AN: Thank you SO much for supporting this fic. You don't know how much it means to me. You are all so wonderful. I hope you like the ending. Thank you for staying with me till the end. I'm taking another break, for about 1 or 2 weeks before I post my last three fics for TifaWeek because my Day 4 fic is a super long monster that needs more time to be finished and I like being able to post such quick updates for you all, so I will finish those stories first before I post them. All the best to you all, stay safe and stay kind!
Dried Petals
3 – heart
The strange thing about human beings and forgiveness… is that they have to let themselves be forgiven to heal. Isn't that so ironic, that humans are so afraid to accept the very thing that can save them?
-Excerpts from the medical research journal of Doctor Tessa Syun during the search for a cure to Hanahaki Disease
:
She wakes up in a hospital, her throat strangely empty in a way it hasn't been for months. Her chest still feels numb and painful… but it's lighter than before, as if a burden has been slightly lifted and everything feels less heavy.
Tifa wants to laugh at herself. 'I'm tired.' Was that really the feeling deep down that she couldn't express? How pathetic of her to hold that in when so many others suffer more. She tries not to cry. While the blooms in her throat are gone, she still feels the phantom pains there, she still coughs despite no petals crawling from her heart.
By her side, she hears a clatter, then something warm tugging away from her hands, and Tifa blinks as she sees Cloud's hair come into view and a fallen metal chair on the floor.
"Tifa!" his eyes are bloodshot, his hair dull and unkempt, his lips dry. "Don't sit up! I'll help you. Do you need water? More blankets?"
She tries speaking, but only a rasp breathes out.
Scrambling to his feet, Cloud grabs the nearest cup and fills it with water.
He brings the glass gently to her lips, cradling the back of her head the way he did that night under the Highwind, and Tifa feels a painful twinge in her heart, like her thorns have pressed deeper within.
"…Thank you," she manages to say when she's had enough.
Cloud's mouth goes into a thin line, like he wants to say something, his fingers twitch against the glass, but he sets it roughly on a metal tray before he sets the chair back up and sits back next to her. His shoulders hunch together, he looks at once too small and too hardened to reach.
"…It wasn't your fa—"
"Don't say that," he whispers gruffly, "please, don't say that."
Somehow that hurts more than if he would have yelled at her. "Cloud, please," she wanted to avoid this so badly, "I was going to tell you when I saw you next, I'm sorry—"
"You shouldn't be the one apologizing!" he snaps, then hisses at himself, closes his eyes and breathes in. "I'm doing this wrong," he says quieter, "I meant to tell you how I feel… but I'm always running away, and you had to pay for my cowardice…"
"What happened to me has nothing to do with you—"
"But it sure added to it!"
Her heart twists again, the thorns digging deeper. "Cloud—"
"I just don't understand how you can say you love me, when I put you through this. Why aren't you mad at me? Why."
Tifa freezes. "You read my will."
His face is blank, but it's his eyes that give away the truth with the way they tremble. "Yuffie found it when she went into your room to get you new clothes. She showed all of us."
"…You…" she lies back against the pillows, wanting to bury herself in them, "you weren't meant to see that…"
She put them all through something awful, something unforgiveable. She had hoped the letters would never be read, that she'd pull through. And she did pull through, the Stage 4 has retreated somehow… though Tifa still feels weak. She wonders if she'll end up coughing petals again, if she's in Stage 3 or 2.
"Then when was I ever going to find out?"
This time Tifa does turn her face into the pillow. "…I was going to tell you if I saw you next…" She'd hoped that maybe telling Cloud she loved him would cure her. Turns out she just had pathetic complaints and ugly thoughts inside, she wonders how any of her friends will be able to look at her again. 'I'm tired.' The truth of it echoes nastily in her head.
"…And I was going to die by myself, hoping you'd move on… I damned us both," Cloud whispers.
He's going to leave again, the thorns twist up into her lungs. I'm so tired.
Ah, Tifa refuses to cry for this. She'll survive without him. She has to, for her kids.
The doors burst open as a flood of their friends tumble through the doorway, looking upset and relieved.
"Spikey," Barret storms in, "we need to talk, now."
He drags Cloud by the cuff of his shirt, as Yuffie jumps on top of Tifa in wailing tears, "Oh my stars, we thought you were a goner, Tifa! Why didn't you tell us you were sick?! You and Cloud, I swear to all that is holy, you're going to kill us all! When the doc said you were almost at Stage 4, do you know how upset I was?! And you were going to give me your fighting gloves?! You're not allowed to do that, okay?! Even if they're really really nice gloves with really nice materia!"
Nanaki doesn't help, practically on top of Tifa's lap with tearful eyes, "I can't take your mother's earrings, Tifa, I just can't. Please don't die by yourself again."
"Damn kids giving old folks a heart attack with their damn diseases, you're still young!" Cid growls, hiding a tear in his eyes, but refusing to take his hand off her shoulder. "Shera won't accept that blanket until you give it to her in person, missy, so heal up and whenever that Cloud gives you trouble, call us. We'll set him straight."
Marlene and Denzel squeeze in under Yuffie and Nanaki, refusing to pry themselves away from her side. Their eyes are just as red and puffy but they both look happy and free of geostigma so she can bear this, she can—
"Tifa I don't want to go home if you're not there. Papa won't smile as wide anymore, it will just be too painful. You're our Tifa, you can't go!"
Denzel clenches Tifa's hospital gown and nods in agreement. "I'll do all my chores, and tell you every day I love you, I'll make the flowers go away, just stay. Please. You don't have to fight alone."
Even Vincent looks upset, as upset as he can for Vincent, his brow furrowed in anger. "You're not allowed to die in silence, Tifa Lockhart. You're too important to too many. We've already lost so much."
Reeve and Cait Sith, standing beside him, nod. "You're a light to many lives, Tifa. We won't let you go without a fight."
"Everyone… but I…"
"Just shut up, and let us hug you," Yuffie scowls. "If anyone needs a break and a hug, it's you."
Tifa's throat wells up, not with petals, but the urge to cry. She feels someone gentle cradling her head.
'Just accept it,' she hears her dear friend whisper, 'we love you.'
Her friends all move in for a group hug, tugging in Vincent and Reeve, holding her tight. Even Aerith, not visible at all, seems to feel so present, so warm.
For a moment, Tifa feels full. She's not tired at all.
:
The tired numbness returns when her doctor walks in and explains that Tifa may have passed the lethal zone for Hanahaki but she may relapse at any moment. She's under orders to take it easy for the next three months, lest her Hanahaki disease blossom back into Stage 4.
"It's a tricky period for you right now, emotions are running high and you still haven't articulated the specifics of how you feel. You need to be surrounded by the people who care for you, so you can be stabilized back to Stage 2. And hopefully… Stage 1 someday."
"…The specifics of how I feel?"
The doctor stares at her sternly. "The unspoken feeling you had to say was 'I'm tired' but do you know why you feel this way? Why that was so hard for you to express? Until you know more about the 'why,' it's important that you're monitored and cared for."
Tifa nods in her wheelchair (recommended because of her shaky limbs, a symptom that will remain for the next few weeks) though her brow furrows. She had hoped this would be the end of it… now she'll have to temporarily close the bar, maybe ask Elmyra or Barret to look after the kids while she recovers. She was hoping her savings could go towards Marlene and Denzel, but now she'll have to budget and figure out how to use them for her recovery—
"You'll have to return to the hospital at least once a week to speak to me about how you're recovering until we feel that you're no longer in the danger zone. Do you have anyone who can watch over you during this time?"
Biting her lip, Tifa ponders her options. She'd rather not burden any of her friends with this. Shera and Cid would be happy to have her, but they're preparing for the baby… Barret will have his hands full with the kids. She's not about to ask Yuffie or Vincent with how busy they are. Reeve needs to focus on running the WRO. Perhaps Nanaki and Elmyra will look after her. She hasn't seen Cosmo Canyon in so long…
"Maybe one of my friends, Nanaki and Bugen. I'll have to ask them—"
The door swings open. "I'll do it," Cloud walks in, a determined glint in his eyes, Barret following afterwards. No doubt, they were listening in.
"Cloud," Tifa's eyes go wide. "I don't want to trouble—"
"It's no trouble," he says in a tone that leaves no room for argument, with a focus that Tifa's really only seen him give to battle or maintaining his bike. "I'll take care of you."
"But I—"
"Tifa… please," the blue in his eyes are like a stormy ocean trying to reach the sky, so desperate and wild and tender. When he says her name like that Tifa can't bear to disagree.
"…Alright."
He moves behind her, hands on the handles of her wheelchair. "Good. Then it's settled."
The doctor glances between them frantically, wondering if he should interfere, when Barret towers over them all.
"Let me talk to her first, Spikey," Barret growls, "I got things I need to tell her."
She can practically feel Cloud glowering behind her.
"Oh shove off, Spikey, I'm not going to hurt her. I'm the last person who would do that. Just give me five minutes and remember what you promised me."
Another tense moment passes between them both, before Cloud grumbles, "I'll be at the door," and marches off, leaving the door slightly ajar in case of trouble.
"I'm… just going to give you all some privacy. Miss Lockhart, it was a pleasure as always," the doctor quickly makes his exit after shoving a bunch of medical paperwork into her hands.
That leaves Barret and Tifa alone.
Tifa can't stand the silence between them. "Barret, I'm so—"
She's cut off by him hugging her close to his chest and stifled sobs against her shoulder.
"Barret?!"
"Don't you—" sob, "dare say you're s-sorry!"
This big man, who's always protected her since she was a lost sixteen-year-old in Midgar, is bawling his eyes out against her and she has no idea what to do. Tifa's never seen Barret cry, not once. He's tender with Marlene, melting like a teddy bear, and he's always kind to Tifa. But he's never broken down like this, not even when Dyne died. This is a desperate kind of crying, a relieved kind that screams at the top of its lungs.
When Barret finally pulls away, wiping his eyes, he murmurs, "I'm not gonna say that you should have told me… because I've been there. I know what it's like."
Tifa's eyes widen, "You mean…"
"Before I met you, I had Stage 3 Hanahaki and I was freaking out about who would care for Marlene if I croaked… and then you showed up. You gave me another reason to fight Shinra, Teef. You say that I saved you, but it's always been the opposite, girl. You saved me."
Her breath catches in her throat.
"So don't think that you're weak, don't think that you're pathetic. Look at me, I had it. Hell, I know Spikey had it when we were off chasing Sephiroth. I get it, more than anyone. So if you need to talk, if you need anything, you can always call me, Tifa. I'm not good at the mushy stuff, but for my girls, I'll listen."
His girls. Her and Marlene. Her vision blurs as she tries to hold back tears.
"Aw hell, don't get all weepy on me now, or I'll cry."
"You already did!" Tifa laughs, pulling him in for a kiss on the cheek.
"A real man knows when the right time to cry is," Barret huffs, trying to hide his own blush. "We all love you, Teef. We're gonna check up on you every day. Your phone's gonna be ringing from dawn till dusk, we'll make sure you're alright."
Barret, Tifa thinks, is a wonderful softie. He doesn't complain once, even as she wipes away her tears with a smile. He understands.
:
Cloud quickly marches into the room and takes the handles of the wheelchair. He and Barret seem to say something to each other with their stares before stiffly nodding at each other, and Cloud whisks Tifa out of the doctor's office. He walks like a man on a mission, focused on his target, swiftly taking the path with the least amount of tripping hazards. Before Tifa can think about it, Cloud has her paperwork signed with the nearest nurse and then they're in the parking lot by his bike.
Staring numbly at Fenrir, Tifa almost doesn't know what to do when Cloud kneels in front of her and wordlessly opens his arms. She glances at his implore eyes in quiet confusion before she realizes that he wants to lift her up onto his bike.
"I can stand up by myself," she insists, as long as she can lean on something.
Something flickers in Cloud's eyes. "I know," he whispers, "but… I want to."
Tifa's mouth goes dry at the way he looks at her, as if she's worth fighting for. She quickly glances away.
"Alright."
She opens her arms around his shoulders and lets herself enjoy the feeling of him around her, lets herself believe that he's steady and he won't disappear.
He lifts her up easily, one arm scooped under her legs, and gently places her on the motorcycle seat. As he lets his arms go, his eyes flicker to her face in resolute concentration, before he nods and folds up the wheelchair to tie in the back.
She laughs a little when Cloud pulls out two helmets, one black and one red like her old boots.
"It's dangerous…" Cloud mumbles.
"Have you had those helmets the whole time? Since when?"
"…A while."
Tifa stares in wonder. As far as she knows, until recently, Cloud had planned to die alone from Geostigma if he couldn't find a cure. If he bought those helmets, it wasn't recent. Likely, it was before he got sick.
Trying not to overthink the implications, Tifa bows her head down for Cloud to fasten the helmet on her head. His fingertips brush against the sides of her hair, drifting down to the straps by her chin. Carefully, he fastens the straps together so they're comfortable enough for her to breathe in, then his fingers linger by her chin before he steps back.
Tifa lets out a breath, mind racing in incoherence. That touch meant nothing, Cloud was just being careful with her because of his guilt, that's all…
"Hold tight," he says, as he takes a seat in front of her.
"Right…" Tifa tries not to touch him, to just platonically set her hands by his hips. Not touching. Good.
Then Cloud revs up the engine and begins speeding down the street. Tifa yelps, immediately grabbing on to him and holding on. She forgot how fast the highways speed limits could be. She finds herself closing her eyes and burying her face against Cloud's broad back, trying not to think about how good he feels or how warm.
He's not hers. She has to let him go.
(The thorns itch again.)
:
When they arrive at Seventh Heaven, Cloud once more carries her off the bike into the wheelchair. He gets the door and then carries her and the chair upstairs to her room. Tifa's fingers twitch and her stomach twists with guilt at how much he's doing for her when he should be recovering too…
"How are you feeling?" she asks when he sets her down on the bed, "How's your arm?"
Cloud quickly uncovers the arm hidden in the single black sleeve. All clear. Smooth. Not a hint of geostigma. Tifa runs her hands down his arm without thinking, just to confirm.
Her shoulders sag. "I'm glad… I'm sorry, Cloud. I should have asked how you were feeling earlier."
"You have nothing to apologize for," he says again, brow furrowed.
Then why does Tifa feel so damned guilty?
The silence between them stretches and sticks, like the stench of rotten food that hasn't been thrown away in days. They haven't seen each other in so long, that Tifa wonders if they'll ever find out what it means to feel 'normal' around the other or if they'll always need the threat of some apocalyptic villain to be able to talk to each other.
She just wants to rest.
"I'll… go make dinner," Cloud says quickly. "Yuffie dropped off some groceries earlier…"
"Oh, you don't have to do that!" As far as Tifa knows, the only thing Cloud knows how to make is eggs and bacon. And sometimes toast. Anything else usually tastes off. And burnt.
"I do," he says like it's the truth, like it's some unspoken law that Tifa isn't aware of, written in his heart, like he… wants to.
Then he leaves without giving her the chance to respond at all.
She can hear his heavy steps in the kitchen and the clanking of pots and pans, running water. Part of Tifa frets, wants to rush downstairs and show him how the stove works, but another part of her is too tired to move.
"Just stop," she whispers to the thorns in her heart, "I don't want to go through this again."
She closes her eyes and tries to sleep.
:
Time is both agonizingly long and terrifyingly short. As Tifa closes her eyes and tries not to think, tries not to focus too much on the little sounds of traffic outside her window or the ticking clock by her bedside table, the door swings open and in walks Cloud holding a tray with a bowl of soup and tea.
"…Thank you," Tifa accepts the tray, eyeing the colour of the soup tentatively. Not wanting to disappoint Cloud, she quickly dips her spoon in and takes the first bite. The soup is too salty, the carrots not quite well cooked yet and the meat overdone but it's eatable.
She glances at Cloud and how focused he is on her eating.
"It's… good. Thank you Cloud."
He narrows his eyes. "Are you just saying that?"
"Well, it's good for your first try."
He groans. "I knew it. Too much salt. Let me take it away, I'll call for some takeout…"
"No, no, I can eat it. It's still okay," Tifa stuffs another couple of spoonfuls into her mouth. "See?"
"Too much salt means more health problems. So no," Cloud swipes at the spoon.
"Stop it, I can still eat—" Tifa stretches her hand away.
The soup spills over her lap and the bedsheets.
"Shit," Cloud jumps back, taking the bowl and tray away, trying to dab at the soup before it soaks up into the mattress. "Shit," he yelps when the soup leaks onto the floor. "Damn it…"
"It's okay, Cloud, it's just soup…"
"No, it's not okay, I'm supposed to be showing you that I can take care of you but I keep messing up!"
The soup drips further into the floor. With each plop to the floor, Cloud looks more and more vulnerable, like a fish being told he will never be able to fly.
"Cloud…" Tifa's heart always softens around him, despite the thorns telling her not to. "Why do you think you have to prove yourself? You know I don't mind if you can't do everything for me. I can make soup myself. Just give me a few minutes to stack a few chairs together so I can reach the stove—"
"I'm the only one that you didn't give anything to in your will."
Tifa's brow furrows. "I'm… confused. What does that have to do with—"
"I'm the only one you didn't trust to take care of anything of yours. Not even Denzel and Marlene. You just asked me to check in on them, as if I can't take custody of them, as if I'm not family…"
"Cloud no! It's not like that!" Tifa stands up, wobbling on her legs, to reach his shoulder.
"Tifa, you shouldn't get up!"
She falls into his arms, hands up on his shoulders for support. Any other day, she'd be alarmed and embarrassed, move away before she can make him uncomfortable. But not this moment. Not when she's been misunderstood.
"You will always be family, Cloud," Tifa tells him, even if he doesn't love her the way she loves him. "Of course I trust that you can look after Marlene and Denzel, but I had no idea why you were gone… I didn't know what you were going through, if you were alive or dead, if you wanted to be with us or not… I left them with Barret because I knew he would be able to take care of them… but I didn't know where you were at all."
He gazes down at her, eyes wide in wonder and bewilderment. For a moment, Tifa wonders if she overstepped. She doesn't know how much he's recovered from geostigma, maybe she's being too hard on him (the thorns in her heart itch up and up—)
"I'm sorry, I know you're going through a lot—"
"No, you're right. I haven't been fair to you," he whispers, cradling her carefully. "You were thinking about everyone's needs and all I could think of was myself again."
Her heart twists. "You were going through a lot…"
"Please don't make excuses for me. You're too kind, Tifa. You should be angrier,"—she's too tired to be angry, too glad he's back to feel upset—"Just please… let me apologize."
Transfixed by this new steady gaze, the quiet understanding in them that she hasn't seen since the night under the Highwind, all she can do is nod.
"…I'm sorry for running away when I got ill. I was scared. I didn't want to die or leave you and the kids, it was unfair. It's just… I was seeing Sephiroth everywhere, he was trying to tell me to do terrible things, and if you got hurt because of me, I don't know what I'd do! …I thought if I found a cure, then I could act like I was never sick. Then you'd never know or worry… but you ended up worrying anyways… I should have told you what was happening."
Pain wells up in Tifa's throat, the brush of flowers aching for Cloud, for herself.
"Cloud… I know. I get it. I know how you felt. I mean, look at me. I got stuck in the hospital and I can't walk for the next month or so because I didn't tell anyone I was sick either. I get it. And I don't blame you for it, now that I know why you left. So please… forgive yourself. I meant what I wrote in my will. I want you to be happy."
His breath pauses for a moment, before he shakes his head and draws her close. "There you go again…"
"What?" Tifa blinks, his breath huffing again against her hair.
"Putting me before you."
"I'm not doing that," she denies.
He pulls back to stare at her.
She stares stubbornly back.
"Fine," Cloud relents, "If you insist."
"I do!"
"Yeah, well, I'm going to let you sleep in my room tonight, since the mattress is ruined. I'll take the couch."
He moves to carry her to the other room.
Cloud's room is untouched. Tifa stopped sweeping it a month ago, unable to make herself hope. From the looks of things, Cloud swept up after he started cooking in the kitchen. She forgot how much being in this room pained her, the photos haunting her on his desk… of her, Cloud, Marlene and Denzel… of their friends together before they went their separate ways… of her and Cloud in front of the new bar…
"Are you… still hungry?" Cloud asks after he sets her down.
"No… no I'm good," Tifa averts her gaze.
Cloud frowns. "Right, well, I'm going to order some takeout just in case. You need to eat, Tifa."
"Later…"
She has so much to do later…
His silence is an unhappy one.
"Cloud?" she says suddenly, because she needs him to understand before he inevitably leaves her. "In my will… I did leave you something. You just didn't read between the lines."
His eyes go so wide and curious, he's like a boy trying to solve a puzzle.
"Oh," he says, when he figures it out.
"Yeah…" she says sadly, "Oh."
:
The rest of the evening passes by awkwardly, with Cloud doing his best to be an attentive caretaker. He fetches her extra blankets, constantly refills her glass of water and brews tea, he gets the laundry started for her bedsheets, he cleans up the bar, he escorts her to the bathroom (much to her embarrassment.)
It's… stifling.
She hates that he's doing this out of guilt and hopes that her recovery will be speedy so he won't be tied down anymore. Her heart keeps twisting around him, threatening to burst into a gravestone of rotten flowers in his name. If her Hanahaki was caused by heartbreak, she'd be dead by now.
But it's not… Her Hanahaki is made up of pitiful exhaustion.
(She's so pathetic.)
(No, stop. She's stronger than this.)
Cloud frets over her not eating enough of her meals and keeps insisting she eat more. But if Tifa eats more, she'll throw up. And who knows? Maybe she'll start throwing up flowers again.
When the night comes, Tifa relaxes, insisting that she's tired and wants to sleep. Cloud lingers by her bedside, awkward but respectful, before he nods and leaves her be.
She should be sleeping.
But she can't.
Tifa just thinks of her kids, wonders if they're okay. She thinks about how many people she's needlessly worried. She thinks about the thorns itching to crawl back up her throat and bloom those deadly petals but she won't let them.
Somehow, impossibly, she must sleep, she must pass out.
Her dreams are full of blood. Jesse. Wedge. Biggs, wrapped up in vines as Sector 7 burns. Her father and all her neighbours rising from the grave, poppies blooming out of their eye socket as they reach for her and ask why she couldn't save them. Aerith drowning in a sea of daisies and all Tifa can do is drown with her. Cloud walking away, each of his steps filled with prickly thorns she cannot cross.
Don't leave me, don't leave me.
"Tifa!"
She gasps awake, staring in confusion at Cloud's face.
His hair tousled in sad little spikes and his eyes are bloodshot, but he's there.
"I… I'm sorry for waking you…"
His hands rub slow circles along her back. "You were having a nightmare. I had to help."
Tifa lowers her head, hiding her face behind a curtain of her hair. "I shouldn't be. Having nightmares, I mean. What do I have to feel so frightened about?"
Slowly, his hand comes up to part her curtain of hair, softly bringing her hair behind her ear.
"…You said you were 'tired'… before…"
Tifa winces. "Silly, isn't it? Someone like me… 'tired'…"
The silence this time is painful, like she's being forced to swallow thorns and keep them inside her.
"I think…" Cloud says carefully, tentatively bringing his hand to her cheek, "that you've had to be strong for a long, long time… since Nibelheim, since Sephiroth… and I think, you've been strong so much… that you didn't realize how tired you are. Of being strong."
Her breath hitches.
"You joined AVALANCHE… you took care of Marlene… you took care of me… no one asked you if you were okay after Aerith died, or after I left… or after Nibelheim. You're always saving people, just with your smile, and we… no, I… forgot that you could break too."
Her lip starts to tremble, her eyes begin to well up. If petals began to fall instead of tears, she'd begin bawling on the spot. "Cloud…"
"Tifa…" he says softly, brushing back her hair once more. "It's okay to break down. It's okay to let me hold you, I won't leave. I promise, I won't leave again."
That's when she breaks. Sobs, such ugly and pathetic sobs break out of her, the type of sobs that make the whole body shiver with absolute sadness, with absolute despair. Everything, everything, that she's kept bottled up, all her insecurities and doubts wave out of her until she's numb again, until she realizes that Cloud hasn't let go once, his arms secure around her, his breathing a balm against her throat.
:
In the morning… he's still there, just holding her. His breaths against her hair and the way his chest moves up and down against hers could rock her back to a land of peaceful dreams. She doesn't want this moment to stop but she shouldn't let him spend so much time on her. If he wakes and he looks at her differently, with pity, with trepidation or disgust, she doesn't think her heart could take it—
Slowly, his eyes flutter open, he looks at her intently. She forgot how much Cloud's stares always left her mouth dry, left her speechless… almost helpless. He looks at her like she's worthy of mere existence, like her breaths alone could sustain him.
"What do you need?" he asks quietly.
She almost says 'nothing. She almost says, 'it's fine.' She almost says, 'it's okay.'
But isn't it okay to be selfish, just a little? Isn't it okay to be tired? He's here. He's here. He hasn't left. He promised.
"Just…" she hesitates, "hold me a little longer."
His arms somehow bring her closer, until she can feel his heartbeat against hers.
"…I'll hold you for as long as you want," he murmurs against her hair.
Tifa rests.
:
He makes her soup again after they spend the morning holding each other.
This time… it tastes better.
:
"Isn't it strange?" Tifa tells her doctor at the end of the first week. "I survived the end of the world, Sephiroth, Nibelheim… and yet when everything's over, when geostigma was cured, and Sephiroth banished again… I crumbled. All these terrible things happening to me, and I didn't get Stage 4, not once, until now."
Her doctor leans forward, elbows on his lap and hands folded neatly. "Is it so strange? Miss Lockhart, you have been through events that could freeze and scar any other person. And in those events, you had to survive, your survival instincts kicked in and you had to be functional because if you weren't, you'd die. But now that the world is safer, your mind and body, so used to danger… don't quite know what to do… and now you're letting yourself feel everything. Isn't it natural, then, that you'd need help?"
She doesn't know what to say to that.
:
Cloud waits for her in the lobby, frowning as he tries to go through a mechanics magazine. He stands up immediately when the doctor rolls Tifa out in her wheelchair and takes the handles from the doctor quickly.
He nods awkwardly at the doctor in thanks and begins taking Tifa back to the parking lot.
"…Everything go okay?" he asks.
"Yeah… just thinking…"
A pause.
"What are… you thinking about?"
Tifa never thought she'd see the day where Cloud would ask what she's thinking. He's always so quiet, wound up. But maybe this incident has made them both aware of how much they don't say, how much they don't talk. She knows Cloud sees his own therapist too, once a week, when Vincent and Yuffie come to visit. She knows he's been struggling with new truths about himself too.
"… He said the same things as you did before. That I've been fighting for so long that now that everything's peaceful… I…" she trails off.
"… Ah," Cloud says. "Mine said that too."
Tifa laughs, but there's no joy in it. "What a pair we make."
He stops, wheeling the chair around so that he can crouch down on one knee and slowly puts his hand on her cheek. The motion is so sudden and strangely intimate that Tifa's heart skips a beat. He looks like he'll swear his whole world to her and more, but she can't make herself hope for that.
"Hey…" his hand curls back her hair behind her ear. "We'll figure things out. Together. I promise."
This time… she believes him.
:
Things get better. Not all at once. But slowly, in waves. Tifa learns to ask Cloud for little things, for his hand to hold and his presence when she sleeps. Tifa learns to tell him her doubts and voice her insecurities. Cloud learns to say what he means before he acts, Cloud learns to cook somewhat. They both smile a little more.
She starts being able to articulate how she feels in front of her doctor and Cloud begins opening up to both her and their friends. All these little things, they make the bad things so much better.
Sometimes they disagree, they don't communicate well, but they always end up in bed together, sleeping side by side, afraid to let the other go. They never go to bed angry, leaving the fight at the door.
His things begin to migrate to her room and vice versa. Cloud even starts hiring part time help with his delivery business so he can stay home more. He speaks so often of future plans, of visiting Costa Del Sol together with the kids, of going on a trip to visit Wutai and Cosmo Canyon, of getting her a piano to practise on again that Tifa stops being afraid that he'll leave.
He may not love her like she wants, but he's here to stay.
And then one day, before her last physiotherapy appointment, Tifa finds an envelope on her desk, addressed to her.
She frowns, seeing Cloud's name on it.
"Hey Cloud," she knocks on the door to his office, still relishing the feel of being able to stand on her own two legs, "What's this?"
"Oh," he doesn't look up from his paperwork, cheeks oddly pink. "Just my will. Thought you could check it over. Seems fair, since I saw yours."
"Ah…" Tifa grips the envelope tight. "I see…"
"You can open it now," he says quickly. "You should probably open it now."
Well, since she's been on ordered bed rest for the past month, she doesn't have much to do. Might as well open it now.
She ignores the pained twist in her chest and mentally tells her heart to calm down.
The will seems straightforward. Apparently Cloud's bike will go to Denzel, along with his sword. Marlene will get Cloud's wolf-ring and ribbon, as well as a lot of materia. Both kids will get all the money in Cloud's savings if Tifa's not alive. Their friends will apparently get miscellaneous items that mean something to Cloud. When she finally reaches her name though… she nearly drops the paper.
To Tifa,
I've already given you my heart and more. Since we were kids, they've always been yours.
So please, keep staying with me until the end.
Cloud
Her hand shakes.
Everything inside of her tells her this is a dream, this is some fantasy that she hasn't woken up from yet and she'll be back in reality, buried in Hanahaki petals and unable to fight it.
"Is this… real?" Tifa asks.
Quietly, Cloud looks at her, some part of him hesitant and afraid, before he nods yes.
The will falls from her hands and Tifa walks over to his desk.
Cloud stares up at her, unsure, until Tifa puts her hands on his shoulders and murmurs, "Please. Kiss me."
His paperwork lies forgotten on the desk as he stands up to pull her in for the kiss of her life.
They don't leave the office for a very long time.
:
A Conversation Between Barret and Cloud:
"Let go of me, I need to get back to Tifa!"
"Sit down and shut up," Barret glares, "this is about Tifa so you're going to listen!"
Cloud has no time for this bullshit from Barret when Tifa is in the hospital because of himself and he can't fix it if he's in the hallway—
"You need to stop making this about you," Barret says.
Cloud's mind stops. "What?!"
"You heard me. We all heard your conversation with the little lady. I know you've been through a lot of shit with your geostigma and all, but so has she! You're cured, she's still not quite there. She just woke up and hasn't processed any of her pain and you're in there making it all about you!"
"I wasn't… I was just trying to…"
But what was Cloud trying to do?
"Look, you got a good heart, Spike. But you get too wrapped up in your head that you can't see what other people are feeling. You don't mean it… but it still hurts them. Tifa's always watching how other people feel. She always puts them first. She never opens up or asks for help or tells anyone if she's tired. Even when she's been through hell, she puts others first. And now that she's all hurt… she needs someone to do that for her."
Cloud is silent. "Are you saying that I can't do that for her?"
"What? Of course you can, you literally threw a hissy fit at anyone who tried to take her from you when she fainted in the church. But you need to keep a clear head. Don't make this about you. Make it about her. Show her that she can rely on you."
"Of course, she can rely on me!"
"She knows that in theory, but does she know that?"
Cloud doesn't have the answer to that question.
"Look," Barret sighs, "if you can't do that, if it's too much for you, then I'll watch over her. She don't need to be worrying about you too—"
"No!" Panic fills him. "I'm going to take care of her."
Barret studies him carefully.
"Fine!" He throws up his hands, "But the minute you upset her, I'm coming to Seventh Heaven to set you both straight. She's given you her heart, Spike. Don't crush it."
"I won't," he promises.
Barret's gaze softens. "And if you need to talk Spike… Hell, I'm not good with words, but I'll listen. Must'a been rough… dealing with geostigma by yourself. Don't go running off again like that. Don't keep things bottled up. You're not alone."
"I…" He thinks he's staring to realize that, how much his life is tied to so many others… especially Tifa's. "I promise. Next time I'm going through something like this… I'll tell you all."
"But Tifa first," Barret bellows.
"Yeah," Cloud lets himself nod, "Tifa first."
:
Now that he has her heart, knows that he always has, he won't let go again.