A\N: We're entering the last stretch! (hehehe)

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THE STARS WE DREAMED OF

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22

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"—again yesterday. The riots keep escalating in Sector 5 and 6, so keep an eye out for heavy military presence. We've heard they'll be doing sweeps around 7 PM tonight in—"

Tifa turns the pages of her notebook as she listens to the radio host. She barely glances at the pages, knowing what they say by heart; it's only a distraction for her whirring mind. It's been four days since the bombing and the attack on the Sector 4 HQ, but chaos has erupted over most of Midgard. Organized protests, violent riots, open fights with soldiers—Tifa's been monitoring the people's actions with growing hope and despair, a strange mix that causes her chest to constrict and her head to ache.

"All right, folks, someone tipped us about a raid in Sector 4. No given time, but stay alert. Shout out to those who provide shelter!"

The racket of the bar is muted in the Avalanche meeting room, but Tifa still catches echoes of tonight's rowdy crowd. She flips another page and sighs. The spread details what Barret and her call the Reactor plan—it has always been an end goal for them, to deactivate one Reactor powering Midgard to destabilize Shinra.

She raises her head at the sound of the door sliding open and heavy footsteps. Barret enters the room, his gaze seeking the radio resting on the table Tifa is sitting at. His eyebrows go up in a silent question.

"I like keeping track of what's happening," she says with a shrug.

Barret sits across from her. "Anything interesting?"

"Plenty. Not all of it good."

"Hm. That's to be expected, though." He rubs his beard. "It was always going to degenerate."

Tifa sighs and closes the notebook. "What's next, Barret? Are we still aiming for the Reactor? Or did you plan for something else?" As much as she tries to keep the bitterness from seeping into her voice, some of it still goes through. She knows Barret must have noticed, but he doesn't comment on it.

"About that… I've got some updates."

"Oh, yeah?" She leans back into her seat and crosses her arms. "What kind?"

"Good and bad. The biggest is that I found out how to deactivate the Reactors without causing a disaster. Cid told me."

Tifa allows the pause to grow. It probably makes Barret uncomfortable, but it's really just to allow her to control her irritation. When she speaks, her voice is calm, if a little cold. "And what did Cid say?"

"There's a control center in Sector 3. It's a place where they monitor the Reactors, but it's not attached to one."

"So if we destroy that…" Tifa frowns. "But if there's only one—"

He nods. "It's connected to all of them. We can't choose which one we're shutting down."

"It makes sense, but how come?"

"Cid said it's a safety measure. This way, if something were to happen to the control center, nothing will go haywire and they avoid a disaster. Everything just shuts down."

"Okay… So how do we rebuild after?"

"It's possible, but it'd be a long process, and we'd need materials. They'd have to rebuild the entire circuitry from scratch."

"For which we need resources," Tifa notes. "Resources we don't have access to."

Barret keeps silent a moment, pensive, and she lets him gather his thoughts.

"Turning off the power will destabilize Shinra," he begins, "but also the entire population of Midgard. They're ready for this to happen, and though chaos will erupt, it'll be our only chance to act. If we wait too long, Shinra will just squash the protests and tighten the noose. People will be scared again; they won't feel like we're supporting them anymore. And Shinra is looking for us; it's only a matter of time before they find us."

Tifa nods, a little confused. This is a discussion they've had before, back when the plan was about disabling one Reactor. "Get to the point, Barret."

He rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward. "We should consider asking for outside help."

Tifa's head jerks back. "You've never said anything about that."

"Because back when I thought we could disable one Reactor, it wasn't needed. But if we leave the whole of Midgard powerless, things will spiral out of control. You know that as much as I do. We're too small to take control of the entire city." Barret frowns. "I'm not much of a fan of this, either. The other nations have let Midgard and Shinra do whatever the hell they want for decades—but Shinra has also made certain that outsiders know nothing of us by controlling all information coming in and out. Maybe they don't know the extent of Shinra's power; maybe they do but are afraid of speaking up. It doesn't matter in this situation—we need help, whether we succeed or fail."

"And who would we ask for help? Midgard has been isolationist for such a long time that our foreign relations are almost nonexistent."

Barret points at an area south of Midgard on the spread-out map on the table. "Junon is our biggest trade partner and they stand to lose the most if Midgard crashes. They're nearby so chances are they would be here the fastest." His finger slides over the ocean. "I don't think Corel would lend immediate help, but they're known to offer asylum and to take in refugees when the time calls for it." He points further west. "But I think our best bet in the long-term is Nibel. They will be the most willing to see Shinra go." Barret makes a sweeping gesture over the map. "And those are only the big players. Which would you choose?"

Tifa doesn't take the time to mull over his question. She knows what he wants to hear.

"All of them. We can't afford to be picky."

He nods.

"Barret…" Tifa pinches the bridge of her nose. "What are we supposed to do, sit around and wait for them to contact us? Have you already reached out to them?" As she says it aloud, she knows it's true. "Why didn't you talk to me about it?"

Her question doesn't faze him. "Because the second I realized what needed to be done, I didn't have time to waste."

"So Yuffie knows about all this?"

"I only asked her to establish contact with other nations."

The discussion trails off as Tifa's uncertainty and irritation grow. She understands why Barret acted that way, why he told Cid and Yuffie parts of his plan first—but it doesn't sting any less.

"Kiddo, I know what you're thinking."

"Do you?" The words come out bitter.

"You made a bad call, yes, and Biggs lost his life. But that doesn't mean I don't trust your judgment now. You know why I spoke with Cid and Yuffie first; don't make this about yourself when it's not."

The muffled noise of the crowd upstairs drowns Tifa's sharp intake of breath. Barret's words are a slap, a reminder of her failures. She doesn't want to dwell on them at this moment so she gulps down the anger and the shame. Whatever is what she wants to say, but she settles for something else.

"Just tell me what you're planning."

Barret only takes it in stride—not that she had expected anything else from him. "Cid is building the bomb as we speak; Wedge is helping him. Yuffie is trying to contact any nation willing to speak with us. If we can get help before we head out, good, but I'm not betting on that. I think it's only fair to issue some kind of warning to the people considering the scale of damage we'll cause-but we'd have to think that through." He shrugs. "We're changing target, but the plan stays the same. Most of us will stay outside to keep the soldiers out; I'll head in to place the bomb."

Tifa sits up straight. "Barret—"

"Don't argue with me on this."

She doesn't heed him. "I should do it. It'll be easier for me to get out. I'm the fastest."

"Yes, you are," he says, "but I'm not taking the risk. Tifa—" He adds, louder, as she goes to protest, "this is everything I've worked for. I will be the one to finish it."

Unable to argue with his last statement, Tifa pinches her lips closed in an effort not to speak. Her hands clench into fists on her lap, away from Barret's sight.

"This isn't a suicide mission, Tifa. I'm not planning on dying in there. But I won't ask any of you to risk it." Barret shakes his head. "I've always told you; when we fight for something, there's always a chance we won't see the outcome. That doesn't mean we should stop fighting. If my actions open the door for someone else to bring a true change, then I can't regret them no matter the consequences."

"You won't let me change your mind." It's not a question—she already knows the answer.

"It was always going to be me, kiddo," Barret says softly. "From the first day we talked about this."

Swallowing back the sudden onslaught of tears proves hard; Tifa manages a tense nod. It takes her a minute to compose herself before she can speak. "When are we doing this?"

"I'd like to head out two days from now. Three at most. We've let the dust settle enough. If we're not fast enough, the people will grow scared of Shinra again."

"What happens after?"

"Shinra will lock down Sector 1 and 2, I'm sure about that. They'll plan on the other Sectors self-destroying from chaos; they'll only step in when they think the tantrum is over. Which means we'll need to take charge. I wish we were bigger—it would help, but for now, we'll make do."

The idea that hits Tifa is stupid—she knows it is—but still, it grows into a possibility she can't ignore. Barret carries on with the details of the plan—supplies they must bring, key locations. It's not a surprise that he's ready to act, but there's always a little voice nagging Tifa that he should have done it with her. Which is why she keeps her idea to herself. Barret would probably agree while also refusing to act on it, labeling it too dangerous, too much of a risk.

"Tomorrow, we'll discuss this as a group," Barret says as he stands up. "I think it's for the best. I won't force anyone to come on this mission."

Tifa nods her agreement but stays in her seat. With a parting wave, he heads back upstairs, and Tifa releases a long sigh. She takes a second to debate with herself before going to sit at Yuffie's computers. They use one of them as a shared device, and she logs in on this one.

"Come on," she mumbles, scrolling through all the programs. She knows Yuffie has one for identification purposes. Not that Tifa thinks she'll succeed where Yuffie failed, weeks ago.

Finally finding the right application, she opens it. There are all sorts of criteria she can enter, but she only goes for the one that says 'name'. Tifa frowns as she types in VINCENT and all the results load. This was indeed a dumb idea, she decides as she takes in the thousands of results. Vincent is too common of a name. There's no way she can go through all of this in a timely fashion.

Tifa sprawls in the chair in defeat. She expected it, but it still stings. If she had a photo of him, Yuffie might be able to match—

She straightens in a jolt, remembering the time Vincent appeared on TV with President Shinra. There's a good chance the footage was archived somewhere, probably on the news channel's website. Tifa takes out her phone, sending a quick text to Yuffie, telling her to get her ass downstairs. It takes three minutes for her to appear with a scowl on.

"What's so urgent?"

Tifa gestures at Yuffie to sit next to her. "I have a job for you."

Yuffie complies with a suspicious glance.

"Is there a way you can find someone's identity through footage of them?"

"Like a facial recognition software?" Yuffie raises her eyebrow in surprise.

"I guess? You know I have no clue how these things work." Tifa waves her hand around dismissively. "If I provide a picture or footage and a name, can you find someone or not?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Yuffie drawls as she commandeers the computers. "Show me."

It doesn't take long for them to find the video of Vincent. Tifa watches it as it plays on mute, doing her best to ignore Yuffie's pointed stare.

"We watched that together. That time you guys were doing a kinky ritual. You hid something from me."

"Yes," Tifa admits. "I did because I figured it was best."

"But now you need my help so you'll tell me?"

"That's not—that's not what it is." Tifa sighs. "I made a mistake, or at least I thought I did at the time—I don't know if it was anymore. I wasn't sure if it was worth telling you until I saw that." She points at the video still playing. "Now—"

"Hey—" Yuffie speaks before Tifa can carry on. "You're not making any sense to me right now." She leans back in her chair, arms crossed, the picture of vexation.

"You're right, sorry." Tifa rewinds the video for a clear shot of Vincent. "This guy knows about us. And yes, before you panic," Tifa says as Yuffie's eyes go wide, "he works for Shinra, he's probably a Turk, and Barret knows. But he's also working against Shinra, only he does it from the inside. He gave me information about Carrier abductions, and I got confirmation it's true not long ago. In any case, he might help us."

"Help us." Yuffie enunciates each syllable. "You think this Shinra dude is going to help us."

"He might. If I can find him."

"If—" Yuffie throws her hands in the air. "Are you serious?"

As her annoyance surfaces, Tifa's tone sharpens. "Will you help me or not?"

Yuffie stays silent for a moment. "Why do we need his help?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you, but…" Tifa rubs her forehead as a headache forms. "It might be worth a shot. Barret will tell everyone else tomorrow, but I need to act now."

She gets to her feet, grabbing the notebook she discarded earlier, even though she doesn't need it to explain the plan; Tifa knows she's stalling. As she sits back down, she hesitates, and Yuffie notices.

"Well?"

Tifa opens the notebook and starts outlining the plan. It's not a detailed explanation, but she prefers leaving the details to Barret. Once she's done, Yuffie's only reaction is to blink. Tifa tosses the journal on the desk, growing irritated with the lack of response.

"Say something," she grumbles.

"I'm speechless." Yuffie shakes her head. "I guessed Barret was building to something big when he asked me to contact other countries, but—this is a lot to take in."

"What do you think?"

Yuffie opens her mouth, but no words come out. She closes it, waits, then finally speaks. "I'm in if that's what you're asking."

"All right, but I want to know what you think."

As she answers, Yuffie turns towards her computers, starting on the process of finding Vincent's identity. "I'm not sure. It makes sense to want to destabilize Shinra and cutting off the power would do the job, I guess. But," she says with a side glance towards Tifa, "I have no idea how we will deal with the people after that. Especially if we don't manage to get outside help. I understand how it would have worked for one Sector, but for all of Midgard…"

"We'll have to focus on fighting Shinra and protecting the people. We won't be able to control all the Sectors, but if we can topple the Corp, we can expose Midgard to the world with foreign help." Tifa brushes away imaginary lint from her pants. "It's a gamble."

"Yeah, but with the citizens' safety."

"I'm aware. But we're at the stage where they're putting their own lives at risk by rioting and fighting Shinra. It's been non-stop since we attacked the HQ. If we do this, we have to do it now. And anyway," Tifa sighs, "this is why I want Vincent's help. I'd be surprised if he was working alone; if he can help us organize the people, give us access to resources, lend us manpower, it would give us an advantage."

"Yeah, I get it now. Well, here we go," Yuffie says as she runs the screenshot of Vincent's face through a software.

Tifa holds her breath as the program runs. What feels like an eternity later, it stops and shows three compatible results. Tifa's eyes scan past the first two to land on the last one.

"This one," she breathes out. "That's him."

Yuffie clicks on the profile to enlarge it. The photo of Vincent must be old, dating from a couple of years back. He appears to be in his late twenties, with longer hair tied back and thin-framed glasses perched on his nose. The profile reads VIKTOR VALENS, age 31, living in what Tifa knows is an industrial area of Sector 3.

"He looks gloomy," Yuffie says. "You sure he's gonna help?"

Tifa gets to her feet and walks towards the exit. "Nope."

Yuffie's answering sigh verges on dramatic. "Great. What are you gonna do?"

"Thanks for your help," is all Tifa says as she climbs the stairs, catching Yuffie's shouted "yeah, sure" right before the door slides shut.

"Help for what?"

A yelp escapes Tifa. She hadn't noticed someone was sitting in the only chair thanks to the back store's poor lighting, nor had she expected anyone to be there.

"Don't scare me like that. What are you doing here, anyway?"

Still sitting, Cloud shrugs. "On break."

Tifa can't help her frown, and it doesn't go past him.

"I promised to help wait tables tonight, remember?"

"Oh—oh, yeah. I forgot." She clears her throat. "When are you done?"

Cloud takes the last bite of his sandwich, eyebrows raised in question. "Why?"

She steps closer and jumps to sit on the table facing him. He leans backward in his chair.

"I need your help."

Cloud smirks. "What's new?"

She makes a disapproving sound. "So cocky." The short laugh he lets out pulls a smile out of her. "I got a lead on Vincent," she adds, doing her best to sound casual.

"Ah." Cloud crosses his arms. "That kind of help."

"Actually, I just want to talk to him."

"Okay… What changed?"

Tifa flees his gaze, knowing what she'll say next is a cheap move. "You said you'd help me."

She hears him get to his feet, feels him standing in front of her, but she doesn't look at him, not yet.

"You're hiding something," he says, soft. "Is it because I wouldn't like it?"

Tifa levels her eyes on a point over his shoulder. "I'm just not sure how you would react."

"So what, you want my help without telling me the reason?" Irritation slips in his voice. "The other day you wanted to kill him, now you want to talk, and you expect me not to ask why?"

"Cloud—" She reaches out to touch his arm, but he takes a step back and buries his hands in his pockets. Tifa lets her arm fall back to her side. His rejection stings, but she knows she shouldn't let it get to her; she's the one who gave him a reason to by withholding the truth. In any case, she can't let this deter her. She needs to speak with Vincent tonight. "All right," she says, her tone cold so she can hide her conflicting emotions. "Well, I'm going either way."

Cloud's features go blank at her words. It takes Tifa a few seconds of silence to realize why; she goes to speak, but he cuts her off.

"That was uncalled for," he says, quiet.

"I didn't mean it that way," she replies just as softly.

His lips twist in a bitter smile. "You didn't mean to use my feelings for you against me? Didn't mean to tell me you're going off alone to meet a Shinra agent who knows about who you are and what you do in the hopes I would change my mind?" He comes closer, leaning forward a small amount so she can't avoid his eyes. "I'm not stupid, Tifa, and I don't like being manipulated. You've done it enough for my taste."

Tifa jerks back at this. It's true she did, months ago when they needed to find someone willing to kill, when she exploited his guilt over Aerith's death to have him join Avalanche. There's a part of her that always believed he would never notice, never know. It made living with her choice to use him as an executioner easier. Her justifications freeze halfway in her throat, making it impossible to speak; she can't deny his accusation.

"I didn't care about that," Cloud carries on, "because you barely knew me then. Don't do it again."

The space he puts between them as he heads for the door allows Tifa to breathe. "I didn't mean it that way," she repeats. She can't find anger simmering beneath her skin, only disappointment at herself. Part of her was aware she was forcing his hand even though it hadn't been the reason for saying she was leaving without him.

Cloud doesn't turn around. "If you told me the truth, maybe I would know that." His hand rests on the doorknob, and from her spot at the table, Tifa sees the way his shoulders slump. "I'll meet you outside in an hour."

He exits the room, leaving her in semi-darkness. Tifa watches the door for a minute, wishing it to open again. It stays shut.

—

The ride to Sector 3 is tense and silent. Tifa stares into nothingness while Cloud busies himself on his phone. When he came to meet her outside the bar, she tried to apologize, to explain, but he wouldn't hear it. She can't blame him, not really. But now, anxiety builds in her chest, and she focuses on breathing in and out, in and out to avoid letting it take over.

They enter Sector 3 and Tifa gets to her feet, a wordless signal for Cloud to follow. The station closest to Vincent's supposed home is the first one on the edge of Sector 4. The train brakes brusquely then slows down, and Tifa reaches out for the nearest handhold to steady herself. Her hand lands on a pole over Cloud's. There's a second where she wants to snatch it back—but she leaves it there. Cloud's chest brushes her back as he breathes. Tifa squeezes his hand.

"Let's just work together tonight."

Cloud says nothing, but she hears his sigh.

"Please," she adds, a note of resignation in her voice. Of all people, she can't have him be mad at her. Not right now.

The doors slide open as Cloud replies, and she almost doesn't make him out. "You don't have to tell me."

They both step out of the train and head for the nearest exit. The streets are dark, only lit by spread out lamp posts and the faint light from the moon. Tifa walks toward Vincent's place, her internal map guiding her; Cloud follows behind. As they near their destination, she crosses the street so they can have a better view of Vincent's apartment.

"How are we supposed to know which one it is?" Cloud mumbles. He stops next to her and leans on the wall, hands in his pockets.

Though she won't admit it, he has a point. All the apartment buildings in this area look the same, an endless row of brownstone. Tifa locates what she thinks is the right one and counts the floors.

"Apartment 4-2. That should be on the fourth floor."

"And you trust that? If he's meant to be a ghost like Reno, what they write is bullshit."

"It's our only lead."

"So what, should we ring?"

"Let's wait a few minutes," she says, resting on the wall next to him. "I'm sure he'll check outside and spot us."

They both stay quiet as a few people pass them. Once they're far enough, Tifa speaks up again.

"I'm sorry about earlier."

"It's fine," Cloud says, dismissive.

His comment sparks annoyance in her, and she can't help the sharpness of her tone. "Look, I am sorry. Take it or leave it."

"What's up with you tonight?" Like her, there is irritation in his voice, but he conceals it better than she does. "If something's bothering you, just say it."

Tifa opens her mouth, ready to fire back, to tell him that, yes, something is on her mind. To say she's not sure if Barret's plan is the right one, but it's been the end goal for so long that she doesn't know where else they can go anymore. To tell him she fears what will come after they plunge the city into chaos. But none of that comes out—if she voices her thoughts aloud, they'll become real and she's not ready for that yet.

Instead, she says, "I don't want to fight."

Cloud scoffs. "You've got a funny way of showing it." He leaves it at that, and she's glad for it because any more provocation and she would snap.

The noise of the city fills in the space between them as they wait. Five minutes turns into ten, and Tifa decides it's been long enough. Right as she considers going to ring, the lights in one of the fourth-floor apartments turn off. Cloud tenses up beside her. A minute later, someone walks out of the building, and even from afar, Tifa recognizes him.

Vincent doesn't glance their way; he walks in the opposite direction, his stride confident like he knows where he's going. Tifa starts trailing him. They keep a good distance away but don't bother to be too careful. Tifa can tell Vincent knows they're there as he leads them deeper into the industrial neighborhood.

"Where is he taking us?" Cloud mutters.

Tifa has no answer for him. She only keeps on shadowing Vincent.

Finally, he enters an old warehouse; the door is already half-open, and he leaves it that way once he's inside. Tifa waits a bit before going after him. It's almost pitch-black in the empty storehouse; her ears strain to identify every sound. As they go further inside, her eyes begin to adapt to the darkness. She hears Vincent before she spots him.

It happens quickly—Vincent steps from behind a corner, gun in hand. Tifa makes to get hers, but freezes, hands in the air, when she notices where Vincent is aiming; his weapon points at something behind her, and she knows the target is Cloud.

"Vincent—"

"Move and I shoot."

Tifa grits her teeth but keeps her hands steady. "We're here to talk. Put the gun down."

Vincent's head tilts to the side as if he's contemplating what she said. "Really? I know how fast you are, Tifa. You can draw and shoot, but I guarantee I'll have fired before you hit me. I'm a good shot."

"I'm not here to kill you."

"And I'm not taking any chances." Vincent shakes his head. "Why are you here?"

Tifa takes a deep breath. "What you told me about the Carriers—you were telling the truth." She keeps her conversation with the lieutenant to herself. "That tells me we can help each other."

"You already know I don't agree with your methods."

"Just hear me out at least." Her arms grow heavy. "Look, I'll give you my gun. I want you to trust me."

Vincent gestures at Cloud with his chin. "Tell him to disarm you. I'm staying here."

"Cloud, do it," Tifa hisses through clenched teeth.

It takes a few seconds before she hears movement behind her. Cloud comes to her side slowly; he unzips her jacket and reaches inside for the holstered weapon. Their eyes meet and Tifa gives him a don't-do-anything-stupid look. In answer, Cloud glares.

"Bad idea," he mouths. She ignores him.

Cloud swivels around and walks towards Vincent, handing him the gun. Vincent's own weapon stays steady, still aimed at Cloud. Tifa's breathing speeds up.

"Step back," Vincent tells Cloud as he takes her gun.

The atmosphere is taut as Cloud does. Once he's far enough for Vincent's taste, he turns to Tifa.

"What do you want?"

At last able to lower her arms, she does so unhurriedly. "How many people are working with you?"

Even through the darkness, she can see Vincent's distrustful expression. "More than you think."

"Okay. That's good."

"Good? What's good, Tifa?" Vincent lets out a cutting laugh. "Why take the risk to come here after everything you've done? You know I could turn you in. I will if I need to."

"But you already have, haven't you?" His silence is enough of an admission for her. "I've had time to think about it—when I got arrested months ago, it was because they ran my ID and something unusual came up. And I'm sure my record was clean. Pretty big coincidence that I met you not long before, right?"

Vincent's smile is razor-sharp. "I needed to give them a lead if I wanted to stay on this assignment. Believe me or not, I was trying to protect Avalanche. And I did remove all traces of your arrest once you escaped."

"Thanks for that," Tifa says drily. "Being a Turk must be hard work."

"Tell me what you want. I don't have time to waste."

"I want your help when the time is right. You and everyone that works with you."

Vincent frowns. "What are you planning?"

It's Tifa's turn to give him a cold smile. "Can't say."

The shadows make it hard to tell, but she's pretty sure he rolls his eyes. "When will I know when to help if you don't tell me?"

"Oh, you'll know."

Her words echo in the emptiness of the storehouse. Vincent allows for the following silence to grow, but Tifa doesn't let it bother her.

"I'm making headway right now," he says quietly, "and I can't deny part of it is due to Avalanche."

"We are working towards the same goal," Tifa lies. It's not fully true after all—Vincent doesn't seek the chaos Avalanche will bring.

At last, Vincent drops his weapon at his side. "What would you expect us to do?"

"Help in any way possible." She hates being vague, but she has to avoid letting details slip. "Could be resources, contacts, manpower—whatever will help. We're on the same side, Vincent. There's no reason we shouldn't help each other."

Vincent's sigh is loud as he holsters his gun. "You're planning on hitting Shinra hard, aren't you? And you're not enough to control the fall-out." At her silence, he laughs, then cuts off. "I'll see what I can do when the 'time is right'. But I can't promise more than that. My allegiance is to Midgard first, not Avalanche."

Tifa's shoulders sag. "It's better than nothing."

Vincent comes forward until he's standing in front of her. He hands her the gun; Tifa takes it with a mumbled 'thanks'.

"I'll call the bar the day after tomorrow to establish contact. Don't come looking for me like this again."

Tifa nods. "Thank you, Vincent."

"Don't thank me yet," he says wryly as he walks off the way they came in.

She waits for his footsteps to fade before facing Cloud. His features are tight, reflecting his anger; his silence lets her know the scope of it. She averts her eyes and heads for the exit.

"Let's go back."

Their trek back to the station is fast, and they don't wait long for a train to appear. Part of Tifa is glad for Cloud's wordlessness, but mostly she's vexed by his attitude. She rubs her eyes, fatigue creeping in. Maybe it's her fault—she's the one on edge since having talked to Barret. And it goes beyond that, she realizes; uneasiness has been building for a while, ever since the bombing days ago. This feeling of anticipation, of knowing Shinra is hunting them, of being conscious that time is running out—it seeped into her mind, influencing her emotions and actions. When the train stops at their station, Tifa is still lost to her thoughts, and she doesn't break out of them until they've crossed the threshold of 7th Heaven.

It's late and a weekday, so the bar has emptied quite a bit since they left over an hour ago. There are still enough patrons to monopolize Wedge and Sylvie's time; the older woman scowls at Tifa as she approaches the bar.

"Sorry," Tifa says. "I had something to take care of."

Sylvie's glower deepens, straying behind Tifa. "You weren't the one who took off during work."

"It wasn't busy when I left," Cloud comments over his shoulder as he heads for the apartment.

Tifa bites her lip; she should have known. A strange mixture of displeasure and guilt takes over her, and she apologizes again to Sylvie before taking off after Cloud. He's removing his jacket as she comes in and doesn't bother turning to look at her.

Tifa discards her coat and hangs it up. "You shouldn't have left if you were still working." She keeps her voice even, not wanting to betray her emotions.

"Who the fuck cares about that?" Cloud's voice resonates, its harsh tone cutting through her. He falls back onto the couch and leans his elbows on his knees. "I don't. I care that you put your life—both our lives—in danger for what? An empty promise?"

"That's what you're mad about?"

"Yeah, I'm mad," Cloud snaps. "I'm angry you thought to go alone and I'm angry you didn't trust me." He deflates all of a sudden, the fight draining out of him. "A wrong move and he would have shot me. I wouldn't have been able to do anything." He rests his chin in his hand and diverts his gaze from hers.

"I wouldn't have gone if I wasn't sure it was worth it."

He sighs. "Why won't you tell me what changed your mind? Why do you suddenly trust him?"

Tifa bites her lower lip, aware that any more lying or avoiding will only make the situation worse. "I got confirmation about the Carriers being experimented on." Not wanting him to interrupt, she goes on, "And it's true we need help. We can't afford to wait anymore."

She goes to sit on the couch next to him. Cloud stays quiet as she explains Barret's plan, but his frown deepens as she goes on.

"And you think it's a good idea?" He asks once she finishes.

All the thoughts and emotions she pushed back tonight come forward; the mess they create makes it hard for Tifa to decipher her true feelings, but she does her best to put them into words.

"I don't know what to think anymore, to be honest." She falls back into the cushions. "The scale is a lot bigger than we always planned for."

Cloud snorts. "You could say that."

"But I know we won't survive at this rate. It's a matter of days—weeks at most—before Shinra narrows down on us. I'm not sure what else we can do to weaken them in the long run. And if we don't act, nothing will change." She pauses. "Everything we did, everything we gave up… It's selfish, but I don't want it to be for nothing."

"It'll be bad," Cloud says softly.

"Yeah. I know."

The noise from downstairs is faint by now, a background noise they barely hear. It fills the silence between them for a while.

Cloud shifts to glance at her. "How did you find out he was telling the truth about the Carriers?"

Tifa goes to speak, then closes her mouth, unsure if she should tell him. But her hesitation gives her away; she can see it in Cloud's eyes. "When I escaped from the bombing site—a soldier caught me. He asked me if we were helping Carriers, and he confirmed they're being experimented on."

Cloud stares at her expectantly. "And?"

"And nothing. We went our separate ways. He told me where to go to escape."

"You let him go?" He asks, disbelieving.

"I wasn't sure I should, but I think it was the right decision in the end."

He mutters something she can't make out, but she catches on the angry tone of it. Tifa chooses to ignore it.

"We'll talk more tomorrow, okay? I'm going to sleep."

She goes to move past him, only to stop when he grabs her hand.

"What is it?" She says while slipping her hands from his. It's not a rejection—but her aggravation from before hasn't completely faded.

If it bothers Cloud, he hides it well. "I'm sorry for how I reacted earlier. I knew you didn't mean it like that, but—" He blows out a breath. "The thought of you risking your life for that made me furious."

"I risk my life every day, Cloud," she says with gentleness to soften the reminder. "You know that as much as I do."

"Yeah, I do. But it's not the same, it's not—" He sits back into the sofa. "Whatever. It's fine."

But Tifa can't dismiss the troubled edge to his expression. "I'll do what I can to be more careful." When he says nothing, she leans forward to catch his eyes. "I promise, okay?"

She hadn't noticed before, but his breathing sped up, a sure sign of his agitation; that he flees her gaze is another giveaway.

"Hey, don't think about the what-ifs. It won't do any good."

His voice is strangled when he speaks. "I tell myself the same thing, but then I see them and it's you instead, and—I don't know what I'd do, I really fucking don't," he ends in a whisper.

Tifa doesn't wait for his composure to slip more than it already has. She sits in his lap, straddling him, expecting physical contact to soothe him. Her hands slide over his shoulders; his skin is warm to the touch, even through his shirt.

"I'm here, aren't I? We both are."

Tifa frames his face between her hands and kisses him. She feels his intake of breath at her touch. He draws back, and her hands slide away.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I'm not—" He gulps and closes his eyes a second too long for a blink. "I don't want to hurt you."

A small smile curls the edges of her lips. "You won't hurt me," she whispers before pressing up against him and kissing him again.

She doesn't care, anyway.

His touch is warm, warmer than it ought to be, but she relishes it. She imagines it's what the sun feels like. The heat seeps through her skin, into her. His hands trail under her shirt and over her back, and she holds him closer until she can't breathe from the sensation. Even so, she doesn't pull away. She wants to burn.

I love you, she thinks, I love you, I love you, I love you.

The words blossom into her lungs, filling her insides with a truth untold until there is nothing else.

—

Barret scheduled the Avalanche meeting early in the afternoon. The bar is closed for the day, and Tifa can't help but think it might forever stay that way once they execute their plan. She's still on the fence about the plan; yesterday's doubts burrowed deeper into her mind until they corrupted her resolve to see this through. She agrees with Barret because disabling a Reactor has been the goal for so long that she knows nothing else. A part of her wonders if they're on the right track, bringing all this chaos to Midgard. But it's true the city needs to change at its core, and in a way, this would be like cleaning the slate.

Cid waits for her in the main room of the bar, chatting with Cloud and Yuffie. Tifa promised to accompany him while he goes back to his garage to gather supplies.

"I'm ready," she says as she nears the group.

Cid straightens away from the counter. "Let's go, then." He gestures at her to follow him as he walks for the door.

"Wait," Yuffie says before Tifa can take a step. "Did you find him?"

Tifa nods. "He's supposed to call the bar tomorrow to establish contact."

"So it worked?" Yuffie's eyebrows go up in surprise.

"We'll see."

Yuffie grimaces, but Tifa ignores her, turning to Cloud. "Do you need anything while I'm out?"

He shakes his head. "I'm fine, thanks."

Tifa gives them a parting wave before following Cid outside. They ride the train to his garage in Sector 3. Tifa waits in the break room while Cid gathers whatever he needs. It doesn't take long for him to come get her with a full backpack slung over his back.

"You got everything?" She asks as they head towards the exit.

"Yeah. I didn't want to leave it all behind."

The words stop Tifa in her tracks. "Cid, wait." She waits until he does. "What do you really think of Barret's plan?"

A frown forms on his face as he takes the time to ponder over his answer. "I think it's terrible and genius at once. I don't doubt it'll work to a certain degree, but the actual outcome will be hard to control."

Tifa bites her bottom lip. "I don't believe he wants to. Control the outcome, I mean," she adds at his questioning look. "he does, but he knows it's not doable on a big scale. I have a feeling he's expecting the people to decide where to go from there."

"Wonder how Shinra will react. No doubt they'll give us hell."

"I'm worried we'll make things worse," Tifa admits in a sigh. "I believed in his plan so much, I didn't question the changes to it. But the more I think about it, the more unsure I become."

"You told him that?"

She shrugs. "No, but I'd be surprised if he listened. It's been his end goal for so long."

"Well," Cid says with a clap on her back, "you still have time to discuss it before the meeting. Come on, let's head back."

Cid is the first to notice the crowd when they get to the train station, commenting on the unusually large number of people for the hour. As they walk unto the platform, Tifa realizes what's happening. She elbows Cid, gesturing to their left.

"Fucking hell," Cid whispers.

Less than three meters away, near the edge of the platform, is a mob of protesters. They stand close together with signs denouncing Shinra. Around them are four soldiers; one of them is engaged in a heated discussion with two protesters. His uniform marks him as an officer, and Tifa's heart skips a beat, thinking for a moment that it's the same lieutenant who let her escape. But then he turns his head, and she sees he is too old, his features pinched and cold. She releases a breath.

"Tifa," Cid says, his low voice a warning, "look around."

She had been too focused on the demonstration and the argument that she hadn't noted all the soldiers in the area. Her body goes taut as she counts them—she sees at least fifteen from where she stands. A glance at the departures screen lets her know the train is coming in a minute.

A shout startles the crowd; people move to get out of the way, pushing against each other. Tifa keeps her balance despite the sudden movement. It's a protester and the soldiers who had been confronting them; their talk degenerated, and the guy pushed him into the crowd. It takes seconds for the situation to get out of control, and soon a full-on fight breaks out between protesters and soldiers. The crowd jostles Tifa, and she does her best to steer away from the brawl. Another look at the departures screen; the train is coming. If they're lucky, they'll board before the military shuts down the station. She turns to warn Cid but can't spot him in the growing chaos.

It's that second of distraction that costs her. She doesn't see the guy and the soldier who started the fight get near her, doesn't realize they'll barrel into her until it's too late and they crash into her. Her only thought as she feels herself fall is that she was standing too close to the edge.

The impact of her body against the rails rattles her bones, and she hits her head. Tifa groans as she tries to sit up; the world spins around her, colors and forms blending together. Sounds are distorted, echoing from far away. Is that someone calling her name…? Why is it so bright—headlights, those are headlights—wasn't the train coming—the train.

Tifa doesn't think. She moves.

Time seems to slow down as she gets to her feet and jumps to grab hold of the platform's edge to hoist herself over it. She rolls unto the platform right as the train flies past. Wind ruffles her hair, fills her ears—it's almost as loud as the beating of her heart.

There's silence for a moment, and then she hears the yell. It makes her realizes what she just did. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to move in time. Anyone else should be dead.

"Carrier!"

It comes somewhere from her right, but Tifa doesn't search for the source. She doesn't even run; instead, she stays as she is, paralyzed by the crowd surrounding her.

It's not like she wasn't aware people were afraid of Carriers, that they dislike them. Rather, it's that this same fear, this same hatred has never been directed at her. It roots her to her spot, renders her unable to think of a plan—of anything, really. People have given her a wide berth; some stare at her, a myriad of expressions reflected in their eyes; some look away as if sorry for her.

She doesn't understand why until someone slams her to the ground and wrenches her arms behind her back—there were soldiers, fuck, how could she forget the soldiers. Something stings her neck and Tifa cries out in surprise. Too late, she feels the metal of the handcuffs over her wrists. She goes to move, not caring about exposing herself more, but to her shock, her movements are sluggish, unnatural—normal. She tries again, wrestling to push the soldier off her back; he gets annoyed and moves, jerking her to her feet at the same time. Tifa's breathing hitches as she realizes what the sting was—they injected her with mako.

In front of her is the officer she mistook for the lieutenant. He watches her impassively as he gives orders to whoever is holding her upright. Tifa doesn't hear them; there's so much noise, it overwhelms her until panic grips her by the throat, and she thrashes around in an attempt to pull her arms from the soldier's grip. The sudden appearance of a gun pointed at her face makes her freeze. At once, all she is aware of is her loud breathing and the officer's icy smile. It hits her that if she makes a wrong move, he'll shoot her. It'd be over just like that, and she thinks of Aerith, shot point-blank by the Captain. The terror that clogged up her throat overflows, and tears streak down her cheeks. She doesn't want to die, fuck, she can't, she can't, she—

The officer seems to grasp her thoughts; his smile widens until it's all bared teeth like an animal about to pounce on his prey. "It appears you don't want to die yet." His comment is casual, bordering on friendly. He gestures at the soldier behind her. "Take her in."

As the gun lowers, Tifa makes out Cid's stricken expression among the crowd of onlookers. Before he can make a scene, she shakes her head with as much subtlety as she can, hoping he will listen to her. Relief streams through her as he stays where he is; it's all she sees before she's dragged away and he vanishes from her sight.

The soldier yanks her toward the exit of the station, heading for a truck parked not too far away. It becomes all too real suddenly—if she boards that truck, she's not coming back, isn't she? Despite the officer's unspoken threat, Tifa digs her heels in the ground. The soldier hauling her grunts and jerks her forward by the arm, his strength trumping hers. In a last effort to get free, Tifa throws all of her weight backward, slamming the soldier into the side of the truck. He swears, his grip faltering for a second. Tifa wrenches her arm out of his hold, but before she can bolt, someone else grabs her. There's another sting, and this time her eyes droop and her strength fails her. She's unable to move as they heave her inside the truck, and their words sound far.

"Second Lieutenant Tseng said… to the Tower… registration…"

Shouldn't that mean something to her? She has a feeling it does, but—

The sedative they gave her makes the world go dark and her mind go blank.

—