7. TUCKED AWAY
It had been hours since their exhilarating escape from ShinRA headquarters, but adrenaline still pulsed through Tifa's veins.
So much had happened that her mind was left reeling, but it wasn't because of Sephiroth's appearance and the murder of president ShinRA. It wasn't the excitement of escaping from their prison cells, nor the thrill of speeding down the freeway in a van to escape Midgar and the soldiers trying to recapture them. Now, as they walked through the lush plains past the dry outskirts of city limits, what had her heart pounding was the sky. The sky! Oh, how she'd missed it! It was such a distraction that Tifa barely noticed anything else as they marched along. Their party had split up temporarily, hoping to look less conspicuous as they traveled out in the open. With the goal or reuniting in the nearby village of Kalm, Barret and Red XIII were traveling separately from Aerith, Cloud and Tifa.
"Ah!" Tifa gasped, tripping momentarily over a small rock. Her fascination with the wide blue expanse had already caused her to take several missteps.
Cheeks pinkened from embarrassment, she glanced at her companions and readied herself for light-hearted teasing from the flower girl. Luckily, she hadn't seen. Aerith was too busy skipping to and fro, holding onto her boots and letting her bare feet be tickled by the green grass. In that moment, Tifa wasn't sure whether it was more breathtaking to watch the sky or the twirling brunette enjoying her first taste of freedom from Midgar's looming expanse. Elmyra had revealed the sad story of Aerith's past on the night Sector Seven's upper plate crashed and turned Tifa's new life and livelihood into dust. The last remaining Cetra had lived in the Midgar slums since a very young age, and had likely not seen the sky for over twenty years. What joy and freedom she must be feeling—finally free after being unable to escape her oppressive home. She danced and spun, humming a little tune in such a manner that reminded her of Marlene's childish grace and innocent play.
Oh, Marlene. How wonderful it would be to get that little girl out here into nature: to experience the renewing smell of the prairie air and dirt, the sight of the clouds, and the simple. She deserved to experience the irreplaceable childhood right of climbing a tree and running freely to play without the dangers that slum life presented. Once this is all over, Tifa swore she'd expose her to the magic of an outdoor world free of debris and filth.
Aerith was obviously enjoying herself. But Tifa, too, felt like she was shedding a layer of dead skin under the gentle caress of the midday sun. The sky made her finally able to breathe. It was as if she had been holding in a claustrophobic breath for the five years she spent confined to the slums. Those years, which seemed like a blur of pain and loneliness, had passed. She clung to the faith that the worst was behind her now. Today, all she wanted to do was let herself anticipate nothing but happiness and brightness in her future after living in fear of what was around the next corner for so long. Closing her eyes for a moment, Tifa took a long inhale the fresh, brisk air. The sky stretched out endlessly and it offered her hope. She remembered the brilliant blue sky of her wedding day, and how it had filled her with optimism and excitement. That day, the sun had filtered through the delicate lace of Mama's wedding dress and illuminated the stark white underlay, making Tifa literally glow as her shining countenance reflected the dreams blossoming in her heart.
Oh, how naive she had been. But what reason did she have at the time to doubt her happy ending with Cloud? How was she supposed to know how drastically everything would change within the span of a few short years?
Tifa could feel anxiety pass over her heart as a cloud blocks out the brilliance of the sun. When she was a fifteen year old newlywed, she had truly believed that the hardest part of her life was over. Surviving in her father's house after her mother died had been perilous and sad, and she believed that her marriage and escape from Nibelheim would heal all of the gaping wounds in her heart. That hadn't been so. So why would this escape from Midgar ensure a better life than she'd had in the slums? Tifa tried to rid her mind of these thoughts with the flick of her wrist across her sweaty brow. It was useless to dwell on it now. Looking heavenward for comfort once again, she was amused to think that although so much had changed about herself since the day she and Cloud had exchanged their vows and the circumstances in her life had been flipped completely upside down, the sky somehow remained the same. All this time, it had been shining just as brightly, despite her not being there to see it. During some of the darkest days of her life, the world outside had gone on without missing a beat.
Out of the corner of her eye, Tifa saw Cloud trudging a dozen paces ahead of them. He seemed more like a hero than ever when they had escaped ShinRA headquarters and fled Midgar, and she was proud of him and his confidence.
But he was so distant. He didn't seem to take in the surrounding beauty or relax, even momentarily, to walk beside her or Aerith. Having been so conditioned to the personality of his youth, Tifa found herself continuously scrambling to unravel his new repertoire of moods and speech and behavior. It was harder than she thought to be accepting of this new man who had replaced her dear, familiar spouse, and her heart was constantly soaring and diving on this strange roller coaster. But today, the sky didn't cry with her over the loss of Cloud. Large, billowing clouds cast their shadows upon the open plains as they walked along, floating merrily across their clear blue backdrop. The calm breeze tickled playfully at their skin. Aerith's reaction to the lush grass continuously supplied Tifa with hope and filled her with new energy. But were they really any more liberated than they were before? They were out of Midgar, but on the run nonetheless. Why did she feel like this could be the beginning of a refreshing new chapter in all of their lives?
Perhaps the crisp, pollutant-free air made her able to think clearly for the first time in a long time. Maybe it was the distance between her eyes and the sun and the sky above that made her feel free. She couldn't tell for sure, but decided to cautiously embrace this fledgling hope.
"Can we stop for a moment? I've got a pebble in my boot."
"Alright." Cloud halted and turned to face them, taking the heavy buster sword off of his back and spiking it into the ground so that it stood upright. "Let's take a breather for a few minutes."
Aerith stopped spinning, the momentum of her long braid causing it to gracefully wrap around her shoulder. "You should probably just take them off, like me!"
Jubilance radiated from the sing-song of her voice, from her skin, from the youthful luster in her eyes. Aerith reminded her of spring: all beauty and merriment that chased away the biting frost of a bleak winter. But Tifa felt like a tree that had begun to lose its leaves. She'd once been a starry-eyed child herself—fascinated with love and life and eagerly searching out the small splendor in each day. That was before Mama died and her world had morphed into a dark, frightening place. That was before Cloud had vanished and left her pregnant and alone in the alien Midgar slums. That was before she'd given birth to a baby girl who never had the chance to take a breath.
Breathing in, Tifa closed her eyes. She couldn't let those thoughts swallow her now. Opening them once again, squinting against the blinding light of the sun, she exhaled her hidden sadness into the prairie wind.
Be positive, Tifa. Be positive!
Cloud leaned on the hilt of the buster sword, watching as Aerith floated over towards his wife. They'd come upon a water way and Tifa stopped to sit upon the crumbling stone wall at its edge. He watched with disconnection as she untied her boot, gaze wandering to where the sun casted the girls' shadows upon the rushing brook. They seemed complacent, and for that he was grateful, since it was quite a long way to Kalm and none of them had had the chance to properly prepare for a journey without any foreseen end. In his mind, there was one goal: destroy Sephiroth once and for all. Cloud could care less about Gaia and ShinRA's destruction of the planet's resources.
What he wanted was revenge. Revenge for his mother, revenge for his hometown, revenge for the loss of his innocence and youth. There was no doubt in his mind what that menace had done. He remembered the blistering heat of the flames as Nibelheim disappeared into pillars of smoke. He remembered finding his mother's lifeless body. He remembered how the blood gurgled out of Brian Lockhart's throat as he begged him to take care of Tifa. He'd never forget that, along with so much else, his dreams had died that day. Sephiroth, the greatest hero he'd ever known, had betrayed his trust and made Cloud question the arduous path he'd taken in his own young life. It just wasn't fair. He'd given up everything to try and make SOLDIER. He'd sacrificed his dignity to the bullies at the military academy, left his mother alone in a place where she wasn't appreciated or loved, and even dragged Tifa away from everything she'd ever known. And for what? A dream that had washed through his fingers like water.
He had to be stopped. Before he could cause more people the same pain that Sephiroth had borne upon his own heart. Before he could get away with all that he had done. If Cloud had something to say about it, the great Sephiroth would regret ever crossing SOLDIER, first class Strife.
The wind ruffled golden spikes and sent a chill up Cloud's spine. There were whispers in the air, pulling at his consciousness and demanding his attention. They were the same sorts of whispers he had heard so loudly in ShinRA headquarters.
Weak, you are weak. You are incomplete, Cloud. Come, come to me, and the emptiness in your chest will disappear. I will make you whole.
Without warning, they'd come. They'd start quietly before rushing forth like an ocean's wave and overwhelming his senses. Even his vision would fade for a moment or two—longer if he let it—as the sensation passed over him. Blue eyes wide open, all he saw was blackness as voices hissed into his ears, into his mind, into his very core. Cloud's heart began to thrum wildly in his chest and he longed for the comfort of a familiar pair of arms to hold him and rescue him from these lapses in sanity. He wanted to cry out for help, but his voice would not come when he summoned it. Frightened, he fought against the dark, managing to free his mind from the tangled ropes weaving around it. Restored to the present, Cloud gasped for breath. It was as though he had been under water for a very long time and only barely made it to the surface. Like his heart had sunk into a different place for a single, long moment, and only now returned. Had it been only a minute that had gone by? Or was it longer than that? Confused and upset, he looked around wildly and withdrew his sword from its place in the earth.
Both girls were still near the water, bending slightly forward and tossing rocks into the stream. He could hear Tifa's soft voice, and Aerith answering with a hearty laugh, and the sound drew him back to reality like an anchor. With a dry throat, he called out to his comrades.
Tifa's head whipped around to face him. "Coming!"
Boot now re-secured on her foot, she smiled and bounded over toward her husband. She was happy to respond, thinking that maybe he was looking for her comradery and attention. But instead he turned and continued forging ahead, redirecting them back toward the dirt path. Fearless, Aerith ran ahead to walk at his side, somehow engaging him in lighthearted conversation. How did she do that? How was it so effortless for this almost-stranger to bring out a friendly side of Cloud? His swirling moods made Tifa hesitant to talk with him about anything that wasn't prudent to surviving their current situation and escape from Midgar. Cloud had never truly lashed out at her; it was her own cowardice that held her back. She hated herself for her cautious nature, for her hesitation and lack of confidence that prevented her from pulling her spouse back from the edge of whatever it was that was threatening to consume him.
No. Instead of summoning courage, she couldn't open her mouth to stop any of this. She was willingly giving up her role to someone else and there was no one she could blame but herself.
Heart sinking, Tifa's feet slowed as ugly feelings coiled inside her. Frustration made her fingers curl into loose fists as she marched forward. She tried and failed to push a handful of memories back down to the usually tightly locked corners of her mind: childhood memories when her problems were so small, but seemed like mountains at the time. Mama had taught her piano since she was very small, but she didn't possess natural talent with the instrument like her mentor did. Tifa had had to work at it for hours a day to reach her goals, while it seemed like her mother could learn a song simply by hearing it once. One hot September day, cicadas calling loudly in the trees, she had been trying all morning to master a difficult song without success. All it took was one teasing remark from her father to send her little hands flying down to bang the keys in frustration, but Mama always reacted with grace. She had scooped the young girl onto her lap and placed her hands over Tifa's as she slowly showed her how to play what was giving her trouble.
That day, she'd learned that patience combined with trial and error yield success. Perhaps that was what it would take with Cloud? It was okay to keep failing—as long as she kept trying, right? Maybe her finger placement was wrong, or the combination of keys needed adjusting before they found their harmony. Maybe all they needed was some practice: to find their rhythm and balance. Choosing to walk a pace or two behind the others, Tifa grimaced inwardly when Aerith made a lighthearted joke and Cloud actually smiled. Envy bubbled up inside her. Tifa thought about trying to make him as jealous as he made her. Maybe it would draw his attention back to her and away from the jovial, carefree, fascinating Cetra. She wanted it to take his focus away from the road ahead, away from the distraction of chasing Sephiroth, and back to her.
But Tifa knew herself better than that. She'd yield to his needs because she loved him, but also because of her own fear of facing the fact that maybe he no longer needed her as much as she needed him.
… … …
One rainy afternoon as kids, Cloud had showed Tifa a detailed photo of Sephiroth's legendary sword, the masamune. Kneeling together on the wooden floor of the Strife's front porch, their soft young faces gazed in wonder at the newspaper clipping. The metal had a full grey sheen, and its curves were smooth and perfect. Even the metal handle was beautifully detailed. But upon realizing its true purpose as she listened to Cloud's stories, it ceased to be beautiful at all and became something monsterous instead.
Like that sword, Cloud's dream to be a SOLDIER had been beautiful, but the ugliness in trying to achieve it was evident. Whilst he was a floundering trooper, the pressure had made him anxious and despairing. Many a night he'd come home to their shoebox apartment from his patrols, exhausted and defeated from facing torment from his fellow soldiers and the long hours on his feet. It had discouraged her, as his wife, to watch him struggle so much, but Tifa knew that her quiet support would help him believe that he could still be the hero he strove to be one day—SOLDIER operative or not. But now that he'd apparently made it as a first class SOLDIER, it seemed to have sucked the heart and soul and compassion from him. But it certainly seemed to have pumped a certain amount of pompousness and a strange brand of confidence into him, leaving Tifa to analyze this strange behavior endlessly.
It had been raining since they arrived in Kalm: exhausted physically and emotionally after all that had happened in Midgar. After their brief rendezvous at the town's inn, they all decided to grab a well-deserved meal at the tavern. But while everyone else's minds were on filling their stomachs, all Tifa could focus on was how confused she was. While they had met in their rented room, Cloud had told them all about how he had worked with Sephiroth and how Nibelheim had burned to the ground. He told them about his confrontation with his crazed fellow first class SOLDIER in the mako reactor, and how only his skill and strength had allowed him to somehow survive. At first, she concluded that he was simply lying. After all, he had never been anything more prestigious than a trooper within ShinRA's military system to her knowledge. It seemed that Tifa wasn't the only one having trouble believing Cloud's story.
"Come on, Teef! Tell the waitress your order," Barret called, breaking her out of her reverie. "I'm starving!"
She snapped back to attention when Cloud took her hand from across the table. Now self-conscious, Tifa stuttered out an order of an omelet and toast before returning her gaze to her lap. As hard as she tried to shrug it off for now, her mind wouldn't rest as it tried to untangle the scrambled mess that was her husband. Was he telling such tales to try to impress the others? He sounded like a child making up a story: twisting the parts that wouldn't have portrayed him in a good light, like how friendly he made the other villagers seem when he came there with Sephiroth to inspect the reactor. Tifa hadn't been there, but she had observed the way people treated Cloud and his mother in Nibelheim during childhood, and it was always with avoidance or detached politeness at best. If he wasn't honest about even details such as these, could she trust him to tell her what was really going on? Could she trust him with anything?
The smell of smoke and fried food reminded her of Seventh Heaven and a tiny wave of nausea rolled in Tifa's stomach. She felt Cloud's eyes upon her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet them. There were so many things she wanted to ask him about Nibelheim, about his mother (who had been her dear friend), and about her father when he saw them before they supposedly died in the fire. But she lacked the privacy and the nerve to make such inquiries, and chose to swirl the straw in her glass of water instead.
"So ya'll got in a fight with the great Sephiroth and you actually lived to tell about it?" Barret huffed in amusement. "That's a likely story for a little waif like you."
Cloud's eyes darkened at the comment, and he let go of Tifa's hand to crush his napkin in a frustrated fist.
"I've got the scar to prove it," he said, tone as grim as his countenance. "But I…I don't remember the specifics is all. It's hard to recall what happened after that."
Red XIII cut Barret off before he could make any further irksome comments, speaking up from his seat on the floor beside Aerith's chair. "You're the only one here who has known Sephiroth personally. Do you have any idea where he may have gone?"
"Not a clue," Cloud admitted, blonde head dipping forward slightly.
He hated feeling this way: like a criminal being interrogated. Barret was relentless with his unspoken accusations and vocalized criticisms, and it wasn't what he needed right now. Tifa's eyes were glued to the lacquered wooden table top when he needed her to back him up. Isn't that what spouses did?
"Someone like that can't travel around unnoticed," Aerith piped in. She took a hunk of bread out of the basket at the center of the table and began to butter it calmly, like a guest at a tea party instead of a fugitive on the run from the most powerful corporation on the planet. "I mean, he doesn't exactly have a low profile, does he? If we ask around, we're bound to get a lead."
Cloud was grateful to have Aerith beside him. It felt like his delicate mind was always a bit jumbled, and she somehow this girl made it both better and worse. But she always seemed to have unwavering confidence in him and pushed him forward with eagerness and cheer. It didn't seem like he could get that from anyone else these days, and the tired ex-SOLDIER drank in that attention like a sponge.
At the bar, a group of patrons had broken out into drunken song: merrily clapping and slurring out-of-tune lyrics. Aerith giggled as Barret sighed and rubbed his temples in response, and Cloud watched the singers out of the corner of his eye. Within a few minutes, most of the tavern's patrons had joined in the jaunty tune, including the flower girl beside him. Barret finally broke into a grin and elbowed Tifa, prompting a small smile to grace her lips as well. It was what they all needed after the stress of the previous day's events: a little senseless cheer to lift their spirits. But surrounded by others, happily shouting and swaying, Cloud felt as lonely as if he were wandering through a wasteland. It was so hard to find contentment or happiness anymore.
As he sat there, watching, he began to think about the forms that human happiness, and unhappiness, might take, and where they might beckon. Here were groups of people with a myriad of different backgrounds and problems, yet most everyone had joined in this rowdy and senseless display. How did they all abandon the things that plagued them in order to take part in such a light hearted thing? Even Aerith, after all that had happened in her life, somehow put it all behind her to join in when an opportunity for silliness presented itself. He studied woman beside him, who was made rich at heart by the hopes and peace of mind she could look forward to when by finding all the tiny pleasures in life. How was it so easy for her to find happiness when it eluded him constantly? What was her secret?
The singing came to an unorganized end shortly after their food arrived, and the group dissolved into choppy conversations between stretches of exhausted silence as they filled their rumbling bellies. They were waiting for the waitress to bring their bill when it happened. The unmistakable wail of an infant broke through the air. A few tables down, a mother gently rocked her baby, cradling its tiny head to her chest. The man next to her—whom Cloud assumed was the father—stroked at the child's sparse hair. He was transfixed: staring at the small family with electric blue. That noise. It made something wretched and painful spread through his chest, yet he couldn't pry his sight from the shrieking little red face. He pressed his lips tightly together to avoid grimacing as Tifa's small voice echoed through his memory.
"S-she died…"
There was a jarring clink and he snapped out of his momentary reverie. Across the table, Tifa had spilled what was left of her glass of water and was trying to clean it up with shaking hands. It was without question that the same trigger had brought about Tifa's characteristic nervous clumsiness. Cloud fought to see her eyes, which she kept carefully shrouded by her bangs, but her reddening face told him all he needed to know. Why couldn't he have protected her from this? His blood began to boil, surprising even him. He could feel the mako tingling under his skin: reserved energy waiting for the chance to strike out into action, like an animal loosely chained. This superhuman strength was helpful for battling foes, but completely useless in every other aspect of his life, and it was this one that needed the most attention at this point. But he couldn't bear to address it. And the way his wife looked, neither could she.
There was such a distance between them now. Did he still feel the same affection for her that he did when they were married? Why was it so hard to remember how he had felt back then? Come to think of it, why was it so hard to recall the majority of the smaller details of their relationship? It was worrisome, and he tried to avoid thinking about it.
For a second, they locked eyes, and he tried to analyze what he saw in those deep, crimson pools. But these days, she may as well be a stranger to him and he loathed that thought. But Cloud knew that relationships based on feelings alone were ephemeral and transitory. The only real stability in marriage is produced by firm commitments that hold two people steady when emotions are fluctuating wildly. It had all been so simple before, this union that they had. Now it had spiraled into a complicated mess, and Cloud wasn't sure how to sort it all out. The blonde stood suddenly, slapping some gil onto the table.
"Let's go."
Barret seemed about to protest, but Aerith started to push him out of his chair before he could open his mouth. Tifa, guilt ridden, slid out of her seat to follow obediently with Red XIII at her side. As the exhausted crew weaved through the smoke and bodies crowding the tavern, a pair of green eyes was watching two of her comrades, analyzing the tension that had risen suddenly between them.
It seemed to the Cetra that ShinRA and Sephiroth and the fate of the planet weren't the only issues they were facing.
A/N: Hey all! I'm SO sorry for the enormous delay with this update—my baby was finally born and I've been stuck in the tornado of new motherhood! Thank you for all the well wishes. Hope you are all doing well!
