Hello, everyone.
Call me Javer. I'm new to the FFVII fanfiction realm, and due to its incredible popularity even so late after the game's release, I'm sure this isn't going to stay on the first page for very long. But I just want to know what you think of it! It's a one-shot detailing my interpretation of what may have happened that long-disputed night near the end of the game before you were allowed to travel to the crater for the final battle. I'm pretty proud of it, as it's my longest one-shot to date.
Please note: this story has nothing to do with the Stephen King collection of short stories of the same name ^_^ I just thought it would make a rather apt title.
I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of the characters in this fanfiction. That right is reserved to Square or Squaresoft or Square-Enix or whatever the hell they're calling themselves these days. Enjoy the 'fic!
EDIT: Okay, I think I need to restate myself here. A few people have been saying my writing is pretty good for a newbie to fanfiction (and I thank you all for that!). The truth is, whereas I may be a relative newbie to it, I have written several stories. They're in my profile if you're interested. Anyway, what I meant was that I'm new to FFVII fanfiction. That's all, just clearing a small issue up.
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Everything's Eventual
Fate.
Destiny. Inevitability. Predetermination . . . of all that is.
They all mean the same thing: that things happen for a reason. Coincidence is a concept not worth the effort to follow, its only fruit naught but dead ignorance's unseeing bliss. Its only purpose, to allow people to hide from the truth. Its only explanation, revealing the darkest road through an ominous forest that you would rather walk through blindfolded.
Everything is governed and ruled by Fate. By definition, infallible. By proof, complete dependability. The birds shall one day die, their crisp songs piercing the morning air no more; the trees shall one day rot, insects finding shelter in their hollows; even the mountains will finally crumble into meaningless chunks of ash and stone.
Ironic, don't you think? The very power seeing to it that all things are born to earth, one starry night crushes them all with a twitch of its thumb.
Fortunately, not on this particular starry night.
A young man stood, his weight supported by the green-patched outcropping of rock that jutted out from an enormous cliff. It would have not been exaggeration to say that the face itself was more than half a mile high. So high, that the air up here was just starting to thin. A single feeble gasp of wind sighed through the air, splitting itself on the man's spiny blond hair and rustling the dark battle uniform. He didn't notice; all senses had seemed to disappear in his thought. He was thinking harder than he had ever thought in his life, and that was saying something. He'd done a hell of a lot of self-questioning lately.
Not your typical zone-out.
But then again, Cloud Strife was not one to be typical.
I did my best, he said.
Did you?
Of course I did! Cloud snapped. I fought my hardest! I got everyone here!
Maybe you did do your best, the other Cloud agreed. Or maybe Sephiroth got away.
W-what? I HAD to let him go! Don't you see?
Or maybe you've failed the planet.
I had no choice!
Or maybe, the hard feelings reasoned mockingly, maybe Aeris is flat on her back at the bottom of a lake with a hole the size of a fist in her middle.
Inside, things fell silent. Then, the weaker optimistic side piped up again.
There was nothing I could do, he said. Not sullen. Not angry. Just . . . composed. Absolutely sure.
Yes, there was. And almost immediately, self-doubt clouded his head once more. You could have run faster. Could have slashed deeper. Could have stopped poor Aeris from getting caught up in the whole mess in the first place. Could have sneaked out of her house alone that one night. Could have-
"Cloud?"
He jerked straight up. "Yah! Wha-"
Cloud turned around to face a pair of long, coltish legs. After a moment, he realized he was sitting down. He looked higher, and met Tifa Lockheart's grin with a look of near-shock. At the recognition, Cloud eased up visibly. "Oh . . . Tifa. Don't do that next time, all right?"
She closed her eyes and laughed out loud. "Did I surprise you? I'm sorry," she snickered, sounding not at all so. But her amusement melted quietly into concern when he smiled briefly and mechanically, and turned his gaze back over the cliff. It was beginning to turn red with the wash of sunset, and looking back now (in more ways than one), Tifa suddenly realized that so was the Highwind. Soon enough, things would be done with, and Cid's magnificent airship would more or less sit in the corner collecting dust, like a toy that a child has outgrown. There would be no more need for a beast that once cut the skies.
Tearing her eyes away from the Highwind, Tifa padded softly over to Cloud. The cliff was easily big enough for three Barrets . . . but right now, there was only one Cloud, and one Tifa.
And maybe, one Aeris.
They sat like that for a while, just . . . looking. And waiting.
For what?
I suppose only they will ever know that.
Suddenly, Cloud spoke. His voice was raspy and his eyes as red as the sunset had been twenty minutes ago. "Tifa?" That was all he said.
She stretched her legs straight out and glanced over to him, things seeming somehow less tranquil. And once again something familiar yet unknown, lanced into her soul as she met those Mako eyes. Tifa shook off whatever it was hurriedly. "Hm? What is it, Cloud?" He looked at her with an expression incomprehensible.
"Do you . . ." He paused, not sure how to word this. "Do you think that if I had done things differently, none of . . . y'know, this . . . would have happened? No Meteor, no Sephiroth . . . could I have stopped it all? If I had-"
She focused on him carefully, and thought that if they had been a few years younger, he would have looked ready to cry.
But not now. The Mako in his head skillfully veiled his hurt; none showed through the glassy, sky-blue windows Tifa was trying to see through from the outside. The phrase "practiced ease" abruptly struck her—and once again she shook off the peculiar feeling.
"No, Cloud," she said seriously, leveling her intent watch to his. "There was nothing we could have done. You hear me? We played his game to the best of our ability, and guess what? Things turned out this way. And now we have to fix it."
He'd twisted back to the cliff. The wind whispered through his hair again.
"Wrong, Tifa," he murmured after a while. She inhaled quickly and drew back a little, caught off guard. " 'We' don't have to fix it. I do."
"But-"
"We all agreed." Now he faced her again, strong and unruffled. "Remember when we first left Midgar? Me, you, Barret, Red, and Aeris?"
Suddenly unable to speak, she nodded.
"It was . . . no, it was Aeris," he said reflectively, "Aeris that said, 'It has to be Cloud.' When we needed a leader, I was the first choice. And nobody argued.
"I was supposed to be the leader all this way. I was supposed to take care of things, and protect you and Aeris and everyone else. And now . . ." Strangely, he chuckled. "Now Sephiroth is going to let Meteor loose on the planet, and Aeris is—is dead, and damn it, it's ALL . . . MY . . . FAULT!" He shot up and choked the last three words out in a roar, the sound echoing off the mountains. The Mako were wide and furious.
He stood upright like that for a few seconds, then the unbreakable wall simply . . . slid down. He collapsed back into a sitting position, and his head sank into the dark solitude of his arms.
They had talked and dreamed together. They had raged and stormed together. They had known the true meaning of childhood friendship together—and Tifa had never seen Cloud like this.
His head, buried in his folded arms, shuddered a little.
Tifa's eyes widened in harsh realization and she wondered how the hell she'd missed it.
He was crying. He was crying for Aeris. The woman he loved—his promised girl. Fate had had a choice for Cloud, and who was the lucky winner? The flower girl, the last sane Ancient. And she had died.
Beautiful Aeris.
Poor Cloud.
Her jumbled thoughts, poisoned with the bitter knowing that grief is still yet to come, sank all the more painfully because the one shard of her mind, bright and accurate, that had not given way to emotion by this point knew that these were selfish, petty feelings.
So what if he didn't pick some battle-worn, plain bartender straight from the slums and looking it? You knew he wouldn't anyway. That's not important right now.
B-but . . . but he's so . . .
The rational splinter was growing, becoming a rude slash in the sadness, bringing steadiness and strength.
What's important is that Cloud is sitting over there, trying with all his might not to cry his eyes out for h-her. She faltered a bit but did not stop.
He needs somebody now, anybody. Even if it's you. You were still his friend.
His friend? her emotions shot back. I was the airheaded popular girl that all the boys liked. I don't know why he even spoke to me at all. I was so stupid!
That's not important either. Five years ago, he risked his life to-
To what?
She had charged him, eyes blinded with tears for her poor father. Sephiroth had barely turned, and had cast her aside like an unwanted doll with the wickedly keen edge of the Masamune. By the time he had turned back and opened the door to what would be all of their nightmares, she had arced downwards and maladroitly crashed over the steel stairs, life-blood flying from her middle to spatter the far wall. She had thought she was
(a goner.)
And then . . . she had felt a certain warmth surrounding her, enclosing her, bearing her off to wherever it was she deserved to go. She opened her eyes, to see for herself what this wondrous spectacle was really like—and had found herself staring into two brilliant, impossibly blue ovals. She distinctly remembered recognizing the eyes as Mako . . . then recognizing the face around them as his.
He'd said nothing, only readjusted her weight and gently set her down near the entrance. The practiced Mako eyes inspected her wound, the wound Tifa had been too frightened to look at herself. So only Cloud . . . only he knew how truly serious an injury Sephiroth had given her.
Tifa leaned closer, to try and see her own future in Cloud's head. But he deliberately divulged nothing. No sadness. No relief. Only the coldest, hardest, most controlled rage she had ever beheld.
Sephiroth had done this to her.
And Cloud was going to rip him apart.
Without another word, he unsheathed the enormous killer at his back and pondered it for a moment, turning the blade and letting the Mako lights overhead dance over the dulling edge. Pounded his way to the back room, his feet slamming against the metal underneath him. Did not halt for one last look back—just continued on what he believed to be his final killing spree as a SOLDIER.
Why had he left her to die? For a mortal wound can hardly be disguised, and she had been sure. They had both been sure. He'd thought she was
(a goner)
going fast. At Kalm, when they had all urged him to tell his story . . .
She had to know.
She needed to KNOW!
Tifa looked up, and got the shock of her life. Well, one of them anyway.
Once again she was staring into shining Mako-blue eyes, a cloudless sky split in two. Cloud was no longer sitting down a few feet away; he was right up next to her, his heavy glove resting on her shoulder. Only the smallest of tear-marks clung to his face, which had somehow formed a little less deadpan than normal and was as close to a smile as he ever got.
Now Tifa glanced down, mentally asking herself exactly how long she'd been stranded on memory lane. It was as if she and Cloud had switched places. Her knees huddled up to her face, arms lying on them. She was suddenly aware of a warm, stinging wetness just beside her nose and beneath her right eye.
She'd been crying, and Cloud had sneaked over to help her.
It wasn't fair. She was supposed to be the one helping him . . . and while she'd been wallowing in self-pity and asking why, why, why, he was taking on both their hurt, without even knowing what was wrong.
Dammit.
"C-Cloud . . ." Tifa ventured shakily.
The slight grin widened. "Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something? About that time . . . Mt. Nibel?" This was not a good idea.
The smile remained, but his eyes seemed lost all of a sudden. He shook off the ragged uneasiness and nodded. "Yeah, okay. What is it?"
"When—when you carried me to the entrance of that place after I attacked Sephiroth and he cut me, you were absolutely positive I was going to . . . die, right?" Tifa winced inwardly. It wasn't a good idea at all. This was definitely not the time to be opening old wounds, so to speak.
He looked away and her fears were confirmed.
"Yes," he said finally, with a sigh. "I was. There was nothin' I could do, I was sure you were-"
"-a goner," the two said in unison.
Silence reigned for the space of one full minute.
Tifa spoke up slowly, her drive for an answer overriding her hesitance. "So then . . . why did you just leave to fight Sephiroth? Couldn't you-" She hated the way it sounded as soon as it came out, hated it with all of her being, but had to finish it. "Why didn't you take me off the mountain, or something? Were you just leaving me to die?"
She asked it softly, almost imperceptibly, but he reacted as if she had opened her mouth and screamed. Cloud shook his head at the ground, looking harried and hopeless, and laid his face in his hands again. It wrenched Tifa's heart to see him this way.
She embraced him, feeling awful. "No, please, Cloud, don't. Don't answer. It's okay."
He said something that sounded like her name. She leaned her head nearer, in order to hear. "Hmm?"
He cleared his throat. "I . . . I wasn't thinking. I didn't think I was leaving you behind, all I could think about was Sephiroth and that I was going to kill him. I didn't see, or think, or hear, or anything. It all just went red. I knew I couldn't beat him one-on-one. I knew he'd have killed me. But I pressed on anyway, because for some reason, I was sure that even if he cut me down . . . I'd take the bastard with me."
This was something she hadn't known. "You were going to fight him, even if—if it meant you died?! What kind of reasoning is that?" she said, distressed.
Cloud bit his lip. "I dunno."
"You don't know? That's all you can say, is that-"
"Tifa, calm down."
Suddenly self-conscious, she blushed. "Er . . . sorry," she said, embarrassed. "I was just . . . surprised, that's all. That you'd do that." She stole a look back up at Cloud. "But, y'know, I still can't believe it. How come you still went after him?"
He paused for a moment before answering. "You remember how, when we were kids, I always said I'd be in SOLDIER and get in the newspapers and I'd come see you?" he said with a small, wistful smile, tiny, bright crystals forming in the corners of his eyes from remembering.
She nodded. "Mm-hm."
"Well, I finally came home . . . and then the whole Sephiroth incident happened . . . and I found you dying. At least, I thought you were. And about then, it hit me.
"I was never going to see you again. So . . . so what . . ."
His back was to her, and Tifa abruptly grasped that she was hanging on his words, and that this was the breaking point. For over half a decade, he'd kept this to himself. For far longer than that, he'd trusted no one. And this . . .
. . . this was the part where that entire belief system crashed and burned.
Cloud turned around again. Tears silently coursed down the strong, sharp contours of his face. The smile had vanished, and now he looked nothing so much as a sleepless man with the world on his shoulders who no longer knew what to do.
". . . what was the point of coming home again?"
"Oh, Cloud . . ." Tifa, too, was crying, no more loudly than Cloud was.
She tried to wipe her eyes in vain, trudging to him. Slowly, they simultaneously reached out and held one another close.
Cloud stared into the nearly invisible sun. Tifa sniffed into his chest.
They stayed like that for a long time.
Tifa, her pain all but gone, sniffed one last time, and looked up at Cloud, trying to put on a happy smile for him. "So, ah . . . where—where do we go from here?"
He cleared his throat again, and tentatively asked, "Can . . . can we stay like this for just a little while longer?"
She smiled, for real this time, and pulled him tighter. "I'd like that."
* * *
Fate is funny, isn't it? Sometimes the world seems so damn unfair you lose your sight, and stop caring about what you do or what people will think . . . or who gets hurt.
And sometimes it brings the puzzle together so perfectly that you wondered how the hell you didn't see the matching ridges and missing pieces before.
But then, none of that really matters if you're patient. Because sooner or later, things will fall into place. Things will fall into place.
Fate. Destiny. Inevitability. Predetermination of all that is and was and ever will be.
It all means the same thing. So don't worry. All the wondering you went through, all the dreams fulfilled, the ambitions discovered, the suffering weathered, the happiness savored . . . you'll be shown that the love of Fate (or vice versa!) has helped it all along.
All you have to do is hold on . . .
Just a little while longer.
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So, enjoy it? If you did, kindly leave a review telling me what you liked about it. And thankya! If you didn't, please leave a review telling me which parts of it sucked. And why. Go ahead and flame if you like, I don't mind.
But one thing. Please DO NOT leave reviews only telling me where I made errors about the game's story. It's been a long time since I played it, and my memory's eaten away. If you want to let me know about an error I made, just add something like "this is a good story" or "blam this piece of crap!" Thank you!! Till next time!