.
Chapter III: This Side of Paradise
Never lose an opportunity of seeing
anything that is beautiful;
for beauty is God's handwriting-
a wayside sacrament.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Zachary Fair never thought he'd go out this way. After realizing that he couldn't live forever (at the tender age of sixteen), he had always assumed he'd meet his end after an epic mountain top duel with the resurrected Horned King, or perhaps saving a school-full of children with his wit alone.
Not here, in a cramped train car, where his sudden demise from boredom would be commemorated only by a dry mocking from Squall.
The pace of his tapping foot quickened as the train passed into the shadows of the Barren Canyons; the open plains of sweeping greens and golden wheat giving way to the withered, dark-blue rock walls left impoverished by the dark magics of the Cauldron War. Zack felt his giddiness only increase. Even the ugly canyons were a welcome sign—they were almost home.
Across from him in their small cabin, his fellows in suffering, sat the tall and thin Squall Leonhart; face and eyes equally sharp as the contours of the cliffside that passed beyond their window, under his firm gaze, split by a long scar that crossed from his forehead, over his nose, to his cheek. He sat with one leg crossed confidently over the other, with both arms spread wide along the back rim of the cushioned seat. Zack felt somehow impressed that the man was able to sit so widely without slouching—it was some uniquely-Squall mix of military discipline and quiet self-confidence.
Beside him, Rinoa Heartilly lay with her head tilted back against his upper arm and her feet kicked up to reach across the aisle to rest beside Zack, leaving her vibrant blue, long-waisted coat to settle like a pool around her on the seat. Her eyes were closed, but her slight, knowing smile and quiet hum were more than enough to prove she was quite awake. Every now and then, with the shift of the train, the white fur from the collar of Squall's leather jacket would tickle her face, widening her smile with the wrinkling of her nose.
How they could each seem so nonchalant was bizarre to Zack. C'mon—after all this time, they were almost back home! A whole eight-month rotation away from the Garden—excepting one or two holiday weekends—and they were finally coming back from Corel, aka, middle-of-nowhere-ville. Now two tapping fingers joined his foot in a chorus that he was sure Squall would call him on any minute—not that he cared. All that mattered was that he would see the waterfalls again! The flowers again! The Bastion again! And, most importantly, cute, lovely, beautiful, Aerith.
There had been a time when Zack wouldn't have, in fact hadn't, noticed all those former things; or, at least, he never would've truly seen them. But now that he'd seen the latter, her, he found himself unable to miss anything. She had taught him how to appreciate it all.
Another two fingers joined the fray, until his whole left hand was tapping an incoherent tune against the armrest of his increasingly uncomfortable seating.
A sudden stirring to Zack's right drew his attention to the young Cloud Strife. The poor kid had startled awake, having been lulled to sleep by the dull rumble of the train over the last few hours. His almost glowing blue eyes betrayed a certain agitation or even fear.
"Hey," Zack welcomed, friendly brushing Cloud's blonde spikes, "Welcome back to the land of the living. Everything's alright, we're almost home!"
When Cloud's eyes focused on him, Zack could sense him relax—or, perhaps more accurately, become slightly less tense. Zack's recent apprentice, as far as he could tell, always operated at some level of unease. He had thought it might've gone away when the truth came out (to Zack, at least—no one else knew and Zack didn't care to tell anyone) that Cloud had lied about his age to join the Garden's Peace Keeping Force. The PKF required at least an age of 16, but Cloud was an old 15—easy enough for him to fake, especially when he and his papers were from such a faraway and uninteresting hamlet as Nibelheim. Not that Zack was one to condemn—he'd joined on his sixteenth birthday himself, nearly two years ago, now.
After a moment of studying him, Cloud's eyes cleared. He glanced briefly out the window, scanning the landscape, before turning back to Zack—his eyes now showing regard. He nodded at Zack with what might've even been a slight smile. before acknowledging Squall's glance at him with a second nod. Zack grinned. He loved this kid, in reality more like a halfway little brother, since Zack was only a couple years older than he. And the way Cloud looked up to him, the way his face changed when he saw him—Zack could feel the admiration in his eyes and it was…intoxicating? Flattering? To know Cloud, you had to get really good at reading his eyes.
Whatever it was, it was the way that he himself used to look up to Angeal, his own teacher, and Zack knew for damn sure that he liked being the recipient of that kind of esteem—it made him feel like he was doing something right, like he was carrying on Angeal's legacy. At least, in the eyes of one person, he was some kind of hero.
A sudden nudge at his knee drew Zack's eyes up to Rinoa, who peeked at him with one open eye, brown and mirthful, under an arched brow, "Don't get too full of yourself—I can see it on your face."
Zack chuckled, "That easy to read, huh?"
With a smile, Rinoa closed her eye again, "Everyone is, if you pay enough attention."
"Right," Squall smirked, "Wutai didn't stop their rumblings because you were there, Zack."
"Not funny." Rinoa intoned, turning the wrath of her foot to kick at Squall, who only shifted out of the way and turned back to the window.
The muffled voice of the train's conductor echoed something unintelligible over the still imperfect amplifier. The train may have been the marvelous peak of current Shinra tech, but it wasn't quite reliable just yet. Zack was slightly impressed that they had only been forced to stop two or so times since they left the last hub in Wutai.
"There it is!" Rinoa suddenly cried out, nearly leaping over Squall to push her face against the glass.
Zack grinned—there it was, almost iridescent in the sunlight as they emerged from the canyon: Radiant Garden. Its great stone walls shimmered nearly a perfect white, except for the glittering sparkles of blue waterfalls that fell over its edges. The great greens of tree and bush, so sharp against the blue, sprouted like fountains from inside the Garden, yet hung like an elegant, canopied roof. Above it all, the sheer enormity of Hollow Bastion towered, with ramparts of dark blue and turrets of grey stone that seemed almost to extend forever.
"That never gets old." Squall smirked and relaxed again, as Rinoa still nearly crawled to sit atop him.
Zack nodded. "That's for sure!"
For his part, Cloud sat quietly and watched the town approach.
"I'm so glad we get to be a part of this." Rinoa said quietly, never tearing her eyes away, "Y'know, we get to keep it going for everyone else."
"Only if we figure out where the Tsviets are hiding." Squall noted, arms now tucked behind his head and eyes closed.
"We will." Rinoa affirmed.
"C'mon, Squall!" Zack said, "If terrorists are hiding out on the frontier, then they're not causing any problems. Don't be a downer."
Opening one eye, Squall responded, "You haven't the heard the reports Rinoa and I have."
"Oh? And are you willing to share, oh high and mighty Captain Leonhart?" Zack said with a smirk.
"I think you mean Lieutenant Leonhart—" Rinoa finally turned from the window to affectionately tap Squall's nose, "There's only one captain here."
"Just making sure Squall remembers who the boss is!" Zack replied, grabbing Cloud around the shoulder, "Us lowly enlisters can only keep track of so much!"
"Oh, believe me, Corporal Fair—" Rinoa smiled as she returned to her seat, "He knows."
The train's whistle trumpeted as the engine entered the walls of the Garden. For a brief moment, all was dark as their cabin passed through the thick wall. Then, all at once, it was bright again and Zack's heart warmed to see the town from the inside.
The shadows of the trees wavered over the sparkling water that ran downward over each level of the multilayered city, cutting through each little district, each row of houses, and each tightly-packed, homely lane. Rinoa was right—it was good to be a part of something bigger; of keeping this place safe.
As the train slowed, the station platform came into view. The mass of blurred faces blew by, becoming clearer and clearer as the train slowed, finally, to a chugging stop. Zack, standing up just before the final lurch, stumbled forward slightly and caught himself against the window. Peering through the glass, he saw a tall, bouncing, wide-brimmed hat floating along amidst the sea of faces.
Gesturing briefly at Cloud, with a wide smirk, Zack immediately turned and dashed from the car. He'd had more than enough of the cramped cars and needed to breathe deep of Garden air!
Doing his best to politely shove his way through the bustling passengers, he made his way to the nearest exist and, squeezing past the conductor with a friendly nod and salute, stumbled out onto the stone platform.
Taking on a grand smile, Zack drew in a deep breath and cried out, "Home sweet home!"
Ignoring the odd looks from passers-by, Zack started his unconscious habit of squats, burning off all his excess energy. After every crouch, he took another full breath of air—almost tasting the sweet scents of the flowering buds on the wind.
Speaking of that—he had to make sure he stopped by one of the flower salesmen in this borough to get a present for Aerith; any closer to Merlin's and he was relatively certain she'd be the dealer for all the other shops!
As he stood to his feet again, he found the floating, sand colored hat moving toward him. With no time to react, Zack had to catch his balance as Tifa Lockhart, strong and athletic, crashed into him with a hug.
"Geeze, girl," Zack laughed as he returned the young girl's embrace, "D'ya really have to sneak up on a guy like that?"
Tifa, brushing back her dark-brown—nearly raven—hair from her forehead, smiled back at him with equally dark chocolate eyes, "Don't be silly, I know you saw me—"
"Tifa!" Rinoa cried, as she stepped from the train. Tifa's eyes were immediately away from Zack and her grip loosened as she pushed from him to a dive into Rinoa's arms. "I'm so glad you came!"
Tifa shook her head, "Of course!"
From beside them, Squall nodded his greetings, "Hey, kid."
"Good to see you, too, Squall." Tifa smiled, making almost to jump at him with a hug. She knew better than to follow through, but to see Squall's ever-so-slight twitch in prepared defense was apparently all she was after.
As she still held Rinoa's arm loosely, but tight enough that they weren't separated as more travelers disembarked, Cloud appeared at train's exit. Seeing everyone outside, he paused just slightly; long enough, though, for the person behind him to bump into his back and send Cloud stumbling forward off the train and onto the platform.
Quickly, with as much grace as he could muster, he righted himself and, pushing several wayward blonde spikes from his face, found himself standing beside Tifa.
"Cloud." Tifa smiled and tilted her head, arms now hooked behind her back. Knowing warmth radiated off her. In a different way, Zack knew, her greeting for Cloud—though simpler—was just as affectionate, if not more, than what she had shared with him or Rinoa.
Cloud, for his part, coughed, "Hey, Tifa."
Leaning forward, Tifa caught his shifting eyes with her own, "Welcome home!"
"Y-yeah." He responded, nodding slightly.
Zack shook his head with a bemused, knowing smile of his own. He still had to do some work with him.
"I love the ensemble today!" Rinoa suddenly spoke up, tugging at the brown vest that Tifa wore over a short-sleeved, button-up shirt, paired with a brown skirt and wide belt. "I guess that means the 7th Heaven didn't need you today?"
"Really? You like it?" Tifa smiled, striking a bit of a pose, "Actually, I took the day off—I didn't think I'd be able to focus, knowing that everyone was coming home today!"
"Hey, Cloud," Zack gave a sly look, "What do you think of Tifa's get-up?"
He wasn't sure if anyone other than him could've noticed it, but a split-second of fear passed through Cloud's blue eyes. "I—I think it's—"
"He thinks it's great!" Tifa pouted at Zack while grabbing Cloud by the hand to pull him forward, "It's what everyone used to wear back in Nibelheim!"
"Right, yeah, Nibelheim." Cloud stuttered out as Tifa led the group, Cloud first, away from the train.
"Really?" Zack wondered, slyly stroking his chin, "Cloud in a hat like that…huh."
Rinoa suddenly clapped her hands together, mustering the group, "Let's get moving—no more dilly-dallying!"
Zack took another deep breath, smile only widening as he watched his friend march off in a line. Legs tingling, he crushed out another couple of squats before moving excitedly after them.
Tifa lead the group out into the town, dragging Cloud on behind her. Zack couldn't help but shake his head. Yeah, he'd have to work on this with him. Not only did he have no idea what he was doing, he was pretty sure Cloud had no idea what was going on period.
Another sigh, another breath, and Zack jumped forward to shove himself between Rinoa and Squall, hoping they might share some more of his excitement. They were home.
"That'll be seventy-nine munny!" the salesman totaled merrily from behind a wide mustache,
"Seriously?" Zack sighed and dug into his pockets, producing the required sum and taking the small, potted yellow acacia, "Just rob me, why don't you…"
The man just continued to smile broadly as Zack took the small plant in both hands and returned to where the other stood, at the edge of the path that exited the borough's marketplace.
"Everything's more expensive during a festival." Rinoa smiled empathetically, having heard the conversation.
"I had forgotten it was the Princess' birthday!" Zack sighed, as he looked up at the pink and white streamers that a motley crew of volunteer and borough officials were stretching all over the town—every great and colorful decoration in honor of Princess Kairi's momentous seventh birthday.
Birthday balloons were being tied down, banners were being hung from windows, and long white pavilions throughout the city were being set up so that each borough could celebrate-all while the main event occurred in the Castle; the centerpiece of the entire town.
"Too much work for a child who will barely remember it." Squall intoned, looking up with disdain at the same image.
"I think it's beautiful!" Tifa responded, staring up with awe at the enormous Hollow Bastion, itself decked out in various colored drapings and flags, "I'd love to go to the ball—imagine, being inside the Castle!"
Zack looked to see Rinoa and Squall share a knowing smirk, and he, too, smiled, holding back anything he might've been tempted to say. Together, the group moved out of the marketplace and into one of the main thoroughfares that wound through the whole of the Garden.
"So how many times has Merlin re-designed his fireworks from the ground up?" Rinoa asked, as they walked under the archways that supported the Garden's upper levels.
Tifa laughed, "Only about a half dozen!"
"Hm." Rinoa touched a finger to her lips, "I'm impressed."
"Give it time, Rinoa!" Zack grinned, "He's still got a few more days!"
"Counting on Merlin being out, are you, Zack?" Squall raised an eyebrow.
Zack responded with a snort, lacking either confirmation or denial.
Suddenly, Rinoa trilled—or, more specifically, a small device attached to her waist did.
"Oh?" Rinoa raised an eyebrow and unclipped the small rectangle, only a couple times larger than a six-sided die. Everyone quieted as the shape vibrated intermittently and sounded a couple more times. Zack was wide-eyed—he'd only seen Rinoa's PHS go off once or twice before and the top-secret mix of magic and tech from Shinra Corp which could transmit and receive short messages enchanted him. It was like…super magic.
Rinoa frowned, "Something's happening in the center of the third district."
"We'll have to take the long way around." Squall noted.
"What?" Zack exclaimed, "No way! We gotta go make sure everyone's ok!"
"They are." Squall replied flatly, "The fact that it went over the PHS means it's known."
"Are you sure-?" Tifa wondered tentatively.
"The third district is only a couple blocks over." Zack insisted, turning to Cloud, "If you guys don't go, then at least Cloud and I will!"
Zack hadn't waited for Cloud's response, though, and was already halfway down the street, with Tifa in tow.
"As the commanding officer, I insist we go along." Rinoa smiled, wrapping her arm around Squall's neck and dragging him forward, "Zack's right—it is our job!"
"Hrm." Squall twisted himself out of the crook of her elbow, "Fine. Did brass have anything else to say, Rinoa?"
"Uh…I don't think so?" she said, as she caught up to Zack, "I'm still getting the…language? Is that it? I'm still getting the language straight."
Squall sighed. "So just, 'a thing is happening'?"
"Well, maybe it involved, I don't know…a store?" Rinoa tapped a finger on her chin, "Maybe something about a blockage?"
"Well, whatever is, you've got Zack all-in…" Squall mumbled.
Zack could hear the two talking behind him and, with a slight grin, purposely sped up a little, dodging through a slowly thickening crowd. Tucking his potted acacia close to his chest, Zack ducked a bit and pushed through several chatting bystanders with a friendly "excuse me!"
He heard Tifa apologizing for him as she followed up behind with Cloud in tow. They were getting closer now to the center boulevard, which cut its way through the first, lowest, levels of town, before the first great step of the town's stair-case pattern began to climb its way around Hollow Bastion.
With one deep breath and concurrent push, Zack wedged his way out of what had become quite a boisterous and packed crowd and stumbled out into the chest of a PKF officer, armored and with standard issue blade by his side.
"So what's going on?" Zack asked, stretching his limbs in the open as he tried to see past the guard-focused on pushing the crowd back-and into the rest of the boulevard, which was swarming with more PKF soldiers.
The guard shook his head, "I'm gonna need you to get back, sir."
Zack heard Tifa apologize her way up behind him—good, he'd have backup, just in case.
"C'mon, man, just a little info?" Zack flashed his own bronze PKF brooch, attached to the strap of his sheath, which crossed his chest, "Also, it's Corporal Fair."
"I'm sorry, sir." The guard replied, face hidden behind his helmet, "I would need higher clearance—"
"Like, say, a Captain?" Zack heard Rinoa speak up, flashing her own golden brooch.
"Captain!" the guard saluted and stepped back, allowing the five to pass beyond the perimeter.
"So what's the story, private?" Rinoa asked, as she surveyed the scene.
"Hostage situation, ma'am." The guard murmured, keeping his face toward the ever-growing crowd.
"What?!" the whole group exclaimed together.
"Some nutcase went off inside that boutique over there. We're still not sure what he has, except for the one person who didn't get out." He gestured firmly toward the crowd, "We've been able to catch a few glimpses through the glass, but no one has tried to approach yet."
"Have they called any negotiators—" Rinoa had begun to inquire, but Zack stopped listening.
"Hey Cloud, hold my flower for me, would'ya?" Zack gently passed the pot along to his obedient companion and moved toward the storefront, which had been surrounded in a half circle by a shoddy perimeter.
Before he got out of earshot, Zack heard Squall begin to ask where he was going—but by then, it was too late, he had already gotten out of their direct sight. He took a deep breath as he moved closer, dodging around PKF soldiers who seemed to just stand around doing nothing. What a waste. They were totally gonna mess this up-and with everyone watching, too. He shook his head at the growing, fascinated crowd. He'd fix this right up for them.
As he got closer, Zack loosened the straps of his sheath. Passing through the inner perimeter where no one stood, he got a good look at the square brick building, painted in the same light blues and white that defined so much of Radiant Garden. The light reflecting off the fully windowed face blocked his view of the interior.
"Excuse me; hello in there?" Zach yelled toward the open door, which blew back and forth in the breeze, "I'm not here to stop you, I'm here to listen. See—" he reached up and unlatched his sheath from over his shoulder and laid his large sword gently on the ground —a tall blade almost as wide as Cloud's torso that he had inherited from Angeal—and began to march forward, arms raised, "I'm unarmed. I just want to talk. I can be your hostage, too, I mean, if you want."
"Zachary Fair! Really?!" he heard the muted shout of Rinoa from behind him. A glance revealed her to be talking animatedly with a PKF Corporal like himself, while shooting daggers at Zack with her eyes. Zack guessed that it was that guy's head which he had just front flipped over.
Steadying his breath, Zack reached the door. Catching it with his hand, he took one last look to see Squall shaking his head, Tifa looking worried, and Cloud watching intently. The crowd, noticing him and spreading the word in whispers, stood in hushed fascination. Do or die.
With hands still raised, Zack entered the boutique. Wooden shelves held a small inventory of shirts and slacks, with a collection of colorful dresses hanging closest to the window. He recognized most of them as work from the outer provinces, shipped in here to satisfy the demands of the city. Beyond that, Zack had no idea where to look in here—he hadn't bought new clothes in at least three years.
"Hel—" he started before being interrupted.
"What the hell are you doing?" A hoarse voice startled him.
Zack turned, careful and slow, toward the back of the store. There, huddled in the shadow of an awning to a backroom, stood a short man with a large knife, held close to the throat of a young woman no older than Tifa.
"I'm just here to tal-to listen." Zack began as he sized up the situation. Based on the accent, the man was from Wutai. He was thin, with sparse hair, and a quivering hand. The awkward way he gripped the knife told Zack he had no idea what he was doing. His faced was covered with sweat, which had matted against the ginger hair of the young woman he gripped so tightly. Her face was a battleground between the red flush of tears and the pallid white of terror, all mixed together as her whole slight body trembled.
"What's your name?" Zack asked warmly, directing his question toward the girl.
"R-Refia." She whispered.
"Sh-shut up!" the man shook her, nearly pricking her with the knife.
"Well, what's your name, then?" Zack asked, briefly mouthing 'nice to meet you' to this Refia. He had to stay calm. Saving that girl and shutting this whole thing down, and thus saving everyone's day, was counting on him staying totally calm.
"My name isn't important." He muttered, "Just my message. MY message."
"Well, why don't you let Refia go and keep me—and I'll listen." Zack responded. "I don't think you could keep both of us and," he smiled encouragingly at Refia, "I'm a Corporal, y'know—probably a more valuable prisoner for you, I think."
Refia's mouth moved, but she didn't speak. The Wutain looked between the both of them, eyes shifting frantically. With a muttered curse, he shoved her toward the door and came at Zack with the knife-standing just close enough to be threatening, but far enough away that Zack didn't want to yet risk taking it from him. Let him talk; hear his story. Just a crazy dude who wanted an ear to talk off.
Refia stumbled to a stop, almost crashing into a table of well-crafted shoes. She looked up at Zack, mouth working up and down, unsure of what to do.
"It's okay, go on." Zack inclined his head toward the door, "Just tell them I want to talk to my friend here for a little bit."
She nodded and, finally stuttering out something like a 'thank-you', stumbled out into the boulevard. Now, it was just him and the Wutain, whose hand still shook as he jutted his knife toward Zack's stomach.
"You d-don't know, you have n-no idea what's going on h-here." The man muttered, glancing frantically between Zack and the door through which Refia had disappeared.
"Why don't you help me understand?" Zack responded, careful to hold his hands open beside him.
"What t-they do. It's the experiments." The man shook his head, "They get into your head, into you, and wriggle around. They hurt you. They, they tell you things. They show you things. The darkness—the darkness that's inside of you!"
The man waved the knife frantically now, nearly cutting at Zack's chest. Pausing, Zack focused on his breathing. This guy was off his rocker. Was he on some kind of Wutain herb? Zack knew from secret experience that stuff could really mess with a person.
"They?" he inquired, hoping to anchor the man's ramblings in something real.
"The white and the black, in the basement, in the tower," The man was becoming even more frantic, eyes fluttering open and shut. Zack was tempted to reach for the knife, sensing that the situation was becoming more dangerous and unhinged. "The darkness; darkness sprouting in the heart—it grows, it consumes, in the end—in the end—"
"Sir, I want to help you, but you'll have to tell me who-" Zack began.
"The President, he'll know! Ask the President!" a sudden light of clear sanity returned to the man's eyes, with a brief spark of pride spreading across his face—as if he had just managed a very difficult task. As soon as it appeared, however, it was eclipsed. "He'll know that every heart returns to darkness whence it came! Darkness is the heart's true—"
Suddenly, the man stopped speaking and it took Zack a moment to realize it. The quiet thwip of glass breaking behind him had only just registered when Zack watched in shock as a small circular hole appeared in the Wutain's soaked forehead and slowly dribbled blood. Eyes wide, Zack knew before his body hit the ground that the man was dead. Someone with a rare firearm and extreme skill in it had just murdered this man.
Zack had seen death before; plenty of it. More than enough of it, in fact-actually so much that any death now bothered him more than ever; especially something like this. It was no longer a shock—it was an angry normal.
Spinning, he sprinted from the store. Squinting slightly in the renewed light, Zack blocked the sun with his hand and ran toward where he thought he had glimpsed Rinoa.
"What the hell, Rinoa? He didn't have to die!" Zack yelled, as PKF officers swarmed around him and into the boutique, "Who the hell got a gun down here and ordered a shot?"
"Hey, hey." He felt Squall's strength contend with his own, "You need to relax. Aside from your antics, we didn't do anything."
As the world came into focus, Zack saw that Squall wasn't lying. Tifa look shocked, her gaping mouth covered as she stared at the tiny hole in boutique's window where a single bullet had passed through on its deadly mission. Cloud's eyes seemed locked on some distant sight behind Zack, while Rinoa played lightly with her hair as her furrowed brow scanned the rooftops behind the murnuring crowd.
Zack's anger turned quickly to confusion. Squall sensed this and let him go, speaking as he brushed at his shoulders, "It must have been a vigilante."
"I think you mean a murderer." Tifa and Zack retorted in near unison.
Squall shrugged as he turned to follow Rinoa's gaze, "In this case, same difference."
Zack shook his head as he watched two PKF privates carry a shrouded body out from inside the boutique. He mentally replayed everything the man had said to him—what had it been that got him killed? Why would someone want to execute a lunatic?
"Did he say anything to you?" Rinoa asked, finally turning to face Zack.
"He just…he just ranted about darkness and someone hurting him." Zack unconsciously began to squat-now a nervous habit: knees fully bent, arms out; up straight, arms in. "He said something about towers and basements and experiments—and that I should "ask the President"?"
"There's only one 'The President' in Radiant Garden," Squall scowled, looking up over the rooftops toward the southern end of the city where the top of Shinra headquarters could just barely be glimpsed.
"So what now?" Zack asked Rinoa, restless from the frothing mix of adrenaline, confusion, shock and relief inside,"We'll have to head back to HQ and explain everything, right?"
Touching a thoughtful finger to her lips, Rinoa shook her head, "No, I don't think so. You tell me everything, start to finish, and I'll take care of it." Squall came to stand by her side and she smiled weakly, yet solemn, "I mean, if you are up to it, you still have a welcome-home dinner to attend and I don't want Aerith's evening ruined, too."
Zack's squats stopped. What Rinoa said made sense—it normally did—but something in him rebelled at the idea of not being directly involved in whatever-this-was. The Wutain's face stuck with him, shaken and sweating—almost broken. How could he just abandon that? How could he just step back when he was needed? A man had just died! How could this feel almost rote—with reports and hierarchies—it was a shock to the crowd around them! Why not they themselves?
"Rinoa, I can't just—" Zack began.
Rinoa sighed, "Would it help if I put your name in as the referral for the case that will almost certainly come from this? You might even get an investigative role. Would that get you to dinner?"
After a moment's consideration, Zack nodded his acceptance. He'd leave it in Rinoa's capable hands. For now. Aerith was waiting, after all. He'd get to the bottom of this himself.
"Good!" Rinoa clapped her hands together, a ray of light in the otherwise disturbing scene. "Please give my love and our apologies to Aerith-" her face turned somewhat grim as she passed by them, headed for the small camp of PKF beside the boutique, with Squall following after, "we'll let you know how this turns out."
The group, now reduced to three, walked in silence the rest of the way to Merlin's rather large house, a walk of about two dozen blocks. Cloud had spent the time with his head down, deep in whatever thought he was always lost in. Tifa, for her part, had looked at several points about to speak, but had always chosen against him.
Zack himself had struggled to process the emotions of what he had just experienced, refusing to allow it to stain or darken the ever-bright loveliness of the Garden around him. This was helped along by the heart-swelling expectation of seeing Aerith again, for, in the face of her presence, all troubles seemed to melt away; escorted out of existence like pain by an expert massage.
Aerith Gainsborough—what a lucky guy he was. The day he had met her was one of the worst in the Garden's history, the First Attack-but, by some strange and paradoxical alchemy, precisely because of her, it was one of his best. He couldn't believe it had already been just over two years since. So much had happened.
"Alright, so listen up you two," he interrupted Cloud and Tifa's thoughts, "Let's not bring up today's events right away, okay? No need to freak Aerith out, amiright?"
"You mean don't tell her about what you did?" Tifa asked pointedly.
Zack nodded quickly, as Merlin's long house came into view, "Yeah, that."
Six or seven yards of garden, filled with all variety of flowers and vegetables, separated Merlin's front door from the cobblestone roads of the town. The gardens wrapped around the whole of the house like some sort of wide, green moat separating it from those around it. This was all Aerith's doing, and Zack could tell it had grown since he had left.
The house itself was bizarrely proportioned, blue-stone and red-roof, with one end having only a ground floor before rising, almost diagonally, into a second floor that stretched across the breadth of the whole wide house. A small third floor sat atop the second, almost like a sloppy top tier to a wedding cake. From its red roof jutted an enormous telescope pointed to the sky, which Zack always thought looked a little silly.
Other strange and unknown instruments jutted from windows or hung from eaves, serving some unknown purpose beyond Zack's comprehension. Behind the house, he could just catch sight of the large, brown barn that looked rose like an island in the Garden's moat. In it was held the most bizarre of all things to be found at house: Cid's Highwind.
Brushing past the overzealous branches of the garden, Zack gently placed his potted acacia on the nearest sill out of view of the entry. Nodding once to Cloud and Tifa, he screwed himself up and knocked thrice at the arched, wooden door. Almost before the third knock was through, the door was swung inward and there Aerith stood, dressed in a simple white dress outlined in lavender.
Her hair was tied back in one long ponytail, leaving her bangs and two thick ringlets of brown to frame her face. Around her, out from the house, wafted the smells of freshly baked pastries and steamed vegetables, washing over them all like a wave.
In seconds, with smile wide and eyes bright, Aerith fell upon Cloud with a great hug, "I'm so glad you're home!" she welcomed him, who might as well be her own little brother by now; or perhaps even her mother. For his part, Cloud responded with a nod, the slightest hint of a smile, and his, single-handed, pat on the back—great warmth coming from Cloud's reservation. Even Zack knew he had only just begun to understand the depths of what Cloud kept hidden.
But his composure was quickly lost as Aerith cried in happiness and stretched out an arm to drag Tifa in as well, squeezing them both close. Tifa squealed and Cloud froze up slightly—but Aerith didn't notice as she cried, "Both of you!"
"But I wasn't even gone that long!" came Tifa's muffled laugh from within Aerith's grasp.
"Away from home is away from home!" Aerith tut-tutted, "No matter distance or time."
Beautiful, Zack marveled, just absolutely beautiful.
Though quite satisfied by the scene, Zack was only slightly impatient. With his small cough, Aerith turned toward him, her arms still wrapped around the young teens. Catching her mid-grin, Zack expectantly spread his hands wide and, in response, Aerith leapt into him with such a force that he was nearly knocked from his feet. Spinning her around to right their fall, Zack finally planted her back on her own two feet and grinned.
"Why so long to get to me, eh?" he asked.
Tapping his nose with her index finger, Aerith chided, "Shouldn't we save desert for last?"
"You know I've never agreed with that!" Zack exclaimed, dipping his head down to deliver a kiss to her smooth lips.
"No Rinoa or Squall?" Aerith asked as he pulled away, and Zack pulled her back for another. Finally, he recognized she was asking after her best friend (Rinoa, not Squall—Zack laughed to himself at the bizarre image of opposites Squall and Aerith as 'best friends') and really deserved an answer.
Looking briefly to Tifa and Cloud, Zack responded, "Yeah, they had some business at HQ. Rinoa sends her love!"
"And Squall his cynicism, I'm sure!" Aerith smirked ruefully, "Ah well, I suppose that just means more for all of you!"
Zack jerked his thumb at himself, "You know I can handle it!"
"We'll see about that." Aerith grabbed him by the wrist with one hand, taking Cloud with the other and, sweeping Tifa up in the motion, ushered the whole group inside the house.
Without stopping, Aerith brought them through Merlin's entryway and living room, stepping over the copious stacks of books and shelves and other odds and ends, and passing by the many comfortable armchairs and lounges scattered about like islands around the burning embers of the hearth, crackling at the most perfectly comfortable temperature—as was always the case in the house of Merlin the Wizard.
Marched through another archway, Zack and his belly delighted to see Merlin's long dining table, filled almost to overflowing. Bowls of fresh fruits, looking unreasonably crisp for this time of year, surrounded a centerpiece of steaming goose, itself in the center of a circle of golden-brown potatoes and vegetables. Each immaculately placed setting had its own bowl of noodles and cups brimming with the Garden's famously cool and clear water.
"This is amazing!" Zack cried, immediately taking the closest seat and beginning to slice himself a large cut of goose, and with it, as many potatoes as he could snatch.
"You're welcome!" Tifa responded, elevating Zack's excitement even more—Tifa could make even a rock and some leaves taste like a meal from the Bastion!
"Well, Zachary Fair, I must say, it is good to see you, as well." Came the ever-so-slight high, ever-ruffled, voice of Merlin the Wizard from the head of the table.
Fork dangling between goose and plate, Zack turned with an awkward smile for Merlin, "Merlin! It's always good to see you in such good health, at your age!"
Merlin harrumphed and shook slightly as he refilled his long, wooden pipe. "And your time away has done nothing to dispel your impertinence, I see!"
Zack smiled good-naturedly and went back to filling his plate. It was a thin line he walked with Merlin. He liked to think that they both enjoyed it.
"Thank you for keeping the goose hot for us!" Tifa thanked the old wizard, as she sat herself in the chair across from Zack while Cloud took a seat beside him.
"And thank you for having such good manners, young lady!" Merlin replied, "And a welcome back to you, as well, Cloud!"
"Thank you, sir." Cloud responded shortly, as he took his seat
Aerith sighed as she observed the scene, "This is so lovely!" She took her seat beside Zack and opposite Merlin and clapped her hands. "Now that we are all ready," she glared briefly at Zack, who already had a fork headed for his mouth, "Please, help yourselves!"
"Tanks, itsh delifous!" Zack replied around a mouthful.
"It sounds like it!" Aerith responded, in a tone perfected by her: sing-song positive, but in such a way that her true feelings, in this case slight distaste, were also made clear.
"So what word is there from the outer provinces?" Merlin inquired, released a puff of smoke that scented the room with incense.
"More or less normal," Zack cleared his throat, "I wish there was a little more excitement going on, but that's just me."
"All clear and quiet sounds good to me," Tifa spoke up, "That's how it should be."
"Too true, Tifa." Merlin nodded. "Exciting times are, almost necessarily, dangerous times."
"Of course." Zack replied, flashing Aerith a smile, "That's what makes them exciting."
"Let's not hope for too much danger, okay?" Aerith answered.
"Deal." Zack responded, taking a long drink of water.
"Well, things are 'more or less' normal here, as well." Merlin said, "I'm sure you saw the decorations for Princess Kairi's birthday?"
"They are beautiful, aren't they, Cloud?" Tifa asked.
Cloud nodded slightly, as he cut into his meat, "They're nice, I guess."
"Just wait until the whole town is into the swing of it!" Zack said, if only to cover Tifa's disappointed frown, "Then we'll see a real party!"
"It's just all so wonderful," Aerith sighed, "If only more things brought everyone together like that!"
"I hear you've been working on your fireworks, Merlin?" Zack asked, "Will they be ready in time?"
"Why, of course they'll be ready in time!" Merlin replied, puffing heavier on his pipe, "The only question is whether they'll be only the talk of the evening or of the whole year!"
Aerith smiled sweetly, "I'm sure they'll be-"
"Well, god-damn! I had no idea that errybody was coming over tonight!"
Swinging the door from the stairwell so wide open it crashed against the back wall, Cid Highwind stumbled down from upstairs. As was always the case, a rolled cigarette hung from his mouth and his blonde hair was long and dirtied. Unshaven and blotched with dirt all over, Cid looked just a bit like a thin pig, fresh from rolling on the ground. In his hand, an unmarked liquid sloshed about in a glass bottle.
"Cloud! Good to see ya, kid!" Cid slapped the young man hard on the back, causing him almost to cough up the bite he had just taken.
"Heya Cid," Zack leaned back and clapped his shoulder.
"You sonuvabitch, welcome back!" Cid grinned, alcohol wafting on is breath, "Glad you're safe and sound."
"Will you join us, Cid?" Aerith asked, "I have some tea, if you'd like!"
"Nah, nah…thanks, though," Zack ducked under a swing of his bottle, "I've—I've got all I need right here."
He turned to wander toward the back of the house, taking a sip from his flask.
"You going to work on the Highwind, then?" Zack called after him.
"Well, o'course! How could I ever give her up, eh?" Cid shouted back, as he stumbled through the far door, "Y'know, her mini-prototype is still on display in the Castle, just off the library…pretty…pretty famous, y'know…" his voice trailed off as they heard the door to the back yard open and close.
"We know." Tifa rolled her eyes at what was a constant reminder from Cid.
"Oh well," Aerith sighed, "Based on his…scent…maybe it's for the best he doesn't eat with us right now."
Zack chuckled slightly, but said no more—he knew that Cid's proclivities often provided problems for Aerith, as did his regular clashes with Merlin over aesthetic and functionality. But Cid was yet more evidence of her generous spirit-she had found him a drunk wandering the streets of the Garden, nearly freezing several winters ago. After talking with him, she had learned he had been fired from his life's work at the Shinra Interspace Project when they had decided, Zack guessed, that they didn't stand to make a large enough profit from space travel. Shinra was all about the profit, and something as romantic as space flight held nothing for them if it wasn't motivated by munny.
It had taken awhile for Aerith to coax Merlin into letting the homeless Cid sleep in the barn out back and awhile longer than that before she was able to convince both him and Zack that she could make one of the upstairs closets into a room for him. Zack had come to find that he was a good enough guy, brilliant with tools and technology, and paid for himself many times over by keeping Merlin's house and grounds in shape. He was little rough around the edges and still drank too much, but Aerith was working on that, too.
As it stood, he had essentially taken over the barn to make into his workshop where he did machine and repair work for the town in order to pay to pay for what he truly wanted, the life that Shinra had cut short: building a ship for space travel.
When he first heard it, Zack had nearly died from laughter. But Cid was deadly serious about it—he had even torn out the second floor of the barn to use as scaffolding around the ever-growing ship. Over time, Zack had slowly become convinced that Cid was actually capable of doing it and had, often enough, helped him with holding a wrench here or lifting an engine there. He made a mental note to go out back and check the progress he had made in the months Zack had been gone.
Zack couldn't help but smile to himself, taking another mouthful of goose. What a weird little group this was.
"Well, Cloud, you haven't spoken much," Merlin said, every trying to draw the pseudo-adopted boy out of his shell, "What's going on inside that head of yours?"
Cloud paused, fork having just stuck a slice of melon. "Someone died in the third district square today."
"What?!" Merlin and Aerith exclaimed simultaneously, the former's pipe nearly dropping into his beard.
Zack's eating slowed as Merlin tried to divulge more from Cloud. Aerith, who knew better, spoke up instead, "What is he talking about, Zack?"
"Well, there was a sort of hostage situation." Zack answered slowly, "Not the Tsviets!" he added, seeing the deep concern in her eyes, "Just some crazy guy. The PKF took care of it—the hostage was rescued and the guy." He paused, reminded, "The guy didn't make it." He took another bite of his meal.
"It wasn't the PKF who took care of it." Tifa suddenly spoke up, tone firmer than normal, "They were useless soldiers, like always. Zack ran in and rescued the hostage, and I bet it was the PKF who killed the guy. That's how they always 'fix' problems."
Aerith looked to Zack with a mix of confusion and what Zack called 'aggressive concern', her spoon frozen in her hand, "What else happened, Zack?"
"Hey, did I mention I brought you a present—?" Zack began, remembering desperately that he had left the acacia outside. Meanwhile Cloud was actually answering Tifa.
"That's not what they—we—do." He said simply.
Tifa shook her head, "They're harsher than they have to be and you know it. They—" she paused briefly, eyes intense upon Cloud, "they take people away from home to send far away and under control. They use them."
"Am I understanding right that you ran into another 'situation'?" Aerith asked, face more serious.
Zack opened his mouth to defend himself, knowing that Aerith knew him well enough to have already guessed the context of what she—and Rinoa—would describe as his 'recklessness'.
"Yes, but I got the hostage out alright!"
"For a good cause." Cloud continued to respond to Tifa, obviously working hard to not make eye contact.
"No," Tifa responded, "It's not like the Cauldron Wars anymore. They don't need to take everyone here just to throw the Garden's weight around the outer provinces! It's not right."
"I do say—" Merlin tried to speak up, but no one was listening.
Zack was aware enough to know that Tifa's concerns weren't far off the mark—but he also knew Cloud well enough to know that the PKF meant more to him than it should, the kid signed up before he was of age, for god's sake! Far more importantly, though, he knew that Cloud and Tifa were arguing about something far deeper and more personal than politics.
"But someone died? What happened?" Aerith continued to push. "Are you okay?"
"I—I'm fine." He white-lied; intending to talk to her about his lingering feelings later, "And someone shot him. We're not sure who—that's why Rinoa's not here."
"Shot him?!" Aerith covered her mouth in shock—firearms were rare enough in the Garden, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"And that's what you think of Zack, Rinoa and Squall? Of me?" Cloud asked, his voice as unreadably monotone as ever.
Tifa shook her head, "No! You all are different—that's exactly why I'm worried!"
"Yes, I'm sure—" Zack responded, increasingly distracted by the escalating tension between Cloud and Tifa. This wasn't going to get worked out here and now. "Hey, I—"
Suddenly, it came to him and he scrambled to reach into his pocket, "Look what Rinoa got for us!" he announced loudly, pulling out and waving four small pieces of paper, "Tickets to Princess Kairi's birthday party!"
"What?!" Tifa and Aerith exclaimed together, taken-aback, with Cloud's voice a quiet—yet still shocked—echo behind theirs.
"Yeah!" Zack continued, excited that he had drawn their attention, "We're all invited! They'll be dancing and food and, well, all that party stuff!"
"And don't forget my fireworks!" Merlin, glad to finally speak, added. "That is marvelous news! Rinoa must be better connected than I had realized."
Tifa's mouth worked and down, "I can't believe it! That's amazing!"
Even Cloud raised a brow, although not without a flicker of anxiety.
With the tension sufficiently defused, the conversation turned to matters of parties and dress and anticipation, as Merlin regaled them all with stories of parties past: the wedding of King Aeron and Queen Gwendolyn, the birth of Princess Kairi and every birthday since—he was old enough even to recall the ascension party of King Taran and Queen Eilonwy and the founding of the Hartwell dynasty.
Zack could see that Aerith still eyed him warily, but Cloud and Tifa were fully engaged elsewhere. Equilibrium had been restored.
Zack smiled, nudged Aerith in a thrilled self-congratulation, and took another bite of his dinner.
It wasn't until much later that evening, after Cloud and Merlin took to bed and Tifa returned, he had let it all out and told Aerith everything he had seen that day—for while he was plenty experienced, no one's death ever got easier for Zachary Fair.
As the conversation continued and the evening deepened, Tifa's mind began to drift back to before Zack's announcement and felt the heat of embarrassment flush her cheeks. What had made her get in an argument with Cloud like that and mess up Aerith's dinner? That was the opposite, the super opposite, of what she wanted. She was a Martial Artist—her training should've kept her under control. She believed what she said, but it as a non-starter for Cloud, who had made the PKF his world.
She looked to Merlin, piping rapidly and happily. His wizened old face was wide with a satisfied smile—his true demeanor, so often disguised by his aged and reactive temper. Across from him Aerith, as much of a sister as she had ever imagined—the greatest gift she could never have imagined finding when her and Cloud came to Radiant Garden.
Like the gardens that were an extension of her, Aerith was a generous trellis upon which others grew—and she would've taken both her and Cloud in if only she had space—but Tifa had a job at the Seventh Heaven bar which came with a little apartment above it and Cloud needed support more than she, Besides, she basically lived here anyway. She only slept and waitressed at the bar.
It was good for him to live here, she thought as she looked at him quietly finish dinner. Before everything went wrong in Nibelheim and they had ended up on the streets together, he had stayed with her and Zangan when things weren't well.
But over the years, Cloud had changed. He had gradually been getting worse, more troubled, bent further and further inward. Coming to the Garden and finding these people had, it seemed, plateaued his descent—or something like that. But Tifa didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to help him.
Cloud…
But even if they grew apart, at least he had Zack. She smiled as she looked to him, cracking some joke she had missed that made Aerith cover her mouth with a giggle. Zack was someone Cloud could look up to (most of the time, anyway!); someone who could support him even when she wasn't there.
As Aerith finally stood to clear the table, Tifa realized she had drifted far out of the conversation. She felt somewhat awkward about sitting alone with Cloud as Aerith inevitably dragged Zack to the kitchen and Merlin dozed off, so she quickly stood and volunteered to take a plate out to Cid.
Nodding, Aerith piled a plate high and handed it off to Tifa, who quickly exited through the back of the house with only a brief, sidelong glance at Cloud—who held her gaze only for a second before looking away.
Sighing, she passed out from the pleasant warmth of Merlin's fires into the slight, fresh chill of the evening—ever-scented by Aerith's flowers, blooming for the final time this season. It was pleasant, and Tifa drew in a deep breath, cleaning and renewing her body. Just what she needed—the early fall air was her favorite.
As she pushed through the canopy of bushes and hanging vine flowers—overgrown by the standards of some, but not by Aerith's more natural standards-Tifa's mind flitted about: dread over having to work in the morning, replaying her evening training to further memorize the movements, and wondering whether she should replace the curtains in her room in some attempt to enliven and enlarge it—even if she was the only one who regularly saw it.
Mostly, she enjoyed the expectation of going to the Princess' birthday ball! It would be so beautiful, perfect, like a fairy tale! Ever since the Princess was born, she had always looked to Hollow Bastion longingly when it was so lit up and filled with people and music.
Finally, she reached the brown-sided barn that rose suddenly from Aerith's gardens. From inside, she could hear the clangs of a hammer, followed by a few muted grunts. She knocked at the somewhat thin and shoddy door.
"C'mon in!" came Cid's distinctly rough voice from within.
Tifa pushed through the creaking door and stepped into Cid's dimly lit workspace. Inside, she was surprised to see the walls lit by Merlin's magic—Cid was reluctant, some might even say suspicious, of magic. Perhaps Merlin had insisted?
In the light, she could just make out benches filled with wrenches, screwdrivers, and other tools she couldn't even begin to identify—strange shapes that she couldn't imagine what they might accomplish.
But all this was in her attention for only a short time; instead, she found herself drawn to the enormous shape that dominated the heart of the building. It stretched back into the darkness beyond her sight, and higher too, but she could see what she imagined to be the front half.
The Highwind was covered in grey metal plates, of various shapes and sizes, all overlapping each other. A large, reflective window sat atop what looked almost like a long neck stretching down to a wide body of metal and machine. On the side closest to her, the plating was missing and what seemed like a hundred wires and pipes and hoses all jutted out. Stretching from either side of the body were what looked like two wings, which then turned into thick cylinders at each end—filled with concentric circles of metal and gears and belts that each rounded into a hollow center.
Tifa wasn't sure what to think; she wasn't even entirely sure what she was looking at—but though she knew nothing, there was something attractive about the ship. Perhaps it was the work that Cid was putting into it—even right now, as he pulled himself out of the center of one of those long cylinders, there was a look of surprising joy on his face. Had he really done all this himself?
"Look's like sh*t, don't she?" Cid chuckled as he watched her look over the ship.
"No, I think it—she—looks pretty, in her own way."
"You don't say?" Cid raised an eyebrow, looking down at the plate forgotten in her hands, "Did you bring that out for me?"
Tifa nodded.
"Well, I'll be damned!" he jumped down from the ladder and snatched the plate from her, "To tell ya the truth, I couldn't agree more. She's gorgeous—but most folks have their heads up their asses and can't see it. Like goddamn Shinra." He took a cut of meat from the place and stuffed it whole into his mouth.
"Seems like their loss." Tifa responded, still admiring the grand ambition of Cid's work. How could one guy, who spent half the time drunk, build a something this large? This complex? This intricate?
"I couldn't agree more, kid." Cid nodded, taking another bite, and standing back to admire the Highwind.
"Why, though?" Tifa found herself asking, as she became aware of more and more details of the ship, "Why all this work?"
Walking over to the nearest bench, Cid placed down the plate of food and reached for a long piece of rope that hung over the bench, its other end vanishing far up into the darkness above.
"Lemme show ya." He smirked and pulled.
There was a sound of pullies rolling, followed by a long creak—and suddenly, a hole of light appeared far above in the roof of the barn. A large square of the roof folded back and, beyond it, Tifa could see the sky.
"Look at that!" Cid whistled.
"What, exactly?" Tifa asked, unsure of what he meant, though marveled by yet another contraption of his.
Cid snorted, "Sh*t, I guess your eyes still need a little work. The stars, kid."
Tifa looked again, as hard as she could. The sky above was alight in a way, perhaps, that she hadn't noticed before. Little pinpricks of light which had a moment ago just been a normal glow suddenly multiplied. Dozens and dozens sparkling lights lit the sky brilliantly—hues of violet and blue leapt alive suddenly to Tifa and. She was reminded of something she hadn't thought of in a long time, something forgotten since childhood, when she and Cloud would sit together as high in the mountains of Nibelheim as they could climb and watch the stars, unfettered by the lights of the town…
"Those stars," Cid admired, "are each further away than you could ever imagine and they each have a life all their own. All of Radiant Garden, all of the whole damn world, is just a tiny little piece of something huge." He shook his head in disbelief, "and everyone's walking around here like it's the goddamn center of the f*cking universe."
Tifa found herself struck silent by Cid's words, and—if she were honest with herself—a little surprised by their depth. It seemed to her that the stars shone with a new brilliance and a further depth than she had seen in a long time.
"And that, kiddo, is what this is all about." He walked over to place a hand on the rugged metal surface of the Highwind and grinned his toothy grin, cigarette falling loosely, "We're gonna connect it all up. We'll be a part of 'em and they'll be a part of us—I just wanna join up with them stars."
"But how do you do it? All this work by yourself, just to get there?" Tifa asked, just exhausted by the thought.
"Eh…" Cid shrugged, "If you're really looking, and really seeing the beauty of it, you'll put in the time and effort to get to it." He pointed again to the sky "Why'dya think I put that in? 'cause I like the cold?" he snorted and turned for a wrench, "Naw, it's cause when ya see things how they really are, when you got eyes for the truth, that's all the motivation you're ever gonna need."
And for a long time after that, Tifa just stood and watched the stars slowly wheel overhead.