ii.
She woke up on a cot. The mattress had springs poking through and stuffing falling out, but it was no better than at the apartment. She sat up and was surprised to find her back twinging, like she had been sleeping in a weird position for a few hours all day. Or all night.
She flew out of the bed and looked out of the small, barred window, giving her the barest glimpse of the outside world. It was still daylight, though the sun was waning a bit, sunset an hour or two away from coming down.
Yuffie would be far from wondering, now. She'd be out searching, by herself. All by herself.
Tifa sunk down the wall, landing haphazardly in a messy heap. Just a bracelet. A silly, worthless bracelet.
She rubbed a hand across the empty pocket, reminiscent of the leather filling it up, except…
The bracelet was still there. She pulled it out, looked at it, wondered if that green mako was more potent than any of the illegal variations, creating all these delusions.
She stared at it for the longest time. Sunset descended before she stood up. She wiped at her face, because the tears wouldn't stop now, not after that stupid boy. That stupid SOLDIER. He ruined her life. He put a wrench in their plans. How dare he put this hope in her pocket, only to taunt her with this cell?
The door outside of her cell opened, and she wiped more vigorously at her face, scrubbing away any other evidence, before shoving the bracelet into its safe home in her shorts.
"Look who's awake."
It was somebody else. His hair was under an issued uniform cap, maybe a brown color, and he had kind eyes. All she wanted was the boy who gave her all this hope in her pocket, and all the hopelessness of her existence.
"I want to see the guy who brought me in."
The man gave her a funny look. "Cloud?"
She didn't know the name. She assumed it was right. "Yes."
"Sorry, sweetie pie, but we're gonna have to take you in for questioning first. We had to wait 'til you woke up. You made quite the fuss for such a small thing."
Sweetie pie. Tifa glared. "Not unless I get to see him."
The man laughed. "What'd he do to you?"
His eyes held endless humor, and all she wanted to do was jam her fingers into his eye sockets.
"Tell you what," he said, voice appeasing. "I'll let him go into your cell if you'll answer questions for us without any hassle. Deal?"
Questioning was a pointless affair. Did you steal this, this, or this? Your records show several offenses of petty theft. Were you at this location at this time on this day? Have you had any contact with Wutai? With King Kisaragi? You have been reportedly seen with is daughter, the princess. Where is her location?
No.
No.
No. I don't recall. I don't know.
What'd they expect her to do? Tell the truth?
Suspiciously, they let all her lies slide. They knew she was a liar. They let her off easy, and that was scarier than anything. They had something planned for her.
She was locked up again in her cell afterward, chained to the wall this time. Whether it was some sort of precautionary measure or not, she wasn't sure. It didn't bother her much. She'd be able to slip right out of them if need be.
It wasn't long before the door creaked open.
"As promised. Took a while to find him. You should thank me," a black haired SOLDIER called over to her through the bars, leading Cloud to her cell. He opened the cage door with a large, unrealistic set of keys before leading the blond haired boy in.
"I'll be back here in twenty."
Cloud nodded to him, his mouth a grim line.
The SOLDIER pointed at them. "Behave yourselves." Then with a grin, he slipped out, the rusted door shutting with a bang. Tifa wondered where these men got their happy spirits. They grinned too much. They were too brazenly carefree.
It was deathly quiet for a minute as Cloud stared at the gray, brick walls and as Tifa stared back at him. She was willing him to look at her, maybe acknowledge her, just for a second. Maybe just a moment, so she could see if he really was as indifferent as he was acting.
She took a breath. She couldn't get the figure of him, glowing that rancid green, out of her mind. His eyes were a vivid blue now, a far cry from the luminescence they could be. A Jekyl and a Hyde, hiding away, nobody knowing except for who saw him. She had two sides, too. She'd never met another one before, and it was strange. It simultaneously ate at her curiosity and her discomfort.
This was his job. All their jobs. He'd volunteered for the injections, the risk of losing his life to a test, the risk of falling asleep and never waking up.
There were many parallels to their lives. She might not have woken up in that mako pool, drenched in salts and liquefied poisons, the earth's blood soaking her lungs.
"Why'd you do it?" she whispered, still looking toward him.
"Do what?"
He must have carried her, dropped her onto the bed, she realized.
"Give the bracelet back. Why?"
She watched him swallow, still glancing away from her. She could see the side profile of his face.
"It was worth less than a gil. You seemed to want it more than enough."
She turned her head down to her pocket, trying to will the leather to come out and reach her hands. It was pointless to have it, now, but its presence felt comfortable. It felt like if she didn't lose it, Yuffie would be infinitely safe.
"I did. Do." She paused. "If you let me have it, and if it's so cheap, why'd you bring me to the cell? Why didn't you let me go?"
"You're wanted for various crimes, Lockhart. Petty thievery is one thing, but kidnapping a Wutain princess is in a league of its own."
Tifa's blood chilled. That was why they went so easy on her during the interrogation. Kidnapping. She stared at the ground in front of her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"We have a thorough inquiry from the Royal offices of King Kisaragi. He is very concerned about his daughter, and he is willing to offer the Midgarian government a substantial amount of money if we find her. He described you in vivid detail."
This was the first Tifa had heard about this. She wondered, momentarily, if he was lying. His face was inscrutable with all its smooth lines and sharp edges. It wasn't hard to believe that it could be true, and the probability was high that it was true. If it was, the only thing Tifa could count on was Godo's love for his daughter. Two months of freedom was a significant amount of time to let Yuffie play at rebellion. Perhaps he was finally done waiting for them to come back, and Tifa didn't think he would spare any route to get to her. Tifa was a weakness in Yuffie's defenses. It would be easy to use her to bait Yuffie's capture. The bracelet burned in her pocket. Tifa began to care about her too much, and she swallowed the acid building in her throat. It was the worst time to begin caring about someone. Yuffie would be taken away from her life, and Tifa would be alone again.
"If I believe what you say, what happens to me if I don't answer? I don't know where the princess is."
"We will perform whatever means necessary to get the information."
The threat spread through the stale air of the cell like spider webbing, sticky and insidious. She glanced up to the barred window. "Fine."
"Is that all you wanted?" he asked.
His voice was monotone and bland. Was it a conditioned attribute for all SOLDIERs? She thought about the easy smiles of the others and didn't believe it was supposed to be.
"Why are you like me? Why did you choose this?"
He slowly shifted his stance, his head lifting to look up to the ceiling.
"It's a long story."
"I've got time."
He made his eyes trail the journey over to her, looking at her for the first time.
She pushed her back further into the wall, feeling the ridges of the brick bite at her shoulders.
They both had their secrets. She had ample experience dealing with secrets from lonely men, and the best way to coax them out was to buy them with her own. Fake, real, it didn't rightly matter as long as she could sound sincere. She swallowed her discomfort, thinking of Yuffie all the while.
"My hometown burned. They said it was a forest fire, caught on a roof of a house and taking over everything else. But there were men there. Men who looked like you," she said quickly, jabbing her eyes into his accusingly. "One tried to drown me in a pool of mako, but he wasn't successful. I blacked out and woke up later in a ditch."
She'd never told anyone before, not even Yuffie. She'd gotten too close to her, and now the opportunity had passed. Maybe it would have been easier to tell her before she realized Yuffie was her friend. It was such a personal thing. She'd never see the SOLDIER again after this, and it was easy to allow it with someone who was inconsequential.
"Now, I'm here. Why're you?"
She saw his chest rise in a deep breath. He waited a minute or two, like the time wasn't ticking when he was there with her.
Tifa was about to give up looking at him, trying to coax the words out with her eyes, when he started.
"I'm here because of a girl," he said.
"A girl?" Tifa prodded.
"She didn't know."
"Didn't know what? That you left for this?"
"That I left, or that I did it because of her."
"Why?"
He made a noise, a small scoff, maybe. "Isn't it obvious?"
"You loved her?"
He didn't answer the question, and he remained silent. Tifa took a chance, guessing that he did love her, whoever she was. He must have. It was full of risk. Reckless and careless risk.
Tifa stared at him. "You didn't tell her, did you?" she said. When something like love was involved, things never ended well.
"No."
"Did she know you loved her?"
"She didn't," he answered, and it was certain.
"Then why do it?" she asked. "Couldn't you have just told her?"
His face seemed to grow tight. "No."
"Why?"
He stared at the ground awhile, until a wry smile spread on his face. "Would you?"
She was struck with an immediate answer. No. Because of what she was, now. She'd put them in danger, just as she had with Yuffie. She had to live with the guilt of that forever. Yuffie wouldn't have gone back to Godo. Maybe she would in time, in a few years, but not now.
The burden was already heavy. She didn't want to add to it. Besides, for someone to love her, they'd have to live with what she was, and who in their right mind would risk that?
But before she was like this, she thought she would have. She would like to think she'd open up, lend her heart, and hope it was enough.
Her stomach twisted at the thought of another attachment. Of someone following her around, of holding their hands with the gunshots in the background. The ones she always got close to left or died. She avoided them as best she could in the past, but everyone gets lonely. That's why she brought Yuffie along, thinking she would change her mind in a matter of days. But she didn't. She stuck with her, and that plucked her heartstrings like nothing ever did.
She decided to say, "I understand why you wouldn't go back to her. There's a lot of burden with this." She let her hands lightly glow inside their cuffs. "But there was a time when you weren't like this, and you still didn't tell her. Before I was like this, I would have. I would've at least done something."
It's silent for a while. "I had to see," he said, almost reluctantly. "I had to see if I had what it took to protect her."
"What's she like?"
It was silent again, before he finally decided to speak. He glanced at the cell walls.
"She was kind. Strong. She was always there for me when I needed her."
Tifa caught the detachment in his voice, the strain. "Was?"
"She died," he said. "Three years ago."
Now, he has nothing left, Tifa thought. He was just like her. She almost told him she was sorry, but nobody else was sorry. Things happened. Shit happened. Some fall, but they get up. Some fall, and they don't get up. They bleed, and they die.
Now, all that this man has left is his job. Of finding criminals, ending their lives, and cleaning up the streets of one town in a small, close-minded world. She wondered if this could compensate. Where he couldn't protect the woman he loved, he could protect the rest of the good people. The kind and the fragile from the mean and the vicious.
His face gave nothing away. No happiness or sadness, no contentment or emptiness.
"People die," she said. "No matter how hard you try. That's how the world works."
"She died in front of me," he answered, his voice sharp and angry. There was more emotion in him, now, roiling under the surface. "I was there, but she still died. She was the most important thing, and I couldn't do anything about it."
There it was – the guilt constricting his throat, crinkling his eyes. She was very well aware of what it was like.
"It's a heavy weight," she started quietly. "But you've got to learn how to hold it or else you'll break."
He swallowed, diverting his eyes to her chains.
They stayed like that, breathing in their thoughts, until the other SOLDIER came in to escort Cloud out, the large bangle of keys in tow.
"Time's up, lovebirds." The man winked at them, smiling even though Tifa was sure he noticed the thick pall in the atmosphere.
Cloud left without a glance.
It turned out that she had to stay in jail for at least three months for petty theft. It would give them ample time for interrogation about Yuffie.
She'd spend her days restless and anxious. Her hands and body always twitched for some type of action. She put it upon herself to slip her wrists out of their bonding, walk around her cell, and practice her martial arts. She tried to build up her mako endurance, to see if she wouldn't get so tired if she practiced fighting while using her glow simultaneously.
She tried going to the window and heat the bars enough to bend them and break them off. They turned out to be resistant, adamant to all the forces she exerted on them. The cell bars were the same.
A grunt would occasionally take her to the interrogation chamber, and men in suits would needle her with questions and punches, asking her where Yuffie was and threatening her with all kinds of fanciful notions of what they would do to her next time if she didn't fess up. It was easy to lie to them. Yuffie was their only gambling tool, and their interests were in keeping her out of harm's way. Tifa had no other weaknesses to bargain.
That was what made up her days. Working out, trying to force her way through the window, then ending up looking out of it longingly, taken to interrogation, then waiting for the tray of food to be delivered after.
They let her shower twice a week. A small toilet was provided at the other end of the cell. They provided prison wear, though when she'd take a shower, she'd wash her own clothes and wear the prison ones as pyjamas.
During the second week, much to her surprise, Cloud came to visit her.
It was in the middle of the night. Tifa wasn't sleeping, only lying on her cot, staring at the streak of moonlight shining tauntingly through the window bars.
He had a singular key on him, and he stepped into her cell.
"Hi," she said, as she watched him sit on a bench opposite her cot.
He nodded back, but his eyes were determined as he stared at her. He lifted his left hand, and he made it glow.
"What do you feel when you use your mako?"
At first, she was startled. Then entranced. His hand was like a dim lightbulb, giving off an eerie tone. Was this a ploy? Another tactic of interrogation? She wasn't sure.
Several answers came to mind. Powerful. Invincible. Unstoppable.
"Free," she answered.
"What do you feel after you stop?"
She hesitated. "Tired."
"Weak?"
"It's getting better."
He took a breath. "What did you feel when you touched my hand? When I arrested you?"
She blinked at the question. The memory was blurry at best. She remembered her hair whipping back, her body collapsing from all her taut nerves. She couldn't remember the sensation – if it set her free or left her stranded. She remembered a desperate touch of the impossible prod her mind, but she blacked out before she could find out what she was thinking.
"Something desperate," she said, knowing it wouldn't make much sense. "I can't…remember a lot of it."
His hand was still glowing. He gave her an earnest look. "If you touch my hand again, it won't be as concentrated."
He was implying for her to reach out. It was a strange request. It made her wonder if he felt anything too, that day. She was too blind to watch him, too encompassed by sensation.
She edged to the corner of her bed, placing her feet on the floor. "I don't understand."
He was quiet for a while as he stared at her. "Trust me," he said.
She almost wanted to laugh at the words. Trust him? She would never trust him. But to lie to him, to make him think that she could trust him, what good would that do for her?
His hand was glowing ominously, the green of life. It seeped through the air and electrified her eyes and lips and hair. It was like a kiss.
"I don't trust you."
"I'm not going to hurt you."
She glared at him. "Do you think you can you find out where the princess is? Can you read my thoughts with that mako trick of yours?"
He hesitated. "That's not why I'm here."
"Then what do you want from me?"
His jaw clenched. "I…want to show you something."
"Is this an order from your superiors?"
"I'm not supposed to be here. They don't know about this."
They looked at each other. Tifa hesitated. This felt different. It was easier to read his frustrations in this lighting. The darkness of the room and the shadows lingered in the skin of his face. It was hard not to believe him, but she couldn't. It was a trap. It must be.
He took a few steps closer, and Tifa pressed her back into the wall behind her. He paused at her reaction, and his eyes flickered with something. He kneeled before her, and she watched as his throat bobbed in a swallow.
"Please," he said.
Her stomach curled at the word. It was simple, but it held the grip of desperation. It reminded her of the bracelet, still tucked safely away in her pocket, burning with naïve, undying hope.
She watched him for a long minute, eyes glancing to his hand. The green was not rancid like decay. It was vibrant and brilliant like a possibility.
What did she have to lose? Yuffie would be safe. She had to be safe. Godo would never let anything come to harm her, if what Cloud said was to be verified. Godo might even be crazy enough to start a war if Yuffie was harmed under Midgar jurisdiction. That was what Tifa trusted, she told herself. Here, she felt like she had run out of any other options, and the green light surrounding her felt like a possibility as much as it looked like one.
She reached out and touched his hand. The sensation was one in the same as that first day. She suddenly remembered, like déjà vu. The impact was sedated, her hair waving slowly in a lazy breeze. Her nerves didn't twinge as heavily, her muscles were smoothly contracting and calm, massaging her bones.
She let her eyes shut, concentrating on the feeling. The impossible desperation, the pull of the tears on her eyelids. There was something different about it. Old, tarnished pictures ran around her mind, her mother and father, her home, her town, her old school friends. Things she thought she remembered, but memories that felt ripped from her mind, jagged edges trying to fit back into the blank spaces. So many images that didn't make sense but felt like they could. They buried her with the sensation of home.
They were all impossible, except the feeling of impossibility was dissolving into an ache of possible, like it was all in reach, like if, somehow, she waited a while longer, if she prayed a little, ran a little, the hope her heart felt would exonerate into something tangible. It felt as if, instead of the memories tugging on her eyelids, they were starting to tug on her lips instead. She wanted to smile.
But she was too weak to smile. She was too weak to move. She opened her eyes, glanced at their hands and at her body, watching as the harsh blue light she gave off was fading into a dissipating smoke, a thin, transparent fog. Slowly, slowly, it was diminishing.
She gasped, trying to take her hand away from him, but his thumb had curled around it and she was too weak to pull it from him.
"Stop," she whispered hoarsely. "Stop it."
His eyes snapped open, a strange, ever-changing aquamarine. They were at a higher concentration than when he had transformed the other day, with bright fluorescent lighting. His pupils were dilating, wide and black.
The more they changed, the weaker she felt.
"Let go," she said, trying to jerk away. Confusion warred within her. Besides the weakness and the foreign feeling of something leaving her, she felt the weight shrinking. The burdens she had on her shoulders were losing the pounds, shedding their fat. As helpless as she felt, it didn't take away the small glimmer of happiness that she felt, too.
Like a bolt, she realized what he was doing. She concentrated all her might against him, and broke free from his thumb, breathing hard and strangled, feeling beads of sweat slip from her neck and down her shirt. Her heart was beating erratically, all her muscles shuddering.
And Cloud, she noticed as she stared at him, looked frayed. His skin pale and clammy, sweat framing the line of his forehead. He was breathing just as raggedly as she was, eyelids halfway opened with sunken cheeks.
His look was haunted. Ghosts were on his shoulders, invisible and unseen, but prominent and heavy.
Tifa felt lighter, like she could be happy if she wanted. If she led the life she read in those possibilities he had shown her.
When she looked at him, she wasn't happy. She had inadvertently stolen something from him, but she didn't know what. The rest of his youth, the part of his soul he kept away from the mako? She didn't know. Her glow was so, so dim. It made her sick. It made her—she didn't know what it made her. Who would she be without the power?
He took her burdens away, like a comfort, a hug, a kiss no one had offered before, and she hated it. It was selfless generosity on his part, and for what? What would he gain from this?
"Why did you do it?" she said, and she felt the warm tears creep down her cheek to her jaw.
He breathed deeply a few times. "Because I can handle it."
Because he was so poisoned, what did it matter, anyway?
"No," she cried, and she felt her body fall off her bed, crawl to his feet. She placed her hands on his knees. "No, you can't."
It seemed he couldn't. It took him a few seconds to give in, but he finally turned to the side and threw up.
"Shit," he groaned, but most of it was spit and stomach acid and what looked like small slivers of rock. On further inspection, they were shards of mako.
Tifa couldn't stop crying, as she watched him curl in on himself. His arms where shaking, and he looked very, very tired.
"Cloud…who are you? Why did you...?"
She reached over and took the side of his face in her hand, fingers landing in his sweat drenched hair. His head lolled into her palm. He lifted his hand to touch hers.
"You died once," he whispered, silent and hoarse. "I won't let it happen again."
Her hand fell from his face. His eyes were still aquamarine as he stood up shakily, turning his back on her and leaving her cell.
He left the door unlocked.
She didn't leave.
He didn't show up for another week.
He had left Tifa with a rampage of thoughts, but all she really wanted to know was how he knew her. She didn't remember him. How he could have…loved her, if they had never spoken.
Her limbs weren't as weak, and she was eventually able to get back into her routine. And though she felt lighter, she didn't feel any freer.
"You were supposed to run."
He took a spot on the same bench he sat in the week before. He seemed normal again, with his deep blue eyes, full cheeks, clean hair.
It was night, and she was already sitting up in her bed, cross-legged and huddled up near the wall.
Instead of answering him, she simply said, "I'm supposed to know you, but I don't remember you."
He thought about it for a while, sitting back. "I'm not who I once was."
"Neither am I."
He stared at her. She stared back.
"Why did you take away my poisoning?"
"I didn't take all of it."
"Tell me," she demanded, already feeling her eyes water. She hated her newfound weakness. Alone with him for a few minutes, and she was already feeling too many emotions—so potent and powerful. She had never realized how much mako had blunted them, was a protective balm against their wounds.
He swallowed, looking away. He seemed to move inward on himself, as if he couldn't properly create the words.
"I can't."
She blinked away from him, staring at the bunched sheets of her cot. She wondered if they had been friends. If she had forgotten. A lot of her memory felt gone, missing. It had been missing for such a long time, the bits and pieces like fading embers. A picture of her parents, a house, a fire, a blur, and then punching a man's face and taking his wallet. It didn't add up, but she didn't have the time to piece it together. She didn't have time to care when trying to survive.
Now, here he was, a piece of her past. He was the blur, perhaps, and it frightened her.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Half my life is a mystery."
He didn't react the way he should. His face remained stoic, his stance the same. His eyes remained straight and blank, as if he was shielding all that he was feeling to protect himself. She wondered if it was the mako, or if this was only him. If he gave a little away, a potential opening to his thoughts, maybe this would be easier.
"I'm sorry, too."
She bit her lip. "Were we friends?"
"Sort of."
"Sort of?"
"I was your neighbor. We didn't…really," he trailed, scratched his neck. She watched him closely. This made him uncomfortable.
"We weren't friends."
"No. Your family didn't like me."
"Why?"
"I wasn't…the best kid."
She smiled a little. "A bully?"
He looked at her. "Only because everyone else was."
"So my family didn't like any of the kids."
"Not particularly."
She thought a little while. "Did I ever hang out with any one?"
"Yeah," he said. "Some guys, some girls. Your parents never liked the boys, but you'd sneak out."
"I would?"
"When you'd want to."
At least some things didn't surprise her. It was heartening.
"Would I ever sneak out to see you?"
He turned his head away from her.
"Once."
"Only once?"
He nodded, still diverting his eyes, and she knew that something important happened. She had a feeling. She could feel the bud of it, trying to blossom in her memory.
She hesitated, thinking better about asking.
"How do you feel?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Fine. You?"
"I'm better," she said. "I'm not tired anymore. I feel…lighter." She paused. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm alright, Tifa."
He said her name in such a familiar way that it made her shift on the cot.
"Show me."
"What?"
"Show me that you're okay. Use your power."
"Tifa – "
"Please."
He sighed, then closed his eyes. He started to shine, the mako concentrating in an outline. It wasn't green anymore, but a deep cerulean. It surged and it shimmered out until it touched her, but the sensations were very light and very muted. Images would emerge in spurts inside her mind, but they didn't make her restless or jittery. They made her calm and serene.
She stood up quietly and stopped in front of him. The bench was low, so she kneeled, her head coming up to his chest. The tranquility washed over her like a tidal wave, and it cancelled out her nervousness of being so near him.
"Open your eyes," she whispered. In his surprise, he did. At her proximity, he backed up into the bars, looking down at her with widened eyes. They were very pretty eyes, no matter how manufactured – the same blue as his mist.
"You shouldn't be…this close," he said.
He didn't seem as malicious as before, in the alley. He wouldn't have fangs, he wouldn't strangle her or snap her in two. He would only sit there, as far away as he could, and he would do nothing.
She reached out to touch his cheek. He jerked away.
"It's alright," she smiled, feeling the skin of his face under her fingers. His pupils started to dilate.
"Stop – "
He was feeling impossible desperations, too, she realized. As high as his concentration was, he must have felt their nagging even when he didn't provoke his power. She wondered what they could be, with the way he was tensing, his jaw fighting itself. He seemed about to snap, and she wanted to know.
She wanted to know what he was thinking. What the scenes were, floating behind his eyes. Those personal scenes, those inner most secrets, those things she couldn't steal. He was a tormented being, and he was finally showing it, with his face more open than she'd witnessed. Who was he? Who could he possibly be?
She wanted to know what happened to her. She wanted to know who she was, and did this man truly have that information, tucked away in the deep recesses of his mind?
Her fingers grazed his lips. His eyes slit.
Suddenly, he was kissing her. His hands were on the sides of her face, holding her in place. He was making sure she wouldn't leave him – she could feel it in his palms. They were like chains across her cheeks, cold and solid like all the metal he wore. His breath tasted artificial and engineered, but she could make out the hint of something else, like something he used to be. It was still persevering, fighting its way into her mouth. She gasped a little, and she felt his tongue invade, touch her in places she'd never been touched. She'd never had a first kiss, but this was warm and passionate, and she felt the heat underneath his skin. It was pleasant, and soothing and calming, and she couldn't tell if it was the mako working or if it was solely him.
She reached up and touched the back of his neck, felt the fine hair on his nape.
And that's when she saw it.
She saw all the memories.