A/N: I seriously cannot tell you how much I'm grateful for all of your reviews. You all are totally awesome. Thank you to: Serina Tsuki, MsRainey, Sorrelstar, Nymphadora, P.P.V.V., xFatalityx, Kisdota-The Freak Gamer, crystalstars88, Roxy200620, Seelenspiel, NailoSyanodel, elebelly, Fairheartstrife, kissychan, midnitestarz, cloudlover2989, Sigbru, vx-Luna-xv, koalababay, Milvus, :'D, MyfinalfantasyVII, Valentine'sNinja, CallMeClandestine, San Hayashi, VanillaCookiesxD, Iskra revoir, Rend, goatgod, Drink. Juice, and ClotiNotCleris.
A lot of the decisions I made in this chapter I planned way back at the beginning of this story. Some of the things I decided to write came more recently after extensive discussions with my husband and my friend Sache8 about love and marriage and relationships, particularly pertaining to this story--I'm very grateful to both of them for being sounding boards for me. Anyway, this is the chapter I ended up with. So…yeah. Much, much thought went into everything I wrote in this chapter, into every decision I made and into how I got to this point. And I am exhausted.
Tifa was upset when Cloud came home. More than upset, if the way she was putting glasses away with more force than usual was any indication. He could hear each solid smack as the bottoms of the glasses met the shelves. She barely glanced up when he came in, didn't even offer a greeting.
Worried, Cloud slid his sword harness off his back and set it by the door before approaching her behind the counter. "Hey."
She nodded at him, her mouth pressed in a thin line. "Hey."
"What happened?"
She shook her head and he could see the frustration in her eyes. "Denzel," she finally managed. "Some…ugh." She slammed one final glass down on the shelf and turned to face him. "Denzel came home from Aria's tonight with a black eye and some bruises. He said that on the way home he ran into several boys--all older than him--who were picking on another kid, so he stepped in and they tried to beat him up. He defended himself against all three of them. He did exactly what we taught him to do."
Cloud's eyes went in the direction of Denzel's room. "He's okay?"
"He's fine. He didn't want me fussing over him." She sighed. "You know Denzel."
Cloud looked at her carefully. "Getting into trouble with other kids is a normal thing, especially for boys." He didn't like the idea of Denzel getting into fights, but it was bound to happen at some point--and he was proud of him for defending someone against bullies.
"I know," Tifa said, still obviously agitated. "That's not the issue here."
"Then what is?"
Tifa folded her arms tightly across her chest. "Not long after Denzel came home, I had one of the other kid's parents show up at the bar demanding I do something because Denzel broke their son's nose. They said some really nasty things--they called Denzel a liar and told me I have no business being a mother if I can't control my own child and--they just caused a big ruckus in the bar until I got them out." She looked at Cloud, undoubtedly seeing his own anger, because she shook her head and some of her ire melted away. "I took care of it, Cloud. It just made me really mad. And I don't want to think about it anymore right now."
Cloud held his hands out to her. She looked at him for a moment before unfolding her arms and putting her hands in his. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "You're a great mother, Tifa."
She closed her eyes and leaned against him, and he felt more of her tension drain away. "Thank you."
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Chapter Twenty-One
What the hell just happened?
Tifa ran from the room while Cloud stood there in stunned confusion. Her footsteps raced up the stairs and then the bathroom door shut. Something had obviously upset her to the point of tears, but he didn't know what.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. He was beyond exhausted. He'd had only a few hours of sleep since Tifa woke up two nights earlier with that memory of the gas chamber, unless he counted forced unconsciousness due to poisoning. In the past two days he'd been attacked, nearly killed, involved in an all-night search party, witnessed Denzel's emotional meltdown, and been faced with Yuffie and that damn photograph. The photograph which had been the cause of much laughter in his past, but which was now the cause of additional frustration. It was now stuffed behind the desk in his office.
He hesitated in the threshold of the door leading into the bar. He still hadn't heard the bathroom door opened and he knew he couldn't handle any accidental bathroom towel incidents with Tifa, so he wasn't going to bother her while she was in there. He just didn't know if he had the energy or the will to try to figure out what Tifa was upset about now. He just wanted a strong drink and a long, numbing sleep.
He poured himself a shot of liquor and downed it in one gulp. He hated this, hated what this was doing to their family. Hated that Tifa was crying. Hated that he couldn't make it better.
He poured another shot for good measure and swallowed it before washing the glass and trudging up the stairs. He was momentarily worried when he saw that Marlene wasn't in her bed, but relaxed when he found her in Denzel's room, curled up asleep against him in his bed. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary; the kids always crept into each other's rooms during thunderstorms and he and Tifa pretended not to notice. Though there were no thunderstorms outside, their lives had certainly been tossed around enough that maybe they had just needed each other.
Cloud turned into his and Tifa's room and fell facedown onto the bed just as the bathroom door finally opened. He looked over as Tifa walked quietly into the room. Her face was dry, but her eyes were still red. She barely glanced his way as she gathered up her pajamas and went back into the bathroom to change. It wasn't until she came and sat on the bed that he asked, "What happened?"
He grimaced inwardly; his voice wasn't portraying the concern he felt. He just sounded drained, even to his own ears. And there was part of him--the part, he knew, that was just completely spent--that didn't even want to ask, didn't want to hear what had evoked such a strong response in her, at least not until he'd recovered a little himself. He mentally stomped on that part of him and kept his eyes fixed on Tifa, waiting for an answer.
Tifa picked up her memory journal and flipped it open. "I…"
Cloud's eyes narrowed. "You remembered something." His mind was speeding through moments that could have upset her so much--things she hadn't yet recalled. There were plenty left to make her cry--her mother's death, Cloud leaving her and the kids after he got Geostigma--but he couldn't think of any that would have led her to apologize to him.
Tifa stared down at her journal. Her shoulders sagged and she snapped it closed, shoving it back away without writing a single word in it. "I'm not sure how to…I'm just…I don't know." She looked at him, and her expression was more confused than it was lost or upset. "I don't know."
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The next day, Cloud went with Denzel to pick up Aria, who looked only slightly better than Denzel, which wasn't saying much. They went back to the bar and opened as scheduled. It seemed almost laughable that they should even be continuing with any semblance of normality when there were still people missing, when there were monster bodies currently being examined at the WRO lab, when Cloud's whole life was just continually falling apart.
For some people who came into the bar, their conversations and lives seemed unaffected by the recent events in Edge. Maybe they were. Not everyone was right at the center of disaster as Cloud and his family was. Other customers were understandably more anxious than usual. Anxious people drank more--and they talked more. Chatter at the bar that day often passed over the mystery of the missing people. Cloud could tell it was getting to all three kids, who were trying to help in the bar. When one of the customers at the counter mentioned the possibility of those missing being dead, Aria, who was helping Tifa mix drinks, almost shouted at the surprised man, "You shouldn't say things like that!"
Marlene was the one who walked over and squeezed one of Aria's hands. "Come on, guys," she whispered, waving Denzel over and taking his hand as well. "We've gotta keep going, right? We can't give up."
Their tenacity was amazing. Even with all the guilt and the pain, they were doing their best to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Pain could make or break a person; it could teach them to move forward or it could pull them into a spiral of dark guilt and hopelessness. It could numb someone to death and killing or it could teach them empathy and understanding. With kids who had already been through so much pain, the fact that they were still willing to continue and that they were still holding each other up was a good sign.
After Aria's outburst, Tifa sent the kids into the living room, telling them firmly that they needed a break. Cloud thought she should be sending herself to the living room because she was obviously as frayed as the kids. It was obvious to him, at least. Outwardly, she was dealing with the customers comfortably and confidently, but something was still upsetting her--or maybe he was upsetting her.
Or…maybe not. He wasn't sure how to interpret the scrutinizing glances she kept giving him during the day. He kept catching her frowning at him thoughtfully or with a look of concentration on her face, as if she was trying to work something out.
"Are you okay?" he asked her at one point.
She gazed at him with the same searching look she had been shooting him all day. "Are you?"
He didn't answer.
As if the situation wasn't already bad enough, the power went out just after dinner. It was normal, but Cloud knew that when the power went out it could last minutes or hours depending on what was wrong, so he called the WRO to see if they knew what the cause of the outage was. It turned out an old cable had short-circuited and needed to be replaced, so the power would probably not come back on until at least the middle of the night. After half an hour of blundering around with candles, he and Tifa just closed the bar early.
The temperature inside began to drop; it was freezing outside and their heat wouldn't start working again until the power came back on. When he headed for bed, he checked on the kids and again found Marlene next to Denzel in his bed, but with all of her own blankets piled on top of his to keep them warm. He shut the door most of the way and went to lie down on his bed.
Tifa still didn't touch her journal when she came into their room. She sat again on the edge of the bed, her back to him, and Cloud gritted his teeth. He wanted to shake her, to do something to jolt her out of whatever frame of mind she was in, and the simple fact that it wasn't something that could just be fixed was more maddening than ever. To say it was just frustrating would have been like saying Don Corneo had been celibate.
Cloud sat up in bed and frowned at her back. "Will you at least tell me what you remembered?" If nothing else, maybe it would tell him why she had been so upset. Even if he couldn't do anything to help, couldn't do anything to make it better.
Tifa picked up her journal. He heard the rustling of pages before she set it back down and turned around to face him. "Promises," she said. She had a distant look in her eyes--the look that showed she was still trying to work something out. "We made a lot of promises to each other."
Cloud's frown deepened and his mind clicked through their promises--their first promise at the well and the effects of that, the promises they made when they married...Tifa promising to always love him…
His mind stopped there. Oh. If that's what she had remembered, then her apology to him would make more sense. Maybe she felt guilty.
It was hard for him to think about, too. He especially didn't want to dwell on the one where she had promised she would always love him, because he didn't want to dwell on Tifa not being in love with him. Or not remembering loving him. It all came down to the same thing, which was that their relationship wasn't what it had been. "What promises did you remember?" he asked carefully.
"How many have we made?" Her gaze drifted away from his, her voice contemplative. "I remembered a lot about promises."
He didn't want to think about this anymore. Not right now. He was worn so thin and didn't think he could be stretched any more before he started being poked full of holes. It was ironic that after spending so much time with his head and memories so screwed around himself, after he had worked so hard to straighten his mind out, that all he wanted right now was just to not be inside his own head for a little while.
He and Tifa didn't speak again. She lay down and he slid down beside her, staring at the ceiling. He had been staring at it so much lately that he was beginning to get very well acquainted with all the little cracks and bumps and irregularities on it.
Even after Tifa's breathing changed into a regular sleeping pattern, Cloud was wide awake. He thought he might have been okay, that maybe he could have held his tension and frustration at bay had Tifa not rolled toward him in her sleep and nestled up next to him. Maybe she was cold with the power being out and she was subconsciously seeking body warmth; maybe she was just trying to get more comfortable. Whatever the case, it was the first time she had done that at all since the onset of her amnesia, and it was the worst time for it. The curves of her body pressed against him, her head was tucked up near his shoulder and her hair smelled like her, and hell if he could take it anymore.
He sat up and turned away from Tifa, raking his hands through his hair. Shit. He stood up and left the room, stepping into the bathroom and idiotically trying to switch on the light before remembering the power was still out. He splashed some cold water on his face, but it didn't do much to help.
He was tired. He was tired and this was killing him. He wanted the kids to be happy. He wanted them to smile and he wanted them to be safe. He wanted to know what the hell was going on with all of these damn monsters and missing people so that maybe, maybe things could start getting better again. Most of all, he wanted Tifa. He just wanted her.
Cloud splashed more cold water on his face. Frustrated, he yanked the bathroom door open and walked out into the hallway. He couldn't go back into his bedroom and he didn't want to lie in the guest room; he knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep regardless. Barely thinking, he strapped First Tsurugi onto his back, tugged on his boots and jacket, and went downstairs into the garage. He needed a few minutes just to clear his head and get some space. He just wanted to shut everything out and try to forget it all for a little while.
He knew Tifa was doing her best, but it still wasn't enough. That made him feel worse than anything else; how could he ever possibly think that Tifa's best wasn't enough? After everything she had done for him in the past, anything she gave him should be enough. But after being married to her, after being able to know her intimately in every possible way, after being known in the same way, this was like living a stranger's life. Like living a half-life; he felt broken and incomplete and every time he thought maybe things were starting to get a little better, something else happened and shattered that.
Cloud opened the outside garage door and pushed Fenrir outside. There were a few snowflakes floating down from the sky here and there, but it was the first snow they'd had in days and it certainly wasn't enough to stick to the roads. He closed the garage door and heard the lock click shut. Jumping onto the back of his bike, he revved up the engine. It roared to life in the quiet night air, and then he was driving away from Seventh Heaven, through the streets of Edge, and then quickly out onto the open road outside of the city. The wind whipped through his hair and over his face, numbing his cheeks and lips. It felt good. It felt good to just drive, without any idea where he was going, to just have the fresh air and the space and only the sound of Fenrir in his ears.
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Tifa woke up as soon as she heard the bathroom door shut, and a glance at the bedside clock showed that it was one thirty in the morning. The space in the bed beside her was empty, but still warm, so Cloud had probably just left the room. She heard running water in the bathroom, and then the door opened, but Cloud didn't return to the bedroom. He didn't even glance her way; she saw him rushing past the door, and then footsteps on the stairs. A minute or two later came the very loud roar of an engine. Slipping out of bed, Tifa walked over to the window in time to see Cloud racing down the street on his motorcycle.
Her brow creased in confusion. Where was he going? Thinking that maybe something had come up and he hadn't wanted to wake her, she padded downstairs to see if he had left a note instead, but she found nothing. No hint of where Cloud had gone or why.
Maybe his pace was finally slowing down…maybe the weight of everything he was carrying was finally taking its toll.
She didn't know, but she did know that she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. She ended up sitting at the bar counter, fiddling with a stray napkin and thinking. She had been doing a lot of thinking that day about everything she had remembered. About Cloud. About their promises. About love. Some of the things she had already been mulling over, like love and what defined it and if she could define it.
After the initial emotional onslaught that had accompanied her chain of memories, guilt had come first, guilt and an overwhelming sense of failure, but as she had been sitting in the bathroom the night before in tears over these memories of promises, she'd had to step past that. What good was the guilt? It wasn't going to help her. It wasn't going to help Cloud. It was just going to keep her in an endless cycle of questioning and remorse. Once she had realized that, she had calmed down a lot and had been able to think over the memories clearly. She hadn't been ready to write about them in her journal, mostly because she had needed time to process everything. Process what these promises had meant to her...what they could still mean to her.
It was so easy when she thought about love in terms of Marlene and Denzel. It got more complicated when she thought about it in terms of Cloud, but she wasn't sure if it should be so complicated.
Maybe she was just missing the point entirely. Maybe it was so close to her that she wasn't seeing it for what it was. Maybe she was expecting too much or maybe she wasn't expecting enough. Just because she had been in love before, did it mean that she would realize what it really meant now? If she just stopped over thinking and analyzing everything, if she just accepted that things were what they were, maybe she could start to see that even if she couldn't change what had happened, she could still make it better for Cloud…for them…
If Cloud had showed her anything at all in her recent time with him, it was that love was selfless and giving. He had been dragging himself through hell for her and for the kids. Lately she had been thinking that she didn't know if she could make things better, or how to make them better. The more she thought about it, though, the more she saw that some things…some things she could choose. She couldn't fix things completely. She couldn't make all of her missing pieces suddenly snap into place or heal all the brokenness in her mind. But…
She was caught up on that but. She had been caught up on it all day, every time she looked at Cloud. She saw how much he was struggling, even if he didn't ever say anything about it.
By the time she heard the sound of Fenrir returning, she had been sitting there for nearly an hour. The napkin was in shreds on the counter in front of her and she was twisting her wedding ring in circles around her finger. Promises…love…choices…
Cloud…
She paused when she heard the laundry room door opening, wondering if Cloud would come into the bar or go upstairs. A moment later, he stepped through to the bar and froze when he saw her seated at the counter. There was a slight, surprised widening of his eyes before his face smoothed once more. He opened his mouth, then shook his head and turned around, walking right back out of the bar.
She stared down at the counter, at the heap of tiny pieces of napkin. Taking a deep breath, she slid off the barstool and followed him, catching up with him at the bottom of the stairs. She grabbed his wrist to get him to stop, and the look that he shot her when she touched him froze her to the floor. His eyes, usually so expressive, she couldn't read at all. "Can we talk?"
"This really isn't a good time." His eyes darted up the stairs.
"I…" She was so nervous. No, she was beyond nervous. Say it, just say it. "I've been thinking a lot today. About love. About you and me. If I remember loving you…and I care about you…shouldn't I…?"
Cloud twisted his wrist out of her grasp and spoke with careful control. "Be in love with me?"
Tifa winced. "I didn't mean--"
"Don't," he said shortly.
"Cloud--"
"Forget it," he snapped.
Tifa's breath hitched and a look of sudden realization dawned on Cloud's face. She lifted her eyes to his and said softly, "I did. That's the whole problem."
"Tifa, I can't--I can't take this right n--" Cloud stopped talking abruptly when her lips touched his. It was cautious and a little uncertain. What if she had reached the wrong conclusion about all of this? Cloud was completely stiff, tension in every muscle of his body, his eyes burning when she pulled away. "Tifa." His voice was harsher than she was used to hearing it. "Don't--"
She stopped him with another kiss, this one less tentative. She had made her choice. She had made her choice a long time ago, and she remembered it. She had promised him that she would stay with him through anything. Even though she might not be sure where caring became love and where the distinction was, maybe she didn't need to know right now. She could choose to set all of her questions and uncertainties aside for this moment. She could choose to keep her promises and she could choose to give, to give herself to this man who loved her, who had married her, who had been pouring himself dry for her.
Cloud's hands rose, and for half a moment, she wasn't sure if he was going to push her away, but his fingers clenched on her shoulders and he drew her close, his mouth on hers and his body pressing her against the wall. And suddenly more memories were coming from the blackness in her mind...
…"Do you love me…?"
…holding him, kissing him that first time, while the barriers between them started to crumble…
…"It's okay. Just stay with me for right now. Please. Just…stay…"
…the camera snapping a picture as they lay on the bar floor…
…Cloud's hand pulling hers away from her scar while she stood naked in front of him. "Tifa. You're beautiful…"
…skin on skin…
Cloud pulled away from her with great effort, his hands moving off of her shoulders to brace them on the wall on either side of her. Now she could read his eyes perfectly, the mixture of want and confusion and ache and frustration.
She wanted to take it all away from him. Even for a moment. Wanted to take some of the load off of his shoulders, to take away some of the pain she had given him.
"Tifa…" It was half-pleading, half-warning, and she understood.
"It's okay," she murmured. She was shaking inwardly, but for once, not in anxiety or confusion. It was amazing the clarity and exhilaration that could come from stepping outside her own box, outside of herself and her issues and all the what-ifs. She met his eyes steadily and took one of his hands away from the wall, bringing it toward her and pressing it against her breast.
For you…
Because I can.
Because I want to.
She wasn't entirely sure how they ended up stumbling to their bedroom, and it didn't seem to matter how her clothes ended up strewn across the floor with his. She was overwhelmed by Cloud, by the way he knew every place to touch her to make her tremble, by his mixture of almost aggressive need and yet his restraint and tenderness--as though he was taking everything he could possibly get from her, but giving as much as he could to her at the same time.
When it was over, Cloud sank down against her, his head on her shoulder. Tifa held him tightly, her breathing just as shaky as the rest of her, one of her hands running through his hair. She wasn't sure she could describe how she felt at that moment. Free. Content. Complete even in her brokenness.
She didn't feel the need to try to find a way to say it aloud. She had just said more and had more said to her than she could even possibly begin to put to words.