A harsh cold had settled in the basement causing her skin to be covered in goose bumps. She hadn't seen her kidnapper in days and was beginning to fear that she would die. The shack was perpetually darkened and she couldn't be too sure about how many days he had left her there, but it was beginning to take its effect on her. She had lost weight, at least ten pounds since he had left her with no food or water. She had tried to hold herself in for as long as she could but, to her disgust, nature called and she was forced to dirty the table she lay on. Her back was covered with bedsores, her limbs went in and out of consciousness and her wrists and ankles were swollen and bloody.

As soon as he had left her after that last frightening attack she had begun to try and wriggle herself free from the clasps that encircled her arms and legs. To no avail she fitfully wrought and forced her arms through the clasps. At one point she stopped caring whether she would break her wrist or not, but after the blood has seeped down onto her head and she could no longer feel the pain she passed out, hungry, tired, and in pain. Her ankles looked much the same and she could smell the disgusting odor of blood, sweat, and body waste mixed together, which had made her vomit on a number of occasions.

She could no longer move her fingers without excruciating pain when, much to her disgust, yet surprise, he returned. Though she feared and hated this man, he was the only one who could keep her alive at this point, and though she refused to admit it to herself, she knew that he had complete control over her.

She wanted a shower more than she ever had in her entire life and was elated to see him standing at the base of the staircase holding a garden hose, which stretched up into the upper part of the building. The water, she thought as he washed down the table, was a heralding of what may come, as the icy chill ran down her spine, washing away the filth and blood that had crusted to the wood and her skin. Though she received no soap, the end result was quite gratifying.

Next to come in her ordeal would be food. Just as she had expected, he did not bring good food, but old leftovers, uncooked. He shoved the food forcefully down her throat, though she would have graciously accepted it with ease. It tasted horrible, but she didn't care, if she didn't have it, she would surely die.

"Cloud where are you?" she asked herself over and over again.

She couldn't understand why her love was taking so long to reach her. In every instance where she had been in a bind, her knight in shining armor was there within hours. Perhaps it had been hours, she thought, though it must have been days. Tears had formed deep red lines down her face and soaked her hair beneath her head. Her eyes were still encrusted with the salty pain even after he had hosed her down.

Now he stood over her again, reaching for the zipper to his pants as he had days ago. She cringed at the thought of what her torture for today would be; she prayed that he could do no worse than had already been done. Wrong she was, for she could never imagine what was to come.

He stared at her, an almost tribal look in his eyes and she could smell the distinct musk of alcohol emitting from his breath. It made her gag, and he sensed it. His gaze fell below her head and lingered there until he got up on the table and stood over her, as he had the last time. He bent over and tried to thrust his tongue into her mouth, but again she bit him and could only wonder why this idiot had attempted to close in on her again. He wailed and flung his arms to the side during his own pain and when she finally let go of his muscle he punched her in the nose, breaking it and drawing blood. She groaned with pain and he ripped out a chunk of her hair.

"I've had just about enough of your defiance." He said evilly with a sly smile across his dirty lips. Tifa felt as if she had shrunk at that moment and tightened up every muscle in her body, preparing herself for whatever it was he would do to her.

He stood up on the table, nearly knocking his head against the ceiling and proceeded stomp on her chest. When he finally finished she vomited again and screamed more obscenities at him than she ever had in her entire life to anyone. He laughed and brushed himself off, then ran his filthy hand up and down her leg and walked towards the stairs.

"See you in hell, bitch." He exclaimed as he left her alone once again.

The tears flowed freely from her eyes now and she screamed for Cloud with every ounce of strength left in her. She wrenched her arms and legs harder than ever, but only brought on new pain and this time; she heard a crack in her right wrist. She screamed in agony and passed out, not knowing if she would wake up, or if she wanted to. If Cloud didn't come soon she would accept her terrible death sentence.

- - - - -

His jail time done and forgotten, Cloud tried to plan his next move. He feared the police were gathering evidence against him, and going into Midgar again may worsen their case against him. Still, Tifa was more important to him than life itself, and if he were sentenced for life he would sit there and take it, as long as he knew that she was all right.

One thousand thoughts and painful images ran through his mind each second; images of Tifa being tortured, beaten…or worse. He couldn't bare to think that she may have even been…No, not Tifa, it had taken him over 21 years to admit his love for her, he could not lose her now, not now, not this way, not without proving just how much he loved her. He would marry her if he ever found her. She would come home safe and sound and he would propose, in the most romantic and picture-perfect way possible. He had called Yuffie and asked her how she dreamed of being proposed to. She had only turned her nose toward the air and snorted, "I will never be tied down to some half-witted bastard, I'm gonna be a bachlorette forever!" and promptly hung up the phone. After being rejected, Cloud had consented to call Shera.

"A party-like atmosphere," Shera had said, looking at the heavens lovingly, "with the whole group behind you and tons of flowers. Some soft music would be nice, but I'm sure that any situation in which you proposed to her would excite Tifa. Knowing you wanted her to be your one and only is all she really needs."

Cloud had stayed with Cid for a few hours trying to contemplate his next move. He needed to sneak into Midgar, or at least be able to hide easily in case the police showed up. Cid agreed to fly him there on the Highwind and promised to have the whole group waiting at the bar when he returned. Shera would select the ring for him so he wouldn't have to waste another moment while his love lay helpless and alone somewhere.

Midgar was still dark and menacing as ever when Cloud dropped down from the airship. A hard landing, he thought as he rubbed his sore behind. He had landed on a thick piece of steel, but he didn't mind, it was a small price to pay after several weeks without Tifa. His hair was a mess from lack of sleep, dark circles had formed under his eyes, but coffee and the volition to see his love again kept him awake and ready for anything.

He returned to the spot where he had been arrested, the black car still remained. With his sword properly secured in its sheath behind his back, he passed the car, running his finger lightly along the length of its hood. He kicked some scrap metal out of the way as he made his way through the rubble. Broken down and crushed metal towered over him like skyscrapers, and the air was thick with the smell of decay. Darkness was all he could see for what seemed like eternity, though it was nearly only half an hour.

At long last he saw what appeared to be a light, for it could not be glare from a small spot of sunlight, though there were holes in the upper plate, since it was night time now and nothing but an artificial light could shine in its depths. Cloud's pace increased dramatically and eventually turned into an all-out sprint as he raced towards the shack that potentially held his soon-to-be fiancée.

He stopped suddenly as he approached, when the door opened and a corpulent bald man came slightly limping out. Cloud's eyes narrowed when he saw the wretched man and knew that his lady laid waiting inside. He would deal with the pervert later, but first he wanted to make sure that Tifa was all right. The man began walking towards Cloud's direction and the spiky blonde quickly dropped out of sight. As the man walked past him Cloud silently slipped into the wooden shack from which the pervert had emerged.

Inside was a ghastly sight: garbage and dirty clothes strewn about everywhere, the filth clung to his ankles like a mudslide. He sifted his way through the mess and called for her.

"Tifa!" he exclaimed.

A moment later he heard the weak cry of an injured angel struggling to survive. He looked around; up, down and all around to see where the noise had come from. While looking feverishly around he noticed out of the corner of his eye, an indiscrete door hidden in the shadows. He walked slowly over to it and turned the knob, the creek of the old wood setting him off guard. A flight of stairs descended into the seeming abyss and he began to ease himself cautiously down them, running his hand along the wall, searching for a light switch.

- - - - -

She lay motionless for days, trying to let herself die, trying to push her mind to the brink of termination.

"Kill me now and end my pain." She said to herself over and over again.

She had always been a strong woman, never let anything get her down but then again, she had never endured something as diabolical as her current situation. She had been down-and-out before, but never like this. She would have given anything to have been strapped to the chair in Junon's gas chamber all over again, instead or this.

She had passed out several times in the past couple weeks from the stench of her own body. Her kidnapper had washed her once, fed her twice, and nevermore. She was wasting away to nothing and feared that even if Cloud did come rescue her soon, she would be unable to pull through.

Her ankles and wrists lay motionless and broken from her most recent, violent attempts to free herself from her torture bed. He had left her alone again some days ago, shortly after his last devastating attack on her. Her eye still remained swollen and bruised, and her vision was still blurry, her hair was tangled in a mess that could not be saved and had even began to fall out from her stress, and him ripping at it in a fit of rage. Her torso was covered with bruises, cuts, and dry blood.

At one point he had even taken a kitchen knife and cut her stomach, not deep, but enough to draw blood. For all accounts she should be dead, but somehow that seemed the easy way out. No, she would have to suffer before she died.

Once, after he had beaten her long and hard, he took the same kitchen knife as earlier and cut her cheek, threatening to thrust the long steel blade into her gut the next time she didn't do as he said. She had long ago given up giving him the pleasure of seeing her frightened, and just stared at him blankly. He left in a fit of rage and threw the knife at her, it landed just next to her head, and there it remained.

"What more could he possibly do to me that wouldn't kill me?" she thought to herself, though she tried not to imagine what horrible deed she could endure.

He returned that day holding a small bucket of ice-cold water and a sponge. The characteristic devilish grin was sprawled across his face as he sat the bucket next to her head and plucked the knife from the wood beside her. He wet the sponge and began lovingly (if he was capable of such an innocent emotion) rubbing her body with the frozen liquid.

It stung more painfully with each caress but yet she was delighted to be clean. Her tolerance level had dropped dramatically since she was abducted and she realized how weak she truly was. At night she dreamed of a hot bath and a cure materia, even a stiff drink. When he was finished he wiped his hand along her cheek, leaving a stream of icy water. She was cold but settled on the fact that this wasn't the worst he could have done. Nothing was worse than the night with the knife.

"How would you like to move with me sweetheart?" his cold, raspy voice asked.

She scrunched her face into an awkward frown, which angered him. He grabbed her hair and forcefully thrust her face forward and back into the wooden slab several times as if she had shaken her head 'yes'. He left her with a throbbing headache that night and left to find some food to take with him for their impending departure.

Abandoned and sore, she actually contemplated giving in and trying to suck up to him, perhaps a new strategy was what she needed. She did not want to show weakness to him or to herself but she was running out of ideas…and time.

She wondered where he would take her now. If he let her loose from her table she would not be able to attack him, not with broken bones and in her weakened condition. No, he had planned this well, she could not do anything herself without him; he was in complete and total control of her, just as he had wanted.

"Cloud," her thoughts kept returning to him. She was in a bind, and for once her hero wasn't coming to save her. "What could be keeping you?" she worried.

She knew that if she ever got out of here alive and recovered that she would return. She would kick this man's ass. She would castrate him in the most painful way imaginable. He would receive no pain medication; he would be tortured as she was; only he would not survive. He was scum of the earth, a black plague for which there was no purpose. If he were to die there would be no funeral, and if there were, no one would attend.

She pictured it in her head, and empty funeral house, the closed coffin sitting alone collecting dust, and she, herself would attend and say the eulogy. She composed it in her head and sometimes when he was gone she would say aloud with a smile on her face. She was all she had right now, perhaps she was going crazy, she couldn't tell, but the only person she could talk to was herself right now.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for not coming. The man before us led a pointless life that was far too long. He tortured women for pleasure and held them captive, portraying himself as God over them. Let us hang our heads in silence for a moment and reflect. Let us thank God for taking this vile slug from us. The moment I will miss most between myself and this man is the moment in which his eyes glistened over with death, his spirit crushed and he finally realized that I was in control, that I owned him, that I was God. Here's to you, jackass." She would say solemnly, and the casket would be lowered with one final blow from her fist to his face. His grave would be unmarked and nothing more than a hole in the ground. His casket would be made by a young teenager in wood shop, with no knowledge or creativity. There would be no lining and he would be tossed into the grave by herself and Cloud.

"Tossed?" She thought to herself, "No, we will kick the coffin over a cliff, he doesn't even deserve a hole."

She grinned evilly at the thought of his death but it then reminded her of her torture. She screamed for Cloud again and again, knowing that he couldn't hear.

- - - - -

The soft voice of an angel called him deeper into the hole of the basement. There were no lights on and he often bumped into things or stubbed his toe. With each sound that he made he heard a soft moan, as if by someone who was frightened of a murderer and was trying to keep quiet.

He wanted to say something, call her name but his tongue wouldn't cooperate. He was afraid of no response, afraid to find a light switch, afraid of what he might find. A terrible decaying stench flooded the room and seeped into his nostrils causing him to gasp for fresh air. He tried to breathe through his mouth as one thousand fears shot through his head like needles.

"What if she's…" he wouldn't finish but the thought did hang in the back of his mind like a chest in an attic. The smell could conceivably be rotting flesh, and it could in fact be that of Tifa.

"Cursed be thy tongue," he thought to himself for saying such a terrible thing. Tifa had survived Meteor, and Sephiroth, there was no way in hell that she couldn't survive this, though he could never imagine what she had gone through. A thud brought him back to reality as he heard the distant front door open. He immediately ducked down and hid under the nearest object.

"Daddy's home sweetheart." The voice sang. Cloud grimaced at the comment and could hear the basement door open. He then felt the dimmed light hit his eyes as the man flipped the light switch. He looked around for Tifa, but saw nothing and no one. "I forgot you. Daddy can't leave without his angel." Cloud heard a soft moan of disgust and pain, then the sound of flesh meeting flesh as fist met face and the gritted teeth of a broken woman groaned.

As luck would have it, they would not leave that night, instead the dim light would burn out and the man, after screaming wild obscenities, vowed to wait until morning so he could see. With that being said he left his victim for the night.

As soon as the door closed Cloud felt his way around his surroundings and stood up prudently. He softly whispered her name and waited for a response.

- - - - -

Tifa knew that she had finally lost her mind when she began to hear voices in the darkness. She heard strange sounds as well and realized that she was dying at that very moment. She knew that often when a person was about to die that the Heavens would often speak to them or visit them. The dying one could actually speak to the dead and thus Tifa knew who was calling her.

"Papa?" she whispered softly, waiting for her pain to end, waiting to wake up in a bed of flowers with her parents, Jessie, Biggs, Wedge and Aeris all looking over her. She could feel herself reaching up to them with open arms, but for some reason her arms would not cooperate. Aeris and the others looked at her strangely and she could feel a burning pain in her wrists. She opened her eyes and saw only darkness, no blue sky, no flowers, no Aeris. Only twilight, only a cold envelope embraced her.

"Tifa?" the voice called again.

She tried to search through the blackness to put a face to the voice, but saw only nothingness. Perhaps her kidnapper had decided to speak her name; perhaps he was going to treat her like a living human being…or maybe, this was just another one of his sick and twisted torture games.

"Tifa." Again the voice rang, but this time Tifa could hear a slight glint of familiarity. She wanted to scream his name, but if he wasn't there, she feared that her attacker would come to kill her, as he had threatened the last time she called the name of her lover. And if Cloud was there? If she called his name and he was there he may get hurt should her assailant enter the room. Cloud could no doubt kill this man but still, to put her love in danger was not something she would ever do.

All she could mutter was an unintelligible moan of pain. Softly she did whisper, though she had screamed earlier. He had already attacked her for the day; he would sleep now, no more until tomorrow…or maybe days from then.

She could feel the warm, gloved hand of a savior gently touch her leg, but roam around the table, as if he didn't know she was truly there, then again finding her skin he flinched in fear. He softly ran his hand up her leg and torso, then found her cheek and stroked her lovingly, placing a simple kiss upon her forehead.

"Tifa!" he could not contain his excitement and began to kiss her in the dark feverishly. He placed a hand behind her head for support and kissed her again and again, never wanting to let her go. During the sound made by his movements, the moans she made from pain, and the sweet statements whispered into her ear, Cloud heard not the basement door open, nor the footsteps behind him. That is, until it was too late.

Cloud whipped around and reached for his sword. This was it, he thought, he would end this now and return home with his love by his side. He was met with a fist in his face, which threw him off balance. He stumbled back a few steps and rubbed his jaw. He looked around in the dark for his opponent. He could hear footsteps at the far end of the room and figured that the man had fled. Another fist in the face told him otherwise and he struck out into the darkness, greeting the kidnapper with a busted lip.

Again Cloud focused on the other footsteps until he finally realized whose they were. The steps of a pilot had entered the room and stopped to confront the blackness.

"Cloud, where are you?" the untrained stealth agent spoke. There was nothing Cloud could do to stop the man in front of him. All he could do was listen in that instant, hear the pervert reach for a gun and hear the safety unlock.

"Cid!" Cloud called, knowing there was nothing else he could do, but that wasn't enough. The bullet dislodged and found it's way into the old man's gut. The man had reached his life goal; he had made it into space. He had married his long time love Shera, and had built a life for himself as head scientist for a new company with goals of space exploration. He had his life on track and now…it was all gone. The man with the mission was dead; his body had collapsed to the floor with a cigarette falling from his teeth. Of all the things to kill him, it wasn't tobacco.

With the barrel of the gun still smoking Cloud lunged for the enemy. He grabbed the gun with his right arm and wrapped his left around the man's neck. Underestimated, the murderer managed to toss the gun into the darkness, then drove his heel into Cloud's foot and jammed his elbow into the blonde man's gut. While Cloud was bent over trying to regain himself the other man dropped his elbow into the back of Cloud's head, sending the ex- SOLDIER to the ground.