"The bad news: there is no key to happiness.

The good news: it isn't locked"

.| Codes of Conduct |.

Chapter 8: Release

Tifa was crying.

Bawling, to be precise. Including the full table d'hôte of repulsive side effects: runny nose, puffy eyes, and nasal sniveling interrupted by the odd half-choked wheeze. It was definitely not a state that anyone in their right mind would call "inviting".

Cloud Strife, infamously, was not of the right mind. Hadn't been for a while, if ever.

He held her that night, allowing salty tears to stain the fabric of his uniform shirt, desperate to provide some - any - wisp of comfort as they stood there in Aerith's garden, not long after the hostess herself had been captured by Shinra forces. Tifa didn't read too much into it at first. She was the one who had initiated the connection, drawn to him out of desperation more than anything. As though he were a lighthouse and she, a lone-manned skiff in a sea growing ever more turbulent. There were no expectations beyond him standing still and allowing her to absorb some solely needed warmth for a few seconds as she released the floodgates of sorrow and horror that had accumulated over the last few days.

Thus, when his arms rose, hands pressing upon her back, crushing her to his chest in an embrace that bordered on violent, she squeaked in surprise. It was the first and only indication that he wasn't as unaffected as he seemed by the Sector 7 plate fall and their new friend's subsequent kidnapping.

Long ago, Cloud had vowed to protect her, to be her hero, and in the most rudimentary of ways he had fulfilled that duty. Again and again and again, a countless number of times in a mere half month since being reunited, he had shielded her physically from harm. She hated to seem ungrateful, but avoiding broken bones and bloodshed wasn't nearly enough. Aerith on the other hand, without needing to be asked, had taken on the role of heroine to Tifa's spiritual self, which apparently required an even thicker shielding from life's harsh elements.

The flower girl had kept her smiling when Tifa was nearly paralyzed by terror. She had vowed to bring Marlene to safety when her heart was about to rip in half from being yanked in multiple directions at once. In their brief candle flame of a friendship, she had pretty much taught and pushed the lowly barmaid, who was generally known to lead with reason, to follow her heart above all else.

Even locked far away above them, Tifa could almost hear her twinkling giggle as she and Cloud clung to one another, perhaps muttering something along the lines of "it's about damn time!". As if Cloud had heard it too, his arms around her tightened to the point that the rusted bolts of his bracer started digging into her shoulder blade. Though the idea of interrupting this moment - this glorious deliverance - was its own kind of painful, she would be of no help to anyone if she allowed herself to be inadvertently stabbed.

"Cloud," she said, tears relenting if only due to shock. Wanting to fully absorb the final seconds, she tilted her cheek and took a deep inhale of his scent; tingling mako menthol, steel, earth and home. "Cloud, you're hurting me."

"Oh." He pulled away instantly but not very far, hand sliding down her back as if to brush away the pain. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Really. I'm fine."

Looking up while wiping her eyes, Tifa realized that this was the closest they had ever been face to face. Which was somewhat hilarious considering all that they had done up to that point. Three times he had been inside of her, whether by fingers, tongue or for a divine minute that she would remember for as long as she lived, what she had considered to be the most private part of a man's body. She was understanding just then, staring into those blue-green irises that pulsed with unnatural light, that maybe that was far from the truth. There were other parts of him still deeply buried under layers of trauma and guilt, ones that she may never unlock in a lifetime of attempts. Other untouched targets, however, were slightly more realistic. Her gaze instinctively fell to his mouth and there it stayed, debating how much bravery Aerith's ethereal presence could infuse her with.

Tonight he had hugged her, even though there was no way he could have seen or smelled that that was exactly what she needed. Perhaps he was starting to read more than just physiological desires via his enhanced senses. She stared at his lips so fiercely she feared he would start to feel them burn, silently begging him. This entire time, it wasn't the physical release she craved most. It was the assertion that someone cared; someone with a shared history and, perhaps, a joint future. Her hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt in a silent plea.

Please. Please. Please, Cloud.

Before they returned to the acidity of blood and sweat on her tongue, she needed a taste of human softness. To remind herself that it existed and was worth fighting for.

"Tifa," he whispered, that infuriating mouth of his curling at the corner. At the same time, a gloved hand reached to trace her hair behind her ear and he took a deep breath through his nose as if to stabilize his resolve. It made her bristle slightly.

"Don't do me any favors," she was sure to mention. "If this isn't something you want-"

A chuckle interrupted. "What I want is...strange."

Her eyes moved up to meet his again, brow furrowed.

"Tell me," she demanded, spurred by Aerith's influence where she would have usually left him to linger until one or both shut down. Cloud, as confused and uncertain a man as he was, needed light pushes to move forward. She needed them to move forward tonight, somehow. "I promise I won't...tempt you anymore. You said it wasn't going to happen again and I respect that. Let's just fully take it off the table."

With this vow, she was glad to note that some immeasurable tension drained from his shoulders. "Don't you mean take it off the bar?"

A shared laugh and Tifa felt her heart warm with affection, the hands splayed on his chest moving up to his shoulders, somehow making their pose even more intimate. "What is it you want, Cloud?"

A blush stained his cheeks and he turned towards the glittering river. She was tempted to reach for his chin and force him back to her, but hadn't reached that level of forwardness yet. Probably never would. She had him in her arms and he wasn't making any move to retreat. For now, that was enough.

"You know my mom had a garden," he started, nodding towards Aerith and Elmyra's starlight dappled cottage. "Not as impressive as this one, but enough to keep us fed. She tried to teach me how to take care of it, but I was more interested in reading about war." She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and Tifa's less impetuous self took rein, hoping to ease him into the tale.

This was the first time he mentioned Nibleheim.

"I remember," she said softly, fingers brushing against the downy hairs at the back of his neck in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. "She made pumpkin tarts once for the autumn festival. They were the best thing I ever tasted."

The sugar and spice had been secondary to the unexpectedly creamy pumpkin puree. She remembered licking her fingers and begging for the recipe. Claudia had said it was a family secret but, hopefully, Cloud would teach her once he came back from training. The memory made Tifa's eyes well up again.

Claudia Strife, like Biggs and Jessie, had been too good for this world.

Despite the painful subject manner, Cloud was still smiling as he stared at the modest vegetable patch, immersed in brighter memories. "She supported me trying for SOLDIER, but I knew she wasn't happy about it. The entire month after I got my summons and prepared to leave, she insisted on having these...talks every night. She wanted me to be prepared and safe but never forget home."

"Sounds like Claudia."

"Yeah." Turning back, Cloud's face was bathed in shadow. "She wanted me to grow things, to provide instead of destroy. I failed."

"Cloud-"

"No. Let me finish. Please." Another deep breath and the hands on her back drew her a little closer; another silent plea for attention. "I'm not good enough for you. Please don't argue. But maybe I could be. I just need some...time. And also, I...I don't want-"

Tifa had to bite her lip to keep from interrupting as he gathered his flickering thoughts like fireflies in a jar. It was agony to wait but glorious to be privy to any details on his true incentives. When he finally felt confident enough to speak, his stare was harder than ever, eyes practically piercing her skin. "Though I know my actions lately may go against this, I think I want us to be...traditional. To have at least one standard from home survive."

"Traditional?" Tifa repeated, baffled by the very concept. After so many years being, she supposed, "corrupted" by Midgar, the courtship standards of a small village had long since fled the realm of possibility. "Do you mean...you don't want us to-"

"Yeah," he confirmed with a short nod.

"Not until after, like, traditional-traditional?"

"Um-hm."

"Oh. Wow."

"Is that okay?" he asked, expression heartbreakingly hopeful.

Her instinct was to say "no". Nibelheim was long since dead and buried along with the two wide-eyed, innocent kids who had grown up there. If there was one thing she was grateful for, she had been spared having to participate in the mortifying pageantry of those debutante dances attended by all sixteen-year-old girls in the county, as if there were all prize cattle showing off their teeth to deep pocketed farmers. When this had begun, after she found him at the Sector 7 train station two weeks and lifetime ago, she remembered joking to herself about how he may have once been a contender as her husband had the town never burned. Back when she thought she'd hadn't had a choice but to wrangle a nice one before her life could officially begin.

Nibelheim, where kids got married at sixteen just to escape oppressive households.

Nibelheim, where the air smelled like freshly cut grass instead of rotten eggs.

Nibelheim, where her parents and so many people had taken their last breaths.

Nibelheim, the last place and time she had ever felt peace.

As much of that town she wanted to remain as ashes in her memory, other parts were too deeply nested within her spirit, like the roots of the willow tree they used to climb.

Remembering Claudia's autumn tarts, their simple crusts concealing a treasure of sweetness and spice deep within to those who bothered to be patient, the answer to Cloud's question became as clear as the blue sky during the village's summer solstice.

"Of course, Cloud," she said, hands pulling at his neck, leaning closer until their foreheads touched. "I'll wait."

"Thank you, Tifa." His tone and the hands snaking around her waist were a vivid reminder of how very difficult this promise of hers was gonna be to keep.

She wanted him.

She would never stop wanting him.

The implication was that it may be years before they got back to the point they had explored at the bar, but strangely enough she didn't mind that. If this is where they had ended up after a few weeks, then she had every reason to believe that, slowly but surely, they would get there via the scenic route. As long as they kept communicating.

Speaking of communication, the term "traditional" could have a plethora of definitions. Against all natural inclinations to leave the conversation at that, she remembered Aerith and practically felt the girl prodding her in the back.

"Just to be clear," she said, voice rising in pitch, breath stuttering just from being so close to him. "Can we still do other-"

He interrupted her in the best way possible. Finally, after what felt like eons, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

His kiss was soft and chaste but somehow still the most heated thing they had done so far, to the point where she started to shake from the intensity as though electrocuted. It was a stamped seal of approval on this new vow made to one another: a promise of a future and maybe, someday, settle into a new type of 'tradition'. Where vegetable gardens and homemade pumpkin tarts wove between twisted rebar and explosives.

There in Aerith's garden, surrounded by the perfume of reunion flowers, Tifa could see it, taste it, feel it. It spurred her to push a little deeper, angling her head so that her tongue could softly trace the seam of his lips. Always the quick learner in addition to being fluent in the language of her body, he similarly craned his neck to allow more pressure, more feeling. The arms around her waist tightened to pull her close enough that her feet left the ground and she giggled with unbridled happiness.

Cloud. Cloud. Cloud Strife. By Gods, the way that boy made her feel, whether by words or a look or touch, like she was floating above the wreckage over the last five years. It was downright supernatural.

The evening could have ended there and it would have still been considered perfect. They would have been able to move forward with the plans to infiltrate Shinra and rescue Aerith minus regrets and plus newfound inspiration to get out alive. Parting to slither into their respective beds would have infused them with the combative edge that only a good night's sleep could provide.

Tifa, however, had one last concern that was poking at her like his rusted bracer had; an unbalanced debt dangling and threatening to guillotine the memory's perfection.

Opening her eyes, she spotted a potting shed a couple of paces away and was struck by a thrilling scheme. She pulled away from their kiss, which had long since become a simple pressing of mouths, with extreme reluctance to reveal those eyes pulsing with a ring teal; a side effect of which she was now well aware of the trigger. The look alone made her toes clutch the inside of her boots. They may die tomorrow, another probable suicide mission, and she owed him one. She owed him four, to be precise. She swore that, eventually, they'd get even.

Tonight, she felt she had earned another number in cracking to code to his heart. Maybe someday the combination would be fully revealed and she could access the tender treasure of a man behind it all.

For now...

"Follow me," she said huskily as he lowered her back to the ground. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him toward the shed and he followed like a helpless puppy.

Once inside, after he had barely closed the faded old door, she had him slammed against it by the shoulders and kissed him with renewed vigor, like she was starving and he was a well-seasoned slab of meat. He let her. He more than let her. Confident after having voiced his boundaries, something seemed to have been unleashed and he held nothing back as his hands tangled in her hair, hissing when her lips moved to his neck, yanking down his collar with one hand as her other went to his belt. His head fell back against the wood with a booming thump and an involuntary expletive.

"Shh," Tifa chastised into his skin as she got the first buckle free. "You'll wake everyone if you keep that up."

He chuckled, knowing that she was mirroring his own words from that time he went down on her at Stargazer Heights, which seemed like eons ago. "You don't have to do this," he said breathlessly as she got the second buckle undone, a strange combination of excited and terrified. Still, he wasn't stopping her. When she struggled with the buttons of his pants, he reached down to help, pretty much screaming his impatience in his usual indirect way.

She couldn't blame him. This moment was more than just weeks in the making. It was years.

When her hand finally grasped his hardness over navy undershorts, they both sighed in relief.

"Is this okay?" she asked, giving a small squeeze that had him rising on his tiptoes. He nodded, back of his head making the wood creak, swallowing with a deliberation that had her smirking into the knit fabric of his shirt. "Is- how can I help?"

"I-I don't know." This wasn't him being coy. She imagined, considering his admitted lack of experience, that the options weren't clear. Tonight was a teaching opportunity for the, hopefully, continued road ahead. Just like he had done for her.

"I could use my hand," she whispered against his neck, which was already beading with sweat. "Like this." Her palm pressed along his covered length and drew up, prompting an agonized grunt when she got to the tip.

"Yes," he sputtered, nodding. "That'll work."

"Or maybe…" Pushing past the waistband, she dove past the silkiest skin to the mounds of flesh below, massaging gently. Another grunt, this one deeper and longer.

"Yes. That too. Anything, really."

"Mmm." She continued teasing for a minute longer, cataloguing his reactions based on how hard and where she squeezed. The tip proved to be the most sensitive, making him suck breath through his teeth whenever her palm so much as brush against it, a bit of wetness already accumulating there. It was upon feeling that telltale prequel that she decided to try something new. If he wanted.

She lined up her lips to his ear, hand still moving relentlessly, his whole body shivering against her. "I could try my mouth?" she suggested, feeling her cheeks burn from shyness. However, all wisps of shame were dispelled when those words produced the longest groan yet.

"If you want…" Always the cool SOLDIER, his attempted indifference was rendered moot by the way he spasmed beneath her hands. "But you really don't have to-"

"Do you think I'm doing this because I have to?" she asked, out of breath for unknown reasons, increasing the speed of her hand moving up and down perhaps to punish him a little. "Can you even imagine what it's like to be allowed to see you like this finally? I can't believe..." she trailed off with a light laugh. Putting it into words was unnecessary at this point.

Instead, after trailing one last, wet kiss along his beautiful angled jaw, she dropped to her knees. There was another thump as his head fell back against the wood again as she worked to free him from the confines of his pants, as impatient as ever, half expecting him to change his mind midway and push her away again.

He didn't. Couldn't, it seemed, by that point. She felt his stomach tense when her lips first wrapped around him, something unintelligible falling from his mouth, gloved hands squeezing her shoulders before weaving up into her hair and holding on as if for dear like.

She had never felt more powerful.

As she took him in deeper, choosing how to move and where to concentrate based on the way he shuddered and gasped, Cloud apparently felt the need to continue the conversation. Like this, he could communicate. Like this, he was temporarily exposed. "If this is anything like how I felt when touching you, then yes. I can imagine. I get it...I completely get it."

She released him to smile and pepper the soft skin with kisses, allowing him to calm down a little as she admired this previously hidden part. All softness and pink down here, in such contrast to the rest of him. It gave her another spark of thrill to know that she was the only one to have known him this way.

Licking her lips, she thought of those pumpkin tarts and how the sweet spice had tickled her tongue. It was necessary to amend that naive assertion she had made during that Fall festival.

He was now the best thing she ever tasted.

"Tifa," he begged, tugging on her hair a little, the pause in her ministrations apparently only making him more desperate. "Please."

It was tempting to tease him for lack of patience, but she decided not to press her luck. That he felt comfortable enough to ask her to continue was yet another number to the code and she wanted to encourage such behaviour; to reward it, as though he were a young animal she was training. Not that such a comparison could apply to Cloud who had proven, over and over again, to be selfless and disciplined. All the rumors about SOLDIERs taking and destroying, he kept disproving piece by piece. The "animalistic" tendencies, even when he finally did succumb to them like most human males would have long since, were still respectful and pleading.

He deserved an explosive introduction. A preview of what could be the rest of their lives, no matter how short, if he fully allowed himself to feel.

With renewed enthusiasm, Tifa took him back into her mouth, as far as she could go this time, nearly hitting the back of her throat and causing his whole body to spasm. Up and down, up and down, until he started instinctively moving his hips a little in her same rhythm. Her hands that had been grasping the outside of his hips for balance, one moved to grip him and join the practice, moving in time with her lips to squeeze whatever flesh had been left unattended as she picked up the pace.

The grip on her hair tightened at some point and she dared to look up to see him watching her with wide, excessively bright eyes. The expression he wore was especially unexpected. Instead of mere pleasure or perhaps the pain of holding back, he was looking at her...with appreciation. As one would look at a nurse tending to one's fatal wounds. As though her being on her knees in this dirty garden shed, she was healing old scars and extracting pain, her hands and lips like a potion dipped tourniquet.

He was looking at her like he couldn't believe this was happening.

He was looking at her like he - maybe - loved her.

She looked back at him the exact same way which, apparently, was too much.

Those glowing eyes clenched closed as something shifted and he started to shake his head. "You-I'm gonna...you can s-stop."

As cognizant as she wanted to be with his limits, he had conveniently worded this as more of a suggestion than a demand and she took it as thus, instead increasing her speed and the firmness of her grip.

He didn't warn her again. He wouldn't have been able to even if he wanted.

When he came, it was with a sigh instead of a curse like the last time he got close at the bar, when he had almost finished inside of her. It proved the difference between the two situations. They had communicated much more since then. Fears, preferences, expectations, hopes. All of this she felt renewed was he shuddered and released in multiple spurts that she worried for a second would never end.

When it was finally over and she felt him grow soft between her lips, only then did she release, swallowing as he slid against the door down to the floor in front of her, legs unable to support him a second longer.

Smiling to herself, she gave him a minute to catch his breath, one gloved hand rising to sweep the sweat off his brow as he stared at her with complete and utter awe. Like she was a goddess to be worshipped.

It was impossible not to blush, feeling as invincible as such a being

"Think you can sleep now?" she asked with a teasing lilt, reminding him of what had originally led to this arrangement of theirs.

He chuckled breathlessly. "Now knowing what can happen, I don't think I'll ever want to sleep again."

She joined in laughing then. True, perhaps this new arrangement of theirs may very well make their insomnia worse. Though for much, much better reasons.

He reached for her then, and she fell forward as if pulled by a magnet. Their lips met in a gentle but electrified touch that she felt all the way into her hair.

"Can I…?" One of Cloud's hands, somewhere beyond her vision, had left its perch and was starting to climb her leg, up until she felt his thumb tracing along the edge of her thigh-high. "I mean, do you want me to-?"

It was tempting. Gods, was it tempting. Shifting in her seat she was made aware of the slickness that had accumulated between her legs and knew very well, considering his prowess, that it wouldn't take long to culminate into an explosion of stars.

Instead, she kissed him again, a little more deeply this time but not enough to reignite things, pushing against his shoulders when he tried to rock forward and set her upon the earth to be thoroughly pruned until blossomed.

"Another time," she muttered through a smile. "After we save Aerith. We'll have time. We'll have so much time, after."

Pulling back, his expression turned to one of concern and she was mortified to realize that her eyes were sparkling with tears. Still, he gave her the benefit of a nod, solidifying the lie if only because there was no other choice.

"There will be time. Later," he agreed.

"Yes." Another kiss, possibly the last. They let it linger, frozen, for untold seconds, allowing it to spread throughout their skin like a virus until they were all consumed by it.

By the time they pulled apart, the first rays of sunlight were peeking through the gaps in the wooden walls and Marlene's shrill giggles wafted over from the main house.

It was time to face destiny.

Together.

EPILOGUE

Three Years Later

"Cloud?" Seven-year-old Marlene was sitting at the kitchen table with a pencil between her teeth, shifting her chair a few inches closer. "Can I ask you something?

"Hmm?" Lowering his map to reveal his face, the ex-SOLDIER now delivery man quirked a blonde eyebrow. "Of course you can."

"When was your and Tifa's first kiss?"

At this, Tifa couldn't help it. She burst out laughing, sloshing a non-insignificant portion of the beer she had been in the midst of funneling into bottles onto the countertop.

Cloud threw her an evil eye, though the corner of his lip was turned up a little. It was an important memory to both of them, but the details definitely were not suitable for someone of Marlene's age bracket.

"It was right after the Sector 7 plate fall," he explained concisely, raising the map again most probably to hide the crimson staining his cheeks. "In Elmyra's garden. Why?"

"No reason. Just brainstorming my maid of honor speech."

Mopping up her error with a rag, Tifa sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that day. "We already told you Marlene. There won't be any speeches. We're just going to town hall. Five minutes in and out. Just how I like it."

From behind the map, Cloud threw her another sideways smirk and she could only roll her eyes.

Marlene, however, was not so easily deterred. "Aww come on Tifa! Let's at least have a party! We could do it here and invite Vincent and Cid and Shera and Daddy and Nanaki and Yuffie and-"

"I'm already exhausted," Tifa said while twisting on the first of forty-eight bottle caps. "Please respect our wishes, sweetie. Cloud doesn't want to make a big fuss."

"Actually," Cloud scratched the back of his head. "A party might be...kinda nice."

"YES! Then it's settled! I'll go call everyone and-"

"Hold off on that Marlene. Can you go take the garbage out like I told you to do an hour ago?"

Pouting, the little girl did as she was asked though grumpily, swiping the green bag off the counter before marching out the door with notably frustrated steps. Tifa took the rare opportunity of privacy to slide into the seat beside Cloud, hands clenched on the tabletop.

They hadn't really talked about it. The string of their entire three-year relationship had always been more of a tangle, with random twists and knots that either brought things to a jarring halt where they could hardly exchange words or found them completely wrapped around one another in the backseat of a buggy. Even the decision to get married had happened out of the blue less than twelve hours prior. Reeve had stopped by the bar to warn them of some new WRO implementations for people living in Edge. In order to keep their unconventional collage of a family together, it was suggested that they formally adopt Marlene and Denzel to avoid any legal hassles once the government stabilized. The WRO commissioner then oh-so-casually tagged on that being married would make the red tape slightly less sticky and so Cloud had just blurted out, in front of everyone, as if he were asking for something as nonchalant as another refill:, "then we should get married. Right?"

What a jerk. A jerk whom she loved and wouldn't dream of ever saying no to. He could have asked while shoveling manure for their new, modest vegetable patch and she still wouldn't have hesitated to agree.

Marriage, she had no problem with. It had been pretty much decided years ago that it would happen eventually, once they felt settled. But a wedding. That was a whole different creature.

"Are you serious?"

He shrugged, folding the map as it became clear that this was no longer a mere trading of jibes. "Am I ever not?"

"I figured weddings weren't your thing."

"It wouldn't be a wedding, it would be…" He struggled to patch together a definition, wrist rotating in circles. "Our few closest friends and family gathering in one room to witness us make our promise official. With cake."

"You basically described a wedding."

"Oh." He shrugged again, as if the thought had only now occurred to him. "Then yes, I guess I want a wedding."

Slowly, both of their mouths curled up into a smile, fingers crawling towards one another on the tabletop until they were intertwined. "Not to mention, if we call it a wedding and Barret comes in for it, maybe he'd be willing to watch the kids for a few days. We could go somewhere. Just us." There was a distinctive spark in his eyes as he said this and Tifa felt the heat of it down into her core.

"A wedding AND a honeymoon? You sure have lofty ambitions, Mr. Strife."

"You know I do." She kissed him then and, as always, it quickly became heated. They'd been together-together for only a few months officially post his geostigma healing and every minute since had been wracked with tension as they rediscovered each other's bodies. Even though some nights pushed the boundaries, somehow they had managed to avoid crossing the final threshold and still hadn't, technically, made love. Finally being able to probably wasn't the main reason Cloud had proposed so readily, but it was certainly up there.

"How fast do you think we can pull this off?" Tifa asked, more than a tad breathless.

Cloud, looking absolutely agonized, pulled out his PHS from his pocket to check the calendar. "We need at least three days to get a license," he said before bringing his mouth to her neck in a deep suck, marking her as his in the best way he knew how. "So...next weekend?"

"Sold. I'll tell Marlene to start calling people."

"Perfect."

Their mouths met again as she fell into the cage of his arms.

Warmed by the glow of promises made and kept, Tifa thought back to how closed off he had been up until only a few months ago, like an impossible to solve puzzle which often had her pulling her hair out in frustration. She thought of Aerith, their dearly departed friend, kicking down gates and enthusiastically ushering them along. Tifa still didn't have the guts to be that assertive. Her style was more akin to learning to pick the lock, using an encyclopedia-length training series as a guide. It has been nearing three years since that day in the sewers but she never forgot the conversation.

Sometimes things, even if they are made for one another, need a little push.

The key to Cloud Strife's heart may have been misplaced years ago in Hojo's lab, but she managed to shimmy through the crack and get in somehow.

If she was able to crack that code then she knew, with absolute certainty, that nothing was beyond reach.

THE END

**Author's Note**: Thank you all, so much, for following me on this plotless exploration as I practiced my Cloti voice and tried my hands at some smut. It was a lot of fun and I'm pretty proud of myself for also sticking to an outline and chapter count for once in my life, even though this could have gone on forever. Thank you to everyone on the Final Heaven Discord server, especially Waffle (Beta extraordinaire) for their support and assistance.

A heads up that I have two projects in the pipeline. 1) A tribute to my past via remastering my most popular post ACC-timeline fic on , "Wait For It", to be improved in transit for audience's here on my new home site, AO3, as well as 2) my first foray into the AU genre I had be avoiding for decades only to be shown the light of its potential by so many talented writers here: "The Curriculum".

This year has and will continue to be a rough one, but on the bright side at least it seems like most of us have more time to write? :P. Best of luck to us all and I hope to see you in the comments of my next works.

With all my love and appreciation.

Mayonaka (Nancy)