DISCLAIMER: Final Fantasy VII and its characters are wholly the properties of Square Enix. This story is written purely for entertainment and not profit.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I do hope the story isn't moving too slowly for you. I'm always concerned that my frequent tendency to write details bogs a story down too much. Do let me know if that's how you're feeling; I'm always open to your feedback. Now here's Chapter 15.

Healing of the Heart

Written by daBOSSz

Chapter 15

The nightmare that had plagued her the previous evening was long gone by the time Tifa had awakened the next morning. For the first time in quite a while, she had slept through an entire night without a single dream and did not depend on her alarm clock to force her back into her conscious state. The amount of energy she possessed within seemed to exceed that of her regular mornings, and before she knew it, she was already suitably dressed, preparing to head downstairs to give her punching bag the beating of a lifetime.

It was not a mystery as to why she felt so refreshed. Almost single-handedly defeating a zolom had given her a jolt of satisfaction that she had not experienced in quite some time. However, the real kicker came later that evening when Cloud called her from the western continent to sing her praises.

The call lasted a whopping fifteen minutes, which was beyond lengthy for Cloud, whose calls normally took no more than a minute or two and basically consisted of little more than updating her on his status. She had no visual cues, and his voice still spoke in the same relatively neutral pitch, but Tifa could feel his pride beaming through the phone while he showered her with compliments; heck, there were even a few times when he repeated praises throughout the conversation. While she was certain that some people may think of such excessiveness as irritating, Tifa did not mind one bit; in fact, she found it to be rather charming in a way that was uniquely Cloud.

As far back as she could remember, Tifa had always placed a greater value on compliments from Cloud than from any other person. It was another part of her inner emotions that she had never revealed to anyone—not her parents, her childhood friends, AVALANCHE, nor the children. She still did not fully understand why, but she figured it was likely because he always seemed so reserved that when he did remark favorably on something about her, she could hear the genuineness in his voice. Even during their travels, when his personality was not completely his own, he never lost that sincerity any time he threw a compliment or two her way, and this wound up playing a significant part in convincing her that he truly was the real Cloud in the midst of all the doubts that swarmed around them.

His compliments always gave her a sense of empowerment; after all, they were what she drew from to make one of the most important decisions in her life.

"Hey, Cloud?" thirteen-year-old Tifa spoke. "Do you think you'll be able to see the same stars in Midgar?"

There was a brief pause. Tifa looked over at her neighbor, whose face showed that he was deep in thought.

"I…I don't know," Cloud answered. "I hope so."

"Hmm," was all Tifa could say in response.

The two were sitting in Tifa's yard observing the night sky. They had started chatting moments ago when they saw each other over the fence, and Tifa was quick to invite Cloud to her side. The seasonal change from winter to spring was well under way, and with Cloud soon leaving for Midgar, Tifa was eager to spend as much time with him as she could.

However, despite growing closer since their meeting atop the water tower, their conversations remained sporadic. Much of the time was spent thinking of the right words rather than saying what was on their minds. Tifa wished Cloud would open up more to her, but she understood that it would be hypocritical to expect him to do so when she remained reserved with her own uncertain, developing feelings.

"Everything okay?" he asked her with a mixture of both concern and hesitancy. "You know, with the last monster attack and all…"

That was another worry Nibelheim did not need: while they were infrequent, there had been a few monster attacks spread throughout the past year. In a usually quiet town, the residents were easily disturbed when anything out of the ordinary started happening, even if the events seemed to be random and unconnected. The latest attack had occurred just days ago, and while the group of kyuvilduns did no damage to the town, their mere presence was enough to send some of the townsfolk into a state of alarm.

"Yeah," Tifa replied. "I'm…we're fine."

Another moment of silence passed before Cloud spoke up again.

"You know, I'm leaving so I can train to be stronger," he said. "I'll remember our promise, but if these attacks happen again while I'm gone, I want you to be able to protect yourself."

Tifa gave him a look of confusion.

"I think you'd make a great fighter, Tifa," Cloud explained before she could ask. "You're always so energetic and spirited."

Those were not any words that Tifa expected to come from her still-mysterious neighbor. She never remembered hearing him praise anyone other than his own mother, and his reputation in the last few years as the child who kept getting into fights certainly made such praise directed her way even more unanticipated. Outside, she smiled at him for saying such words, but inside, she did not know if her teenage mind should be stunned or flattered.

"Thank you, Cloud," she responded. "I'll think about it."

This was not a delivery that Cloud wanted to make. When he first took the call and wrote down the address, there was a brief moment of speechlessness that left his customer confused over his sudden silence. He still was not certain about why exactly he decided to accept the job, but he committed, and turning back now was no longer an option.

Cloud sat still atop Fenrir and simply stared ahead at the familiar but unwelcoming sight: the gates of Nibelheim. He knew it was inevitable that he would have to return at some point in his life, even if he hoped that the moment would never come, but why did it have to be now? Why did it have to be when he still felt unready for it all?

A flood of memories passed through his brain seemingly all at once: his childhood, the day the town burned, vague images of Zack dragging him away, the Sephiroth clones, and the chilling feeling he experienced when he set foot in town after Meteor. He tried to find a silver lining to his present visit, and he thought about how thankful he was that at least he did not return while he was still battling against Geostigma and a guilty conscience; had that happened, just the sight of the gates alone would have been the mental death of him.

Cloud did not know what was more nerve-racking: the day before when he was anticipating his meeting with the Fairs or the present moment when he was about to re-enter the fake replica of a hometown that had long disappeared from existence. In the end, he decided that it did not matter; they were both events that he needed to get through so that he could at least put something behind him. What that something was remained mysterious and befuddling.

The moment Fenrir crossed the gates, Cloud wanted to turn around, gun his engine, and drive far away in the direction where he came from. Without any prompting, his mind was already creating excuses that he could give his customer for the missed delivery: a monster attack, bad weather, that it was a Sunday and they should not be expecting any packages anyway, etc. A part of him even had the wicked thought of destroying the package and upsetting the customer; surely such a move was better than having to face being back in Nibelheim, right?

As if to add insult to injury, crossing back into his hometown was not even the worst part of this delivery. Cloud stopped Fenrir once he had reached his destination, and, without looking up, re-checked the package to confirm the address for what seemed to be the millionth time, still holding out hope that there had been some sort of mistake. Unfortunately, it was the correct address, and as he took a deep breath, he finally worked up just enough courage to lift his eyes away from the box and visually greet the sight of his replicated childhood home glancing back at him.

He felt mocked. He felt as though whatever the planet or the spirits had against him had been forged into this form of torment. A familiar but unwelcoming feeling of guilt started creeping back into his consciousness, and he would be the first to admit that he deserved it even as he was mentally fighting to counter it. After all, how else could it be explained that, out of all possibilities, he would be asked to deliver a package to the address that he called home for the first fifteen years of his life?

He had no idea how long he wound up simply frozen in place, neither willing nor able to move any closer to the building. For a moment, he actually wished that he had his mako-poisoned personality back; at the very least, when he was under the impression that he had made SOLDIER, he was gutsy enough to simply walk up to the building without much hesitation. Now he felt like a coward who could not even perform his lone job of delivering a mere package due to a ridiculous sense of discomfort.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, Cloud found sufficient resolve to start crawling his way forward toward the front door. With every step he took, he had to consciously remind himself that this was only a delivery, that it was no different from what he had now done countless times before. However, every repetition of such a reminder made him feel even more worthless for needing such redundant reassurances in the first place.

Feelings similar to those from the day before resurfaced once he reached the door, knocked on it, and watched the handle turn. This time, instead of Mrs. Fair, a semi-familiar but entirely anonymous face greeted him from the other side, and Cloud instantly recognized it as the same woman who accused him of being a liar two years ago.

"Cloud Strife?" she acknowledged.

"Yes," Cloud replied, trying his best to keep his voice normal. "I have your package."

"Right," she said in response.

There was silence as she accepted her delivery and signed for it. Cloud could not help himself but to take a brief peek inside, noticing that nothing had changed.

"You used to live here, didn't you?" she asked, and he was immediately taken aback by her question.

"Y…yes…" he answered. "How did you know?"

"After Meteor, I found out it was you and your team who defeated Sephiroth," she informed. "With Shinra gone, I wasn't being paid to cover up what happened anymore, so I did some research and discovered records of a Claudia Strife once residing at this address."

"Oh," Cloud responded, not knowing what else he could say.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you," she acknowledged. "Do you want to come in and have a look at the old place?"

"No, I'm good," Cloud declined. "I've still got more deliveries to make."

It was not a lie, but it was not the whole truth either.

"Okay then, thanks for the package," she said. "If you change your mind, you're welcomed back at any time."

The two said their partings, and she closed the door. Cloud turned around and walked back to Fenrir, washed over by both a sense of relief and a continued discomfort that would not let go. While a part of him did want to set foot inside his childhood home again, he knew it would never be right to do so, regardless of whether or not he was able to put any feelings of unease behind him. It was not so much because the place now belonged to someone else, even if the current resident obtained it through illegitimate means. Instead, it was primarily the fact that the house technically would forever be a replica and not his actual childhood home, and for Cloud, that alone would always connect his memory to Nibelheim's most haunting day every time he envisioned the present version of the town.

Lifting his head to look at the water tower, Cloud was hit with another reminder that this disheartening dread for what Nibelheim had now become would not be so easy to change.

"Hey, Tifa?" Cloud said. "Do you want to climb back up there?"

She looked in his direction and flashed him a slight smile at his suggestion.

"Yeah," she agreed with a soft sigh. "I'd like that."

The friends with whom they had journeyed together separated only a few days ago. Once they had paid their respects to Aerith at the Forgotten City, Vincent, Yuffie, Nanaki, and Cait Sith had all departed for various destinations, leaving just Barret, Tifa, and himself (not counting Cid, who was only staying to pilot them around on the Highwind). The three of them had stopped at Corel Village a day ago, but they instantly regretted their decision to do so as Barret was aptly reminded of his past sins. Now in Nibelheim, it was Tifa's and Cloud's turn to feel the chilling haunt that Barret had experienced the day before, leaving them to question why they had thought visiting their childhood home would be different from Barret's experience in his hometown.

Cloud and Tifa reached the top and sat at the same spots as they once did on that one evening that now felt as though it was a lifetime ago. At present, the last rays of the sun's light had faded beyond the horizon, and the clear night sky bathed the town in a familiar starry glow.

Cloud sighed, glancing over toward Tifa and reading her expression.

"You don't feel it, do you?" he asked, knowing that she understood exactly what he was implying.

"No, unfortunately," she answered, shaking her head.

It was one last ditch attempt to recapture a feeling of home, a hope that they had held onto since they decided they would come to Nibelheim after the group split up. For quite a while after their arrival, they tried to bring that feeling back by walking around town and speaking with a few of the people they encountered in public who were willing to talk, but nothing worked. The familiarity was gone; not only were the people complete strangers who had been artificially implanted in Nibelheim, but the mere presence of the replicated town only brought back painful memories of its destruction and the subsequent trauma it had caused that they would likely never shake off.

Despite all their failures throughout the day, they still hoped that sitting atop the water tower and staring at the heavens would revive something much more cheerful in their collective nostalgia. Yet even the memory of what could be considered their most valuable moment with each other was not enough to trigger any positive sentiments that could convince them to think of Nibelheim as home again.

Cloud placed his hand atop Tifa's and gave her the gentlest smile he could muster at that moment.

"Don't worry, Tifa," he tried to assure her. "We'll find a home somewhere."

Cloud's compliments from the previous evening may have been empowering, but Tifa had never been someone who particularly enjoyed being showered with praise from a large number of people. It was true when she was just a child, uncertain of how to respond to the townsfolk who kept declaring that she was the most adorable girl in the village. It was true during her tenure with AVALANCHE, which was why she often tried to stay in the background while the others took on more overtly active responsibilities. Although she understood that it was a good problem to have, since it indicated that she had done something right, her emotionally shy personality made it difficult for her to absorb the sheer quantity of praise that sometimes came her way.

Today had been one of those days. News of her fending off the zolom attack mostly by herself had spread throughout Edge, earning her an influx of patrons—old and new, frequent and rare—who had seemingly chosen to visit Seventh Heaven on this day simply to aggrandize her. It was flattering, but it quickly became rather uncomfortable to hear practically every guest walk through the bar doors and bring up the event as though they were the first to label her a hero.

Still, Tifa was professional enough to handle the repetitiveness in ways that satisfied her patrons, making sure that she sent all of them off with an understanding of her appreciation for their words of kindness. She was certain that someone who thrived off compliments could have done better in response, but she could sleep well knowing that any discomfort she had been feeling remained covert from her guests.

As she entered the children's room to check on them, she was surprised to see Denzel with his eyes still open.

"Denzel?" she asked, grabbing his attention. "Why are you still awake? You have school tomorrow."

Denzel gave her a puzzled look as if he did not expect to be discovered.

"Oh, it's nothing," he answered. "I'm just thinking."

Tifa approached his bed and crouched down to meet him at eye level.

"What's on your mind?" she questioned.

There was a brief moment of silence. From reading his expression, Tifa sensed that Denzel was fumbling over how to say what he wanted.

"Tifa," he spoke, "why do heroes sometimes feel unhappy?"

Those words did not sound like the ones he meant to say, and it was now Tifa's turn to show a puzzled look.

"What do you mean?" she sought clarification.

Another pause ensued. More deep thoughts seemed to pass through the boy's face.

"Well…" he started before stopping for a few seconds again, almost as if he could not figure out what the right words were. "I mean, today, people were calling you a hero, but you didn't seem to enjoy it."

Tifa looked surprised for a moment. Was she that readable, or was it because Denzel was too familiar with her? If it was the former, did that mean some of her patrons could sense her unease as well?

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

"Marlene and I both could tell," Denzel explained. "You starting looking less and less happy with everyone calling you a hero."

Tifa could do nothing but give Denzel a soft smile while she contemplated how to respond to his revelation. Before she could finish her thoughts though, he spoke again.

"We understand, Tifa," he said. "We were getting tired of hearing the same thing too, and you were still super nice to everyone."

That was a relief, partially because Tifa no longer had to formulate a response, but also because she now had confirmation that her guests likely did not pick up what the children did.

"Nothing gets past the two of you, hmm?" she remarked, causing Denzel to smile back at her. "Don't worry too much about it. I did appreciate what many of them said. Now get some sleep so you won't be tired for school in the morning."

"I will," he assured. "Good night, Tifa."

"Good night, Denzel," she replied.

She got up and was about to exit when Denzel's voice stopped her at the door.

"And Tifa?" he said. "Just so you know, Cloud's not my only hero. You are too."

Tifa felt a slight sparkle in her eyes as she gently grinned back at Denzel.

"Thank you, Denzel," she responded. "That means a lot to me."

It was a sincere response, and it helped to dispel much of the discomfort that had been accumulated throughout the day from her patrons' overpraising. Denzel's full admiration was far more meaningful to Tifa than being inundated with nonstop admiration from the rest of the town.

Still though, Tifa sensed that something more than just the day's events was keeping Denzel up. If so, she hoped that he would let her know sooner rather than later.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I know there hasn't been a lot of direct interaction between Cloud and Tifa for a few chapters, but worry not; they'll be back within close physical proximity of each other soon enough. I want to continue exploring some of their individual inner psyches before bringing them back together.

Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Feel free to share them with me. See you next chapter!