Significant

By: akikos_wok

DISCLAIMER: I know you know, but I don't own anything or anyone featured in this story. Also I don't own any of the spoken dialogue. Seriously.

WARNINGS: Well this story is about one of the "fade to black" moments. You get the idea ;-)

She had never once before, in all her twenty years of existence, felt so thoroughly foolish. She stood stiff and awkward against the wind, willing her body to withstand it. She should have gone inside and put more clothes on, should have worn more in the first place; she knew how cool it got at night. But she didn't even wrap her arms about herself for warmth. She simply stood there shivering.

It was just the wind really. During those brief seconds when it graciously decided against its incessant blowing she felt quite comfortable. It was summer after all, wasn't it? She wasn't sure. She'd lost track of the seasons weeks ago. Or was it months? The days had been long and warm as of late. But she and her comrades had been moving around. Constantly. For all she knew they had spent all of their weeks since acquiring the airship flying around chasing summer. In fact she could not recall ever feeling cold except during that brief period when they had been at Icicle Lodge.

And the Northern Crater. It was cold there too. She wondered if it still was and knew she would soon find out.

She shuddered again as another gust of wind whipped about her naked shoulders. Damn this barren landscape, she thought, wondering where exactly they were and wishing that there were some trees around to shield her from what was certainly more than a gentle summer's breeze. But there was nothing for miles, just grass, rocks and more grass and the occasional rise and fall in the plains giving the faintest suggestion of a hill. The sun was setting and she might have thought it was pretty if she weren't on the verge of freezing.

Once more the wind rustled what little give there was in her tight black skirt and again she refused to go inside and seek refuge. It would have been easily done, for she stood almost directly beneath the entrance to the parked ship. But she knew she wasn't going to do it, silly as that was. Yet it was not her stubbornness that made her feel a fool but rather the thing that provoked it. The person who provoked it, actually, though he alone under normal conditions would not induce such a response. However, the company, in combination with the location and circumstance, kept her glued to her post at the base of the jaggy hiccup of a hill.

Of course the things she had said bolstered her feelings of foolishness. And with good reason, for she commented openly under what was very likely a false pretense of hope. They had been alone together many times before and nothing had ever come of it. But never like this. She kept telling herself that. Was this really so different though? Oh yes they had recently been together, lost, drifting in the Lifestream. And she had saved him, hadn't she? Or had she even encountered him? Had that all been in her head and had she only saved herself? Maybe he was beyond reaching and completely responsible for his own rescue. She didn't know. But she'd seen inside his subconscious, his repressed past and even if she had done nothing but confirm that her own fears of false memories were untrue she was quite sure this encounter was significant.

So maybe it wasn't so witless as she'd imagined when she had, just moments ago, made the decision to share with him the knowledge that it was his voice that she believed had recalled her form her unconsciousness. Or physically drew her out of the Lifestream? She wasn't sure of that either. All she could remember was speaking to him, resolving to return to the world of the living and then waking up to Barret's concerned voice. She was beginning to wonder if she had actually fallen into the Lifestream or had just been sucked into Cloud's darkness. But she knew he was somehow responsible for her escape from wherever she had been and she hoped that she was also responsible for his.

He spoke, several yards off, her back still to him. "Yeah... At the time I heard you calling me. You were calling me back from the stream of consciousness in the Lifestream."

So he did hear her too. She had saved him, in a way, maybe, at least made a difference in his recovery. But that didn't mean that he cared for her as she hoped he did. Of course it bolstered her hope. Everything about this situation did, the two of them, so incredibly alone, in the middle of nowhere, watching the sunset, on the verge of plunging into a battle that very well might result in their deaths. Still it could be folly to imagine that imminent disaster might provoke openness in one who had worked so hard and long to be stoic.

"After all, I promised," he continued, "that if anything were to ever happen to you, I would come to help."

There it was again, the hope surging within her. He wouldn't break his promise to her, a promise he had made and then abandoned so many years ago. Made, maybe, because he once loved her and abandoned because he believed himself a failure, unworthy of being her hero. And who's to say that along with fantasies of heroic deeds he had not also abandoned his affection for her? It had been a childhood infatuation, not founded upon any real understanding of love.

Still she wondered. "Cloud...?" she said unsure of how to proceed. Quickly, she decided. "Do you think the stars can hear us? Do you think they see how hard we're fighting for them?"

Mentally she kicked herself. The stars? Can they hear us? Really? To put in layman's terms, she had never said anything so "corny". Why couldn't she have taken just a few more seconds to think before she spoke? The same reason she couldn't bring herself to go inside and put on a jacket, she supposed. Because there was some sort of unspoken promise in this moment and she was terrified that it would end. That if she went inside he would follow her or, worse yet, wander off unannounced and then she would miss what might be an opportunity. What exactly that opportunity was for, she couldn't say, but she wasn't about to let it pass her by.

"I dunno," he replied, and she sighed with relief that he deemed her childish personification worthy of a response. "But... Whether they are or not, we still have to do what we can. And believe in ourselves... Someday we'll find the answer."

She heard his words yet could make no sense out of them. She heard his voice and it was soothing, but the words were like music, beautiful but lacking tangible, definite meaning. Her head was swimming but she could settle on nothing in particular to think about.

"Right, Tifa?"

At the soundof her name she came alert again. The air was still.

"That's what I learned from you when I was in the Lifestream," he said.

"Yeah...... that's right..." she agreed, though she hadn't the faintest idea what it was she agreeing to. But the mention of the Lifestream reminded her that she had been wondering whether or not she'd really been there. It now seemed as though she had. They had. The encounter between them had been real; they both had memories of it. She was glad, she guessed.

"Hey Tifa...... I......"

Her heart stopped. Was this scenario really going to end as she imagined? No, not as she imagined, as she wanted. She imagined multiple conclusions, most of them disappointing, and she supposed though she was generally optimistic, this was her way of steeling herself against the outcome or being pleasantly surprised if it turned out not to be unpleasant.

"There are a lot of things I wanted to talk to you about. But now that we're together like this, I don't know what I really wanted to say..."

Not unpleasant. Heartbreaking. It would be heartbreaking for this encounter to end in regret when it was so close to bliss.

"I guess nothing's changed at all... Kind of makes you want to laugh..." Cloud's voice trailed off.

He was wrong though. Things had changed. Until a few days ago she had not really known him. She thought she did, wanted to, but when he'd started recalling memories that, according her own, were confused and false, she'd backed away. Whether she was afraid of discovering that his memories or her own were untrue, she did not know, but she was afraid of something. Afraid of discovering the reality behind the man she had thought she was falling in love with. There was always a wall of self-inflicted ignorance protecting her from the turmoil in her heart, or perhaps, containing it.

It was an addiction to infatuation. Before they had been distant and she could fancy herself in love with her image of him and never truly feel pain if it lingered on unrequited. But now she knew him, who he really was. And she wasn't in love with an idolized version of the man. She was in love with him.

She inhaled deeply, trying to find the words to tell him so. "Cloud..." she said, but her voice caught in her throat. "Words aren't the only thing that tell people what you're thinking..."

And that was it. She closed her eyes and waited. She could think of nothing else to say, so she waited in silence for him to move. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe he didn't reciprocate her affections. It was too late to take back her words now and she did not regret them. Because, despite the thick, lingering silence, she had felt that she was right, and if he did not approach her, then at least she would know she was wrong.

She didn't know how long they stood there. Eyes still closed she turned about to face him, and felt a sick, sinking feeling in her stomach as she realized, he could be gone. The wind had picked up again and might well have masked the sound of his footsteps. But he remained. In fact he may have been a few steps closer.

Tentatively she moved towards him, and when he did not falter, she decided to close the gap between them. So did he, apparently, for she reached him long before she ought to have given the slow pace at which she advanced. She reached her arms out and let her hands rest on his shoulders. His hands moved awkwardly up against their almost touching bodies and grabbed a gentle hold on either side of her face. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed her.

She had not been kissed like that in a long time. Not since she was a girl of fourteen and was kissed goodbye by one of her childhood entourage as he embarked on his own journey towards fame and fortune and she'd realized how much she wished Cloud had done the same when he'd left. It was a tender, innocent kiss, born entirely of affection without a hint of lust. It was, at once, terrifying and exhilarating. She had become so accustomed to drunken make-outs and slobbery kisses stolen by overly aggressive patrons on busy nights that she had quite forgotten how very sweet and gentle a kiss could be.

He kissed her again, just as softly, as fleetingly. And again. And again. Over and over, repeatedly, his hands sliding down into the small of her back, drawing her closer and closer with each kiss. She wasn't sure who's lips parted first, but soon her mouth was open and she kissed back only half-heartedly as she allowed his tongue to explore. It was glorious and also infuriating. A kiss would never be enough. Suddenly impassioned she took control, forcing her tongue nigh down his throat, ravenously drinking him in. He moaned softly into her mouth, his hands falling limp against her, which only made her kiss harder, more insistently, hungrily.

The unfortunate need for oxygen forced them apart and Tifa realized that her arms were now locked around his neck. She slid her hands back to his shoulders, breathed in deeply then kissed him gingerly on the forehead, then the lips. When she pulled away she saw his eyes were open. And they had never looked more beautiful. Cloud had had piercing eyes, even before they acquired that unmistakable glow of one who is infused with pure, Mako energy. They had always been blue, thoughtful, troubled, penetrating. But now they were conflicted, and not in their usual self-doubting manner, but rather battling between unadulterated affection and carnal desire. For her. She was suddenly aware of every inch of her body, as she had the keen impression of electricity rushing though it.

Cloud's mouth opened and he began to speak. "Tifa, I–" he began, but she brought a finger to his lips to silence him.

"Shhhh," she hissed, hoping she didn't sound too harsh. No words, she thought. Words will only get in the way. Her head shook disapprovingly.

He took the hint and seized hold of the hand that silenced him. He reattached his lips to hers, one hand continuing to pull her to him, whilst the other one, the one that had moved her hand to free his lips, worked to relieve her of one of her gloves. A task that was quickly aggravated by the presence of the bracer strapped about her elbow. With calm composure, he pulled away from her, leaning back and craning his neck about so that he could observe how the armor was constructed and discern how best to remove it. He worked quickly, finding the buckle-like latch and unfastening it. A resounding "thunk" lauded its collision with the rocky ground, and Tifa felt the fabric of her glove slide, silkily down her arm until it reached her wrist.

She anticipated the next complication in the de-gloving process and immediately moved her other hand to assist in removing the armored glove that served as half of her only weapon in battle. But Cloud's other hand caught hers before it reached its target and he moved it to rest on his back. Against the latches that held together his armor; Tifa felt another surge of excitement and dove in for another, lusty kiss while her fingers attempted to make sense of them.

It was no good though, not with her glove still on, she didn't have the dexterity required for such a feat. After all the armor was built to stay on and protect its wearer, not fall off easily at the hands of an impatient young woman. She broke their kiss and leaned back, bringing both hands in front of her, violently pulling her right glove off with her now naked left hand. Cloud followed suit with his own gloves, Tifa clumsily assisting him with the second, and soon both their hands worked furiously to unhinge his armor. It gave way with a satisfying "click" and Cloud lifted his arms upwards to expedite its removal.

As soon as he was free of the damned contraption (Tifa wondered why it had to be so complicated) he grabbed her by the shoulders and drew her in to kiss her again, this time with no hint of the sweet sincerity she had felt the first time. Now he veritably forced her lips apart with his tongue and voraciously sought to taste every inch of the inside of her mouth, but she kissed back with equal fervor, so that they become locked in a heated battle to take control. His bare hands grasped her tighter, the feeling of his skin touching hers weakening her resolve to fight him, but even as she acquiesced to let him have his fill of her, she managed to find enough composure to bring her hands, which had hitherto found purchase on Cloud's hips, around to his waist to unbuckle and do away with the last piece of accursed leather on the man's finely muscled torso. She then had free access to un-tuck and pull his thick, ribbed shirt over his head, a task with which he eagerly assisted.

His neck finally exposed, she buried her face in it, her hands greedily gliding over every inch of his naked chest. Tifa felt his body crushing limply against hers and slowly they both fell to their knees. The slab of rock with which her bare knees collided was surprisingly warm, considering the coolness of the evening, though she was vaguely aware that it had spent its entire day soaking up sunlight and should rightfully be hot. She thought she might have skinned her knees, for she had not exactly fallen gracefully, but she did not care. All she could think was that she really wanted her boots off; it was so uncomfortable to kneel on them.

She pushed herself back, swinging her legs in front of her and tugged furiously at her bootlaces, kicking her feet to discard them. Cloud watched, looking dumbfounded for a moment when she pulled away from him, but soon he seemed to understand and he removed his own footwear. His legs still extended, Tifa leapt upon him, straddling his hips and flinging her arms about his neck as she obliged him with short, teasing, close lipped kisses that had him practically biting at her lower lip to keep abreast of them. She felt him losing some of his resolve to kiss back, his shoulders slackening, his hips sloping backwards and his hands tangled loosely in her mass of dark brown hair. But that was not what she wanted. She didn't want him to simply to play with her hair, to just have her hair be touched. Boldly, she grabbed hold of both his hands, drew them around the front of her and placed them on her breasts.

That restored some of the life in him. He felt them cautiously at first, palms moving slowly around the outside edges, eyes alternating between admiring them and searching their owner's eyes for approval. Tifa giggled a little at this, for it was no secret that her breasts were greatly admired and most men would kill to get their hands on them. But Cloud was suddenly timid, gentle, like he were unsure of whether or not this was what she really wanted. She slid her arms around his waist, and kissed him tenderly to assure him that it was. Which must have worked, for suddenly he was not so meek. His hands flew to her shoulders, savagely flinging away her suspenders, and, in what felt like an instant later, her arms were up over her head as her shirt was torn from her body.

Now it was Cloud's turn to favor her neck with kisses, while his hands worked deftly to make short work of her bra. They then returned to fondling her now naked chest this time with a kind of fervor that made Tifa clutch tightly at his shoulders too keep from collapsing back into the grass. Even still her head tilted back, her body arching deeper into each kiss, and little groans escaped her throat, which only seemed to encourage him to grope more, to kiss harder. She wanted so badly to regain control, but she was helpless, and soon found herself lying on her back, Cloud's hands now resting upon it as he guided her downwards.

She'd thought his kisses were relentless before, but she was now convinced of his intention to devour her. Not that she minded, though she felt her face flush deeper and her pulse quicken with every brush of his lips against her skin. He now moved up along her jaw-line, his tongue playfully flicking her earlobe, though Tifa highly doubted that was intentional; just a fortunate, albeit somewhat sloppy, side effect of having abandoned all restraint. And though she had contented herself to lie complacently and be consumed whilst her hands alternatively ran up and down his sweat-slicked back and through his soft, blond hair, each kiss only made her thirst for more. She slid both her hands down his back, until they found his waist, or rather, more precisely, the waistband of his pants. She slid the fingers of one hand beneath it, whilst the dominant one worked to unbutton the fly.

His hips grinded, probably involuntarily, downward, into her touch. It was gratifying, but also complicated the process. Still she worked to finish disrobing him, and while his lips found hers again and continued to kiss her passionately, he also placed his hands on either side of her head and lifted himself upward to try and assist her. But the awkward angle coupled with her frenzied eagerness left her with nothing but frustration, and she reluctantly decided to push Cloud off her and sit upright so she could approach her task again from a less challenging perspective. She was glad to see that he understood her intention, his eyes displaying no sign of hurt or confusion, and he willingly allowed her to finish what she'd started.

Now he was naked, his undergarments cast away almost in literal conjunction with his pants. And he was beautiful. Exposed and vulnerable, the Cloud he never let anyone see, the man who cared more deeply for humanity, for the planet, for people, his friends, than he was ever prepared to let on. The man who felt because he had something to lose and had already suffered the loss of so much. But all his defenses were gone now, his weapons, his armors, his mask of stoicism. It was just him and his compassionate, passionate blue eyes. Tifa understood now why he would fight so hard to repress his emotions, for he appeared to experience them more keenly than the average human being.

She had seen a shade of him before, when he'd let her into his subconscious and she'd helped him piece together his broken memories until he found himself again. And ever since then, brief a time though that had been, his walls had been steadily crumbling away. But nothing could have prepared her for this, this softness, this raw, indescribable emotion she saw in his eyes. Though his face still revealed little, his eyes betrayed everything, and left her breathless. She may not have been able to fully understand what it was he was feeling, but she was certain that he was, and that whatever it was, it was significant, and it was for her. She moved from where she knelt by his feet, sat beside him, hips parallel, legs extended in the opposite direction. Gingerly she brought her hands to his face, running her fingertips lightly along his temples and cheekbones as she stared, unblinkingly into his eyes and she was only partially aware of one of his hands absentmindedly stroking her arm.

Slowly, she leaned in and kissed him. All of the gentleness, the affection, the love had been restored. She only hoped that her kiss conveyed as much as his eyes did.

Considering the ferocity of the foreplay, the sex was unexpectedly mild. Passionate certainly, but not so savage and combative as it had been shaping up to be. Tifa laid back and allowed herself to be made love to and Cloud in turn allowed her to guide him that she might share in his ecstasy. They moved slowly, in tandem, hips rocking against one another, backs arching so that their lips might meet. They seemed to go on like that forever, and yet only for instant, Tifa's finger tips digging into Cloud's back, then his shoulders as their rhythm accelerated, and she struggled to keep her hold on him. Like in that moment right after Cloud had responded to her question about the stars, her stupid, stupid question, her head was swimming and she thought of everything and nothing all at once. Her pulse raced, legs quivered, feet tingled, like she wanted to run, but she didn't want to be anywhere other than where she was. She didn't want anything other than that moment, instant, second, however long it was. Her hands slipped, fingernails clenched fistfuls of grass and she had the vague impression that she was screaming.

Not long after she lay in her recent lover's trembling arms, ear resting against his chest, listening to his still wild heartbeat. It was quieting, but very gradually. She thought hers was probably the same, but she could not feel it, couldn't feel her arms, her legs, her feet, anything. Not like she had felt them before. It seemed she had lost all awareness of her own body and now simply allowed it to melt into Cloud's. What she could feel was that he was holding her, and that was enough. Tifa tightened her arms around him, and quickly dipped her head to kiss the skin concealing his sternum. Right above what she instantly recognized was a scar.

She propped herself up on one arm to get a better look at it. Cautiously, she ran her hand over it, feeling its shape. It was shockingly small. She bore a scar from the same occasion, but hers was long and thin, a result of being slashed by the slender tip of a blade. But this was short, and though not thick by any standards, it was twice the width of hers. The same width as the blade of a katana. With sickening horror she realized that not only had Cloud endured horrible injuries in the Mako Reactor, but he had been run through. Not cut and cast aside as she had been, but stabbed, deliberately.

"Cloud…" she began, and this time it was he who brought a finger to her lips to silence her. The same hand grabbed hold of the one resting on his chest, pressing their palms together, and interlocking their fingers. He caught her gaze and the look in his eyes was no doubt intended to reassure her that he was all right. That wound had long since healed.

Still the memory of what she'd seen in his subconscious plagued her. She remembered now; Sephiroth had stabbed him, thought he'd killed him. Should have rightfully. How he ever managed to miss Cloud's heart, she would never know. Even still the blow should have finished him, but by some miracle Cloud had found the strength to fight back. He should have died, but he didn't, and though she wasn't sure quite how, he still lived to this day. So despite her concern and her sadness at having seen him suffer so, she smiled.

Sephiroth was an invincible foe, maybe. His battle prowess certainly was the stuff of legend and she had witnessed first hand his capacity for destruction. But Cloud had proved to be rather invincible himself. He had fought Sephiroth in earnest once, and survived. He'd been greatly outmatched and run-through the chest, yet he had emerged victorious in a way, for had Sephiroth not been presumed dead these five years past? Though her good sense told her she ought to be terrified of her impending encounter, she'd told Cloud that she wouldn't be afraid, so long as they were together. And now she realized, she actually meant it.

She closed her eyes and kissed him, glad to think that she was important, that she was cared for by the one person who seemed most likely to win this impossible battle. He kissed her back in such a way that made her sure of it.

Clothing suddenly seemed like a very good idea. Not out of any sense of modesty; they were definitely beyond that, but the sun had set and it was cold. And she was far too exhausted to walk all the way back to the ship, let alone climb the ladder to enter it. So she sat up and located her discarded garments, dressing, even going so far as to replace her gloves and armor. It was practical, both for increasing body heat and as a measure of precaution. They were certainly safe from the now defunct Shinra Company, but might still be attacked by roaming monsters in the night. Cloud did the same, then moved to sit against a rocky ledge in the uneven ground. She joined him.

He wrapped his arms around one of hers and embraced it tightly. So tightly in fact that he practically forced Tifa's head to fall upon his shoulder. Of course she did not mind. She closed her eyes and listened to the still roaring wind, thankful for what little protection her clothing provided, but more thankful for the warmth of the body pressed firmly next to hers. A body she had recently known very intimately.

She still wasn't sure exactly what this encounter meant, only that it was meaningful. For now, it was whatever she wanted to be, and it was perfect. She would sleep with that knowledge and try to make sense of it in the morning.

Author's Notes: So, since discovering that my brother could now download FF VII to his PS3 and thus transfer it to my PSP so I could relive what is still one my favorite games in handheld glory, I have been feeling nostalgic. This is the result. Mind you I was about 12 the first time I beat this game and this particular dialogue did not make such an impression on me. Oh yes I also decided to keep the description of the encounter between Cloud and Sephiroth at the Mako Reactor vague, mostly because I am pretty sure what happens in "Last Order" (and "Crisis Core" more or less) is canon now and I kinda liked Cloud tearing the sword from his body and stabbing Sephiroth with his own sword before hauling him down the reactor.