Cloud sighed and gently brushed a strand of hair back from Marlene's moist brow before moving to touch the stigma on Denzel's forehead. It was so late it was nearly morning, and the children slept easily in their twin beds, unaware of Cloud watching over them. Though he had essentially moved out, Cloud would still come by in the night to check in his office for notes left by Tifa, or simply to drink in the sight of the two innocent children who loved him so much. There was a purity to them that Cloud wanted to preserve, though he knew it was useless…

"Cloud?"

He straightened, lowering his head. He never could meet Tifa's eyes anymore, couldn't bear the straightforward understanding he always found there. You have no idea what I hide from you, Tifa…you would hate me if you knew…

She stood in the doorway of the children's room, her hair loose around her shoulders and her eyes glassy with sleep. She smiled gently at him and looked as if she'd like to hug him, but she knew better than to try.

"It's late," she whispered. "Are you staying?"

Cloud shook his head, stepping back from the children's beds and keeping his head down, bright blue eyes staring blankly at the wall.

"I have to go—"

"Cloud!" Tifa sharply said, barring his way, knowing he would not put his hands on her to move her. "Do we disgust you so much?"

"Tifa," Cloud breathed, shaking his head a little, drifting back from her.

"Why did you come here?" she asked, her voice gentle. "They hardly know you anymore…I know I don't."

"I…" Cloud glanced at the wall, trying to get his thoughts in order. Why had he come? He'd been so unsettled by the boy, by the potent memories of Sephiroth…he craved to be near something unspoiled and whole, to see people who loved him without judgment no matter what he had done.

"What do we have to do for you to love us?" Tifa questioned, her eyes liquid in the faint light.

Cloud squeezed his eyes closed, hurting for her. Aerith, at least, had understood him. She had loved him even knowing what he was, even knowing what he'd done, and she'd never asked him for more than he could give. Tifa, he knew instinctively, would not settle for less than all of him, would not suffer the ghost of his lover in his life, and Cloud simply could not release it. Having lost so much already, his memories and guilt were all he had.

"Tifa," he softly sighed, suddenly weary.

She nodded a little, her mouth pursing and her arm dropping loosely to her side.

"You look dead on your feet," she said, deciding to let it go. "Come on, I'll fix you a drink."

Cloud nodded, solemnly following her down the creaking stairs to the bar where Tifa was most at home. He sat on a barstool, his head throbbing and feeling too hot—his thoughts kept skipping back to that boy, worrying at the encounter like a dog with a bone. And each time he felt the sharp sting of teeth in his memory he stifled a hiss, disturbed by how much so little had affected him. He felt more restless than he had in months, the need to be held almost a physical ache.

"Here," Tifa said, sliding a glass over to him and sitting next to him, her chin in her palm. She always looked at him with such open admiration, loving him for things he simply wasn't—beautiful when his heart was so dark, a hero when he truly had performed the ultimate act of destruction, a friend when he pulled so far from them all. Tifa didn't see him at all, she saw a shell with glowing mako eyes and a body toned by trials.

"Do you think you'll ever stop being sad, Cloud?" she asked, watching him spin the drink idly in his strong hands. Sometimes she wanted to shake that glazed lethargy from his eyes, just to see shock on his beautiful face—just to see something besides that closed, cool mask. Softening, she said, "They miss you, Cloud."

"I miss them, too," he murmured, distracted by the jade eyes flashing in his memory, thoughts drawn again and again to the curve of that boy's back, the delicacy of his throat, the plump pink lips that had touched him with a skill that made a mockery of his innocent face.

"Do you miss me?" Tifa teased, yet there was an undercurrent of hurt in her voice.

"Tifa, please," Cloud whispered, tilting his head away from her. "You know that…I need time—"

"Time for what, Cloud?" she demanded, her tone still soft. "Time for Marlene to grow up? Time for Denzel to start hating you because you promised him a family and gave him this?"

He winced, but was somehow disturbingly grateful for her words that flared his guilt to a white-hot heat and chased the thoughts of that boy from his head. He cherished the pain, feeling as if he earned it.

"Stop pushing us away, Cloud," Tifa begged, and dared to touch his shoulder, muscle ticking beneath her warm palm.

His head swung around, his glowing blue eyes pinning her and almost angry, resenting the gentle touch, resisting any comfort. For a second he held her eyes, and then lowered them to the bar, lips parting softly as he searched for words.

"You're hurting…" she sighed, tugging at him gently. "Come here, Cloud."

He pulled against her, resisting, but Tifa wasn't having it. She knew he wouldn't stoop to actually rejecting her—Cloud preferred to be non-confrontational, preferred that others take their cues from his reactions and treat him as he wanted. But Tifa was ignoring his cues, ignoring the narrowing of his eyes and the tensing of his body, ignoring the way he stiffened in response to the compassion she offered. The last thing Cloud or his guilt wanted was comfort.

She stood and tugged him to her, cradling his head against her chest, pressing his cheek into the pillowy softness of her breasts. He strained away but her strong arms held him fast and he gave in to the comfort she offered, sighing softly. Tifa crooned to him as she did to the children, stroking his wild hair with one arm stretched down his back, idly twining her fingers in the leather of his harness.

"Will you just relax?" she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice as her fingers moved up to massage the base of his neck, continuing her crooning.

Cloud closed his eyes and settled against her, circling her narrow waist with his arms and hugging her close. It was a simple comfort but he'd denied himself any sort of contact, hardly even deigning to hold the children's hands when they accompanied him out. It hurt them, he knew—but it hurt him worse, and that was all that mattered to Cloud.

"Cloud," Tifa crooned, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head. "Stay here tonight?'

He stiffened immediately, tensing to pull away, but Tifa tightened her hold on him, hastily saying, "Just here, at the bar."

"I can't," he hoarsely said, and pressed his face between the softness of her breasts, breathing harshly.

Tifa curved her body to hold him, supporting his slumping weight with the strength that had never failed her or any of the people she cared for.

"Please, Cloud," she breathed, ashamed to be so needy but too true to deny what she felt. And if Cloud could not accept that, then so be it—Tifa certainly wouldn't stop trying. "Can't you just give a little of yourself?"

He knew that emotion, that drowning and consuming sadness to see the one you loved so close, so near, but so utterly withheld. What would he not have done to feel Sephiroth's touch? To hear his voice? To abandon himself to him? How badly had it hurt each time he'd been passed by, unnoticed and unwanted, so utterly rejected it seemed his heart would shatter? Could he continue to do the same thing to Tifa, whom he loved—if only with the habitual, absent love of a childhood friend?

He sighed into her skin, the tension draining out of him.

"Come on," Tifa whispered, sliding her hand down his arm in a way that awoke goosebumps on his skin, but inspired nothing in his libido. She twined her fingers with his and eased him to his feet, gently tugging him up the stairs and to her room.

Cloud mentally dragged his feet, dreading it. Women had always come easily to him when he was young and untried, even moreso after Sephiroth had instilled that darkness in him—they craved to find out what made him tick, to pierce the armor of his coldness and unleash the beast inside him. He'd taken them in anonymous rooms, feeling nothing more than the physical reaction. After Sephiroth's return, after he'd killed him for the second and final time, Cloud couldn't bear another's hands on him. If he couldn't have that then he wanted nothing.

Tifa pulled him down onto her bed and smiled at him shyly, the dark curtain of her hair spilling over her shoulder. She was so beautiful that it made Cloud wonder if more was wrong with him than he thought—surely with so strong and loyal and lovely a woman, he could find the willingness to bond with her?

She leaned into his heat, her hands on his shoulders, and gave him a gentle kiss. She was no novice to the art of love, but Cloud felt nothing. Nothing.

"It's okay," she murmured, drawing his hand to her breast so that his palm filled with warm, soft flesh. Her touch on his belly was gentle, seeking. "You won't hurt me, Cloud."

But I can hurt you, Tifa. I would hurt you. I need to hurt you…

They kissed again and the stigma bit at him, his mind filling suddenly with memories of Sephiroth and that dark, sweet pleasure.

Cloud gasped, eyes popping open to meet Tifa's. She looked concerned and soft, ready to mother him through anything. But it wasn't those chocolate brown eyes, so deep and dark, that he wanted to see. He wanted pale jade eyes with slit pupils, cold and mesmerizing as a snake's. He wanted cool amusement and harshness coupled with a relentless pursuit of pleasure. He wanted pain and all the myriad pleasures it could bring…

That boy sprang to mind again, the curve of his cheek and his feline eyes, the heat of him through all that leather and the spicy, sweet scent of his skin. The feeling of his teeth ripping up through his skin.

Cloud rose abruptly, feeling his body respond instantly to thoughts of that boy. That boy.

"Cloud?" Tifa whispered, hurt and confused, looking up at him where he stood.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," Cloud murmured, shutting her out again, lowering his eyes as he swung away. He heard her soft, sad voice call his name again as he moved out into the hallway, keeping his tread light as he passed the children's open door. He skimmed down the stairs and glanced in his office, spying the picture on his desk. He paused a moment, regarding it—it was taken outside of 7th Heaven when all this first began, Tifa leaning down to embrace Marlene and Denzel, Cloud standing with his arms crossed defensively in the background, aloof from them.

His incredible blue eyes swept shut for a heartbeat before he got it under control. A moment later he moved silently down the stairs and out onto the street.