Ah... I know I've disappeared off the face of the planet... but, I'm back! New and improved! YAY! I won't go into specifics... but, circumstances led me away from the net for a while... heh.
Disclaimer: I don't own!
Love you, Grandma! Rest In Peace.
Premium Heart
What if I had never let you go?
Would you be the man I used to know?
If I'd stayed, if you tried
If we could only turn back time
But, I guess we'll never know
Once upon a time there was a girl; this girl lost her heart to a boy who didn't know. The love she felt turned into an anxious pain so deep it pulled her to her knees and pushed her hopes away with every breath. And, it left her alone, her tearful eyes staring at the floor.
The thief who stole her heart away was a cloud that drifted aimlessly across the raining skies, a shadow that hid in corners with bright blue eyes watching blearily as people passed him without ever knowing he was there, but, above all, a troubled boy who didn't know how to forgive himself of sins he didn't commit.
He captured the heart of this girl, and in his hands it withered and died.
…
Water circled the drain in a grayish spiral that tickled the bottom of her toes; the light pink polish covering her nails in a single layer steadily chipped and flaked away in the swirling water, to wash along the crests of miniature waves to stick on the sides of the claw-footed tub.
The deafening silence that had taken over 7th Heaven in the empty places of its missing occupants was broken by the sound of a rusty faucet being turned, and then water pounding as it quickly refilled the bathtub that sat alone in the middle of a small tiled room. Mildew stained every break in-between the tiles, so thick it could never be scrubbed away. An undersized window facing the wastelands broke the monotony of stale white tiles that were white no longer, setting bluish light crawling through only half the room and leaving the rest in a dim darkness.
The room was bare, unfinished, lonely, and frequently abandoned.
Dark brunette hair spilled over the back of the bathtub in a cascade that fell short of the bleached concrete floor by inches; bright brown eyes stared wonderingly at the cracked ceiling, a lightly tanned hand hung from the side, calloused fingertips absently brushing back and forth over the semi-smooth porcelain.
A tune fell from her lips, the name of which long forgotten, her throat vibrating with the sounds and pausing as she tilted her head back to cradle the curved edge of the tub against the back of her neck. Sweat dropped from the tip of her slightly upturned nose, the heat of the water bringing a flush to her appearance, drying her throat, and pulling shallow breaths from her lungs.
Her mind is filled to the brim with countless thoughts, impossible to count as they run their paths across the corners of her consciousness, confusing questions listing over and over, coming forward, pulling back, being towed about by invisible strings, the puppeteer remaining forever unseen in the far reaches.
How did this happen? What happened? Where did it start? When did it end? Who ended it? Why?
Why?
A crooked grin parted her lips, displaying a chipped canine to the otherwise empty room, and then faded quickly in the dimming light. Her head shook side to side slowly, sending the smooth waterfall of hair swishing.
Foresight is what everyone wants. Hindsight is just a cruel way of fate telling you "I told you so."
The light shifted to creep up the side of the tub, highlighting the gray water and changing its hue to one of the whitest pearl. The water continued to run, uninterrupted, coming within closing distance of the rim to drip on the floor. An upturned shampoo bottle spilled across the rapidly dampening concrete, the peach colored liquid following the lean of the building.
He broke my heart.
I gave it to him when we were younger, and he took it with him as he walked away, following his dreams. I waited for his return, watching that gate, every day growing longer as they flew by. Then, he finally came. He rescued me, and tightened his grip on the part of me that I had given to him when he left our home. He picked me up, dried my tears, and took my vengeance for me.
My hero came suddenly, and just like that, he vanished. I didn't know where he was, but, I couldn't go back home. There was no home to go back to. Every day, I asked myself: "What if he can't find me?" Now, I know that I should have stopped him from leaving all those years ago. But, we can't turn back time, never will be able to, I don't think.
One day, he came around again. I don't know how it happened, I was so glad to see him, but he wasn't the same. The boy I knew was gone; replaced with a man that was essentially a stranger to me. His eyes were so different; they hid everything behind a veil of nonchalance. He was haunted by so many things; things that never fully left him no matter what he did.
I saw glimpses of the true him from time to time, and I don't think he felt free until he was able to face the man that changed our lives so drastically. But, even after he defeated Sephiroth, I never saw him smile.
He was afraid for so long after that close call to the end of the world. He was afraid of everything falling apart around him; of it being his fault when, not if, never if, it did. He carried that fear with him into us. And I think, that fear killed us before we ever really began.
Careful to keep her head above the overflowing water, the young woman lifted a slender muscled leg and used her foot to turn off the faucet, the copper rust biting into the sensitive skin between her toes. She lowered her leg back into the too hot water, driving a wave of liquid over the brim and into the floor, to soak into her discarded clothes near the open door.
The sound of a ticking clock filters into the quiet of the space, bringing with it a sore reminder that the world was still moving along, still existing outside the room in which she had confined herself for the last few hours while the children played outside and he traveled the world while reliving the memories of days and people past.
The past had him in its steel grip, and it left with her the distinct feeling it would never let him go. It hurt so much to think about it, but the history he carried within him was more than she could contend with; he was made of his memories; good and bad, and everything in-between.
She couldn't say that she could blame him; the thought of her own past caused so many reactions she couldn't make out one from the other, but, her recollections could in no way dictate the way she lived her life, and that was where they were too different.
The understanding of that fact hit home late.
Her attention stayed with the steady tick-tock-tick-tock of the hallway clock, the one with a cat quite similar looking to Cait Sith perched at its top, resting lazily above the mark of twelve o' clock, which she was sure the hour hand was nearing. Her fingers began a matching tap against the side of the bathtub, pulling a genuine grin to her face as a memory came forth in her mind.
Tick-tock-tick-tock…
"When will he be here, Tifa?" Marlene questioned, her patience running thinner by the minute. She was intensely focused on the front doors, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Of course, he couldn't be expected for more than half an hour, but, each time this fact was pointed out it was met with pouting lips and puppy dog eyes.
As if their begging would magically reach him when he was still outside even the general area of Midgar. The phone in her hand was snatched away by Yuffie, whose impatience was also beginning to wear, because forty-five minutes was really too long. . "Call him again! There's cake, and ice cream and- " A loud gasp escaped her as she turned just in time to see Cid tippy-toeing toward the humble homemade birthday cake sitting on the table. "Back away from the cake, old man!"
This was followed by an unrepeatable curse from Cid, who looked for all the world as if he was about bite the kunoichi's head off for halting his progress.
Naturally, the moment that the patient expression on Denzel's face turned curious she knew she was in for trouble. "Tifa, what does-"
A loud laugh interrupted his query, and Barret thundered through the door, his arms spread wide in greeting. "Yo! Let's party!" His greeting was met with grumbles, most of them sounding like 'not here', 'late', and 'I'll strangle you'… Intriguing.
Vincent sat quietly in a darkened corner, with a look of silent suffering etched into his pale youthful features. Reeve was conversationally trying to distract Cid from following through on his threat to strangle the 21 year old kunoichi, while she balefully watched him from the corner of her eye. Red was lounging about on a wrap-around seat with his eyes closed peacefully. Barret was embracing both Marlene and Denzel in one arm and it seemed from the look on his face that Denzel had asked the question of the moment.
Apparently, Cid wasn't staying for the party after all.
"What tha hell do you think you're doing!? Cussin' in front of the kids?" His voice echoed across the room, causing everyone to go on high alert as Cid opened his mouth in reply.
The surprise party for the hero's 26th birthday was turning into a disaster, and quickly.
But, then again, none of it mattered when he stepped through the door, a stricken look on his face that changed the moment almost everyone yelled "Surprise!" into shock, and then his lips turned up into a hesitant smile that while it remained a little sad, brightened the room as the rest of the party lit up in return.
Unable to resist, she crossed the distance to the door where he stood, holding a small bag with gifts he always bought in from his trips for she, Marlene, and Denzel. Pressing her lips to his in chaste kiss, she grasped his shaking hand and pulled him into the room, where he was greeted with hugs and arm slaps, and two nods, given small presents, big presents, and a new pink ribbon to place on his arm.
The day wore into night, and after retellings of old stories, new stories and beers all around, –after Denzel and Marlene headed for bed- soon the members of their small party went their separate ways, leaving him with a smile that was just a little more distressing than content.
Her smile faded with the next memory, her brown eyes falling to the surface of the water, milky with soap residue, reflecting the distressed look on her countenance. A deep exhale pushed itself from her mouth, and her eyes fluttered closed against the burning liquid that threatened her calm. She took a breath before plunging her body beneath the flowing waves, warming it with the wet-heat of the near boiling temperature water. She emerged a few moments later, shaking the droplets from her hair, and wiping her face with her fluid-wrinkled fingers.
Taking gasping breaths to push away the fear of facing the memory that plagued her, the pounding of rain against the roof pulled her further into the remembrance she had been seeking to avoid. Her eyes once again turned their gaze to the fractured ceiling, a beseeching look imprinted across her visage. Slowly, she gave in to the persistent push of the inevitable, suppressing an unexpected urge to laugh to herself as the comprehension hit that habits do die hard.
Tick-tock-tick-tock…
That night was the beginning of the end. The hero nearly died on his 26th birthday. Later that night, he tentatively and quietly told her of his latest brush with death, an accident that left Fenrir in pieces outside Midgar, scattered across the abandoned highway in the darkness. He was uncertain of what had caused it, or perhaps, unwilling to tell. But, his doubts were screaming louder than they ever had.
"This is too fragile. We'll lose it." He told her, his eyes staring out the window forlornly, the darkness of the room dimming his features, and draining the glow from his cerulean eyes. His hold on her waist tightened, then loosened entirely as he pulled away to leave the bed and stand before the window with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pajama pants.
It began to rain.
Crawling from the bed, she crossed the room to stand behind him, wrapping her softly muscled arms around his waist, and splaying her hands across his chest, she struggled to find her voice in the stillness that followed his solemn declaration. "We won't. You're alive, I'm alive. I love you, and you love me. We won't."
Almost frantically, his head shook from side to side. Panic seemed to plant itself within him, causing him to tremble. "It will die. Something will kill it. And, you won't love me anymore." His hushed voice, though stifled by the rain, filled the room, sending shivers down her spine. Inexplicable fear shot through her, and she whispered a vehement denial.
"I will always love you."
Turning, he placed his scarred hand on her cheek, and while his eyes remained soft, his voice became steel. "Will you?" His head tilted to the side, an inquisitive look entered his saddened eyes. His free hand began a journey down her collarbone, the back of his fingers brushing the soft skin between her bared breasts, to move past the dip of her navel, and rest on her left hip. A blonde eyebrow lifted curiously.
Without a moment's thought, she repeated her denial in a louder, surer voice. "I will always love you."
He said no more on the subject that night, or any other night for the next two years. Letting it drop… to land on the foundations of their connection and poison it from the floor up. The end of their relationship came that evening, under the showery skies, on the 19th night of August. The chuckle she had been holding back at last tumbled from her open mouth as she recalled her vehement rejection of his words, only to later fall victim to them after the words had been silenced.
Their lives seemingly went back to as they were before, but hindsight would show her where her errors were. Their words began to lose their meaning, lose their meaning to one another, an unconscious disconnection. Their kisses became shorter, the passion dwindled, leaving her feeling cold at night when he would turn away, and fall asleep, only to be missing when she awoke in the morning. The smiles became less sincere, the distances longer, the conversations shorter, the calls less frequent, the word love becoming a mere word in their everyday lives. They gradually fell apart, and fell away from each other. The sound of two once bonded souls unraveling was silence.
Yes, noiselessly, inescapably, they fell from the height that love and passion had taken them to, only to crash and burn before they'd ever known they had been falling. So fast, and yet it took two years for it to reach its end. Never did she think she'd ever walk away as she did that bleary afternoon. Her feelings were laid out across her eyes, seeming every bit the appeal they actually were, pleading for a sympathetic close to the broken union they'd been caught in.
Seven days he'd been away this time, weaving his way across the continent and back. He walked in the door wordlessly, planting a small kiss on her cheek before moving past her to sit at the bar and rub at his temples. The sunlight that had followed him through the threshold quickly faded as she closed the door and moved behind the counter to carry on drying glasses.
Her inquiring eyes met his briefly while her hands worked steadily, her head tilting as his gloved fingers began tapping a forgotten beat, pausing every now and again to scratch the scar above his eyebrow. His mouth opened, then promptly shut as if he'd already run out of words to say.
She paused, her eyes studying his features closely in the faintly lit room. What was there to say? The question entered her mind before she could stop it, fixing itself in firmly while repeating itself.
What was there to say?
His head turned toward the stairs, his eyes watching them closely, waiting for the living lights to come running down them and illuminate the room with their laughter. She knew, because she was waiting as well.
Waiting for Denzel or Marlene? Or waiting for her hero to come back?
She hardly knew these days. The stranger she had met in the Sector Seven 7th Heaven had returned, the man she knew had left again, and there was no indication that he'd ever come home to her again. While it broke her heart to think of her love as gone, it was the truth. Sad, yes, but, true.
And, what would she do now? This new light had dawned on her, but the truth was she didn't know what she would do now. Would she stand there in silence with this stranger? Sleep in the bed with him, always turned away? Would she keep her eyes open as he kissed her, made love to her, to watch him and make sure he didn't break her?
Her brown eyes flickered to his near-expressionless face, her hands continuing their work despite her mind's turmoil. He turned back to the bar, his now beat-less fingers studying the wood of the countertop as he brushed his fingers over it.
Did he make love to her? Did he love her? Did she love him?
As soon as the question appeared in her mind, she knew the answer. No, she didn't love this man. She loved the boy he had been, the man that he had been before he started drawing away from her, before she drew away from him. She hadn't lied with she'd told her hero that she'd love him forever. But, this wasn't him.
Why was she with him still?
Again, the answer came quickly: Loyalty. It had never been in her nature to betray, to turn away from someone for reasons that served no one other than herself. She had never been selfish either. She was loyal to the man that he was.
But, was it really selfish to let him go after he was already gone? What reason was there to stay?
Her hands began to shake in the soapy water as her mind drew a blank. There was no reason to continue living this empty life of wordless insincerities and loveless love-making. Her heart had long ago ceased skipping beats, longing for him, burning in his absences. She had become frozen, a replica of herself living a life no longer placed in reality.
But, letting him go would be her salvation, her saving grace.
Pulling her hand from the cooling water, she felt blindly around the side, finding and picking up a half-empty glass of red wine. It was bitter on her tongue, but, it gave her a welcomed respite from the onslaught of memories that had decided to parade through her every thought. She took a careful sip of the burgundy liquid then pulled it away to stare into the undeniably emptier wineglass before setting it back in the exact place it had rested all morning.
Raising both her hands to her face, she examined them just as she examined him that day, flexing her fingers, and turning them and inspecting the back of her hands, bending her fingers as before, and watching the joints move underneath her water-wrinkled skin.
She strained to find the right words as she stared down at her fumbling hands, before pulling them from the water. She absently watched the bubbles pop on the surface, taking the silence as a moment to steel herself against the nervous weight that had settled itself within her chest.
There's no question this would be one of the hardest things I've ever done…
His cerulean eyes watched her vigilantly, as he sensed the disquiet in her. He was always perceptive when it came to certain things, but, always painfully oblivious when it came to others. The hero saw only what he wanted to see, unless it made itself undeniably apparent right before his eyes.
So, she leaned forward enough to make sure he'd seen the unshed tears in her eyes, and the trembling of her arms as she used them to brace herself against the counter. She sighed loud enough for the sound to echo around the room, before being absorbed by it.
The eyes so intently focused on her widened, softening in an expression of immediate guilt and sadness, and with it, a kind of resignation. It hardened her resolve while it chipped away at her weathered heart, burning away her doubts while torching any hope for a future with him.
He wasn't going to fight, was he?
"We need to talk." Her voice didn't sound like her own; fatigue attached itself to every word she spoke, making her sound so tired, like she had given up. And, really…
I did give up.
He seemed to hesitate at her words and tone, looking for all the world as if he didn't want to know what was wrong… but, as if he had a suspicion as to what she wanted to say. Perhaps he did know, yet, didn't want to say. Perhaps he was happy in their little arrangement, even if it was sad, and it was draining her life away bit by bit until she didn't recognize herself.
"About what?"
The sound of the toilet flushing upstairs interrupted her before she began. Yet, with it came a reminder of the bar's other occupants. This was not the place to break their little family apart; not where there was a chance that one of the children would see.
They would blame themselves.
Walking around the bar, she gestured to the door with a slight nod towards it, waiting at the threshold until he rose from the stool and came to follow her out into the near-empty streets. They stood in silence for a while watching people pass by, until she gained the courage to let her heart lead her words for the first time in a long time.
"I love you."
His eyes remained fixed on the setting sun as it fell between the narrow rooftops. "I love you, too."
An ironic smile crossed her face. Yes, he loved her. But, now, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to ease the pain within her, or erase the questions plaguing her. His love was her downfall, because his love's companion was his fear. One could never be without the other.
"I know." She turned toward him, and placed her hand on his lightly tanned cheek. Her eyes fluttered from side to side before she met his gaze firmly. "But, it was too fragile. We've lost it."
His eyes widened. It seemed almost cruel that the first words to come to her were the ones he had spoken to her, that she was standing before him, over a year later, repeating them. Turning away from her, his eyes found the setting sun again, and the light reflected off the salt water dotting his eyelashes.
She attempted to swallow the knot that had formed in her throat, fought against the burn in her own eyes as she saw the tears build up in his. "I'm sorry."
And, she was. His heart was broken all over again, because he had chosen to open it up to her, because he couldn't abandon the fear that haunted his every step and chased after him in the night hours, she knew. She had broken his heart. But, he was nothing if not resilient. He would heal, with time and the patience and love of a person able to deal with his fears and assuage them. Her heart was too broken itself for the job.
This was best for them both.
"Don't be." His voice was quiet, his mouth turned in slight frown, yet, he turned back to her. "It's okay."
It's okay.
She nodded to him, her lower lip trembling and tears trailing down her face. He opened up his arms, and she stepped into them, wrapping her arms around him tightly. He returned her embrace full force, laying his head on top of hers.
The sun set peacefully in the background, the red skies a stark contrast to the relief that released a breath from her lips.
It was all really over this time. After the close calls they'd had, this was it. The end.
The happy times with him would stay with her forever. His every smile, no matter how small or quickly washed away, she would never forget them, not the sound of his laughter, the sound of her name falling from his lips, his gentle caresses, the way he would squeeze her when he'd been gone too long, his kisses, the way he poured his emotions into everything he did, the way his eyes lit up when he looked at her, the profound press against her heart when he would relive his nightmare in the quiet night, and the way he sought her, pulling her to him and not letting go until dawns light filtered through the curtains.
The man he was before his fears tore him apart.
Letting him go was what saved her from the downward spiral she had so unwittingly fallen into while allowing his doubts to infect her and pull her in, and now, it was time to finish reminiscing and move forward. It was time to let go and breathe it out.
The sound of footsteps, accompanied by small splashes, down the hallway interrupted her thoughts, heavy yet hesitant in their approach, making the identity of the person apparent to her. She remained where she was, her gaze directed through the open door. One combat boot stepped into the doorway, followed by another. Piercing cerulean eyes regarded her, sitting in the overflowing bathtub, water crawling across the floor to pool in the hallway and cascade down the stairs, her dark eyes staring at him with the startling presence of complete ease and acceptance.
"Be happy." The voice that spoke the plain words sounded nothing like her own had been, free of the heavy heart she'd been carrying for three months. The smile she didn't know was there widened. "Go."
His poignant gaze remained for a moment more, before he nodded briefly, "Thank you." He turned away, splashes and heavy steps marking his otherwise soundless walk away from the door, descent down the stairs, and through the front door. He was gone this time, she knew. Maybe, just maybe, he would find his happiness somewhere out there, wherever it was sure to be waiting. He would find his resolution, just as she found hers.
27 years old and starting life all over again. And, damn it, she was looking forward to every moment.
A quiet sigh escaped from her lips as she pulled the knob, draining the water from the tub, and stepped out, her gaze falling to her feet, as they met with the coldness that was the wet concrete floor before turning to look at the walls and ceiling. Her lips twitched upward as a smile stole her face over.
And, maybe, it was time to fix up this bathroom.
…
Once upon a time there was a girl; this girl lost her heart to a boy who didn't know. This love formed smiles on her face, flew her through the cosmos, and gave her the will to dream. And, it left her living, with eyes looking to the future.
The thief who stole her heart away was a cloud that roamed the revolving earth, a shade that vanished little by little and without a word, except of gratitude, 'thank you for loving me', but, greater than all, a troubled man who didn't know how to accept love without consequences.
He captured the heart of this woman, and in his hands it withered and died.
His hands lost their grip, and she slipped to the floor before his ever blue eyes. He stood before her, his hands shaking, fear overtaking him as he struggled to pick her back up. She continued to slip between his fingers, and with a heavy heart, he stepped away, and watched from a distance as she picked herself up and began again, stronger than ever.
This is the story of Cloud and Tifa.