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THE STARS WE DREAMED OF
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10
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The handcuffs fall from Tifa's wrists to the ground; removing them took longer than she expected due to a lack of practice and the shaking of her hands. She picks them up and throws them in the dumpster behind where she's crouching, hidden from view. The steady cascade of footsteps beyond the alley has her on edge, but she is far enough from the Detainment Centre for her thoughts to clear. She needs to plan; she knows she needs to, but her mind keeps replaying what happened less than ten minutes ago.
Everything went by so fast.
She'd only been a few meters behind Aerith when the girl came to a halt, and unleashed the water and ice in a fearsome display. All the guards in the area had focused on her. Tifa hadn't hesitated to seize the opportunity in front of her. She'd run.
The world had blurred around her as she had escaped. Making use of her ability might not have been the smartest move considering the amount of security in the area, but she couldn't let herself be taken inside. For a second, the thought of grabbing Aerith had danced through her head, only to be extinguished when she had realized how much danger that would put them both in. Leaving her behind sent pangs of guilt through Tifa, and still does. Though she didn't see what happened to Aerith, the outcome seems too obvious.
A loud commotion coming from the street reminds her she can't stay where she is for long. Dwelling on her thoughts will have to wait. For now, she needs to contact Avalanche; it's too risky to head to 7th Heaven, and she doesn't want to place the others in more danger than they might already be. The soldiers at the Sector jail had searched her, but all she'd brought on her walk was cash — hidden in an inside pocket — her cell phone, and a small knife. The old soldier had grunted when he'd found the tiny weapon strapped to the waistband of her pants; he'd grabbed it and the phone and chucked them in a bin with other discarded belongings. The cash, however, is still stored in her jacket. She doesn't have a lot of it, but it could come in handy.
Tifa gets on her feet, and ties her hair up in a simple knot at the base of her neck; her long hair is one of her most recognizable features. She keeps her head lowered as she merges into the busy street, walking in the opposite direction to the PDC. Crossing a checkpoint is out of the question and she doesn't have her train pass with her.
What she needs is a computer. All members of Avalanche have a coded distress message—bland and trivial false rumours the members have memorized. They can relay them through an online forum Yuffie created in their first year as a group. Yuffie monitors it religiously; she uses it to feed rumours and gather information. It prizes anonymity, and became a nest for gossip, making it rather useful to someone able to sift through all the distorted information. All Tifa needs to do is find a computer and post her message, and Yuffie will be notified of her whereabouts.
Tifa comes across a few places boasting free net access, but they all require the patrons to bring their own devices. The others ask for identification to create a paid log-in, and she doesn't care to leave a trace. She's probably wanted by Shinra right about now. Her anxiety skyrockets as she wanders around, unable to find a place and avoiding patrols the best she can. She stops a moment to bring up her mental map of the Sector. Walking around aimlessly won't do any good.
She observes the landmarks surrounding her, doing her best to remember what lies beyond the streets she's been sticking to. Offices, cafes, shops—the library. Jackpot. Free computer access not demanding personal information. Tifa turns on the next street, quickening her pace. She feels exposed out here, tensing every time someone comes too close or eyes linger on her a second too long.
When the library comes into view, she slows down to normal speed, doing her best to appear casual despite her uneasiness. She blends into the stream of people going in and out. Once inside, she doesn't linger in the entrance, and makes a beeline for the computer section. Most of the desks are occupied, but she finds a free one in a corner.
The computer is slow, and Tifa grows anxious as the browser takes a while to load the forum's page. Once it does, she scrolls down to the designed topic which people rarely use. It takes an eternity to post her personal coded message as a guest with the computer's speed, but as soon as it goes through, the tension in her shoulders drops. It's a step towards safety, though she's not out of danger yet.
She refreshes the page every thirty seconds, waiting for Yuffie's reply. The next five minutes feel like the longest of her life; she notices all the cameras hanging from the ceiling, all the security guards, all the people, all the risks. Tifa almost sighs aloud when a message pops up. It's a simple Where did you get this info, but it's the answer they settled on.
Where all information is free, Tifa writes back, hoping her meaning is clear enough.
Forty seconds later, another message follows: This isn't the right topic for this. You should move to Sector 3 Gossip.
Tifa types a quick My bad before standing up and walking out. On the surface, Yuffie's reply is a simple online forum suggestion, but to Tifa, it signifies she needs to head to their only Sector 3 hideout. It's on the boundary of the Sector, near the external wall and far away from the PDC. She'd take the train until the last station before Sector 4, but her only option for now is to walk.
She does so, quickly. It takes her almost one hour before she reaches the dilapidated apartment complex. Homeless residents squatting in abandoned buildings and gangs vying for more territory inhabit the periphery of the Sector. It's far from being empty; Tifa's appearance in the zone raises no alarms. She knows these places well, anyway. She used to call them home as a kid.
The room they appointed as their hideout is on the sixth floor, at the end of the hallway. The door is locked, so she knocks three times in a specific pattern. She gets no answer. It makes sense, she thinks as she leans against the door; whoever Yuffie is sending to help her would need around one hour to get here.
She doesn't have to wait long; less than three minutes of pacing later, Tifa hears footsteps. That someone might have followed her crosses her mind. Just in case, she tries the first door to her right; the doorknob turns easily, and she slips inside, keeping the door ajar. The footsteps get closer and closer, until they are replaced by the particular Avalanche knocks, but Tifa stays where she is. Maybe she's being paranoid, maybe she isn't. She doesn't care to find out.
More footsteps resonate through the building, putting Tifa on edge as they near. Soldiers?
"You—walk too—fast—dude, I can't—"
Tifa rolls her eyes before pushing the door to her hiding place open. On the other side, Yuffie leans her hands on her knees, panting. Next to her, Wedge looks a mix of annoyed and sympathetic. The sense of familiarity forms a lump in Tifa's throat, threatening to have her burst into tears. All that happened during the last twenty-four hours is overcoming her at once. But now isn't the right time; she bites down on her bottom lip and steps forward.
"Let's get inside," she says, curt.
Yuffie raises a hand, handing her the key to the apartment. Wedge gives her a perplexed glance.
"Why didn't you pick the lock?"
"I got nothing on me. Not even a hairpin," Tifa replies as she opens the door and walks inside. The place is dusty and grimy, but it's stocked with some supplies and she feels safe here. Well, safer.
"What happened, anyway?"
Yuffie locks the door behind her, coming to join them in the middle of the room. Her breathing is still irregular when she speaks next.
"Barret's gonna kill you. He's been going out of his mind when you didn't come back."
The thought of Barret stings the back of her eyes; she blinks the tears away. It hits her now—how close she came to never going home. She drops unto one of the two chairs. Yuffie follows suit; Wedge stands behind her.
"I got arrested," Tifa begins. "There was a — raid, I guess. It was weird." She shakes her head. "When they ran my ID, something must have popped up because they brought me in."
Wedge crosses his arms. "You know why?"
"They didn't say. But I think…" She sighs. "I think it might have to do with Avalanche."
Yuffie's eyes narrow, and she brings out her phone, scrolling and typing furiously. Tifa and Wedge ignore her.
"I don't understand, though," Wedge says. "You've always been super careful."
Tifa shrugs. She's been asking herself the same thing since yesterday. "Guess I must have slipped at some point."
"Guys!" Yuffie exclaims as she flails her phone around, hitting Wedge in the chest. "This is bad. You're actually on their Public Safety threats list thing."
Wedge curses. Tifa stares. "I'm on what?"
"It's like a wanted list, but exclusive to the military." No one asks how she found it; Yuffie can discover anything and everything if it's on the net. "If you're on that, it means they consider you a danger to the state."
Another swear from Wedge. "She can't come back."
Tifa runs a hand through her hair, forgetting she'd knotted it back. "I expected that." She doesn't add how much the idea of staying away nauseates her. "It has to be Avalanche related."
He nods. "How did you get out?"
Sighing, she falls back into the chair. "They brought me to the Sector 6 jail, and today, they moved a group of us over to the PDC. There was a commotion, and I — slipped away."
Wedge nudges Yuffie, who bats him away. "Cid was on the right path."
"For once," she grumbles. "I should let him know we found you."
Tifa tilts her head to the side. "Cid was at the PDC?"
"Yeah, he was looking for you," Wedge explains offhandedly. "He figured there was a chance you'd be there when he heard there was a prisoner transport arriving."
Tifa's eyes meet Yuffie's; they both remember the last conversation Tifa had with Cid. Remorse hits her, and she looks away. Yuffie dials a number and brings the phone to her ear.
"Hey," she says once Cid picks up. "We found Tifa. Yeah, she's fine. Sure. There you go," she tells Tifa while handing her the phone.
Tifa takes it, a little nervous. Should she start by apologizing?
"Hey, Cid," she greets instead.
"You hurt, kid?" His voice is strained, gruffer than usual.
"I'm all right."
"Good, then I'm gonna cut to the chase. I need your help."
Tifa glances at Yuffie and Wedge as they discuss something quietly, their attention elsewhere. "What's up?"
"Cloud's here and he's in bad shape."
Taken aback, she fumbles over her words. "Cloud? What? Where? The bar?"
"No, at the garage. He's passed out for now."
Even more confused, Tifa just asks, "What happened?"
"I didn't know where you were, and there was something going on at the PDC earlier. I was checking it out in case you were there."
"I was," she replies, dreading where this is going.
"Yeah? Didn't see you. Well, there was a girl, a Carrier, she made a scene?"
"I saw some of it. I ran away when she did." She swallows; she doesn't want to hear what's next.
"Well, I don't know who she was, but I think Cloud was looking to break her out. They shot her and he was gonna go after the soldiers. I dragged him —"
"Cloud was there?" Tifa interrupts. The confirmation of Aerith's death swirls through her, but she pushes it aside for now.
"I spotted him heading for the front. Easy with that damn mess of hair. The kid had a knife out and was ready to fight them. I convinced him to back down and now he's passed out in my office."
Tifa's hand clench around the phone. This is bad, she thinks, this is really fucking bad.
"Cid," she says, her voice both cool and insistent, "you can't be there when he wakes up."
She can sense Cid's bafflement through the phone. "Why the hell not?"
She kind of hates herself for spilling Cloud's secret. "He's a Carrier. He can't control his ability and if he wakes up and gets emotional, you're done for."
Silence is her answer. That's when she realizes Wedge and Yuffie are now listening attentively.
"Cid, check if he has mako on him," she continues. "Make him swallow it."
"Fuck, kid, how do you — never mind. He only has his jacket with him, Tifa. I'm not gonna search through his clothes."
Tifa grows urgent. "He could burn down the place, so I think it's worth it. He can't wake up without it, Cid."
On the other end of the line, Cid mumbles incoherently, and she hears him moving around. Fifteen seconds later, he comes back on the phone.
"I can't find anything."
"Did you actually look?" Tifa asks, sceptical.
"Listen, kid, I'm empty handed, all right? Do you have any alternatives or am I supposed to die later today?"
Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, she thinks back to the mako hidden in her room. Barret gave it to her two years ago as a fail-safe; she's never had to use it. She's not aware if mako expires, but it's their best shot right now.
Tifa takes a deep breath. She's about to blow years of secrecy away.
"I have some at the bar."
She dismisses Wedge's surprise and Yuffie's wide eyes. Cid doesn't react, taking it in stride.
"Okay, then how soon can you be here?"
"As soon as I can," is her vague answer. "And Cid, knock him out if he wakes up."
"Knock him out? Are you fucking cra —"
She hangs up without saying goodbye, too focused on the people in the same room as her. It's not that she's afraid they'll turn on her; she knows them better than that. It's that they've never discussed Carriers candidly. Despite them fighting all together for a better world, Carriers have never been Avalanche's biggest topic of discussion, something Tifa has always struggled with. And she realizes she doesn't want to talk about this very much right now.
"Yuffie, ask Barret about the mako; he knows where it is. Meet me at Cid's garage after." Tifa makes a move to get up, but Yuffie signals at her to stay put.
"Wait a second," Yuffie starts, hands on her hips. "You can't go outside like that. There are soldiers everywhere. They could recognize you." She rummages through the bag she brought, coming out with a knit beanie, a different colour shirt, and a men's jacket. "I thought it could be necessary."
Grateful for the lack of invasive questions, Tifa cradles the items to her chest. The jacket will be too big, but not so much that it will look awkward on her. "Thank you."
With a self-conscious smile, Yuffie takes out one last item. A pair of scissors. It takes Tifa a few seconds to understand why. When she does, she glances down.
"Tifa, you know it's better this way," Wedge says with gentleness. They all know how proud she is of her hair. She can't remember what she looked like with a shorter length.
Tifa nods and inhales deeply. "Let's do it."
It doesn't take long. Yuffie is careful but clearly no hairdresser; she chops the strands until they hang right above Tifa's shoulders in a straight curtain. The ends are uneven, but not to a point where it looks horrible. Tifa tells herself she'll fix it later — whenever later will be.
"Done," Yuffie calls out, sounding a little proud. She plays with the scissors, twirling them around until her grip falters and they go flying towards Wedge, who sidesteps with a glare to avoid them. Tifa rolls her eyes as she goes in a corner to change into the new clothes. Once she's done, she stands in front of the lopsided mirror. She doesn't like what she sees, and turns away quickly.
"All right," she says, voice loud. Yuffie and Wedge stop their bickering at the sound. "I'm leaving. Meet me as soon as possible." She rolls the sleeves of the jacket as she speaks; the ends hung over her fingers.
Yuffie feels the need to add an unsure, "You look nice?"
Tifa doesn't bother answering her. She crosses the room towards the exit as Wedge tells her to be careful. She nods, stepping outside the apartment and shutting the door behind her. Taking a deep breath, she heads outside.
—
Cid waits for her at the back entrance of his garage. Foot propped up against the wall, cigarette in hand, hair dishevelled — Tifa would never have thought him stressed. But the second he spots her, he puts out the cigarette and ushers her in.
"The hell happened to you?"
Tifa glances her around, looking for the other employees.
Cid catches on it. "I sent everyone home after what you told me. So?"
"Got arrested," she says as she shrugs off the oversized jacket.
"And?"
And she doesn't feel like reliving the whole ordeal. "And I escaped. Now's not the time."
He snorts. "You got the mako?"
"Yuffie's bringing it. It's at the bar and I can't go."
"You can't go?" He asks, taken aback. "What the fuck did you do, kid?"
"Nothing. I don't know." She sighs. "I was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and they ran my ID. Didn't come out clean. Now I'm on some wanted list."
Cid frowns. "You're on what?"
Rubbing her hand across her face, Tifa shakes her head. "I don't even know. Ask Yuffie when she gets here."
"This is confusing," he mumbles.
Tifa agrees silently. She tugs the beanie off, doing her best to ignore Cid's surprised look.
"Your hair," he says. When she doesn't reply, he adds, "You look nice?"
She can't help but roll her eyes. "That's what Yuffie said, too."
Thankfully, Cid notices her hair isn't a topic she wants to discuss, and he lets it go. With a wave of his hand, he motions her towards what she assumes is the office. He opens the door for her, letting her walk in alone.
There's nothing particularly alarming about Cloud. He's spread out on the couch, one hand on his stomach. It's bloody, though, and she wagers it would be unusual on anyone else. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was napping. But she does know better, and now she only hopes Yuffie gets here in time. She's never witnessed him losing control, but she's not too keen to do so. Not with such a destructive ability.
Tifa exits the room, gently shutting the door behind her. Arms crossed across his chest, Cid waits. She expects he wants to talk about what happened, about her knowing Cloud's secret, about her own. The urge to tell him it's none of his business is strong.
She settles on a nicer variant. "I don't want to talk about it."
"That's fair," he replies, so fast she guesses he'd anticipated her words. "But I just wanted to tell you I don't care about that."
Cid's feelings regarding Carriers has never been a mystery to Tifa. Most of the time, she wishes it had been; his frankness has brought him trouble in the past. Still, his declaration warms her. Before today, Barret and Cloud were the only ones who knew; now, her reality had to shift to include more people, and the lack of judgment so far has been comforting. Not a feeling she would have ever associated with being a Carrier.
"Thank you," she tells Cid, meaning it.
After that, they wait. At some point, Cid leaves the room, coming back a while later with tea. The drink warms her as it slides down her throat. She stays out of the office, keeping to the employee breakroom or to wandering the garage. An hour passes, and she grows restless. Shouldn't Yuffie be back by now? Though he doesn't say it, she can see Cid thinks the same. His pacing and agitated movements give him away.
Twenty minutes later, they hear a knock coming from the back. Both of them jump to their feet; Cid gets to the door first. Yuffie stands on the other side, and she grumbles as she pushes her way through. Tifa steps forward.
"You have it?"
"Yeah, yeah." Yuffie's tone is exasperated. She dips a hand in her bag, handing out the syringe to Tifa, who takes it. "I gotta say, I don't know how you live like this," she adds to Tifa. "It felt like everyone was out to get me."
"You get used it," Tifa lies as she walks away and into the office.
Cloud is still motionless other than the steady rise and fall of his chest. Making sure not to jostle him too much, she sits on the edge of the couch, and brings his arm closer to her. She cleans the crook of his elbow with the antiseptic she found in the garage's bathroom earlier.
He's got marks, she realizes as she removes the cap from the needle and positions it across his skin. She runs her thumbs over them; there aren't a lot, but there are enough to let her know he's been using for a while. Maybe she could show him to keep it check. She bites her lip. Or maybe not. In a few days, the world spun too fast; she feels as if it's crooked, like she's teetering on the edge of something she can't predict. She can't tell if Cloud will be there once reality rights itself.
The needle draws a little blood as she injects him. She gets to her feet not long after to discard the syringe and wash her hands. When she comes back, she comes to an abrupt halt in the doorway.
Cloud groans as he stirs and lifts his arms to his head. He rubs his hands over his face and hair, unaware of his surroundings. Tifa stays where she is as hesitation takes over her. She figures she should let him get out on his own.
It starts with a hitch in his breath; Cloud's body shakes, slightly at first, then full on tremors as he gasps for air.
"Cid!" Tifa shouts as she rushes to Cloud's side. His hands form fists over his eyes, and she can't pry them away. She hears the fall of footsteps heading her way, and a second later, Cid and Yuffie burst into the office.
Cloud's gulps loudly, sounding like he's choking, and Tifa panics. She drags him upright, thankful when Cid comes over to help her. Together, they sit him up. In a brusque move, Cid shoves Cloud's head between his own knees, keeping him there.
"All right, kid, you gotta breathe," Cid tells him, his voice full of his usual harshness.
Yuffie takes a few steps closer. "I don't think he can hear you."
"Shut up, Yuffie," Tifa barks. The pulse of her heartbeat goes crazy. They got lucky she gave him the mako when she did.
In the background, Cid keeps on with his instructions. "Take a deep breath, keep it in, exhale. C'mon, kid."
He brings Cloud's head back up. Cloud moves his mouth like he's about to speak, but all that comes out is a garbled cry, and it makes things worse. His breathing speeds up even more; he fights for air and can't seem to find any.
"Goddamn it," Cid exclaims as he forces Cloud's head down again. "Help me out here!"
Tifa doesn't know what to do; she guesses he's having a bad panic attack—not something she's ever had to deal with before. She decides on repeating what Cid said before while adopting a softer tone.
"Cloud, listen to us. Breathe in, hold it, breathe out." She says the words over and over until his breathing evens out gradually. Cid pulled him straight up again, and she notices Cloud's eyes are open, but unseeing. His head in one hand, he stares at the other—the bloody one—with blurred eyes. Tifa senses the distress emanating from him—he's breaking, she realizes.
"You should leave," she says to the others. Without any protest, they go out of the room. Cid throws an understanding glance at Cloud before letting the door shut behind him.
The moment it does, Tifa focuses on Cloud again; he's crying silent tears, still in his own world.
"Hey," she murmurs. "Hey, lay down, okay?" She can't help but run a hand through his hair, hoping to soothe him. To her surprise, he listens; she guides him as he falls back into the sofa. Once he's settled, she stalls, unsure if she should stay. His quiet weeping evolves into loud sobs that rake his body. Afraid he'll choke like earlier, Tifa shoves the only pillow under his head; he doesn't even react, too lost in grief.
Tifa supresses her rising emotions. It breaks her heart to see him in this state, knowing she had a chance to spare him from it. But she can't let her thoughts go there—not right now.
With a deep sigh, she gets up. She doesn't believe Cloud would like her to see him like this, so vulnerable and defeated. With a final look in his direction, she exits the room. She drops against the closed door, suddenly exhausted.
She finds Yuffie and Cid in the tiny employee kitchen and break room. For once, they aren't arguing; instead, she's surprised to see them play cards. When he sees her, Cid kicks a chair out from under the table.
"Wanna play? We just started."
Tifa shakes her head but sits next to them nonetheless.
"How is he?" Cid asks while keeping an eye on the game.
"Bad." She doesn't want to give them details. "You got here right on time," she says to Yuffie.
"Impeccable timing is one of my many talents."
Tifa chooses not to disagree, partly because she can't dispute the first part. She watches the cards swipe hands in silence.
"So, kid," Cid starts, "care to tell me what actually happened now?"
Tifa runs a hand through her hair, startling at the short length. "Sure." She feels less guarded now, or maybe she's just tired. "They were after a Carrier kid and some guy, I don't know who he was exactly. I was there when they got to them." She doesn't think it's necessary to mention how it ended. A flash to the conversation between the Captain and the officer comes back to her. "One thing was weird, though. They said the child was registered."
Yuffie frowns. "Registered?"
"Yeah, I don't know what it means either." Tifa licks her lips as she considers what it suggests. "I don't like to think they've got us in some secret database. Cid, you worked for Shinra before—you know what it could be?"
Cid hates being reminded of that part of his past, and he grimaces at her question.
"I've never heard of 'registered' Carriers when I worked there. But that was years ago. Things got worse since then."
Yes, they did, Tifa thinks. Ever since Rufus Shinra took over the corporation for his father. Not that things were good before. She has a hard time believing things were ever good in Midgard.
"Anyway," she sighs, "like I said before, something was up with my ID. Pretty sure it involves Avalanche."
Cid grunts. "That would explain the wanted list part."
"Don't worry, I'm already working on something." Yuffie shrugs likes it's no big deal.
Tifa raises her eyebrows. "You're not thinking of hacking a secret Shinra website, are you?"
"Of course not," Yuffie lies in an obvious manner.
"Don't make things worse," Cid warns.
There it is, Tifa thinks as they start bickering. She lets their quarrelling wash over her; the background noise reminds her of 7th Heaven, of home. Whatever Yuffie wants to do, she'll let her. She wants to go back.
She has to.
—