There weren't many people around, not this late in the evening. Reno headed through the sliding doors, hands in his pockets, eyes stinging from the fluorescent glare on the white walls as he entered from the darkness outside. The caustic smell hit him the moment he did. It didn't phase him; not anymore. He kept his head down as he strode through the empty waiting area to the lifts at the end of the corridor, ignoring the harassed-looking receptionist that tried to call him back.

After this many weeks, he knew the journey like the back of his hand. Third floor, room fifteen. It was the same hospital he'd driven her to, sweaty, bruised and shell-shocked, so many months earlier when the kids got hurt and life turned upside down. It still hadn't righted itself. Reno drifted through it with no enemy to fight and no obvious course of action to take.

A nurse he didn't recognise hovered in the corridor. Reno already knew her eyes would travel from the suit he'd taken to sleeping in at his desk, to his hollowed-out face, to the glistening scars that shone beneath the eye patch he'd been made to wear. She opened her mouth to speak to him and snapped it shut, changing her mind. Nothing about his demeanour suggested he wanted to talk and maybe she realised that. She didn't challenge him, not even when he shouldered through the doors and jabbed the button to close them, hiding her pretty face from view.

The suit still carried weight, even after this many years. Nobody wanted to get on the wrong side of a Turk. If only she knew how heavy it was these days, how it suffocated him. Throwing it back on didn't bring the peace he hoped it would.

The lift jerked to a stop. Reno waited while the doors opened and stepped into another corridor.

More white walls and the same antiseptic tang in the back of his throat. He hated hospitals, and this one didn't differ from the others. His shoes echoed as he walked the same path he'd walked so many other nights over the last few weeks, the same path that never seemed to lead anywhere, never seemed to take him to the thing he needed.

Reno wasn't stupid. He knew that her family and friends barely left her side during the day, not until the nurses came to shoo them away. A Turk could come and go as they pleased; visiting hours were something that happened to other people. A tiny part of him felt guilty, but a much larger part couldn't stand seeing her kids' faces as they sat by her bedside, or the worried eyes of her friends.

No, this was his time. He suspected it was running out. Eventually, he'd have to face the truth he was desperately avoiding. When she opened her eyes, reality would kick in, and she'd see sense. Until then, he'd carry on his vigil alone.

Almost alone. The door to the ward swung open and a pair of turquoise eyes opened wide before narrowing into a scowl that was far more familiar. Reno's step faltered.

"I wondered," said Cloud, letting the door close behind him. "When nobody else had seen you."

Reno shrugged, ignoring the skin prickling on the back of his neck. "Yeah, well…"

"There's no change."

"That's good though, right?" Even he could hear it, the desperation in his voice. "Means things aren't any worse?"

"She's stable," Cloud replied. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and his hair was messier than Reno remembered, as though he'd been dragging his fingers through it. Cloud took a step forward and for a second, Reno thought that was it. The end of the conversation. "The side effects of the poison are still slowing down her healing."

He'd heard the words so many times, from every doctor and nurse he hounded for answers. They weren't a comfort. They didn't help. "What are we supposed to do?"

"There's nothing we can do. We just have to wait."

"I'm not…" The words stuck in his throat. "I heard Cid just came home... Thought I'd stay out of everyone's way."

"Cid's fine." The frown slid from Cloud's face, replaced by a lost expression that mirrored Reno's own. "And she'd want you to be here."

Reno nodded as Cloud walked past, feeling oddly deflated. This was the awkward encounter he'd been hoping to avoid. Cloud should be angry, should hate Reno for everything that happened. That, he could deal with. This quiet acceptance was something he didn't prepare himself for.

"I'm no good at waiting," he blurted out.

"Me neither."

The air felt heavy. Reno thumbed through the list in his head. Things will be okay… she's a fighter… this is the best place for her… Empty statements that only stretched out the awkwardness. Cloud knew what the stakes were. He wouldn't be here if he didn't.

The lift chimed, breaking the silence.

"Tell Elena thanks for the flowers," Cloud called as he stepped through the doors. "I assume they were from her? Marlene really liked them."

Reno wondered how Cloud swung being here so late. He wouldn't need to rely on past indiscretions and a poor reputation. He probably waltzed straight in, all golden and heroic. Reno wasn't either of those things and didn't he fucking know it. The lift closed, and he turned on his heel.

It hit him every time, the apprehension as he pushed open the door. He wasn't sure why. Nothing ever changed. There might be more flowers, more cards, a chair in a different place... The window was always open, diluting the clinical air, and she was always lying there, asleep but not asleep, wires and tubes crisscrossing her skin, her dark hair smoothed out around her on the pillow.

Reno hesitated in the doorway, the same way he hesitated every time, fighting the overwhelming feeling that he shouldn't be there. He swallowed it down, ground it out, reaching for the chair he always sat in and placing it to the right of the bed.

"Hey, babe," he murmured, taking his seat.

Tifa didn't reply. She never did. Her eyelashes barely fluttered against her cheeks and her lips were the wrong colour, pale against the sickly sheen of her skin. Around them, machines beeped and whirred. Reno settled back, trying to make himself comfortable.

Minutes ticked by. It just wasn't getting any easier.

"So I found out today that Tseng's been having me followed," he said after a while, clutching at straws. "Should've seen it coming. My shrink told him not to take me back so soon but he said he had faith in me." His heart sank. "Guess he doesn't have that much faith in me, huh?"

Silence. He almost reached for her hand and then thought better of it.

"I mean, I can't blame him," he barrelled on. "I don't have the best track record."

Falling into bad habits would have been easy. It almost was. He'd sat there on his sofa, watching the amber liquor crawl around the sides of the bottle as he turned it in his hand. Part of him craved it, needing liquid anaesthesia from the noise inside his head, but a larger part of him cried for something else, someone else, someone he couldn't reach through the bottom of a bottle.

Reno wasn't drinking anymore. He clocked in on time, stayed in his office and cleared his in-tray every day, sat in meeting after meeting, struggling to pay attention, agreeing when he thought he should. All the while his head was here, tied to this uncomfortable chair, waiting for her to open her eyes, to move, to do anything. Anything that proved he wouldn't lose her, that she was going to stay.

He tilted his head, counting the bruises on her arms where they'd taken blood. "You wanted me to talk to you, remember? So here I am. Talking…"

There was a vase of flowers at the end of the bed, a riot of sunset hues that made the white walls seem even whiter. They were clearly expensive. Reno didn't need to look at the card to know it bore the Shinra logo. The bouquet wasn't the thing that caught his attention, though. His eyes snagged on a tumbler beside them, bearing a far smaller bunch of lilies tied with a pink bow.

Reno stared at the sunshine-yellow petals, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "I don't like hospitals. Never have." He flexed his fingers, staring straight through them at the tiles on the floor. "They smell like death…"

This was dumb. She couldn't hear him, just like she hadn't heard him any of the other times when he'd sat and stumbled through one-sided conversations, telling her about his day, petty arguments with Elena, how Rude's car got a flat tyre and that there was a new takeaway on the corner of Fifth and Mimett that looked like it might be decent.

Reno didn't tell her that Erin was on her last legs, about to succumb to whatever degenerative disease killed her younger sister, or that Rude was on special assignment and had a list of names to chase up. He didn't tell her that Elena worked herself sick and Tseng had to force her into two weeks R&R, or that she was waiting for a fitting for a prosthetic finger. He definitely didn't tell her that the docs couldn't do a fucking thing to save his eye, that the injury shot his depth perception to pieces and he was off field-work for the foreseeable future, that he couldn't quite meet his own reflection in the mirror and still wasn't used to the patch that sat where his googles usually would.

He sighed. "What the fuck am I doing here?"

Waiting. Praying. He straightened out a crease in the white sheet while the sounds of the hospital chipped away at his resolve. Outside, the sun was setting, the breeze from the window a welcome respite from the stuffy heat in the room.

"I should go." He stood up. Two paces took him to the end of her bed.

His fingers ghosted the door handle before he changed his mind. There were cards spread out over the wooden cabinet beside him, painstakingly organised. The detail distracted him. He reached for the first in the line-up and the message was rambling, filling her in on a life that was going on without her while she slept. Barret's signature was oddly elegant, looping across the page. Reno stared at the message.

"We just want you home. Tifa, you're not done fighting yet."

He studied the cheerful Chocobo print on the front, wondering how accepting Barret would be now. Reno knew a lost cause when he saw one. Peace between them was tentative. Reno was the reason Tifa was here, wasn't he? She risked her life for him.

Every card was the same, each hoping for a speedy recovery and sending their love. Yuffie's tears smudged her ink, the letters bloated and blotchy, and the spidery scrawl on Vincent's was barely legible. Reno didn't need to see the neat signature on the last to know who it was from; he'd recognise that careful print anywhere.

Tseng's message was painfully brief. Wishing you well. He turned the card over and almost laughed out loud at the essay Elena had scrawled across the back.

It spoke of friendship, of girls needing to stick together. "This should be a piece of cake after Reno," he read. "If you can put up with him, you can do anything," Elena promised cocktails just as soon as Tifa was feeling better, a shopping trip with Yuffie, a weekend in the Costa del Sol…

Reno put the card back. It made sense, really, that they'd somehow become friends. Tifa was a people person, and Elena's determination was practically a flaw. He shrugged his jacket off, leaving it on the end of the bed, and took his seat beside her once again.

"So you made friends with Elena… Not sure how I feel about that." He reached out, finally taking her hand. It was reassuringly warm. "She keeps making pirate jokes… She thinks it's hilarious. It's not," he added, as an afterthought. "It's fucking annoying."

He left out the three-fingered salutes he kept greeting her with and the jokes he kept cracking himself. Turks' humour was notoriously morbid. It needed to be with some of the shit they'd seen. If he was honest, it was a relief, a break from the hushed comments and odd looks he faced every time he walked into a room.

"You need to be careful if you go out with her, though." He kicked his feet out, scuffing his heels across the floor. "She's a fucking nightmare when she's had a drink. Can't hold her liquor for shit."

Reno slipped his fingers between hers. This was easier. Too easy. He pressed his cracked lips to the back of her hand, careful not to dislodge the IV that disappeared into her arm.

"You know this can't work, right?" His eyes settled on the yellow lilies again. He could picture it so clearly, Marlene picking the flowers. Tiny fingers tying the ribbon. "I'm no good for you. I'm no good for anyone."

That was the crux of it, really, hovering on the horizon, clear as fucking day. There was a reason people like him didn't end up with people like her. Cutting and running would be the best outcome for everyone involved. He could go back to his hollow life and carry on pretending everything was okay.

"The kids need you more than I do." He laughed bitterly. "Check me out. Being all selfless and shit. It's pretty dumb when you think about it. You were really going to throw your life away for the asshole that dropped the plate."

The breeze was picking up now, whistling through the window, shivering through the hair that was fanned out across her pillow. It smelt like rain. A storm was brewing.

"The thing is…" He faltered, staring at the dark glass. The first drops rolled down the window, deceptively slow as the heavens opened. "I think… For fuck's sake, I don't think anything. I fucking know."

He licked his lips, mouth dry. Would saying it really help? It wasn't like she could hear him. But at least if he admitted it, if he tossed it into the void, he could move on from it. His shrink would be fucking proud.

"The thing is, I think I love you." He tore his attention away from the window. If this was a shitty romance movie, her eyes would be open, and she'd be smiling. Life never played out like that, though. "So, yeah… That's the problem I guess."

He dragged the chair closer to the bed, ignoring the squeal of metal against the floor. He was tired, so tired, bone-gnawing, eye-watering exhaustion that made his stomach turn over and his limbs ache. The rain was really coming down now, hammering against the window. How fitting, he thought, pressing his forehead into the mattress beside her arm, lacing his fingers back through hers. Cutting and running was the best outcome for everyone, but he didn't want to.

He'd stay a while longer, he decided, closing his eyes. If his time was running out, he'd make the most of what he had left.

Tifa knew what it meant, the aquamarine glow at the edges of the door. She remembered. Endless falling, the call of the void. If she got too close she heard them, whispered voices beckoning her to walk beyond the home she loved and the family she adored.

The voices promised peace. Salvation. All she had to do was take a step across the threshold, knowing her time was running out and her departure was inevitable. How long had she been here, waiting? The hours flowed differently in this limbo world and the light outside never changed. It only grew clearer. As the call of the Lifestream became harder to ignore, she just closed the shutters and bolted the door.

The walls of Seventh Heaven no longer carried their familiar warmth. They pressed in on her, the room slowly shrinking. She threw herself into her old routine, stacking bottles and scrubbing tables, hoping that she might find comfort in the repetitive tasks. As time dragged on, she gave up, accepting the unwelcome reality. Her life before meant nothing here. This wasn't a place for her to stay.

She didn't want to leave, either. There were too many goodbyes she still needed to say.

It was lonely, with only the whispers for company. Tifa walked from room to room, fingertips leaving trails in the dust that settled over everything, feeling out the memories that were slipping through her hands. At first, she thought she imagined it, how smooth the knots in the kitchen table suddenly felt, glass-like instead of the well-worn wood she remembered. Later, when she found the courage to creep upstairs, she ran her hands across the blanket at the end of Marlene's bed, over and over, tears rolling down her face. She couldn't feel the texture of the heavy knit or the softness of the wool. She couldn't feel anything.

After that, it was only a matter of time. One by one, her senses failed her. The labels on the bottles faded like her eyes had forgotten how to see the colours. The frames on the walls blurred until she couldn't recognise the people in the photos... until the only bright point in her grey-scale world was the hazy light outside, and all the while the whispers grew louder and more difficult to ignore.

Sometimes she slept. Fitful nights and days and hours spent lying in her bed, unable to smell the flowers on the windowsill or feel the slip of the cotton sheets against her skin. She knew she'd been asleep because when she opened her eyes the light was brighter, the world around her greyer still. She dreamed of a white room, of a constant metallic pulse in tandem with her heartbeat, of fractured lines of conversation she couldn't quite grasp. They never stayed with her. When she opened her eyes, they faded, leaving a hollow ache behind.

Eventually, the solitude was too much to bear. The days and months and years and seconds hurtled to a stop. There were no tears to shed, just bitter resignation as she made one last journey across the bar. It was time to go.

Tifa hesitated, fingers on the door. Maybe she could keep them somehow, the memories, lock them up tightly and take them with her into the waiting void. One last look around, she decided, as the light ebbed and flowed at her feet. One last snapshot to treasure…

As she turned, she caught it, the flash of scarlet in her peripheral. Her heart skipped.

"Reno?"

She wrenched her hand away from the door, spinning on her heel. The bar was still empty, the whispers still clamouring to be heard. A cruel trick…

Something shone on the back wall, catching her eye. She ran to it, toppling stools in her haste, and wrenched the slender bottle off the shelf. Almost empty, the clear liquor crawled around the sides as it trembled in her hand. It wasn't the contents that caught her attention; it was the label. The gold letters shone like a sunbeam as her breath hitched in her throat.

"Hey, babe."

The voice drifted through the air, only just audible above the whispers. She turned, half expecting to see him standing there, and her heart sank when he wasn't. She knew she heard him though, like a song playing on a radio in another room.

Tifa stared at the bottle in her hand. Lethal, that's what he called it. She was almost certain that's why Yuffie left it behind, but it had been a bad day… the kids tried her patience and Barret wasn't coming home. All she wanted was to go to bed until Reno sauntered through her door.

She'd drunk a little too much and tripped over her words. He was so disarming, so charming when he wanted to be, and the drink made her bold. Where was the harm in a brief flirtation? And they were friends, weren't they? Even though she vainly protested they weren't.

"So I found out today that Tseng's been having me followed..."

Tifa waited, hardly daring to breathe, staring at the ornate label on the bottle. She could almost taste the liquor burning in her throat.

"Should've seen it coming…"

His words faded, like he was walking away. Still clutching the bottle, she headed after the sound.

When she jogged into the corridor, she could smell him, the sharp scent of his cologne lingering in the air. He'd leant against the wall, all cocky bravado, until suddenly the tables turned. He saw her, her struggle and her heartache, and she stared straight back, glimpsing past the bloodstains in their history to something else, someone else, not the Turk that she'd run from but a man who was interested in her life, a man who seemed to think she was worth the effort.

"I don't have the best track record…"

She pressed her fingers to her lips and felt the heat of her breath against her skin. She'd almost done it, almost kissed him. The longing she felt made her dizzy.

"You wanted me to talk to you, remember? So here I am…"

His voice trailed off again. She followed it, and the whispers were less distinct now, a fly buzzing in her ear. The vivid hue of the lilies on the table punctured the greyness of the kitchen, yellow petals bright against the monotone backdrop. Tifa left the bottle on the table, leaning forward to smell the blooms. A splinter in the wood snagged her finger and pain blossomed from it.

She stared at the tiny bead of blood on her fingertip. She felt it.

"I don't like hospitals. Never have. They smell like death…"

"I'm not dying," she murmured, reaching for a flower. The crimson smear she left was vivid against the petals.

"What the fuck am I doing here?"

Her resolve strengthened. "I'm not dying!"

"I should go…"

"No!" She reeled around, desperately searching the shadows. "Don't leave me…"

"We just want you home."

Beyond the backdoor, the light changed, different from the eye-watering glow that haunted her. It was greener, fresher. She edged towards it, heart racing. This was different; she knew it was. This was him.

Tifa opened the door. Outside, sunlight filtered through a canopy of green. She turned her hands over, watching mottled shadows flit across her palms from the leaves that danced in the bitter breeze. As the world came into focus, the white shell of a cabin appeared, looming in the trees.

She stepped onto the path.

"Tifa…"

So close, she could feel his mouth against her ear. She turned. The walls of Seventh Heaven were no longer present. Instead, there were more trees, swaying in the wind. In the distance, a figure appeared.

Confused, Tifa watched herself walk along the path, heading for the cabin with determined eyes. Barret leaned against the fence, waiting for her. She remembered this. It wasn't like the blurry photographs at the bar. The clarity made her chest tight. She was there.

Barret's mouth moved, but no sound left his lips. Tifa could only watch as the conversation played out, a scene from a silent movie.

"I don't understand… why are you showing me this?"

"You ain't done fighting yet…"

She watched her face fall, saw the emotion play out in her eyes. She'd gone to the cabin to confront him, glowing from a night tangled in Reno's arms, unprepared for the dose of reality Barret was about to administer. He was worried, she realised, seeing his forlorn expression with fresh eyes. Barret hadn't been trying to hurt her; he was trying to stop her from getting hurt.

You can't fall for Reno. People changed, though. She knew that better than anybody. And choosing Reno didn't just bring her freedom. He made her laugh, made her heart sing. The call of the Lifestream seemed less important now, drowned out by the ache in her chest. She needed him.

The door to the cabin swung open, the light within warm and inviting. His voice floated from inside, brimming with sarcasm. "This should be a piece of cake after Reno… If you can put up with him, you can do anything."

Tifa ran up the steps, heart in her mouth.

"So you made friends with Elena…"

She skidded to a halt in the centre of the room. He wasn't there. Yuffie was sitting cross-legged on the floor. When Tifa turned, she found Elena leaning against the door frame, smiling uncertainly. Any minute now, Tifa would see herself walk into the cabin and the interrogation would begin.

"Not sure how I feel about that…" His voice faded in and out as around her, the girls chatted and laughed. Tifa couldn't hear them. She didn't need to, knowing exactly how the conversation panned out. "She thinks she's funny… She's not…"

Admitting to it all was difficult. Yuffie had watched, open-mouthed, as the penny dropped. Reno was the last person Tifa should fall into bed with, but she had, and it was so simple until they'd fought... until she got cold feet and he pushed her away. She hurt him, and that's when she realised that maybe this thing was more than the mistake she chalked it down to.

Anger from both sides was justified. Instead, Tifa found encouragement. Acceptance. The girls listened to her stumble through her dirty laundry and offered their support. No judgement in here, remember? And he's not a bad guy…

Blunt questions dragged the truth out of her. Did she like him? Yes. The answer came so easily, sidestepping every measure of over-analysis she would usually apply. Did other people matter if she didn't understand what she felt herself? And it came to her then, a solid weight in her chest that was far easier to carry than she thought. Peel away the layers of how she should feel, how she should act, and it was that simple. The past was just an ink spot on their history. The further on they marched, the harder it was to see.

She clung to the feeling, to the warmth it brought her. This was something the whispers couldn't tarnish, something bright that anchored her, a tangible path to the here and now. Reno was waiting at the end of it; she knew he was.

Tifa looked to the open door, more confident in the action she needed to take. She'd find him, even if it meant walking back through every memory, every fork along the road. The wind was picking up now, heavy with the scent of rain. It blustered around the cabin as the scene shifted around her, rattling the blinds at the windows, whipping her hair around her face. Tifa stepped outside, refusing to look back.

"You know this can't work, right?"

She took a deep breath and turned.

The car blocked her path, heat shivering from black metal as the engine cooled. Reno leaned against it in his shirt-sleeves, sitting in the dirt, scowling like a kid caught doing something wrong. The bright red of his dishevelled hair was the only blot of colour on the landscape, and a nasty bruise was blooming along his jaw.

Tifa walked towards him as the world around her changed, the ground dusty beneath her feet. In the distance, she could see the ruins of Midgar, a dark stain on the horizon.

His lips moved. This time, she heard the words. "I'm no good for you—"

"Don't…"

"I'm no good for anyone."

"Don't say that." She edged closer, feeling the twinge in her ribs as she did. Sweat trickled down her spine, crawling across her skin. This memory was painfully clear. The ache in her limbs had been a much-needed distraction from the noise in her head. "You don't get to decide what's good for me."

"The kids need you more than I do—"

"The kids have me."

His blue eyes stared straight through her. "Check me out, being all selfless and shit…"

Panic took hold. He couldn't see her. "Reno, please…"

"It's pretty dumb when you think about it."

"It isn't! "

"You were really going to throw your life away for the asshole that dropped the plate."

The memories came rushing back. It was like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, watching the pieces fit together as the bile rose in her throat. Reno was hurt… she'd been there at his side, desperately forcing potions between his lips, begging him not to leave her…

The fight. The gun. She couldn't stay here; he needed her.

"I'd do it again," she said, fingers curling into fists. "In a heartbeat."

"The thing is…" He hesitated, and for a fleeting moment, she thought he could see her, his eyes drilling straight into hers. He looked away. "I think… For fuck's sake, I don't think anything. I fucking know."

Around them, the first drops of rain fell.

"Reno." She dropped to the ground beside him, the gritty earth biting into her knees. She braced her palms against his chest. "I'm here."

His skin was hot through his shirt. She curled her fingers into it, trying to force his attention onto her. He looked so lost, though. So resigned.

"The thing is… I think I love you."

Her hands were shaking. The words felt like a goodbye.

"So, yeah…" He turned, eyes shining, and they were grey now. So were the tips of his hair, waving in the wind. "That's the problem I guess…"

The rain was really coming down, soaking her to her skin. She hammered her fists against his chest, unable now to feel the warmth of him. The blows didn't make a sound. She tried to shout, to scream. Nothing worked; he just stared unseeing as the light changed behind her, the aquamarine glow throwing their shadows across the ground. Her vision blurred and the whispers roared. This was it. Their time had run out.

Tifa closed her eyes, trying to remember the heat of him beneath her hands. How he felt. A different memory came to her, one that didn't warp the dream world she found herself in. An afternoon in his bed before life flipped upside down, his arms wrapped around her, lips trailing lazy kisses across her skin. He'd told her then not to do it, not to fall for him…

"It's a little late for that."

Raindrops ricocheted off the wet ground. Around them, the world dissolved, swirling into the void. Desperate, she took the only route available to her. When her fingers wrenched his collar, his eyes snapped onto her, his attention finally hers. As the storm raged on, her mouth crashed into his.

He tasted like rain. The world turned white.

Tifa couldn't move. A machine was beeping, matching the heartbeat that thudded in her ears, and something tangled her limbs up, pinning her in place. Her whole body was numb. She inhaled slowly, trying to make sense of the world around her as sensation slowly returned, tingling across her nerves. Above her, the cracks in the ceiling tiles slowly came into focus.

Everything hurt.

"Reno?" she croaked.

He mumbled something, half-asleep, face pressed into the crook of her arm. She stared at their entwined fingers, struggling to grasp the dream that was rapidly slipping away.

It was raining. She listened to the steady pitter-patter against the window, watching the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders as he slept. The memory was there on the tip of her tongue; she just couldn't reach it. The tubes, she thought muzzily, eyes settling on the IV bag that was hanging beside the bed. It dulled her senses, muddling them. She closed her eyes, relieved. He was there.

It should've been enough. It was… only something niggled at her. Maybe it was the drugs in her system, as the pain became an ache, and the ache became pins and needles. Maybe it was the joy of being awake.

Maybe it was his even breathing, reassuringly warm against her skin. A giddy smile cracked across her face, and her heart soared.

"Reno..." Tifa hesitated.

He couldn't hear her, but somehow it didn't matter. This was important.

She squeezed his hand. "I think I love you too…"