"Tifa, please."

The words faltered her steps but Tifa didn't stop moving until she felt long fingers circle her forearm, tug her to a halt. Shit, her brain swore while she swallowed a groan. She turned just enough to give Cloud her profile, not daring to face him fully as she was sure something in her expression would betray her false poise.

"Is something the matter, Cloud?" she managed in as blithe a voice as she could muster. She tried not to grimace at how fake she sounded, even to her own ears.

Goddess, but she wasn't ready for a confrontation yet, needed more than the few moments it had been since she'd left the warmth and safety of his arms to gather herself. She had thought, however incorrectly, that the mention of Aerith's name—Gaia, how she'd tripped over speaking her friend's name—along with her forced resolve to return to the town would somehow steer both herself and Cloud back to the foremost of their problems.

"Please, Tifa," she heard again and, as always, the way he said her name had something in her heart calling an answer.

I just need a few more minutes, she thought a bit more desperately now, minutes to collect herself and remember that she could take on whatever was thrown her way, be it big or small, without Cloud Strife. So what if she'd had another meltdown? She'd weathered them before, alone nonetheless. Besides, what was one more trauma in a twenty-year-old life that had been filled with them?

She was Tifa Lockhart and she was built on survival. She'd survived the death of her mother at eight years old, had survived the destruction of her hometown, had cradled her father in her arms through his final breaths, then had made it through a fatal stab from a madman. She'd survived the Slums of Midgar after being abandoned by her Sensei, alone, until she'd found Barret and Marlene...and through all those years, Cloud had only been a gossamer dream, an imaginary anchor that had tethered her to strength. Just because she'd finally found him after years of missing him…it didn't mean she could just keep falling apart and relishing his arms holding her together. Especially when it wasn't where he wanted to be. She'd survived without him before and she would do so again.

No matter how much you are his, he's not yours, a harsh, pragmatic voice reminded her sharply. He announced to you and nearly everyone you know on the Planet that he wants to love Aerith. Did you forget the bewilderment and humiliation? The heartache?

In the confusion of a rebuilt Nibelheim, she had forgotten. When she hadn't been able to plug the choking horror of a home she both did and didn't know, she'd gone instinctively in search of Cloud, feet stumbling her to her old room, eyes seeking a window that would peer across to an answering room where she used to let herself imagine that blonde-hair and blue-eyes would return her gaze though she'd known he'd long left her behind—

"...Tifa…?"

The feel of warm fingers around her wrist distracted her suitably, along with another gentle tug that asked her wordlessly to face shining blue.

Panic and tension stole over her phony aplomb and she chewed her bottom lip, wanting but not wanting to turn around. Was he questioning her obvious reluctance, she wondered, frozen and indecisive about her next move. If she denied his silent request, would he give up and release her?

Could she face her blonde-haired, blue-eyed lost dream?

Steeling herself, she pivoted slowly, kept her eyes and expression hidden behind bangs and loose hair as well as she could. She could face him, she wagered shakily. She'd managed to slip away from his arms just minutes before, no matter how hard every cell in her body had been begging her to stay. Didn't that mean she could at least turn and look at him?

…he's not yours…

Forcing her downcast eyes to lift, she prayed to whatever gods were listening that her flimsy composure would hold. Their eyes met and emotions like a tidal wave crashed in those blue blue blue depths: bewilderment, trepidation, sorrow and regret—Shiva, but there was so much regret bleeding through the rippling azure and cyan and cerulean. It made her throat tight and she didn't resist the fingers that brought her palm to cover his heart.

She waited for his eyes to close at the motion, knew that somehow, as much as he always brought her safety and protection, she gave him relief from whatever static or voices he'd told her he heard inside his head.

But blue eyes stayed glued on hers and the tension in his shoulders seemed to gather. Earnestness appeared in that endless blue, reminding her so much of the Nibelheim boy that she hardly ever saw in him anymore, and that tightness in her throat doubled. Her fingers curled into his shirt as if to keep the glimpse of that familiar Cloud close and, involuntarily, his name broke from her lips.

"Tifa, please," he answered, expression pleading. "Please, Tifa, I—I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I hurt you." The hoarse words were punctuated by gloveless fingers brushing the bangs from her eyes, tender and trembling ever so slightly as they lingered along her temple. "I didn't mean to."

Her heart stuttered in her breast, wanting to dispel the regret in azure and cobalt because it ached for him…but the sensible part of her poked at her to tread carefully. He was apologizing for hurting her certainly, but that didn't make him any more hers than he had been before his apology. She was his oldest friend and of course he was sorry for hurting her. But he'd called for Aerith in his sleep, had reached for Aerith, and no matter what had happened—or hadn't happened?—between them, there was that doubtful voice in her head telling her that it was usually the subconscious self that often revealed the true needs and impulses of someone.

Remember how we always call for him when we are weak and failing?

And still her foolish heart continued to refuse to believe that she'd been just some substitute.

…he's not yours…

She didn't speak until she was sure her voice wouldn't betray her, forced her mouth to twist into a cheerful smile. "I appreciate that, Cloud," she replied, drawing her hand away from his heart while she took a step back to distance herself. The movements were wooden and brusque but she couldn't risk staying near him too long; she wanted it too much.

Dark golden brows drew together in confusion and his hand hovered awkwardly in the air for long seconds before dropping, something sad and hollow sliding into blue blue blue. That foolish heart of hers lurched at the sight, urging her yet again to forgive his transgression and lessen his pain.

But her own pain was still too sharp inside of her, stubborn and needling her insistently, and she swallowed past the need to comfort Cloud. Focus, Lockhart! she chided, angry at herself for being so damn weak when it came to anything to do with him. Focus on Nibelheim and Sephiroth.

She gave him her back again with jerky, sharp movements. "Let's hurry, all right? I'd like to make it back before dark." Without waiting for his agreement, she started forward again, desperate to hold herself together. Humiliation. Bewilderment. Heartache...don't forget.

She was Tifa Lockhart and...she would survive.

The Nibelheim night was as vast and beautiful as Tifa could remember, stars peppering an infinite black, moonbeams bright as sunlight, fireflies dancing and swirling around a dimly lit well-tower. She sat wrapped in a quilt on a bench outside the inn doors, her eyes bouncing back and forth between the sky and the tower and flickering lightning bugs as thoughts ran rampant in her head.

They'd be off to the Gold Saucer in the morning, it seemed, the next destination along the path of hunting Sephiroth. Amongst the piles of information that Noct and Aerith had returned and had shared with everyone—Vincent had opted to stay behind to further investigate the manor—they'd managed to pinpoint information where Holy was said to reappear, and where to find the key to open said place.

In the notes Aerith had copied, the place had been described only as "the thriving center of prime life and salient love," details Aerith had derived from an old Cetra tome written in some primordial language that she'd seemed to inherently understand. She'd further explained that the tome had declared that the indeterminate place only appeared to a Cetra, and its doors could only be unlocked with something called a Keystone. Somewhere amongst the notes Noctis had jotted down, he'd found information that had said the Keystone was an item purportedly owned by someone described as a "wealthy god."

That information had sparked much debate amongst most of the party, with only Cloud and Tifa silent on the matter, the former brooding and polishing Buster Sword in a corner of the room, while Tifa did her best to referee Barret and Yuffie and their bickering.

In the end, it seemed Barret and Yuffie—both glaring at each other to realize they actually agreed upon something—had come across the Keystone during recent—but separate—visits to the Gold Saucer. The amusement park, it seemed, was owned by a man named Dio, whose name translated to god, and was purported to be one of the richest men in all of Gaia—second only to Rufus Shinra—and those pieces of information seemed to check both of the conditions that Shinra reported as the owner of the Keystone.

Other intel they'd gathered had included information regarding a rebuilt Nibelheim—rebuilt to cover up Shinra's tracks and keep Sephiroth, in the eyes of the public, as the lauded war hero—Duostigma, and NR01, who was a man named Kadaj, the Second Class SOLDIER who Tifa had met in Nibelheim years ago. He'd been subsequently killed after his escape from Shinra's detainment, proving the theory that Duostigma could be eliminated by terminating the primary host; apparently, Kadaj had escaped Shinra's detainment once before, the only live body that had been recovered from the fires of Nibelheim, and had gone back to the Nibelheim Reactor where he'd infected a deluge of Makonoids and set them loose. Those Makonoids who hadn't been infected had remained lifeless, whereas those contaminated had gone on to wreak destruction—until Kadaj had been terminated and, subsequently, the infected Makonoids had become like their brethren.

Apparently little had been found on Reunion Theory, though Cid's mention of it had sparked a strange reaction from Noctis, who'd settled in next to Tifa, his notebooks and weapon spread out comfortably on the bed in front of them. After Cid had asked about the Theory, she'd watched as icy blue eyes had shifted to Cloud, who'd remained silent and watchful—she'd felt the constant weight of those troubled azure and swirling green eyes all night—before Noct had flexed a flippant smile and dismissed the pilot's question, saying only that it was part of the reason Vincent had remained behind, to find anything else that could be useful.

Tifa wondered about that icy blue gaze now, a strange pit in her stomach to remember how often the Lucian prince's gaze had subsequently drifted back toward Cloud through the rest of the evening.

And instead of the glow of battle in those icy blue eyes, a look she'd become accustomed to whenever icy blue and swirling azure met, she'd glimpsed something akin to sorrow, something that had softened that usually challenging glare whenever they turned toward the ex-SOLDIER. It had never lasted long, but its constant return to Cloud, with it that empathic light, had given Tifa worried chills.

He knows something he doesn't want to share, she thought now, watched as a flickering bug zipped up and down and around just inches from her face. He knows something about Cloud that he isn't telling us. She pondered if perhaps Aerith might know the same thing—or things.

She'd hardly been able to look at Aerith that evening, her friend stumbling into the room behind Noct upon their return, and heading straight for Cloud. Tifa had stubbornly—cowardly— kept her eyes averted, unwilling and unable to witness whatever reunion the two might have had, and had busied herself with finishing the braids in Red's mane, turning her back completely to the couple so that she wouldn't accidentally pay witness to something she was certain her heart couldn't handle.

Only Aerith hadn't stayed long at Cloud's side, had appeared soon after just opposite Tifa on the adjacent bed. Tifa had just finished the final braid in Red's mane, who'd turned to thank her before leaping gracefully beside Aerith, and when she'd found herself staring tentatively into a pair of emerald eyes, she'd only had time to give a soft smile in greeting before Aerith had her face buried in Red's soft mane.

She'd wondered both curiously and anxiously, if her friends—both Cloud and Aerith—had had some sort of couple's spat, but had kept her worries to herself and had instead turned her attention to Noctis—who'd plopped himself unceremoniously onto her bed and laid his head in her lap.

Their group discussion had begun shortly after, and she'd pushed her thoughts aside to focus on the answers that Shinra Manor had yielded.

The creak of the inn doors followed by the advent of a shadow had the wandering firefly flitting away hastily. Tifa drew the quilt tighter around her shoulders and inhaled the scent of vanilla and lillies, turned to see Aerith standing just at the end of the bench.

"Would you mind if I joined you?"

Tifa smiled in welcome, shifting along the bench to make room alongside her and within the cocoon of her heavy quilt.

Aerith snuggled in quickly, trembling in the brisk night air. Her shoulder and thigh were cold as they pressed against Tifa briefly, before she adjusted herself into a separate cocoon. "Burrr," she shivered, tucking the quilt around herself securely before checking to ensure Tifa was also well covered. "This mountain air is quite cold."

Tifa offered her friend a companionable smile. "I miss the air here," she admitted, tucking her hands between her thighs. "Crisp and fresh and soothing."

"It sure beats the smell of the Slums. Nothing like the stench of rusty metal and rotting fruit peels. And, of course, mako."

Tifa gave a small snort, Aerith's description bringing back clear memories of the Slums. "Never could figure out what that rotting smell was, or where it was coming from, but I don't much mind the smell of mako," she admitted, then mentally kicked herself.

Because blonde-hair and blue eyes smelled of mako, of electricity and power.

Aerith seemed to catch her unwarranted thought, and she didn't shy away from confronting Tifa with the information. "Cloud smells like mako." Her words were said without acerbity or accusation.

Still, Tifa felt stricken, the blow to her heart like that of a shock from Reno's EMR, and she struggled to find a reasonable response to Aerith's words. The reminder that Aerith also knew Cloud's scent was devastating.

In the end, she remained silent, and the air between them stretched cold and long, chilling her to the bone though she'd sworn she'd been comfortably warm just seconds before.

It was Aerith who finally broke the silence, and her voice was thick with emotion, slow and halting and quiet as the Nibelheim night.

"I fell in love once," she began, her body as still as the air between them, as if she were afraid to disturb its peace. "I was just a girl, sixteen years-old and terribly lonely. The Turks and Shinra visited often, so often, in fact, that I somehow convinced myself that one of them was my friend. You remember Tseng, long black hair, head of the Turks now? He wasn't that much older than me, and he was nice, nicer than I knew he should've been, nicer than Shinra would have wanted. On his visits he would help me tend to the flowers, ask about my day, ask after Mom. At the time, it meant a lot to me because I just...I felt so alone.

"Then he suddenly stopped visiting. I think that was when he was made head of the Turks and his responsibilities took him elsewhere, I don't know exactly but he—he started sending a proxy instead, either Reno or Rude or Elena, until one day, those visits suddenly stopped too. And that's—thats when I met him.

"He fell through the roof of my church and landed in one of my flower beds, having fallen from an unfinished section of the sector plate above. It scared the spirit out of me and I had no idea what to do or how I could help. In the end, I just sat with him, and talked, until he regained consciousness."

Tifa could hear the smile in her voice when her friend spoke next. "He—he called me an angel, thought that he'd somehow died and I was there to greet him in the afterlife. After assuring him that he was still alive and on Planet Gaia, he promptly asked me for a date. It was a reward, he said, for saving his life, though I hadn't done anything more than just sit with him until he awoke. It was silly, really, so silly, but—oh, Tifa, it was also terribly lovely.

"He was so...charming and funny and flirty and had the most beautiful eyes. Rich and deep and blue, bluer than even the sky. When I was with him, no matter where we were or what we were doing, I wasn't afraid and that...that was new to me. Feeling safe, feeling good, was new to me. I—I fell for him like a ton of bricks.

"He visited me infrequently but it was enough. We'd hang out in the playground in the Sector 5 Slums, take long walks to wherever our feet led us. Much like Tseng, he'd help me tend to my flowers." A sigh, deep and nostalgic, filled with warmth and humor. "He even built me wagons so I could easily transport my flowers! Someone once offered us ten thousand gil for one but—we refused to sell it. It was—he was wonderful.

"This went on for a while and, when we were apart, I wrote him letters—and he wrote me back. He called as much as he could also, and I called him too, but us reaching one another was as infrequent as his visits. Still, it was something, and I held on to those moments tight. Being young and stupid, during his last visit I told him I had twenty-three wishes I wanted him to fullfill, and he asked me to write them down so he wouldn't forget. In the end, I only wrote down the most important one, the one that all the others were leading to: to spend more time with him.

"I remember calling him once and he sounded distracted, was in the middle of something but he—he promised he'd come see me instead of calling me back. So I waited. Except after...he never came back, stopped calling, didn't return any of my emails or calls. He just—it was as if he'd dropped off the face of the Planet.

"But I loved him; what could I do? I just kept waiting. I didn't give up completely, kept calling until the phone number stopped receiving calls, and wrote him countless letters but—I didn't have anywhere to send them. Years passed and, before long, Tseng started visiting again and that's when it struck me. I should give the letters to Tseng to pass on.

"Because, you see, the man that I loved, his name was Zack Fair, and he was SOLDIER 1st Class, much like Cloud. Their eyes, though different in their shades of blue, have that same mako glow. And he too, smelled of mako. Heck, he even carried the same sword as Cloud! Must be some sort of standard issue SOLDIER sword, I don't know."

Zack? The name sent a tremor through Tifa and she forced herself to remain still, mind tumbling through memories of a tall, dark-haired SOLDIER with a scar along the bottom of his cheek and a smile that had probably charmed the panties off of too many women.

The quilt rustled, and a pretty hand slipped out from the covers, stretched into the darkness. The flickering mako sconce above the inn sign lit the pink ribbon that could usually be found in her hair now wrapped tightly around her wrist, weaved through and around her silver bangles. "He gave me this ribbon on our first date, asked me if I would wear pink for him." The slender hand seemed to tremble, though Tifa was sure it wasn't due to the cold. "I—I started to but then...I never saw him again."

Melancholy now, her voice became as soft as a whisper, as if to somehow limit her pain, and Tifa reached for Aerith's cold hand, clasped it tightly in her own.

"I was in the church one day, tending the garden, just like any old day when suddenly—I could hear him. I could hear his voice but not—not close, not where I was, in the church. I could hear him asking for wings and—" Her voice thickened, tripped on the next words and Tifa held on tightly to the trembling fingers in her own. "Oh goddess, Tifa, I felt him return to the Planet and it was as if all the air was sucked from my world because—because he was gone, and I would never see him again."

"Oh, Aerith," Tifa breathed, and crawled out of her quilt to wrap her arms around slender shoulders.

She sobbed against Tifa's shoulder, shaking something terrible, tears coming hard and fast and soaking Tifa's shirt. She wept noisily, unreserved, as if she'd kept the pain bottled up too tightly and its release was a powerful, bursting dam. Shuddering and holding tightly, Tifa wished she could share her own tears, yet could only murmur wordless nonsense. It was a long while before Aerith spoke again, and when she did it was with measured, shaky breaths interrupted by hiccups and gasping shudders.

"Then one day not too long ago, another SOLDIER fell out of the sky into my flower bed at the church. Just like Zack, he was dressed in indigo with a huge sword. And just like Zack, I felt safe with him, and he protected me, even though I was just some stranger. Except, when I looked into his beautiful, blue eyes, so different from Zack's and yet so much the same, I swear that I knew him. And that he knew me too." A quivering breath. "It was like the gods had sent him back to me, and I promised myself I wouldn't lose him this time."

Tifa nodded reassuringly and stifled the pain in her heart of the reminder that Cloud Strife didn't belong to her, shoving it aside with the rest of the heavy pain she carried. "I understand, Aerith," she murmured, her own hands shaking now. And she really did understand, for when she'd found Cloud again after years of longing for him, of wondering if he was alive somewhere? Of wondering if she would ever be whole? She never would be, she knew that now, but when she'd found him again? To be given hope? Her trembling hands curled into fists and she didn't release her hold on vanilla and lillies. "I understand."

But Aerith drew back and glistening emerald eyes met Tifa's, sad and mourning but also strangely resolute, glinting beneath the flickering mako light. "Not yet, Tifa. Not yet but, I hope you will when I'm finished." Slender hands gestured for Tifa to return to her position, checking and double checking that every part of Tifa was once again covered beneath the quilt before she spoke once more.

"I really thought he was mine, Tifa, thought that I'd been given another chance. I mean, how often do good-looking guys just fall out of the sky? At my feet, nonetheless. To be struck by lightning twice? I wasn't going to waste the opportunity given to me. So then as much as Zack had rewarded me with a date, I rewarded Cloud with the same thing for protecting me. He was very obviously reluctant at my suggestion, was shy and unsure but careful, so very careful, not to hurt my feelings. I didn't understand his opposition because Zack wouldn't have shied away from such a proposal and I was so confused—then we saw you on your way to Don Corneo's and...well, that was that."

A slim shoulder lifted in a shrug and a smile curled pretty pink lips. "Selfishly, I still wanted him to be mine, still wanted him to be my second chance even after I saw how wonderfully perfect you fit with him. And you fit, not like pieces of a puzzle, not something so simple and clean, but...have you ever ripped a sheet of paper in half, noticed the jagged edges and unseen layers, and then somehow managed to realign them? And they just fit? It was just like that, as if you'd been one whole piece that had fate and destiny had reunited. And the way he watched you, as if you held everything that he'd ever wanted in your smile…" Her eyes slid shut and she seemed to sway a little, expression filled with longing and envy, body searching for its missing half. "I wanted that too, so much, and I convinced myself that if I just didn't give up, if I just kept trying to find a way that could work for each of us, then it could be mine. I'd promised myself and, goddess, but I truly believed he'd been sent back for me to love."

Her throat so tight she couldn't speak, Tifa nodded and reached through the quilt to grasp shaking hands with the Cetra again, palm to palm, holding tightly.

Emerald eyes opened again, and a small, repentant smile curled pretty pink lips. "I'm not too proud of myself or of how terribly I'd acted, especially when you've been nothing but good to me. No, please, don't interrupt, because I had been terrible. It was just...when he called my name those two times, and I heard him say he wanted to love me? It was—goddess, Tifa, it fit so perfectly the narrative I'd created for myself that I let myself be blind to everything else. I discarded the things you'd shared with me, discarded Cloud's feelings, discarded what I'd seen with my own eyes when I watched the two of you together. I selfishly grabbed onto it and hoped that it could be mine." She shook her head, lashes lowered with guilt and shame.

"And he hadn't even known what he'd done, had no recollection of it. I had to explain to him what had happened and he'd been genuinely confused and, oh, Mighty Minerva, Tifa, if you could've seen his eyes...It wasn't until after he and I talked, and after I watched how frantic and desperate and relentless he was searching for you on the Highwind, and how—how—" She shook her head again, seeming to struggle to find the right words. "—how fragile you looked afterward, that I started to realize how selfish and stupid I'd been. However inadvertently, I'd done my part to try to break you, and his eyes...like he'd failed you and didn't know how or why and was devastated by it.

"Besides, who the heck was I to try and take something like that away from you or Cloud? So he'd said my name twice during one of those episodes he has sometimes. So what? I'm sure he's mumbled a plethora of other random things when he's like that. And when he's fully conscious and aware, it's only you he has eyes for.

"So here I am, trying my best to make it right with you, and apologize for being so—single-minded." She squeezed their clasped hands, brows drawn together in seriousness. "So I'm sorry, Tifa, for my part in this mess we somehow created, and I'm sorry that you were hurt while I was trying to reconcile my heart and my head."

"There's nothing to be forgiven," Tifa whispered, her heart and mind in as much turmoil as it had been all day. Goddess, but she thought she'd be too exhausted to feel anything anymore yet everything kept tumbling inside of her, wave after wave of confusion and sorrow, guilt and pain and love and compassion. "Nothing to be ashamed of. I think—I think it's fair to say we've all struggled with things that have happened to us, and haven't quite dealt with them the way we should."

Aerith shifted beneath her quilt and Tifa felt a cheek upon her shoulder, their clasped hands shuffled under the quilt until they pressed into Aerith's lap. "Thank you for letting me share my troubles and heartache with you. I just—I've never had anyone to talk to about such things before and it—it just feels like I'm supposed to share them with you. It sounds silly but—"

"—but it's not," Tifa completed for her, rested her cheek atop vanilla and lily scented ringlets. Her mind turned over her tumultuous thoughts as the comfortable silence stretched, debating whether or not she should share what she knew might offer some comfort to Aerith. Goddess knew how much she'd needed to be near Barret when she'd lost Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge. Aerith probably yearned for something similar. And though she couldn't offer her friend the same exact comfort, she knew it would at least be something. Before she could think better of it, she offered hesitantly, "I met him, your Zack Fair. Tall and so energetic with black-hair and a—"

"—and a scar along his jaw!" Aerith's head popped up and Tifa found herself grabbed and held tightly, a sound that was part laugh, part sob torn from the other woman's throat. "How? When? Oh, goddess, but I'm going to cry again."

But Tifa wasn't ready to tell everything in heart, wasn't ready to share her doubts and fears and her many questions with someone else, and so let herself share only part of the story she thought she knew—and to save the secrets for later. "He came to Nibelheim once," she replied. "I was his tour guide around town and he seemed to have so much energy, like a—"

"—like a puppy." Aerith nodded, and a strange sad but contented giggle escaped. "Oh, Tifa. Thank you. Thank you for sharing that with me. Knowing that someone else knows him, knowing that you know him—it's like he's alive again for me."

"You're welcome." She felt the other woman shiver, the quilt having settled around their waists after Aertih's impulsive hug, and she freed herself with a small smile, a firefly swirling near the sconce above their heads. "C'mon, let's go inside. It's late and cold and we should get some rest."