding a knife in his hand, his fingers limp enough the knife was almost falling out of his grasp. All over his arms, his chest, his stomach, his upper legs were fresh knife wounds. Some were long, some were short; some looked deep, some looked shallow. Blood slithered down his skin, dripping to the water, soaking into and coloring his white pants. He was standing almost completely still, but even from across the yard, Tifa could see he was trembling from pain in both his heart and his body.
The sight of her beloved wounded as he was, coupled with the realization that he had done it to himself allowed only one reaction to Tifa. She screamed.
Cloud whipped his head toward the house when he heard the scream, and his eyes widened when he realized that Tifa had come though the back door and was now tearing across the yard toward him. He dropped the knife, a strangled gasp forcing its way from his throat.
"N-no!" he almost screamed. "Stay away! Don't look at me!" he tried to run, but his feet had gone almost numb in the cold water, causing him to stumble and fall, landing half in the stream, half out. He cried out as his numerous wounds were violently agitated, and the pain immobilized him long enough for Tifa to get to him, sobbing hysterically.
"Cloud!" she wept. "Cloud, how could you? How could you?"
"Let me go!" he managed, his throat choked with pain. "Let me go! Go away! Let me go, I said!" He flung his arms up over his head, hiding his face from her.
No, I won't let you go!" Tifa practically screeched. "I won't let you kill yourself like this!" By now, lights were switching on in surrounding houses as roused neighbors came to doors and windows to see what was causing such screaming. "Why?" Tifa demanded, feeling rage as well as terror directed at her loved one. "Why did you do it? Don't you care about me? I don't want you to leave me!"
Cloud tried feebly to pull away, whimpering. "T-Tifa…" he began, then broke off as he fainted from loss of blood.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Nngh…"
"Cloud…? Are you awake…?"
"Mm…"
"Just take it easy…don't rush yourself."
"Where…am I…?"
"You're in bed at home."
He opened his eyes. He realized that someone was sitting at his bedside, and that someone had his hand in theirs. As his vision came into focus again, he recognized who it was. "Tifa…"
She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Cloud Strife."
He smiled a bit at her jest. He tried to lift his hand to brush his hair off his forehead, but a sharp pain shot through his right arm as he tried to move it. He winced and ceased trying to move. To his surprise, he realized much of him was wrapped in bandages.
"You've been asleep for almost forty-eight hours," Tifa explained. "You lost so much blood…the doctor said you'd probably have died if you hadn't been mako-infused. There is no materia in this town, as you know…we couldn't cast a healing spell on you. Instead, we had to wait and see if you'd live." She looked down at his hand, pain in her eyes. "I was scared to death you wouldn't wake up."
Cloud closed his eyes. "Part of me didn't want to wake up…part of me wanted to die…"
"WHY?!" Tifa practically exploded. Tears were suddenly trailing down her cheeks. "Why would you do that to yourself? You think I wouldn't miss you? You think you're all alone in the world? How could you? How could you even think that? You'd have to be an idiot to think that!"
"Yes," Cloud whispered, looking up at her again. "Yes, Tifa…I am an idiot…"
Tifa seemed to lose some steam. "Oh no, Cloud…I didn't mean to insult you…"
"No, you're right," Cloud interrupted. "I am an idiot. I can't even decide what I really want."
"What…what do you mean…?" Tifa asked quietly, her eyes slightly widened at this confession.
"Part of me wants to live," Cloud responded, "to get on with my life…to let her memory go. I love her, but I can't hold on to her memory forever. Dwelling on the past like that will only destroy me in the long run." He took a deep breath. "But…the other part of me doesn't want to let go…not at all…never. All I can think about is her. I am living in the past when I know full well that it isn't good for me, and that part of me doesn't care. It doesn't care at all."
"But…that doesn't explain why you're cutting yourself," Tifa ventured after he stopped.
Cloud exhaled in a way that sounded half-sigh, half-groan. "It's an urge I have," he began. "It's not irresistible…but very near so. I was feeling suicidal one day…oh, please don't look at me like that." Tifa was no looking at him with mixed horror and pity. "Anyway," he continued, closing his eyes so he didn't have to see the expression on her face, "I intended to slit my wrists. I took the hunting knife that I knew was in a box left over from the old owners of this house…and, I cut myself. It wasn't very deep…more like an experimental cut to see if I really wanted to kill myself. I found that bleeding seemed to ease the tension, both in my mind and my body. It was as if my troubles had started to flow away just like my blood. It wasn't permanent…I knew it wouldn't be. So, I cut myself again, and the feeling of temporary peace came back. I was still very much in the…'grieving process', as you can probably call it. You've noticed I've been withdrawing from people a lot lately." Tifa nodded, and Cloud continued. "The cutting, at least, kept the thoughts of suicide out of my mind, for the most part. The part of me that wanted to follow after her in death was subdued to the point where I could all but ignore it." Here, he stopped.
"You only cut on your arms…right?" Tifa asked. "The doctor said that there are old scars all over your body, but the only ones that seemed caused by yourself were on your arms. All the others were battle wounds."
He nodded minutely. "Yes…I only cut on my arms."
"Then…why did you so suddenly mutilate yourself that night…?" It was difficult to say. She would never forget the image of a weeping Cloud standing in the freezing water, his lifeblood dripping away from self-inflicted wounds as he did nothing to stop or slow it.
Cloud was silent for several moments. Then, "I…don't know really…to tell the truth. I had a nightmare…a horrible, horrible nightmare. It was of Aerith's death. It was so vivid I truly believed I had been flung back in time to the point of her murder, even though I kept thinking to myself that I was dreaming. When I woke up…I woke up so suddenly…something seized hold of me, and I don't think I had much control over my actions. I really, seriously wanted to die that night. I left the house out of habit—I always cut myself over the stream so I wouldn't leave any blood lying around—and out of fear. I didn't want you to catch me. I didn't want you to see me. I…guess I wanted to spare you the pain of seeing me die."
"But, you didn't care about the pain I'd go through seeing you dead?!" Tifa asked. She had a strong urge to slap the spiky-headed twerp. She restrained herself.
Cloud closed his eyes again, his face pained. "I know…I know…I wasn't thinking…literally."
"Please," Tifa almost begged, squeezing his hand again. "Please…promise me you'll never do that again. Promise me you won't try to kill yourself again. I'll do everything I can to help you through this. I'll always be here for you. You can always come to me if you need help." She tried to sound as sincere as she felt.
A slightly thankful, slightly bitter smile played on the corners of his lips. "Oh, Tifa…don't waste your time on me…" he said.
"Cloud, I love you!" she burst out. When she realized what she said, she clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide in horror of what she had just said.
His eyes snapped open, staring directly into hers. His own eyes were wide as well, though his eyebrows were arched downward in what looked like confusion. "You…what…? Did I hear you right…?"
"You heard right, Cloud," Tifa said, her tears starting anew. "I love you. I've loved you for years. Even I don't know when it began."
"You…love…" he murmured, as if it was hard to believe. "And all these years…I've never noticed…?" He turned his face away, ashamed. "Oh, how could I have been so blind?"
"It's not your fault, Cloud," Tifa sniffed. "I first hid my feelings because I was shy. Then, when I saw you falling in love with Aerith, I hid my feelings because I knew that if you knew your best friend loved you and you couldn't love her back, it would make you miserable. You put on a hard exterior, but you really care for those close to you. I didn't want to hurt you by letting you know you couldn't return someone's love, no matter how important they were to you otherwise."
He turned to look at her again. "Tifa…"
"Please, let me help you," she again pleaded. "I want to help you through this. I don't care if you never love me, I just want to know that you'll never leave me like you almost did!"
"I can't promise that I'll ever love you, Tifa," he said softly after a long silence. "But, I promise I'll never leave your side. As you'll always be here for me, then I'll always be here for you."
She broke into a bright smile, her first happiness in nearly two days flooding her body and mind. All she could do was nod her thanks as her tears turned from sadness to joy at his promise.
Cloud smiled softly, then closed his eyes and sighed. When Tifa looked back up to him, he had already fallen back into sleep. His body was far from full recovery.
She smiled and placed his hand on the bed beside him. She reached out and brushed her fingers over his pale, smooth cheek. "Cloud…my eternal friend…I'll give my life for you if I have to," she whispered softly. He stirred slightly at her touch, but didn't wake.
She hesitated a second, then crawled into the bed with him and lay down next to him, careful not to touch him and aggravate his wounds. In mere minutes, she slipped into sleep as well, getting the first full rest she had had in nearly three nights.
OwariAuthor's Notes: There you are. I'm done. Did the ending seem too abrupt? I hope it didn't. Overall, I'm happy with this fic, as I think I did a good job, but the real proof that it's good is that you all like it. Do you? Please tell me! I so love hearing feedback from my readers (just don't be rude or insulting…I don't take well to flames). Let me know how you like it either in a review or by emailing me at mangareader@hotmail.com, onegai shimasu!