Review Responses:
Kurogane7: Clever clever man. Explanations approach, I promise. Darkhorse666: As I have said before, sit down and wait for your kissing. Sheesh, girl. kerapal bubbles: Teef needs that hug. And Cloud could use a slap. But then, Cloud could always use a slap, couldn't he… XwhiteXspiritXalchemistX: Sorry about the wait for this chapter…I had a time. I'm glad you like the story! I promise to keep updating… Tiny Cherie: Hah. Good to have the misunderstanding cleared. Also, yes. Someone slap Cloud or something. ivalice-tifalucis: Well, in Cloud's mind, he's not lying. Man has weird thought-progression. Good to know I've still got some of my original fans—you people are beyond wonderful to have stuck with me through my random hiatuses and irregular updates. LadyTeefStrife: Sephiroth and Hojo do deserve rather gruesome murder. They do, they do…Thanks you for presenting the logical view to these people. But since when does Cloud ever listen to the logic…Awesome with the laptop, by the by. Typing on small devices is a bitch. TenkaCat: Le gasp indeed. He is messed up, isn't he? Thank you for being patient…I do try to be quick… vLuna: Emotional rollercoasters are fun, though! He'll have to fix it…again. Idiot man. NamioftheSea: …Can I borrow that frying pan? Could prove useful…Cloud torture is fun. What can I say… iceQueen02: Well, you've certainly got a good grasp of Cloud's mindset, something which is getting far too hard for even me to get these days…Glad you like my fic, thanks for joining up! dark aura12: Glad to hear I'm not hated. And any review is love, whether at 9 PM or 3 in the morning. Love, I say! WellingtonBoot: I never really preferred AU's myself, but…it's too tempting. You're too kind, by the way. Alternately raw and fluffy—that might just be the perfect way to describe this story. Thanks for joining up! Miss Cheshire: Thank you! "Poor everybody" just about sums things up, yeah. Angst and angst and angst, it's much fun. Glad you reviewed, hope to see you around from now on! kitsune13: Stop predicting my story, I feel…predictable? Hah. It is all Cloud talking, I'm afraid, it's just…augh. It made sense to him and no one else, really. Vincent is a part of this, but that's plot for a later date…glad it was as creepy as I thought. Scared me enough when the thought first popped into my head. And I think Seph could easily manage an insanity plea. Man is not exactly…normal. DynastyWARRIORS: I don't mind, reviewing whenever you can is okay. Slapping may occur at some later date, god only knows he deserves it… Vanilla Raindrops: Hah. He is a bit of a jerk, isn't he…and I do so love tying parallels into AU's. It's just bundles of fun. As for the voluntarily—it was voluntary, relatively, but he wasn't thinking much at the time. Bit of a walking-corpse state. SymphonyOfDestruction: Regrettably, I agree about the first chapters. I wrote them something like eight months ago, and I don't like them at all, but I haven't had time to rewrite them yet. I'm just glad you stuck it through and got to the better stuff! I'm sorry if I'm over CloTi-ing, but it's really just…the pairing of the plot. You know. Zack does know Cloud—I'll explain eventually. And Vincent's something closer to 26 than 16, actually.
WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER
Chapter Fourteen: Time Passed
(Final Fantasy VII is the exclusive property of…not me. Who does all this mess belong to, anyway?)
A/N: Tifa has a theme song this chapter: "Sorrow" by Flyleaf. You can find it on YouTube, and I'd recommend listening while you read, if only for pretty background music.
Warm.
His hand was holding warm.
Consciousness came slowly, gently washing over him like a rising tide. Gradually he became aware of the throbbing pain in his arm, not completely muted by whatever painkillers he was hooked up to. Along with the pain came more warmth, a faint, calming heat that started in his hand and wrapped up the whole of his arm. Filtering through a half-asleep consciousness, vague curiosity drove him to waking.
His eyes half-opened, the world coming into slow focus. Dimly, he registered the empty room, the cold familiarity of his own bed. The only real surprise that awaited his wakening was what was curled around his left side.
Yuffie was snuggled into his hip, both of her legs wrapped around one of his, her head pillowed on his thigh. With both of her hands she clutched onto his left, cradling it to her chest. A slight, indulgent smile flickered on the corners of his lips, and he moved to extricate his hand from hers.
A panicked whimper escaped her, and she clung to him tighter, her small fingers lacing through his longer ones and clenching so tight his knuckles popped. "No," she whispered, nuzzling her head tighter into his thigh.
Swallowing quietly, Vincent leaned forward and brushed a lock of hair off her temple. "Yuffie," he murmured, his naturally rough voice as soothing as he could make it. "Yuffie, let go now."
She whined quietly and shook her head without opening her eyes. "Don' wanna," she mumbled, words half-muffled in his leg. "Gotta make Vin come back…gotta hold on…"
The tall man, for the first time in years, thought his heart might have beat.
The long fingers of his free hand gently tangled through her hair, combing the soft, downy mess of it away from her face. Pausing, he stopped to appreciate it—the soft roundness of her cheeks, the paleness of her skin, the gentle arch of her eyebrows and the pale pink of her small lips. She was beautiful, he decided, beautiful in an almost childish way, a vulnerable way that made him want to be gentle and soft to her, made him want to protect her.
Could it really be such a sin for him to love her, this tiny, fragile creature?
Was it really so unforgivable for him to need her warmth as he did, when she gave it so freely, so carelessly offering him the light he needed to live on?
…Would Lucrecia truly begrudge him a life with this little woman, a life of warmth and hope and home, before he paid his debts by burning through the next?
He gently stroked long fingers through the short hair of the girl wrapped around his leg, and she smiled in response, that smile that was sunshine and warmth and hope.
Could it really be such a sin?
…XxX…
Cloud.
Cloud.
Cloud.
His name was a throbbing, pulsing agony in her throat. That now-familiar lingering warmth wrapped itself around her voice box, choking her.
And time passed.
At some point, she returned to her room. She wasn't sure when or how she got there, but it was only when she leaned back into the headboard of her bed that she realized she'd never gotten her pillow back from Cloud.
And time passed.
While she sat there in a daze, the rest of the night slipped away. With morning came Zack and Aerith and worried questions, and somewhere she found the will to smile and wave them off and not breathe a word that would betray her broken heart. Even as mind and soul drifted, body and senses were aware, and Tifa could see the sideways looks and smell the lingering sex on her friends, but just couldn't find the will in her to begrudge them that happiness, only to slowly, bone-deeply envy.
And time passed.
Eventually time brought her Marlene and Denzel, running to her with whirlwind explanations of no school and Barret away from home on business and getting to spend the whole day with their big sis. And she remembered to smile and even laugh and to tousle hair and pinch noses happily, because little brother and little sister were never supposed to see big sister in pain.
And time passed.
From behind their smiles and exuberance, four sets of eyes watched Tifa carefully, four people who didn't quite trust her good humor. Four people suspected she wasn't nearly as okay as she was pretending to be, but four people couldn't find any evidence beyond a cold pit in their stomach and a trembling, sad sense of detachment.
And time passed.
The day would have passed and gone smoothly. Her smile was holding, her mood perfectly set to "bright and chipper." She could have made it through that day, and the next, and all those following. Who really needed to breathe, anyway?
The day would have passed in the same slow, inexorable manner as time, if only Denzel hadn't tugged up her shirt to blow a teasing raspberry on her stomach, and was met with a shriek of agony rather than laughter.
Denzel paused. Marlene paused. Zack, Aerith, the whole hospital, the whole world paused.
Time no longer passed.
Somewhere in the depths of herself, Tifa sighed. The day would have passed.
When time began moving gain, Tifa found herself over Zack's shoulder, held there by a careful hand against her ribcage. Dimly, she heard him telling Aerith to entertain her siblings, and then he was moving down the hall, his long, loping strides bordering a run. She heard herself protesting that she was fine, she could walk, quit freaking out, doc, but he neither acknowledged nor responded to her insistence.
After an inhumanly short walk, she was being tossed gently onto a bed in the medical wing of the Help Center. Zack was gone and back in the blink of an eye, a bag of ice in each of his hands.
"Lift up your shirt," he ordered, and Tifa managed to twist her face into a grin.
"Save that for Aerith," she joked, but—for the first time that she could think of—Zack didn't even smile.
A low growl escaped him, and then he was leaning over the bed and pulling her shirt up for her, exposing the deep purple marks on her hips. She hissed quietly when rough fingers moved over the sensitive flesh, then whined when Zack laid his hands fully over the bruises, matching the shapes to his fingers and knowing, instantly, what had caused them.
"Dammit, Tifa…" he snarled, his voice low and tight as he wrapped the ice in a cloth and pressed it to her hip. She jumped at the pressure, but he didn't lessen it.
She murmured, very quietly, "It's okay. He didn't mean to, he was just…dealing. He needed something to hold on to."
"Did that have to be you?!" Zack yelled, furious. "You've got a deep muscle bruise, Teef—that means swelling, and stiffness, and not just broken capillaries, but damaged muscle. There's no way you weren't in agony all morning—but you didn't say a thing. That's not like you, girl, and neither is that crap that just came out of your mouth! Be mad, dammit! Issues or not, genetic experiment or not, he has no right to hurt you like that! You know that!"
Whatever Zack had expected in response to his bout of temper, he wasn't going to get it.
Tifa laid back on the bed and whispered to the ceiling. "I'm fine, Zack. It's really nothing. Just…it is. It's over now. Over."
The doctor ground his teeth angrily, fighting down another rant. Forcing himself to be Doctor Fair for the moment, he pulled the ice bags from her sides and moved closer.
She managed a vaguely curious expression. "Zack?"
He shrugged a single shoulder. "With bruises this deep, sometimes blood and drainage can build up in the muscle. It needs to be massaged out. Move your hands so I can do this."
Without the energy left to do anything but follow orders, she did as he commanded, lifting her arms to rest on her ribcage. Zack reached out and applied gentle pressure to her sides. She whimpered and complained, "Zack, that hurts."
"Shut up, you'll thank me later," he retorted, continuing to carefully rub at her hips. She bit at her lower lip, holding back another whine, but the high-pitched sound still escaped her chest when Zack pressed, hard. "It's okay, Teef. Sorry, but it'll make it better."
Neither of them minded that their conversation carried very easily in the small room.
Neither of them remembered that Cloud had been in the medical wing last night, when he'd given Tifa those selfsame bruises.
Neither of them realized that Cloud had never left.
The blonde man was sitting two cots away, with nothing but a white curtain and ten feet between him and his obsession, enduring pain at another man's hands.
Or at my hands. I gave her the bruises in the first place…monster.
Wavering between severely damaging Zack and severely damaging himself, Cloud sought escape. Zack was still working studiously over Tifa's bruises, and she was too dazed and in too much pain to notice when Cloud fled. He made sure the door didn't slam behind him, carefully easing it shut with the barest of clicks.
When he turned to walk down the hall, he was met with one thing he would never have anticipated.
The furious glares of nine and thirteen year-old eyes.
He staggered back a step or two before he understood. They were furious at him for hurting their older sister. The thought was so ironic it almost made him want to laugh.
Denzel was the first to speak, the small fists at his sides trembling with a young man's fury. "You…you did that to Tifa…didn't you?"
Kneeling down so he was eye-level with the boy, Cloud nodded, his throat closed with regret.
Fists clenched and rose, little white teeth clenched, and a thin growl rose from a small chest as Denzel's head bowed and his shoulders shook. "I'll…I'll kill you…How could you…I'll kill you!"
When the boy shot forward, fists raised to strike, even though common sense told him the blow could trigger his haphaephobia, Cloud couldn't move. Because it was just…so damn familiar. Only a year younger than he had been…and the same immature fury in his eyes…and both fighting to avenge, to protect the same girl…
Too damn familiar.
And he couldn't move.
Denzel's fist came closer, and time passed in slow motion.
And then there was another girl, another too-fragile, too-brave girl, and the strangled, half-present-half-memory scream was on its way out of Cloud's throat when the past changed.
"Den-zel!" Marlene shrieked, tackling her brother to the ground. The children fell together, Denzel's arms wrapping around Marlene and taking the impact onto his shoulder. Regardless of the brief gesture of protective gentleness, Marlene immediately began pounding roughly on Denzel's chest, pitching a small tantrum. "I told you not to hit people, Barret told you not to hit people, even Tifa told you not to hit people, now will you stop it stop it stop it, you meaniiiiie…"
The boy winced as his little sister continued to beat him quite mercilessly, and protested, "Tifa said I could hit people if they really deserved it!"
Grabbing him by soft, fluffy brown hair, Marlene turned his head to look at Cloud. "And does he look like he deserves it?"
Cloud had no idea what expression was on his face.
But whatever it was, it made Denzel stop trying to wriggle away from Marlene. The fire left the boy's eyes in a rush as he stared at the taller man, and Marlene hummed her agreement, the little murmur clearly saying, Now do you see?
Very slowly and carefully, the young girl climbed off her older brother and walked up to Cloud. She paused a few feet away from him, staring straight into his eyes.
Warm chestnut like just-toasted bread, and she was so many ways like her older sister…
He swallowed and whispered: "Have you ever wanted something—a doll, or toy or something like that? You wanted it so bad you begged and pleaded and cried for it until someone finally bought it for you?"
Marlene clasped her hands behind her back and nodded.
"And you finally had what you'd wanted for so long—but then you had it, and did you love it? Or did you play with it for a while and forget about it, 'cause you only really wanted it, not loved it?"
Thin little eyebrows knitted over wide chestnut eyes, and Marlene answered confidently, "Of course I loved it. I still have every doll I've ever had. I never stopped playing with any of my dolls, 'cause I do love them."
And the breath left Cloud in a rush.
Innocence.
Innocence, and it hurt.
Without warning she stepped closer, and toasted nut eyes were so warm and so familiar and so much like Tifa.
And then she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.
He went stone-still in her arms, and Denzel's panicked yell echoed down the hall as both men waited for the inevitable shudders to creep down his skin, that horrific need to get it away, get it off, kill it kill it kill it…
But Marlene squeezed him tighter and muttered into his shoulder, "You're not a bad guy, Cloud. You're just scared, like Denzel used to be. Everybody's scared, Cloud. Sometimes you gotta be scared and do what you needta do anyway."
Worldly advice from a nine year-old.
And Cloud didn't recognize the sound that left his throat as a sob or a laugh, because it was ironic and heartrending, and then his long hands came up to gently cradle that small back and soft head.
So much like Tifa.
He hugged the tiny spot of warmth in his arms carefully and he could have held her forever, because how could he ever be afraid of this gentle, fragile, just-like-Tifa girl…
And he held her with hands as tender as they knew how to be, and Denzel watched with only very slightly envious eyes, and time passed.
And the passage of time is the only, only thing that will, without fail, bring change.
…XxX…
A/N
I. LOVE. MARLENE.
I spent something like five days just debating how I could begin this chapter. And after five days, re-watching ACC reminded me of one little character whom I love more than anyone. If I ever have a daughter, I want her to be like Marlene.
Snippets of plot for you, darlings. Poor Tifa is having a very strange out-of-body experience, Cloudy gets to be jealous, and someone can touch Cloud! *le gasp*
I apologize to the people who thought the progress of last chapter was a little sporadic. I blame the character studies I do—whenever I'm stuck on a chapter, I tend to just try and write out Cloud's mindset. That was how his thoughts progressed, and it made perfect sense there—but since he doesn't say everything he thinks, it doesn't make any sense to someone who just hears it. I'm trying to explain gradually. I will eventually.
As per usual, please review, and I love you all!