CHAPTER 28: TRANSFORMED

The breeze was gentle in the late September afternoon.

There was ample shade as Cloud sat on the broad branch of a lush maple. The whirring of insects in the brush was beginning to fade as summer bowed out into autumn and the daily temperature began to dip, creating a bubble of anxiety in his chest. He was leaving for Midgar in a matter of weeks and he still hadn't told Tifa about his plans for any reason other than his own cowardice. It was hard to decide whether or not it would be more painful to tell her sooner rather than later, and he'd already waited so long that she would probably be upset with him regardless.

Cloud sighed as he shifted his weight, carefully adjusting his position with one hand while clutching his father's pistol. Hunting deer was hard work, especially without a rifle. He'd been practicing all summer—and while his technique was far from perfect, he was no longer floundering in his attempts. Last winter, hunting rabbit and other small game had gotten he and his mother through the long season without starving (and Mom was grateful for the fur that she fashioned into warm hats to sell), but he knew that more would be needed this year. Cloud felt as if he was abandoning Mom and Tifa to face the harshest season alone, and he didn't want to leave them without a reasonable stock of meat. He'd killed two young bucks in the past four months and his mother had happily salted and preserved the meat. How proud he had felt when Tifa had looked upon his kill with awe, though he was nervous that she'd be horrified by the corpse. Instead, she remarked on the loveliness of the white markings around the animal's nose and eyes.

He had to smile at Tifa's ability to see beauty where he thought there was none.

It had been a difficult journey to learn how to hunt without instruction, and it was times like these where he really felt the hole in his life that Aren Strife left behind. After many mistakes, Cloud had come to understand that to be a good hunter, a man had to understand his prey. His bullies had certainly known that fact. They hunted him day and night, tormenting him by knowing enough about him to cut straight into his spirit. While the process of trial and error hadn't been very kind, experiencing the lows (fruitless waiting and hiding for hours each day for weeks on end) allowed him to experience thrilling highs, and he appreciated his rare success all the more. Forming extreme patience and working tirelessly to find a method that worked reminded him that laziness never bears fruit: it was useless to just wait for something great to fall into his lap.

That was why he had to go to Midgar and become a SOLDIER. Greatness wouldn't just happen in his life. If he stayed in Nibelheim, he'd never be able to earn Mr. Lockhart's respect and marry Tifa. How could he provide for her and get her out of her sad home life if he let his nerves keep him from joining ShinRA? He was going to prove that he was a man: capable, brave and loving. Nothing could stop him from striving to give Tifa the life she deserved and prove to his bullies (and himself) that he was capable of being more than anything they'd ever thought he could be. This was the most important thing Cloud would ever do in his life and he couldn't mess it up.

The pressure of his weight on his legs had caused them to tingle with the beginning traces of numbness and he shifted again. He hadn't seen a deer for weeks, now, though he was following all of the correct procedures. Apples and sweet feed had replaced the original corn he'd used as bait in the beginning. Cloud had taken care to note the direction of the wind and choose his perch appropriately to avoid giving himself away by scent. While it was lonesome to sit up in his perch for hour after silent hour, it provided ample time to breathe the fresh air deep into his lungs and simply decompress. Life was so complex and the weight of impending adulthood was almost too much to bear at times.

Occasionally, Cloud was tempted to forget the whole thing and try and manage to make a small living in Nibelheim. It was easy to quit before he'd even started—staying in this place of relative safety and certain stagnancy, submitting to the fate everyone always thought he'd have. But the thought of Tifa's eyes—those beautiful eyes that had replaced their jubilance for sober somberness—burned into those thoughts of weakness. It reminded Cloud of how he'd been too afraid to attend school for the first time at six years old. His mother sat him down, looked him in the eyes and told him that he didn't need to worry about anything else besides showing up, because the rest would take care of itself. In their own strange way, despite many struggles, things had taken care of themselves over the years. He supposed that circumstances would resolve themselves in Midgar, too.

There was movement at the corner of his vision and he whipped his head around, torn from his thoughts. Cloud sucked in an excited breath as a buck came into view. The antlers were broad and wide, and his coat had a handsome sheen in the waning sunlight. It was mesmerizing to watch the majesty of this animal as he steadied his pistol and took aim, admiring the grace of the deer's steps as it made its silent way through the underbrush. As he patiently waited for the perfect position to shoot, Cloud began to realize that he was in a state of appreciation. How thankful he was that the woods gave him the opportunity to hunt and that his body was healthy and able to perform such a task. How wonderful it was to be able to provide for his mother and (hopefully) future wife, and he was thankful to this animal for giving its life to allow them to continue on living.

Hunting had taught him that he wouldn't always be successful, but giving up would ensure that he'd never be successful. Traveling to Midgar alone would be terrifying and becoming a SOLDIER would be difficult, but things would take care of themselves. Cloud would be alright, he just needed to show up. And as he pulled the trigger, it became clear that he wouldn't always be the underdog.

Cloud was certain that somehow, he'd be something great.

… … …

He was flying.

Or floating, it seemed. Suspended in midair in a boundless sky, Cloud felt like gravity had little hold on his body—as if he was underwater, only without resistance. Blue eyes blinked as he sucked in a breath, wracking his brain for his last conscious memory. Oh—that's right. He and AVALANCHE had fought the alien-esque form of Jenova, then found themselves in a battle with some manifestation of Sephiroth. The eight of them finally facing off against their arch nemesis had been invigorating, sending a rush of adrenaline and something he couldn't quite identify through his veins. He was drenched with sweat from fighting, but he felt fine despite the minor cuts and scrapes from battle. It appeared that they'd had the upper hand despite the difficult battle and Cloud thought they'd defeated the monster.

So why was he here alone? Had he died? Was this what heaven looked like?

There were clouds swirling all around: shades of white, purple and pink blending beautifully together. It was almost dreamlike how peaceful the atmosphere was, and Cloud's fatigue tempted him to close his eyes and rest in such rare tranquility. If somehow, he'd died and was on his way to heaven, he might as well enjoy the ride. He inhaled slowly through his nostrils and focused on the pleasurable sensation of the air slowly filling his lungs.

"Cloud!"

The sound of his wife's voice made blue eyes fly open almost as soon as they closed. Cloud immediately locked onto her big eyes, which were filled with urgency and fear instead of the peace of the afterlife. His hands reached out automatically to hold hers with the hope that he could quell even a small amount of her obvious anxiety as his eyes searched for the source. Behind her was Barret, who had his gun held at the ready as he faced to the left. Before he had time to wonder what was happening or where the rest of AVALANCHE was, Cloud turned to look in the direction of the gunman. Something was taking form before them.

At first, it was unmistakably human: Sephiroth's shirtless form appeared, his glorious silver hair was slicked back against his head before flowing out behind him. But as he continued to take shape, the rest of him was unrecognizable. His lower body was submerged within a billowing cloud, with six massive blue-tipped wings protruding from where his legs should be. A deep crimson wing had replaced Sephiroth's right arm, and its magnificent size was intimating and fearsome. Ironically, two linked angel-like halos arched behind his head. His expression seemed to seethe with hatred and bitterness.

Tifa felt her heart began to pound within her chest, her breathing becoming rapid as she turned to look at Cloud. Something irrational triggered paranoia inside her as the altered form of Sephiroth took shape, frightening her into believing that something would make her husband disappear again. Her bravery had shriveled away when she realized that they'd given it their all and their enemy was still alive and seemingly unscathed. Muscles fatigued and body sore, Tifa felt vulnerable, reawakening the scared girl she'd been when she'd found herself pregnant and alone. Her mind was foggy and lightheaded, swirling with confusion and doubt. Was all of this a figment of her imagination? Was she dreaming? It all seemed like a dark illusion.

But the feeling of Cloud's fingers clutching her own and the warmth of his hand were real. He existed without a doubt, burning with anger, trembling with determination, watching their enemy with unwavering eyes. She gave his hand a tug. He resisted. He didn't disappear. She didn't awaken, trembling to find herself alone in the darkness of their Midgar apartment. They were here, side by side, enduring each threat together. Cloud was with her, and he wouldn't let go. Tifa watched his face for a moment longer, admiring his desire to take on all the sadness and harm he'd unintentionally wrought. How encouraging it was that he no longer cowered in his vulnerability, but shone in his strength, and it gave her hands the courage to stop quivering as she turned toward Sephiroth.

Thinking quickly, Tifa let go of Cloud's hand and cast a big guard spell for an extra layer of protection.

Barret open fired upon their enemy, the bullets seeming to have little effect before he retaliated with a lightning-quick slash of the dark wing his arm had become. It was meant to hit Barret, but it hit Tifa instead, and hearing his wife cry out sent Cloud into a torrent of protective aggression. There'd been a time where brokenness and pain were all that he knew, but now he'd come to rediscover hope and could not be shaken. He looked toward Sephiroth's face, remembering how much he had fallen prey to his deceit as Jenova influenced his mind. Back then, darkness had washed over his heart and his soul, but he was no longer captive to those lies. Fear had no place to hide anymore. As he pulled his sword from its resting place upon his back, Cloud realized he was no longer prey. He was the predator.

A predator knew his prey.

As a child, the spindly blonde had spent countless hours reading and re-reading every newspaper article he could get his hands on that mentioned ShinRA's war hero. As a military grunt, Cloud had studied Sephiroth's every move during the rare chances he had to watch him spar and train with Zack—first class SOLDIER versus first class SOLDIER. In this trek around the planet and through his own mysterious mind, he had discovered each step toward his idol's downfall into madness. He knew what drove Sephiroth to this state—what made him seek to destroy.

It seemed that misery was the weapon he brandished in his hatred for those who had betrayed him and used him for their own scientific gain. Confused and angry, the man couldn't handle the possibility that he might not be completely human. He hadn't known the identity of his father or mother, nor had he ever experienced parental affection or any aspect of normal family life. But the true reason why Cloud understood the man was because, terrifyingly, he had almost followed down the same exact path. Sephiroth's misery was his attempt to prove the world's injustice, covering up his conscious refusal to strive and live after encountering hurt and disappointment. The pain of the truth had been too much, leading him to submit to Jenova's influence. His willingness to suffer in his pain was inexhaustible, for Sephiroth was attempting to use that suffering to prove his strength and control. Or perhaps, it was his revenge on his existence altogether.

Sucking in a breath, Cloud leapt forward to attack after Barret stopped firing his gun to reload.

Everything about fighting felt different as of late and Cloud couldn't quite put his finger on why that was. If he had to guess, he'd presume that it had to do with the fact that he was looking actually looking forward to his future. How vindicating it felt to allow himself to be excited for the boundless possibilities of what might come in the years ahead! It gave him the strength to focus completely on the task at hand. For the first time in a long time, Cloud was certain of who he was and knew the things that he wanted to fight for. Defeating Sephiroth was about so much more than revenge. While it seemed a little strange, he was grateful for the hardships he had endured and the way they'd shaped his capacity for compassion and perseverance. The buster sword hit where he'd aimed, leaving a significant wound upon Sephiroth's left shoulder, and courage swelled further in Cloud's chest.

It was then that he thought he heard it—a voice echoing from somewhere inside him. Was it a memory or simply a reflection of his heart's yearning, Cloud couldn't be sure. But the face of Zack Fair appeared in his mind's eye, filling him with inspiration and determination.

After he'd been unable to even audition for SOLDIER, his friendship with Zack had given him the hope he'd needed to give life to his dreams and give his feelings and desire for greatness a role. Remembering his friend's sacrifice and the promise he'd made to him made him feel alive, echoing with each beat of his heart. Cloud was going to live. He was going to live his life in a way that would honor Zack, Aerith, and all of their fallen comrades. Thoughts of his mother came flooding forth, reminding him of how much he wanted her to look upon him with pride. But most of all, he wanted to live life as his best self for Tifa, continuing on together in search of who they were meant to be.

His wife cried out as she attacked, fists clenched and biceps taut with her hard-won strength and Cloud couldn't suppress his amazement and pride. All too clearly, he remembered how the light in her eyes had slowly retreated into the shadows after her mother passed away. For much too long, Tifa had hidden inside herself, and how empowering it was to watch something fan the flames of her spirit once again. Her soul and body were finally free to let her passion and skill loose. It was beautiful. Her fist collided squarely with Sephiroth's jaw and he instantly retaliated with a powerful spell, sending her flying backwards toward her comrades.

Cloud felt heartless angel wash over him, pushing him to his knees as his strength left his body. He gasped, desperately trying to draw air back into his lungs as pain wracked through his veins. Arms trembling, he attempted to push himself to his feet only for his legs to buckle underneath his weight once again. There was no time to think or panic before the booming sound of Sephiroth's voice reverberated through the air and shook at his core. Lolling his head upward to look at his nemesis, Cloud blinked lethargically as he spoke.

"You're nothing," Sephiroth mocked, piercing eyes trained upon Cloud's face. "You're weak and worthless. You were born that way and you will die that way."

A younger, immature version of himself would have lashed out at those words, insecurity over his weaknesses bubbling over into angry words upon his tongue. But Cloud's wisdom told him that it was the here and now that was important—looking back on the pains and regrets of the past held no value. He was stronger, now. He could bear the weight of them, recognizing they'd always be a part of him without letting them bind his arms and legs and keeping him from moving forward. He'd come too far to quit, now, following the path that Zack had blazed before him. How long had he followed his shadow along this broken road to better himself? The words and friendship Zack gave to him had helped Cloud find meaning in his life, and even now he heard his voice calling out to his heart: Don't give up! Don't back down! Live!

And Cloud would.

The comforting, warm tingle of White Wind flooded through his body and he instantly felt his strength returning. The memory of Zack and the time they spent together rushed into his brain, reminding him of the inspiration and joy the man had offered him with his optimism and presence. Those precious days would always remain inside him, and Cloud wanted to live like that again. He could hear Barret thanking Tifa for healing him as the three of them stood up against their foe once more. The battle raged on for an unknown time, pushing the team to their very limit of strength and spirit. Sephiroth was bleeding—battered and bruised beyond what each of them was currently suffering—and it was easy to tell that he was nearing his end. His large wing was mangled, twisting unnaturally in its broken state. His long, white hair was streaked with crimson where it stuck to the wounds on his shoulders, neck and forehead. Sephiroth's attacks were growing more desperate and sloppy by the minute, and Cloud knew it wouldn't be long now.

In the end, it was one of Barret's attacks that dealt the final blow. Sephiroth slumped forward, defeated and spent, and Cloud wasn't sure exactly how to feel. Cloud assumed that he'd be experiencing unbridled joy at the defeat of this menace and the proof that he was stronger than anyone thought possible. But as the figure of his former idol dissolved into splintering blackness and disappeared into the swirling purple color of the clouds, he was surprised by the sadness in his chest. Before Cloud could look to Tifa or Barret and check if they were alright, a fog of dizziness engulfed him and made him sway on his feet. There was no warning as his vision faded to black.

There was no fear in his heart, though Cloud supposed that he should feel frightened as he tried to figure out where he was. He could barely find the will to open his eyes, for a sudden peace had washed over his body and allowed his fatigue to outweigh his concern. But when he did, it appeared that he was flying through a tunnel of some sort with time and space swirling around him, and he couldn't help wonder if he had somehow died from the battle with Sephiroth and was actually making his way to the afterlife this time. If he was, he could finally meet Aria, and the thought gave him peace. He could finally, finally hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her. But most importantly, Cloud could tell his daughter just how sorry he was that he wasn't there as she grew inside her mother and wasn't present at her birth.

Cloud closed his eyes once more, which were heavy from weariness and the gravity of his thoughts. His hair blew as he was rushed forward by a force unknown; feeling weightless and relaxed, ready to accept his fate instead of fighting against it. Fast and faster, his body flew through the blackness in a passageway of sorts until it all stopped abruptly. Shaken from his trance, Cloud's eyes flew open as he landed roughly on his feet in the featureless dark. Head swiveling from side to side, his peaceful state evaporated as worry began to creep up his limbs and settle into his chest. Where was he? What was going on? And then he came into view. Ice spread through Cloud's veins as his eyes met with Sephiroth's, sky-blue locking with ethereal green and he shivered. The hero of his childhood stood some paces away, fully human in form with masamune poised to attack, and doubt used that moment to once again try and slink into the corners of his consciousness.

He was alone with Sephiroth. What if he was manipulated and fell prey to his mind games once again? What would happen now that no one was here to help him?

But Tifa's belief in him guided him and the silent voice of his precious child called his name, leading him forward. Zack's breath was in his lungs and Aerith's strength weaved its way to his core. Cloud knew that his perception of life was flawed and still underdeveloped in many ways. He was far from knowing if this was truly the reason why he was alive. But if he could be certain of anything, it was that he was getting a little closer to finding it each day. And for Cloud, that was enough. Maybe defeating Sephiroth was what he was born for, and maybe it wasn't, but he vowed to do everything he could. Readying Zack's buster sword in his hands, he inhaled slowly and focused. Sephiroth lunged forward suddenly, his eyes crazed with rage and revenge yet still lucid, somehow. The old Cloud would have shriveled with fear and lack of confidence, but never again. He knew what to do.

Sephiroth's attack was low to the ground, so Cloud leapt high into the air. He watched his opponent so carefully that briefly, time seemed to pass in slow motion. The tip of the masamune grazed the bottom of his boot as Sephiroth altered the arc of his swing and the blonde felt his heart leap in his chest. A guttural growl tore its way from his enemy's throat when he missed, and Cloud tried to counter the moment his feet met the ground. Instead of landing a hit, there was a loud clang in the air as the buster sword was blocked by the katana, steel meeting steel. Cloud's face was mere inches from that of the man who had once been his idol, and adrenaline and resolve rushed through his body. But while his physical self was careening into a heightened state of instinctual fight-or-flight, Cloud's mind was calm and pensive—surprisingly clear.

He wasn't sure where exactly he was, or whether or not he'd survive this confrontation. But he did know that the past few months of his life had taught him to find peace with both the pleasant and unpleasant things in his life. It was clear that Sephiroth did not share that acceptance and submission to the things of the past. Did Sephiroth consider that these may be his final moments? Was he thinking about his the choices he made in his life? What did he regret? What did he cherish? Since his earliest days, it had been clear to Cloud that one did not have the choice whether or not to pay a price as they passed through life. No matter what, pieces of one's being would be taken and rearranged by the circumstances of their lives. But if you played things right, you could choose exactly which price you are willing to pay.

It seemed that Sephiroth had surrendered everything but his pride, letting it swallow him whole.

The man's strength was overwhelming—the influence of mako, Jenova and unbridled rage threated to overtake him. But Cloud had something that Sephiroth didn't have. He had friends and family who counted on him. Etched into his heart were the joys and regrets of dear ones both living and dead. The dreams of those who had fallen, the hopes of those yet to come—he'd take them and turn them into strength and let them fill him with determination. Cloud felt the power of a second wind pulse through his muscles and he pushed into his blade, knocking Sephiroth back with a grunt. The other man transitioned flawlessly into a counterattack, the blade just barely grazing the side of Cloud's head as he ducked to dodge.

Sephiroth's back was open as he followed through on the swing of his masamune; Cloud would only have half a second to take advantage of it. With great speed, he leapt up as high as he could and prepared for his ultimate attack: omnislash. Mako green swirled through the electric blue of his eyes as he fixed his target with a predator-like stare as he rushed in. He had to give Gaia a chance. Cloud prayed that defeating Sephiroth would be enough to save humanity, but if he searched his heart, he knew exactly whom he was fighting for.

This was for Aria. It was for the tears that were in his eyes when he first learned of the delicate life taking hold within his wife—his own flesh and blood. The combination of his heart and Tifa's that forever left her tiny footprints across the sands of his soul. He fought for her precious life, which was taken too soon—for Sephiroth had stolen away many a life before their proper time. It was for his mother, who had scarcely done anything but love and support him despite constantly feeling the coldness of others' hearts. She'd taught him to value each life, each moment, and to hold fast to and grow all the good that was in his heart. She showed him that his hands, though small in the grand scale of things, could be capable of so much good.

The first hit was satisfying, as was the second, and Cloud could scarcely believe the speed at which he was moving through the air. Three hits, then four. How ready he was to end Sephiroth's trail of blood and death! How many had perished by his hands?

There was Brian Lockhart, who in his own backwards way showed Cloud the importance of protecting the weak and drawing near to loved ones when the pain of adversity and loss threatened to tear him asunder. Witnessing the destructive nature of pride reminded him that it was okay to let himself lean on others for strength when he needed it. He fought for Zack, who taught him never to abandon those who rely on your strength. His best friend had demonstrated how important it was to protect your honor in the face of the temptation to give in to the shifting tide of the world. Stand firm in what you believe, protect the weak, have faith in your companions…the young man had been a wellspring of lessons in morality. Cloud would never forget that preserving another's life is worth the sacrifice of his own.

The fifth strike was for Aerith, who embodied remarkable courage and displayed the power that optimism could have in a life that was wrought with sadness. Her great sacrifice was still surrounded in mystery, but Cloud couldn't help but feel that her influence didn't end with her death. She taught him that self-discovery, while empowering, could also be discouraging and difficult, but it shouldn't snuff out one's determination or spirit. He couldn't help but picture the warm smile she'd given him moments before Sephiroth had smitten her and it filled him with rage as he struck his enemy again and again and again.

Sephiroth was stumbling, now, and Cloud knew that one more hit would finish him.

As he flew back in to strike once more, he thought about his wife and how the things she taught him had given him the strength to make it this far. Tifa had shown him that love is so, so deep, and can't be easily dismantled or broken. It's so much more than physical touch or happiness and light hearted conversation. It's grit. It's holding onto one another through the worst things life could throw at them. Love is the confidence that no matter what, no matter how dark things get, your spouse will never leave you. His marriage with Tifa had given him the confidence he needed to feel comfortable in expressing even the darkest corners of his heart without fear of rejection. Working together, lifting one another up and sacrificing for the sake of their joined wellbeing were essential to their partnership and through it, Cloud had learned so much about himself—both his strengths and weaknesses. His wife had showed him the danger of hiding away and deceiving with half-truths. Strengthening their connection was to be put above all things. How precious it was to know how much he mattered to his dearest companion.

Picturing her face, he made his final hit.

Sephiroth's legs began to falter and he wavered in his stance, but his eerie green eyes never left his enemy. Blood dripped down his face and leaked from his mouth. His body was streaked with deep purple and red as he dropped his weapon, fingers trembling as it clattered to the ground. Cloud watched as beams of light began to pierce his body from the inside out: streaks of white and red permeating the darkness around them. He blinked and just like that, Sephiroth was gone.

A mixture of relief and exhaustion made him fall to his knees, too tired to rejoice but lively enough to smile. Cloud closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, unable to believe that it was finally over. There was no pride in his heart that his hands had been the ones to defeat that menace, for he knew that he was nothing on his own. How many hands had lifted him, helped him and guided him to this very moment in time? How grateful Cloud was for each and every one of them. A warm, tingling feeling surrounded his body and his curious eyes opened at the sensation. Graceful green ribbons of energy swirled around him and emerald specs of light sparkled against the blackness. Enraptured by its beauty, Cloud watched motionlessly.

It was the Lifestream. It was free.

He was free.

Grateful, peaceful, he let himself float away once again into the endless dark.

… … …

With a groan, Cloud struggled to open his weary eyes. His head was pounding and his body felt listless and heavy, but Tifa's familiar scent comforted him. It seemed that he was cradled in the safety of her lap and that knowledge instantly gave him a sense of calm. Where were they? What was going on? Slowly, Cloud lifted his gaze to find her face.

"You're awake," she sighed with relief, smoothing his cheek with her palm.

"Yeah." He grimaced as he tried to sit up.

"You scared us, you know. You're lucky we found you in the Crater—you were out cold!" Tifa helped him rise, supporting his back as he slumped forward. "I guess it has something to do with the giant wound on your head?"

Cloud gently touched his fingers to his right temple—the source of the throbbing pain. His wife handed him a potion (now that he was awake to drink it) and he gulped at it greedily. The feeling of her soothing hand between his shoulder blades was just about as healing as the liquid remedy.

"It must've been a rock or something," she continued. "The earthquakes were so violent when Holy burst out of the ground and the caverns started to collapse."

Oh, right. Cloud stiffened and looked around.

They were in the cockpit of the Highwind, and it was with great relief that he could verify that each member of AVALANCHE was present with a quick sweep of his eyes across the immediate vicinity. The vast sky swallowed up the broad window before them: angry and red and roiling. Cloud swayed to his feet in alarm. He rushed to the glass to peer out over the railing like the rest of the crew, with Tifa following close behind. Midgar was some distance away, and they watched as the meteor loomed down upon it with unrelenting force. The destruction was evident even from a distance, and Cloud swallowed thickly at the thought that there may still be people in the city. Aerith's bright Holy spell was there, a shining white ring of light that served as the only barrier between the city and the meteor.

"It's not working," Cid observed with an anxious puff of his cigarette.

Tifa bit her bottom lip as she watched. "Did it come too late?"

It couldn't be. Cloud frowned as the heated, crimson light of the meteor seemed to be overtaking the protective spell. Aerith had given her life while summoning Holy, and the possibility that it could fail had never crossed his mind. Could she really have died for a fruitless cause? It was a terrible thing to consider and he exhaled roughly through his nostrils at the thought. Why hadn't the spell come forth until now? Perhaps if it had manifested earlier, it could've helped defend against meteor before it was so close.

"I'm guessing that it was Sephiroth who was holding it back," Nanaki surmised. "Now that he's defeated, Holy could rush forth. But it doesn't seem to be enough."

Yuffie turned away from the sight to search the faces of her companions. "Do you think he's gone for good?"

"Yeah, I think so," Cloud said, nodding.

For so long, all he had allowed himself to feel toward Sephiroth was hatred. Honestly, it was the easiest thing to feel as a result of all that the man had taken from him. But Cloud had learned so much during this journey and it had evaporated his loathing away, leaving behind only pity and sorrow. Despite all of his accomplishments, prowess and physical strength, Sephiroth had really been a weak man. After all, responding in violence to hardship and betrayal is no mystery. Violence and destruction is the default human response, easy to surrender to. Peace was the true mystery. Finding peace among the turbulent path of life was difficult, for it is learned, instilled and earned. Part of Cloud's heart still mourned the loss of Sephiroth as his role model and inspiration from his earliest days, but nostalgia alone could not redeem him.

Barret grunted, leaning back from the ship's railing and slamming his fist down upon it. "It's gonna hit. Everythin' we did was for nothin'!"

A few tense seconds passed by. AVALANCHE watched in detached astonishment as the earth trembled far beneath them. Upon Midgar's upper plate, buildings were crumbling under the meteor's onslaught, one by one. Cloud didn't want to believe that all this time, they'd toiled for nothing. Was it really possible that all of the hard work, sacrificed, and loss of life was for naught?

"I had everyone take refuge in the slums," said Cait Sith, shaking his head with sorrow. "But the way things are now, I don't think it'll do any good."

"We're doomed!" Yuffie cried, her hands flying to her head in alarm.

But Cloud didn't think so. His heart was thrumming wildly in his chest as his head scrambled to make sense of it all: his eyes saw destruction, and his mind wanted to panic, yet something in his heart remained calm and hopeful. Billowing, black clouds rolled forth, stretching to the horizon. It seemed that they were at the epicenter of world's end with a front seat to the apocalypse, yet his limbs didn't tremble with fear. Beside him, Tifa's fingers gripped the railing tightly, knuckles white as she watched the scene before them. Cloud examined her face out of the corner of his eye, wishing he could take away the anxiety written across her countenance. Her expression suddenly softened and eyes widened. Softly, she spoke.

"Wait…what's that?"

From the north came a great green light. It had burst out of the sea, swirling upwards in a loose, curling spiral into the sky and bending toward Midgar in a steady, flowing line. To the east, a second stream burst from the earth. Then another, and another. Within the span of a minute, there were too many of them to count as they spun through the air—some combining and intertwining as they reached and reached toward their destination. Luminescent emerald and white light curled gracefully as it traveled toward Midgar from all directions.

Slack-jawed, Barret let his arms fall to his sides. "What the hell is that?"

Cloud blinked slowly at the spectacle. Lightning flashed across the black, stormy sky, joining the light show in the heavens. Far below the Highwind, the trees bent with the force of the wind and the ocean churned with large, choppy waves.

"I'll come back when it's all over."

Aerith's words sounded through his mind, both a memory and a reverie. The recollection of her cheerful smile as she waved goodbye in his vision back then flashed through his mind's eye. How overwhelming it all was, now.

"The Lifestream…" Cloud breathed, his cerulean eyes glistening with emotion.

She was here. She'd never truly left them.

Cloud felt Tifa grasp at his hand, and he laced his fingers tightly with hers. There were tears in her eyes as she gazed out at Gaia. Trees were being ripped from the soil. Tremors and small earthquakes were causing the ground to buckle and heave. Midgar's plate had begun to crumble in some places under the harsh red light of the meteor, and it was terrifying to witness such destruction. Despite knowing the myriad of things that could possibly be upsetting her right now, Cloud heard himself ask her what was wrong anyway.

"It's just so beautiful," she squeezed his hand as she answered in a whisper. "All the different branches of the Lifestream—like all of the people who fought to save Gaia—coming forth to work together."

He found himself smiling widely, for even in the midst of all this devastation, his wife still had the ability to find beauty where there wasn't any.

The countless rivulets of the Lifestream met at the meteor, surrounding it and joining with Holy in a great flash of light that made them all recoil from its brightness before fading once again. Sparkling green light engulfed the meteor, illuminating it in a shining sphere before it slowly began to dissolve into glistening shards that faded into the night. Incredulous laughter rippled through the cockpit. High fives and joyous embraces were exchanged. Barret scooped Tifa up, twirling her around in a crushing bear hug before setting her back down beside Cloud. His roaring laugh was soothing to her trembling heart, and she smiled as he went to give Yuffie a pat on the back that almost knocked her to her knees.

"I want to say 'We did it!'" Tifa chuckled, embracing Cloud and planting a kiss on his cheek. "But I really don't feel like we did much of anything, in the end."

He hummed in thought, holding Tifa close as he looked out upon Gaia once more. "Do you think Aerith meant to die?"

"What do you mean?" Brows furrowed in thought, she looked up to meet his eyes.

"She went to the Forgotten City to pray for Holy. She must have known that Sephiroth would be waiting there to stop her—why else would she have gone on her own?" Outside the window, the brilliant, benign light of the Lifestream continued to swirl against the dark expanse of the sky. "We freed Holy from Sephiroth's restraint, but that spell alone wasn't enough to save the planet."

Tifa leaned her head against Cloud's chest, wrapping her arms around him. "I see. She had to return to the planet and command the Lifestream to help Holy."

"At least, that what my heart tells me."

"It doesn't make me feel any better about it," Tifa mumbled against his shirt. "But if she came to accept her fate, maybe one day I can, too."

"There's too much to do to let grief bind our hands," Cloud said before placing a kiss upon the crown of her head. "When Zack died, he trusted me to be his living legacy. People like Zack and Aerith gave their lives so that we can live on in a way that is worthy of their sacrifice."

There were endless possibilities for the good he could accomplish in this life. There were countless ways that he could bring joy to others the way Zack had rejuvenated his weary spirit. There were people to help, lives to restore, dreams and promises left unfulfilled. These thoughts encouraging him, allowing revival to spread like wildfire in his heart. Nothing could steal his joy, now; he had been restored.

Nodding, Tifa sensed his optimism in the tone of his voice and wanted to mirror it so badly. She knew she'd have to let go of the guilt and the pain of her past, gleaning the fond memories from the timeline of her life to hold onto while letting go of the bad. Letting go head always seem like giving up, but now that she had grown, and experienced so much, she knew that it required more strength let go than to hold on. There was a reason why she, Cloud the others had been through the traumas they had endured. Looking around at their rejoicing companions, Tifa realized that they'd all lost a little of themselves within the struggles of their lives. Their hardships had been a lesson in strength.

Exhaling slowly, she listened to the beating of his heart. The unknown of the future was frightening, but she had to stand tall in the face of that uncertainty. One could not properly navigate without something to aim at. While we are in this world, one must always navigate, and so she chose to always have a goal to strive toward and keep her anchored. As the cycle of seasons swiveled around them through the years, she might waver, but Tifa promised herself that she'd keep on walking by his side. In the ever turning tides of life, that was the only thing that would never change.

"Let's live, Tifa," Cloud said, holding her against his chest. She heard the fragile bravery in his voice as he dared to dream. "We'll start a new life—the life we've always wanted. We have each other again. Everything will be okay."

If she tried, Tifa could find a million hypothetical terrible situations that could jeopardize their future, but she chose to believe him instead. She moved to look into his eyes, which were bright and shining with hope, and realized that the door to their cage had been opened. Captivity was long behind them, and they were free to step out into the bright light of freedom if they chose. Cloud smiled and cupped the back of her head, taking in the beauty of her features as he allowed himself to dream of their future. He wanted to build a home and a family with his wife. Making Tifa feel happy and secure while providing for her and their children seemed like such a simple dream, but Cloud knew that his family would be his foundation. His back was built to carry his children and wife through this life, and he'd hold them up no matter what came their way. Alongside Tifa, he wanted to raise his children into strong adults and push them to be the best he could be. He vowed to lift them higher and higher, no matter the self-sacrifice required.

Cloud promised himself that he'd never stop.

And when a grin broke across her face, he found such mercy in the loving eyes of his spouse. Her confidence in him reminded Cloud that he was capable after all of his missteps and mistakes. When she learned up to kiss him, he met her lips with gentle enthusiasm. Cloud and Tifa would step forward in this new life—wobbling, unsteady steps, like a newborn fawn. But as the weeks and months and years went by, their footfalls would grow steady and firm, hands tightly clasped.

In the large window of the fight deck, fragments of the meteor were raining down like glistening stardust around them. The beauty and the calm of the moment was a great relief. For too long, now, their hearts had been beating so loudly that they wanted only quiet in the aftermath of it all. Sometimes, it was the smallest gestures that gave one the strength to do enormous things. To love generously can unleash great tenderness and lead, in time, to deep love and understanding. In one conversation, a life can be changed.

And together or alone, we are closer than we know.

A/N: Forgive me for inserting my own theory about Aerith knowing she needed to die in order to save the planet! Did anyone else feel that way after beating FFVII?

Only one more chapter left—the epilogue. I can't believe our journey is almost finished!