Chapter 2: The Way She Is

Cloud's hands trembled at his sides. He stood there listening to them getting settled in Marlene's old bedroom, negotiating what they were going to read and in what order. His head was a tangled mass of emotions, although no one else would have guessed it, watching him calmly turn off the light and leave the room.

Tifa had completely caught him off-guard with that baby comment. He really thought they had an understanding. Why weren't they on the same page? She'd never even mentioned wanting a baby before. He burned a trail on their bedroom carpet, pacing furiously. It had to be an emotional blip, right? She was spending time with little Lonnie, feeling all warm and lovey toward the baby, and it just slipped out. She would come to her senses in the morning, and they'd laugh about how emotional she'd been, and they would agree that no one wanted to see any spawn of his running around.

It was just like that time she'd slipped and said she wanted to get married. She was in the grips of an emotional dream. It wasn't really what she wanted. She'd told him to forget about it. He had been tense around her for weeks, waiting for it to come up in the sane light of day, but it never did. Eventually, he did forget about it.

As if to mock him, the light glinted off the golden ring on his finger. Okay, yes, they did eventually get married, but it was only to appease their friends. Barret had scared him into it, and Tifa only agreed because it seemed like something they were supposed to do. His proposal, if it could be called that, was a travesty. That night was something he would never forget.

Cloud sat at a table on one side of the bar, angrily drinking and watching her every move. All he wanted to do was sit there and sulk in peace; the large man who plopped down on the other side of the booth, shaking it with his bulk, his gun arm bumping loudly against the table, was not welcome.

"Go away," Cloud growled.

But, as always, Barret couldn't care less whether Cloud wanted him there. He propped his elbows on the table, watching Cloud watching Tifa.

"Hoo-ey!" Barret declared. "That musta been one hell of a spat!"

"No idea what you're talking about," Cloud muttered. The blue glow from his eyes followed her as she brought a drink to the man at the other side of the room. She'd been spending an awful lot of time at that table. His eyes narrowed as she placed a hand on his shoulder, and the echo of her laughter bounced off the walls. Why wasn't she leaving?! Surely that was enough time for him to pay for his drink.

"Right," Barret laughed. "I've known you two long enough to know what a lovers' spat looks like."

"Shut up," Cloud snapped.

Barret was right, of course. They had argued about something, and although Cloud clearly remembered this night, three years later, he had no idea what the argument had been about. All he knew was that Tifa was still talking to that man, and she was pushing her hair behind her ear and leaning over his table, and Cloud had just about had enough.

"Why you so insecure about her talking to some other guy?" Barret prodded.

Cloud finally pulled away his gaze to glare at the man across the table. "Mind your own business, Barret. You have no idea what you're talking about." He looked back across the room to find Tifa leaning down in front of the man, her face level with his. He was leaning closer. She was going to kiss him! Right in the middle of the bar, in front of everyone, in front of Cloud, Tifa was going to kiss some other guy!

Cloud slammed his hand on the table and stood up, only to be pushed back down by a hard hand on his shoulder. "Get out of my way, Barret," he growled, pushing him away, but Barret persisted.

"Don't make an ass outta yo'self, Spike. She's a bartender, cleanin' up a spill."

Cloud looked again. The man seemed to be apologizing profusely, taking advantage of the eyeful of Tifa as she cleaned up the drink he'd knocked over. Cloud stopped fighting Barret and slumped into his seat. "Damn. I'm just sick of watching them look at her like that."

Barret patted his shoulder and sat back down, chuckling quietly.

"What's so funny?" Cloud grouched.

Barret leaned back, stretching his arms across the back of the bench seat. "You know Teef's like a sister to me, right? I had to watch that shit e'ry night, and I jus' had to get over it. It ain't her fault assholes react to her like that. Shit, I had to stop myself from gouging yo eyes outta yo head when you first showed up."

Cloud blinked, his attention coming back to Barret. "Me? Why?"

Barret snorted. "You think I didn't see you eyin' her ass e'ry time she walked by? Or getting distracted by that tight shirt when she threw a punch? You lucky yo ass didn't end up monster chow, the way you stared at her. And look, she don't even dress like that no more. She still got that effect on 'em."

Cloud had to concede that point. Tifa was hot. She had always been hot, and it was true that Cloud was always a little more battered when Tifa was in his party, and not because she lacked skill. "Fine, but she wasn't taken then. She is now, and he needs to put his eyes back into his skull before I do it for him," he growled, crossing his arms.

"How's he gonna know that?" Barret retorted. "You didn't put no claim on her."

"The hell I didn't!" he said hotly. "We've been together for ten years!"

"Yeah? And what's she got to show for it? She s'posed to wear a shirt that says 'Property of spiky-ass Strife?'"

Cloud wanted to think of a clever comeback for that, but he came up empty. "What are you doing here, Barret?" he asked instead.

"Visitin' Marlene," he said, glaring at Cloud. "She's still my kid, y'know."

Cloud sighed. He had no desire to get into it with Barret, especially over his daughter, which was a bright red flashing button that he never, ever wanted to touch. "I mean here. At my table. Pissing me off more than I'm already pissed off."

"Tryin' to help you," Barret sighed, clearly starting to regret his charitable action. "Look, Tifa's been patient with you. Really, really patient, considering the way you screwed her over back in—"

"I know, I know," Cloud interrupted. It wasn't irritation at Barret this time. He sincerely felt guilty that he'd run out on them, and he really didn't need to be reminded of it by her self-appointed big brother when he was already in a black mood.

Barret pressed his lips together. "Fine. All's I'm sayin' is, she's a good woman who's stuck by your side when most woulda run off like they hair was on fire. You can't even promise that you gonna stick with her, when we all know she'd follow you anywhere."

"I promise her all the time!" Cloud said, throwing his hands up in the air. "She doesn't trust me."

"For good reason," Barret said pointedly.

Cloud frowned, but couldn't argue. "I don't know what else I can do to make her believe me."

Barret sighed. "Damn you thick, boy." He tugged at a golden chain on his neck. It wasn't new. He had always worn it, as long as Cloud could remember, but as he pulled it out from under his shirt, Cloud saw something new. There was a ring attached to the end – a dainty golden ring, far too small for that man's meaty fingers. It matched the golden band he wore on his left hand. Barret lifted it to his lips and kissed it, then dropped it back under his shirt again. "I never take this off, because I ain't never movin' on from my Myrna. You never get a second chance at love like that. It means somethin', ya see? It means it's more than jus' for now."

Cloud snorted and crossed his arms. "Tifa doesn't care about that stuff. She knows it's just a piece of paper. I don't need to piss on my mate to mark her."

Barret leaned back, unruffled. "Those yo' thoughts, or hers?"

While Cloud sputtered over that, Barret pointed over at the man, who was sipping a new drink and watching Tifa as she flitted around the bar. "And if you had pissed on her, maybe you wouldn't hafta deal with guys like that."

Barret got to his feet and lumbered away, waiting until he neared the bar to holler, "Yo, Teef! What's on the menu?"

Cloud scowled at his drink. What did Barret know? Well, obviously Barret knew Tifa, but he didn't know her as well as Cloud did. She would have said something if marriage was something she really wanted. Even if she didn't come right out and say it, Tifa would test the waters, try to see where Cloud stood with it.

Like the time she woke up from that dream?

The memory came out of nowhere. 'Marry me,' she had blurted in the dead of the night, her eyes wide and fearful.

Is that what she had been doing then, testing the waters? But that was years ago, and she had just woken up, crying from her dream. She was just looking for comfort. That's all it was.

But as he watched her bustling around the bar, smiling at the patrons, delivering a pick-me-up as much as hot meal or cold drink, he couldn't help thinking about who Tifa really was. What if she thought he didn't want it? His reaction to her midnight plea made his thoughts on it clear enough. He scowled to himself. 'Damn it, Tifa. Why can't you just say what you really think?'

Cloud stood up and marched behind the bar, fueled by liquid courage. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her to him. "Tifa. We need to talk."

The dark liquid she was in the middle of pouring sloshed onto the bar, but her reactions were quick, and only a bit was spilled. The smile she'd been sharing with her customers faded when her eyes met his. She slammed the bottle on the bar and shoved his hands away. "I'm working, Cloud," she snapped, giving him one hard look before turning back to the old man at the bar with a smile. "Sorry about that, Charlie."

"That's alright, dear," the old man said, smiling serenely, his eyes flickering quickly to the side to get a glimpse of the man who acted like he owned her.

Cloud looked at the old man, and at Tifa, who was pointedly ignoring him. Gods, he'd had too much to drink. He'd forgotten that they'd been fighting, and she was probably still angry over that. He sighed. "Tifa, please, it's important," he said, careful not to touch her this time.

Her mouth tightened, but she still refused to look at him. "Fine. Go wait in the kitchen. I will come talk to you when I take my break."

Cloud steadied himself with a hand on the bar, studying her angry profile. There were things that needed to be said before he could talk to her about the future. "Okay," he said softly, slipping carefully past her to get to the kitchen door. He walked into the kitchen, still messy from the dinner rush, sat down at the little table, and rested his head on his arms. The loud sounds of the bar were muted back there. He felt like a naughty child, sent to sit in the corner to think about what he did. So naturally, he thought about what he had done.

Now that the anger was gone, he was able to see their fight more objectively. And, objectively speaking, he had been an asshole. She wasn't right about everything, either, and maybe she could have said some things a little more nicely, but did it matter? It was a silly argument that, when it came right down to it, was about nothing important.

Cloud groaned and sat up. Self-reflection really sucked. So, she was rightfully pissed at him. It probably wasn't the best time to ask her about their future as a couple. He glanced over at the stacks of dirty dishes and splattered appliances. It would take Tifa several hours after closing to get that all cleaned up, meaning it would be very late when she came to bed. It wouldn't be a good time to talk then, either.

He sighed and dropped his head back down on the table. The room spun slightly. He felt like he needed to be able to think this through, but he was drunk, and thoughts were hard. He felt himself drifting, and he let himself go with the pleasant sensation. He dreamt of Tifa – nice dreams, where she had a gleaming ring on her finger, and every time some other guy looked at her, they were blinded by the shine of the ring and looked away.

A loud slamming sound brought him back with a jerk, and long-ingrained reflexes brought him instantly to his feet, reaching for a sword that wasn't there.

"Well? What do you want?" Tifa demanded.

Cloud squinted behind her at the door swinging wildly on its hinges. She had smacked it open so hard that it had banged against the wall. "Tifa?"

"I don't have long, so spit it out," she said shortly.

He blinked and shook his head to clear it, and he remembered. They had fought. She was angry. She eyed him warily as he closed the distance between them, but he stopped in front of her and took her hands in his. "I'm an asshole," he said sincerely.

The angry little dimple between her brows eased. "What?"

"Tifa…I hate when we fight. It was stupid, and I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Tifa didn't seem to know what to say. It wasn't like him to figure that out on his own. "I…uh…"

He released her hands and held open his arms, offering instead of taking. "I'm sorry," he said again, looking at her with those puppy dog eyes, ocean blue and just as deep. She came closer, allowing herself to be enfolded in his familiar arms. He leaned the side of his head against hers. "It was stupid. I was stupid. Forgive me?"

He felt her body soften and relax in his embrace. "I'm sorry, too. Let's not fight anymore, ok?"

"Never again," he whispered, lowering his head to kiss her. She responded, as she always did, to his touch, but she pulled away before things could get too heated.

"I...have to get back," she said, looking abashed.

"Tifa, wait," Cloud said suddenly. "Let's get married."

Her first reaction was a startled laugh, then her eyes widened, and then they narrowed again as she shook her head. "You're drunk."

"Yeah," he acknowledged. He wasn't seeing the problem here. He was probably more open and honest when he was drunk than any other time.

"You can't…ask someone like that. Not when you're drunk."

His brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"Because it's…it's an important life decision." She looked at him sadly, and he had no idea what she might be thinking. "We'll talk again when you're sober," she said. She gave him a little smile and backed out through the door.

Cloud looked up at the clock. The bar would be closing in three hours. He would probably be sober by then. Then they would talk. He felt a sense of urgency to discuss it, as if someone were waiting in the shadows to take her away if he didn't claim her immediately. Then the dirty dishes caught his attention, and he frowned. Well, he would definitely be sober in five hours. 'But…what if…' His brain was trying to form some kind of sober thought, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He chased it around until it suddenly became crystal clear. His face lit up. He was going to need water. Lots and lots of water.

Three hours later, Tifa came through the kitchen door, looking much wearier than she had at her last break. Or perhaps it was just that the gallon or two of water he had drank (and subsequently peed out, several times) had diluted the alcohol enough for him to see clearly. She gave him a weary smile, and then plodded over to the sink. She was moving on autopilot, and it wasn't until she stood right in front of the sink that she noticed anything different.

All of the dishes had been washed. The stove sparkled, even the dark, burned parts that she could never seem to get clean. The fridge was spotless. The counters gleamed. The floor was immaculate. She revolved slowly on the spot, taking in all the work that she no longer had to do. "Cloud, did you—?"

He smiled and shrugged. "I didn't want to wait," he said, and she looked at him in confusion. "To talk," he clarified.

Her eyes widened. "Oh. Right. Okay. Let's talk. I'm all yours."

'All mine? Does she really mean that?'

They returned to the little kitchen table and sat down. He met her eyes, desperately wondering what she was thinking. "I want…" No, that wasn't the right way to start. Wasn't he supposed to have a ring or something? His brow furrowed. Maybe he should have thought this through a little better.

"Cloud?" Tifa prompted.

"Let's go for a walk," he blurted.

"Now? It's…the middle of the night. The kids are sleeping."

"Barret's here, remember?" Cloud said, waving away her protests. He didn't understand how she could have forgotten, considering that he could hear Barret's snoring from the farthest bedroom. Tifa frowned, but allowed herself to be led out the back door. Cloud locked it behind them, knowing she would have already locked the front. Tifa's routine was as predictable as the sunrise.

They started down the winding sidewalk that led to the alley, and Tifa rubbed her arms absently. "Are you cold?" Cloud asked, stopping abruptly. "We can grab a coat."

"It's fine," Tifa said, dropping her hands to her side. "We won't be gone long anyway, right?"

"R-right," Cloud said, beginning to walk again. He glanced over at her. Should he take her hand? He didn't usually when they walked together, but this was different. Maybe he should try to get her in a romantic mood first. It was a romantic evening, right? He glanced up at the sky. It was cloudy, only a few stars visible through the murky cover. He glanced down at his boots as they entered the grass, feeling the heavy dew seeping through the holes he had never gotten around to fixing. He looked over at Tifa again. Her thin canvas shoes were soaked, and she had her arms crossed, huddling for warmth. Maybe this wasn't the best time. Maybe he should plan this better, try to do something nice. But Barret had gotten in his head, and again he felt that sense of urgency, like if he waited any longer, she might suddenly realize what a loser he was and get away before it was too late.

He pulled in a deep breath. "We should get married."

Her reaction was not exactly awe inspiring, although he supposed his delivery wasn't, either. They continued walking. She chewed her bottom lip and looked over at him. "Cloud…"

"I'm sober," he said earnestly.

Her smile flickered for a quick moment. "I know. I can tell," she said with a wry look. "I'm just wondering…why?"

"What? What kind of question is that?" he asked, feeling a little insulted. She should know why.

"I mean, why now," Tifa said, tucking her hands under her arms, searching for a spot of warmth for her frozen fingers.

Cloud hesitated. "Does it matter?" he asked. "Do you…not want to get married?"

"No, I…I do," she said, "but…"

"But…?"

"It's just really sudden," she blurted. "We have this horrible fight, then you manhandle me in the middle of the bar—"

"I wouldn't call it manhandling," he muttered.

"—And then you come out apologizing and suddenly want to get married, when you haven't said a word about it for ten years!" Tifa's voice grew louder as she grew more agitated. "I don't know what that means, Cloud! Are you going to leave? Are you going to die? There must be some reason for you to–"

Cloud stopped walking and gripped her upper arms to calm her, but he was distracted by just how cold they felt. He really didn't remember how it felt to be normal, but surely it wasn't comfortable to be this cold. Pulling her into his arms was more of an instinct than a planned move, but she huddled gratefully in his warmth.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said finally as she calmed. "I've always known you weren't going anywhere, but you should be able to say that, too. If this will convince you, then I want to do it."

Her chuckle was muffled against his chest. "You want to get married to soothe my insecurities?"

He pulled back slightly so he could look her in the eyes. "I want you to be happy, Tifa. As secure and happy as I am. That's all."

Tifa stared into his eyes for a long time. He wished she would say something, or give some indication of what she was thinking. He was just about to suggest that they go back home, when she said softly, "Okay."

He blinked a few times before it registered. "Okay? Does that…does that mean yes?"

Her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded. "Yes. I will. We should. Let's do it." She laughed awkwardly, sniffling.

His smile broadened to match hers, but quickly faded. "I didn't…there's no ring…or anything. Should I have one by now? I'm supposed to, aren't I?"

Tifa laughed again, pulling her hands away from the welcome heat of his body, but still within the protective circle of his arms. "You gave it to me a long time ago," she said, holding up her right hand. The wolf ring he had given her years ago was still there, tarnished and faded, but still doing its job, keeping watch over her when he couldn't. She tugged it off and slid it onto her left hand. "There," she said, showing it to him. "It's official."

Cloud smiled with relief this time. Was that it? Was there anything else he was supposed to do, or say? Why didn't someone write a book on how a guy was supposed to do this? All women seemed to know these things, like they had a secret society of woman-only information that they passed along in whispers and giggles, and men could only pick up tiny slivers. Tifa rescued him from his spiraling thoughts. "Can we go back now?" she asked, sniffling her reddened nose. "It's freezing out here."

So that was how he had proposed to her – with her feet like blocks of ice and clinging to him for heat rather than affection. It wasn't his finest moment. In the end, they had gotten married in a very simple ceremony, with only their closest friends attending. Tifa was never one for big gestures or lavish parties herself, but she had taken obvious care to keep it low key, knowing how uncomfortable it would have made Cloud. It was so very Tifa to be thinking about his comfort instead of her own happiness.

Was this the same? Maybe she really wanted a baby. Maybe she always had, but she never brought it up because she knew how he felt about it, and he only knew her true feelings because he had caught her in an emotionally raw moment. He scowled and shook his head. No matter her reasons or her true feelings, it was not the same, because there was absolutely no way he would ever allow it. He would do almost anything to make her happy; anything but this.

He couldn't allow a thing like that to exist ever again.