A/N: I absolutely love Cloud/Aerith and I believe that love is eternal, but I also believe that love does move on hence my soft spot for Cloti. It's small, but still there, you know?

Disclaimer: I don't own KH -- yet.

Light

When she wakes up in a delirious, whirling haze in his arms, she looks faint and lifts her head weakly, mahogany-hued orbs blinking unceremoniously up at clouded sapphire, eyelashes fluttering delicately like butterfly wings.

"Cloud . . . ? You're here . . . b-but why?"

The martial artist's dark, ebony attire is stained, dried blood caked in her normally shiny, luxurious raven strands, her pallid face bruised and battered profusely. Wordlessly, Cloud brushes away a lock of black hair and tucks it behind one ear, the image of a half-dead Tifa lying in the middle of her own pool of blood flashing across his mind's eye over and over again like a broken record. Impatience and anger simmers beneath his normally icy, cobalt stare, his pale lips pursuing into a thin, angry line. It doesn't even dawn on him that the fist fighter might actually be afraid of him.

She has never been afraid of him, even when she should be. He can ignore her and push her away, his silence as hurtful as a blade to the heart and still she continues to follow him, forgiving him with her mere presence. He hates that he can't make her hate him.

He also hates whoever has hurt her.

In some far echo of his mind, he knows it is pointless. This is Tifa's choice, and she is a trained martial artist. If she chooses to put herself in harm's way, if she chooses to live this lifestyle, following him wherever he goes, battle after battle, non-stop fighting then so be it. But, somehow, despite everything, he has never wanted that for her. She is made for something else, someone else. She belongs in a stable home, on some nice street in a nice little town, maybe even a cottage in the mountains, with a stable family to go home to. But, she follows him, and so he has to make sure nothing happens to her when she is near. He never wants to see someone who cares about him die, especially because of him.

No, not again.

"Who did this to you, Tifa?"

Darkness . . . no hope . . . alone . . . blood so much of it . . . her eyes, oh god her eyes . . . Shadowsshadows everywhere . . . you didn't save her, can't save anyone . . . runrunrun . . . can't outrun it . . . so cold . . .

Cloud clenches his eyes shut, but in vain for the voices just become louder, buzzing like a low drum in his head, louder and louder and louder . . .

"He did this, didn't he? He hurt you, because of me . . ."

Her eyes are flickering between dark brown and sienna swirls and he doesn't know how he knows that since he isn't even looking at her. There is something lurking within his head, a shadow, an obsidian darkness that is howling like a wolf in the distance. Raw, unbridled rage. Something is happening to him, and Cloud doesn't even realize it until --

"Cloud don't, the darkness . . ."

The blonde glances down at his clenched hand, flexing it slowly, angry crescent marks standing out brightly against his pale, ivory skin. Slowly a cool, impassive façade readily etches itself across his taut features and he feels the warmth of blood already spilling over his hands. Again, and again.

"It's alright . . . really, I'm okay. Watch you'll see . . ." her normally upbeat voice is quiet and regretful, seeming to fade like a melancholy melody lost on the wind's sigh. Exhausted, the busty fighter's tattered body flops back like a rag doll, her breath coming in shallower than before. She sighs in complete and utter exhaustion, too tired to utter another single word. Blearily, she blinks up at him, concern shining bright in those altruistic eyes of hers, concern for him and him alone.

Sometimes, her devotion disgusts him. Even in her weak state she is worried about him, alwaysalways about him. She never once thinks about herself. She should be somewhere else (anywhere else) with someone new, someone different. Tifa deserves someone who's heart is full of light, not filled to the brim with scathing confusion and darkness. Someone not him, someone not Cloud.

"Don't worry," he reassures her, voice full of conviction. "He'll pay," he lifts up his head, hand on the hilt of his giant Buster sword. "I'll make this one count!"

And then he sees white.

-- fin.