Chapter XII :: Désespoir, Part I
I saw her as I looked up from the blue cobbled street. I caught sight of her hair first stepping away from the doorway of my childhood home, untied and twisting about her face in the steady breeze whistling between the tightly-packed buildings; even with the heat of the sun to warm me, I couldn't help shuddering, from the sight of her as much as the wind. Her eyes flickered in my direction as I moved towards her, then shifted back to the empty gardens past the square. As I got closer, I heard her sigh.
"Hey."
"Hey." With little effort, much less than I would have had to exert as a child, I hoisted myself besides her atop the well, catching for a moment at the peaceful nothing surrounding us. At such close proximity, I snatched fragments of her flowery scent as her hair blew past me, but she didn't move away, if stiffening a bit at the nearness. As I searched for the words to say what I'd repeated over and over the past few days, a heavy silence fell.
"Cloud?" I glanced over at her; her eyes averted from the sight of me. "Do you remember this place?" My brow furrowed at the oddity of the question, then nodded, smiling slightly.
"What, the well? Of course I do, Tif—how could I not? This is where I told you I was leaving. We made our promise here…" She blinked, but otherwise didn't move. "I could never forget that. It's one of my childhood memories I like to remember."
"We're older now, more mature." Her tone was deceptively cold. "We shouldn't keep hanging on to silly promises of 'knights in shining armor' anymore."
"You think it's silly?"
"I…it used to make me feel a bit safer, back before…the fire. It was nice to think about in Midgar, when I was alone. But now there's no point in bringing it up as anything more than a memory. That's all it is, just a memory." Her eyes had lost their focus, and she stared dimly into space. "I don't believe in it anymore. I'm not a child." Of course she wasn't—she spoke as if someone had accused her of being such, as though it were a bad thing. My heart swelled in my chest, crushing my lungs. "Promise me something else. Something real." Her voice was stronger than seconds before, determined, and it unnerved me more than it should have.
"'Something real'?"
"Promise me you won't come here anymore. You're wasting your time—I don't know how many times I've asked you to leave. I guess…I should have told you not come back." I withheld a sigh, keeping my thoughts from imagining strangling her.
"What? Tifa…"
"I want this. I've wanted this more than I have for anything, ever. I've thought about it so much, back in Corel, in Junon—before that. Back when Papa was killed, when I thought everything I'd ever known was dead. In Midgar. Then after Aeris was..." She stopped herself from finishing the sentence, as if it might break me. Or her. She sniffed, and only then were the tears apparent to me. "I thought about it, after that, planning what I would do if I could muster up the courage to go through with it. In the end I never did; I was never brave enough. I was a coward. But now's my chance to finally have what I've dreamed of for such a long time. I can't feel it happening, not really—only unless I try. It would be so easy..."
For a moment, I couldn't find the words.
"You are many things, Tifa, but you are not a coward," I declared finally. At this she fixed me a steady, pleading gaze, as if she hadn't heard my statement for what it was. Her eyes glistened with held back emotion, as the final plea escaped her lips.
"I've never asked anything of you before. Not like this. Let it just be the one thing I want from you: let me go. Please, Cloud, don't come back. Spare me all this and just let me go. Nothing needs me over there—I'm not alive to begin with...I've already left them. All that's left is just this, this one little part. Cloud, do this for me. Don't come here anymore." I swallowed hard, not wanting to witness the pain in her face as I adamantly turned down her request. How could such a simple decision be so difficult?
"You're going to hate me, Tif, and I'm sorry, but I can't do that. You know I can't do that." It took a second for the refusal to reach her, and as it did the tears were let free, cascading down the sides of her face in tiny rivulets; she closed her eyes, and I too turned away from her as her body began to tremble.
"Why not? What's wrong with it? I'm happy here…I'm fine with all of this." Her chin quivered.
I gritted my teeth, and prepared to explain to her once again, focusing predominantly on sheltering her from my irritation and keeping the bite from my voice. "I don't care whether or not you believe you're happy here. I'm not happy with you here. I don't want to watch you die. I told you that before." Her hand rose her face, to cover the flush enveloping her paleness.
She sucked in a sob, wiping furiously at her face as if by will the tears would evaporate. "Everyone's happy. Everyone's found their peace. I haven't—I never had it to begin with." I opened my mouth, and shut it when I realized I couldn't speak for the surprise. "I put it away so patiently, waiting for things to get better. Nothing ever did. Maybe they did before, when I found you at the train station, but not now—there's no chance for it!"
I remained silent, but found I couldn't look away—only once had I ever seen my best friend weep this much in my life; the tears were coming so strongly she was having trouble getting her breath in, much less trying to speak—only once, when her mother had died, and even then I'd cheated and snuck a peak inside her house through her bedroom window. Even then she had refused to cry this much, openly. She kept her head bowed, and I could merely stare at her chest rise and fall, her shoulders slumped; as I watched her try and hide herself from me, I puzzled over how she would react if I touched her, simply reached out and grasped her arm, what I would feel—would she shy away, cower as she had before? Or would she dissipate between my fingers?
I didn't try.
"I didn't think…" she said slowly. "—Barret told me…about what had happened to you, just before…I came here. At first I didn't think I could handle it, and then I thought I could—convinced myself I could. And then...I knew I couldn't." Her head came up slightly, to meet the sun and wind beating down on her. "This place—my parents aren't here, as I thought they would be. It's nice, I like it."
"…Why?"
Her eyes remained closed, as her emotions calmed. "I don't have any responsibilities here. I can do whatever I want. I don't have to worry about anyone but myself. I don't…lose anything, anyone. Being alone, really having time to myself…it's peaceful. I can reflect. Look back on my life." The crimson tint of her irises glowed in the sunlight as she blinked. "I didn't mean to…you know, hurt your feelings or anything before. But…that was what you were doing, right? Reflecting?" I stopped.
"Yes."
"I don't want you to be angry with me, Cloud. I know why you're here, that you want to help me out of this." She was staring at me, holding me with those beautiful eyes and forcing me to face the truth both of us had been ignoring. "I really don't feel anything. I know…you want me to live, but…I don't want to live anymore. I don't want to care anymore, I don't want to have to search for a reason everyday to get up in the morning…" I couldn't move; I couldn't breathe. "Please."
She was so close, my arm would barely have to extend for me to reach her. Yet even at such a close proximity I couldn't feel any heat from her, only the cold leveling down from the mountainside. The glow in her eyes made my heart shudder, frozen with the somber desire for release.
A thought appeared, and I spoke without putting meaning to the words until she answered.
"I had meant to ask you about what happened in the Lifestream," I said. "I was thinking about it, a few days ago; I can't really remember much of it—I was unconscious, I don't know much of what you did…"
The smallest of smiles emerged, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.
She sighed, and shrugged slightly. "I didn't 'do' anything. I just...you had it in you the entire time, all those memories inside you, hidden by the lies Jenova had you believing...I just helped you find them, is all. I didn't do much, not really." I was sure that wasn't the half of what she had done, yet she refused to go further into the matter—why had I believed any of my true memories over Jenova's inventions? How could I have told the difference between the two—between reality and fabrication? This gut instinct was telling me that she had done a hell lot more than 'just helped me find them.' "You said before…" she started, gently, "you didn't—couldn't watch my life waste away, that you wouldn't let it happen." The corners of her mouth twitched. "How were you planning on stopping me…?"
"I was surprised you thought I'd simply leave you alone." She nodded slowly; all her actions were muted, somehow, dimmed by the depression radiating from her. "You wouldn't give up on me, all those times I was convinced death was the right thing. It's time I returned the favour." I let the words drag as I paused. Her chest heaved.
"What if I told you," she said quietly, "that, in this one instance, death is the right thing?" I stole a glimpse at her figure, hunched over her knees, staring into space, unmoving.
"I have another question." SEQ CHAPTER h r 1She didn't even turn in my direction, her eyes directed faithfully on the ground far below. "Last time...you were going on about how happy you were here—'Ever since Aeris...' and then you just stopped talking. 'Ever since Aeris' what, Tif?" A profound flush almost instantaneously rose into her cheeks, and she tilted her head futilely to try and hide it. All there was to hear, for the proceeding seconds, was the call of birds beyond the mountain range.
"Ever since Aeris…died," she replied simply. With a sudden fluidness she began to rub her eyes were her palms, irritated. "I was happy, here, the first complete freedom I've felt since he took her away from us…" She paused.
I stared at her. "I made you feel that way?"
"Not just you. A lot of different things. All of it added together made it seem so overwhelming…"
"I made you feel like that."
She closed her eyes. "Yes." But that was what I wanted, wasn't it, honesty? "I wanted to help you, as much as I could. All of us could see how much you missed her, how much her death bothered you…but you wouldn't let anyone help. You just left, like you were trying to erase what had happened…then Barret got that phone call. All I wanted to have the peace that you'd found, after so long…" Her voice trailed off; although I couldn't understand, I held strong doubts that she was lying now.
"Peace?" I said, puzzled. "When was this? Care to fill me in, because I don't think having to watch my best friend try to convince me that suicide is the answer qualifies as peace, Tifa." She shot me a look of distaste. "I haven't found peace."
"You're dead! You've finally left everything behind to be…happy. You don't have to worry about anything anymore, nothing that you would have if you were still alive…I want that kind of peace. I don't want to care anymore. I want to forget about everything and finally be free!"
I felt my blood run cold in my veins.
"You ran off and got yourself killed," she continued without pausing, "which is just as well. But now here I am, making you come here to stop me…"
"I'm not dead." I found myself forcing my voice to stay smooth, to keep the quivering and the frustration and the anger from her. She stopped speaking as abruptly as though I had slapped her in the face. I didn't feel I needed to see this reaction, but found I couldn't look away. "You thought this entire time that I was dead?" Of course she had—who had she come in contact with apart from me? And had I bothered to explain it to her?
"That's what Barret said…" she defended. Her voice trembled. "He told me you…body had been found outside of Corel…"
I despised myself more than I ever had Sephiroth. "I'm not dead, Tifa. I'm alive. I'm here, in the hospital, right now, sitting right next to you!"
"But the phone call…"
"It was a mistake!" I shouted, losing myself. "I was barely dead for two or three minutes before they revived me—and even that's a stretch! I'm not dead!" She sucked in a sob. Her fingers were pale and thin as she raised her hand to her face, once again covering it in an attempt to hide.
"Stop yelling." She had shut her eyes against the light, losing whatever vigor inside her she had had left to protest the shock. "It's not true—it can't be." She shook her head, assuring herself with more lies. Droplets of tears dappled her cheeks. "No! No, you're not! Barret said you were dead, he wouldn't lie to me. Y-you're dead. You're just a ghost. You're not alive…how could you get here if you weren't? You can't be…"
It was then I reach out to her, my hand falling gently on her shoulder, and the tears exploded from her eyes. I knew better than to try and stop them. The flesh beneath her thin cotton shirt was frigid as snow, and she shunned my touch as if it burned.
"It was all a mistake," I pressed, softly. "I was sick, and I did stop breathing after coming to Corel, but they revived me." She had her head in her hands, as if by such a simple she could fall away, disappear inside a new solace I wouldn't be able to enter.
"W-why…why didn't they call us back? Why didn't they tell us you were alive again?" Because the man who had delivered the news had originally hated Barret? Yes, that was appropriate.
"I don't know."
Silence.
"Please…leave…" Tifa wiped shakily at her cheeks, smearing paleness along her complexion.
"But Tif, you have to come with me…you have to wake up!" Her eyes remained shut tight, and for a second I thought she to push herself off the well and retreat into the desolate emptiness of her deserted little house. Yet she stayed, squeezing and digging her nails into her forearms for comfort.
"Please go."
I sensed the layers of my mind fold back into reality, and nodded, feebly, wanting to reach out to her again and touch her regardless of the response and regretting it when I didn't. I woke up with my face pressed up against the side of her thigh, my upper torso pressed down on the mattress. There was no nurse to bother me, not now, and I blinked, hating myself more and more as I stole a glance at my best friend's body. Of course she hadn't known. Why would she? It had been a completely ridiculous and unjustified notion to believe that she would automatically assume I was with her in mind as opposed to spirit, when she had no cause to think otherwise. Despite my efforts, I had hurt her once again, another tally for the record I was continuously building. Regardless of the realization of my behavior, was there nothing I could do to stop it?
But I was sure of one thing: I would make her see. I would force her to accept it, and, when the time came, I would convince her to live again.
Raine