V.
I'll look after you
"Left up… back a bit straighter… yeah, like that…"
"So when are we starting?"
Tifa stepped around on the right, disappearing from Denz's peripheral. A waft of vanilla filled the boy's nose. "Starting?" she tapped his knee.
He raised said appendage higher, thigh cramping. "Like… for real."
She chuckled. He wobbled a little.
"Have we not?"
Her fingers crawled round his elbow, correcting it before moving to his shoulder. Denzel pouted. She reappeared on his left. "I meant the real training..."
Tifa tilted her head and stepped back to inspect the rest of his stance. She smiled at his quivering straight leg. "Oh? And what would that be?"
Denzel cursed the limb. Or it cursed him – aching harder. "The ass-kicking stuff."
His guardian grinned. "Being a Monk, Denz, is not about ass-kicking."
"But we've been doing stretches forever! I'm ready. I wanna do the fun stuff!"
She stared at him thoughtfully; the boy's sky-blue orbs unbudging. A long moment of silence passed. Then merlot narrowed with a smirk.
"You're a hundred years too early to fight me. Let alone land a punch."
"Huh?" Denzel's face fell, along with his stance. "Yes I can!" he said defensively.
But, to his surprise, wine smirked at him, its usual mellowness gone. Then his guardian laughed – a mocking laugh – stirring an unpleasant flutter in his gut.
Denzel frowned. He didn't believe it. Tifa was… laughing at him!
"Oh no you can't." The words left her lips derisively, and his shock was overtaken by anger.
"You're too weak, Denz." Heat pooled in his belly, cheeks scarlet. "Far too weak."
The boy's blood rushed to his ears; his whole body suddenly on fire. And, without another coherent thought, Denzel charged.
Crying out, he threw a fist at her cheek, stumbling forward when it whisked only air. What the–?!
"Yaargh!"
He caught himself and spun round. In southpaw stance a few meters away, Tifa smirked at him.
Her eyes gleamed, expression smug, sending his gut in a frenzy. And the boy pounced again, this time with an airborne roundhouse.
Gathering momentum he leapt through the air, leg flying toward her jaw. To meet her forearm with shin instead, foot thwarted – and the other – as Tifa flicked her hands in a circular motion and the boy landed flat on his back.
"Argh!" he gasped, panting raggedly. How did– when did she move?!
The woman stared down at him, features soft again. Features uniquely… Tifa.
"Lesson number one of real training," she smiled. "Your biggest enemy is you."
Autumns in Edge were Denzel's least favorite season. The mornings were darker. The mild, sooty breezes were replaced with all-day wind. And there was the occasional thunderstorm that nobody but Yuffie enjoyed.
"In Wutai they say it's the Sea God. I used to sneak out to try and spot him, but Dad always caught me."
The children listened intently, and Denz found himself in a daze. So brave… he watched those obsidian orbs twinkle, shining with memory.
Ever since Meteorfall, the Planet let loose more frequently on certain weather events. Though not quite as severely as in spring, its roars and rumbles would sometimes carry right through the night.
But the absolute worst thing about fall was Cloud's near tripled work schedule. With the months crawling toward winter, everyone wanted deliveries done, all at the same time. Though the swordster had (vastly) cut his range as a whole, the annual sixteen-day trip to Gold Saucer for his two biggest clients couldn't be missed.
"Make sure Tifa doesn't overdo it, okay?"
Denz nodded sullenly as a strong hand ruffled his hair.
"We'll take good care of her," he promised.
Marlene saluted, "And the babies too!"
Their guardian of topic blushed, though her smile was affectionate. "I can take pretty good care of myself too, you know."
She rubbed her tummy while she spoke – an increasingly frequent habit of late – and Cloud took her into his arms, burying himself in her shoulder.
"Promise you'll rest," he hugged her tight. "It's about time Yuffie started earning her keep."
"Heard that."
Tifa chuckled, though her grip tautened around him. "Promise you won't take on anything dangerous. It's five lives I have to worry about every time you step out that door now."
"Six," Cloud corrected, pulling back. "Look after yourself too, okay? And call me if anything…" Mako finished the sentence.
Bourbon held his gaze. "Mh. I will."
"No overtime," former searched latter seriously. "If you're not feeling up to it, give it to Yuffie or the kids. And if you need me, call. I'll turn right around and– mmph…!"
Tifa's mouth crushed the rest of his sentence, fingers tangling themselves in blonde spikes as she pulled him close.
"We'll be fine," she murmured into his lips. "Just…" she fisted the back of his vest, "come back to us."
The trek through the mid-eastern continent was a harsh one. Zoloms slithered the marshes – some twenty to thirty feet long! And beyond lay Mythril Mine, infested with Hegs and Madouges…
Not to mention Ark Dragons, which – thanks to Alfie – Denz couldn't forget. (He had crossed-his-heart promised his nagging friend that Cloud would bring back a photo.)
"Barret got poisoned," the bladester had told him, far too casually for the boy's liking. "And one of the bastards decided to show up and blaze our stock of antidotes. Poor Nanaki had a rough time dragging him round while we fought our way through. Not to mention finding the girls again. Place was practically a maze…"
Cloud's calls filled the house with an unspoken completeness, and the bar's closings saw a curled-up Tifa listening to voicemails. Palm to bump, the kids would find her on one of the sofas, a smile tugging her lips with the phone hugged to ear.
Promises were being kept, it seemed. At least on one end of the continent.
"Gaia, Teef, let me do that!" Yuffie exclaimed for the hundredth time, pulling the addressed away from the hundredth chore to roll her eyes at the hundredth protest.
"I'm five months, Yuffie, not nine." Tifa pouted defiantly. "I'm allowed to move."
"With twice the load, and moving doesn't constitute on the floor. Now go help the kids with homework or something or I'm gonna call Cloud, I swear."
Said kids' snickers turned to pity at the fall in their heroine's face.
Yuffie wasn't the sole mischief detector in the house though. And, unfortunately, she was far from the most adept.
Tifa had, as Marlene always put it, a mommy radar. And carrying twins (despite her strength being sapped) somehow seemed to have amplified it.
"Denzel?"
The owner of said name cringed inwardly.
"Tifa…! Hi…" Bracing himself, he took a deep breath–
"You're limping!"
Dammit. How did she know?! He'd barely taken three steps through the door!
Merlot was before the boy Aero-speed, a pair of palms cupping his cheeks and turning them side to side.
Tifa's cool fingers coddled his features, beseeching him in the bar-light. "Sweetie, what happened?!"
Meeting her worried orbs, Denz felt as if he'd been gut-punched – round two… "I– uh…" he swallowed, "There was this kid– he was being mean and… we kind of got into a fight…"
Tender hands glazed down his body, recoiling at his ribs when he winced. Bourbon looked up compassionately and the boy felt a surge of guilt.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Tifa murmured, and he swallowed, nodding shamefully.
XxXxXxXxXx
It was supposed to be the other way round, dammit. He was supposed to be looking after her!
Denzel bit down his self-loathing, watching the glow at his torso. Green licked the swell of battered flesh and instantly his pain began to fade.
"The bruises will show for a while," Tifa murmured, bringing the Materia up to his cheek. "But this'll ease the swelling at least… Gaia, you look awful."
The puffiness around his eye lessened while she spoke. But he was overwhelmed with fresh guilt at the exhaustion etched in hers.
Ruby held a linger of nausea, dark shadows sagging beneath. They dulled her pale and sickly pallor, the hollowness in her cheeks. Denzel wondered which of the two of them looked more awful in that moment. If a black eye and a half was fair rival to slumberless bags…
How are you feeling? The thought must have slipped, for Tifa chuckled softly. "I'm supposed to be the one asking you that, you know."
Denzel's lips twitched a little, before he flinched at her touch on his ribs. He held her stare determinedly, and the woman smiled.
"We're fine," her free hand drifted down her top. "Baby A's doing the usual routine. Wanna feel?"
The boy blushed. "Oh– I'm good," he said quickly. At the tug of her grin, he wondered if she'd had done that on purpose.
"Your turn."
Yes. Yes, of course she had. Ruby mellowed, regaining seriousness. "So what was this fight about?"
"That Madson jerk," Denz mumbled to the floor. "He was making fun of Mira…"
Tifa watched him patiently as she settled into a chair. "Who hit first?" she asked quietly, gathering truth from the silence.
A long moment passed between them before the woman gave a sigh. "Denz…" she began tiredly, "one wrong doesn't make another right."
"What was I supposed to do?" Denz felt a surge of defensiveness, tearful dusk floating into his mind. His heart twinged, "Nothing?"
"No, you're not supposed to do nothing, but–"
"He made Mira cry."
Tifa winced at his tone. Her fingers curled softly on the table. "That's awful, honey. But even if he deserved it… because you can beat him doesn't give you the right."
"Cloud would've."
Tifa paused, a visible cringe in her eyes. "Denz… sweetie–"
"You said if you're strong, you're supposed to help others. Cloud would've fought him! He never would've just stood there and done nothing when–…
…Tifa?"
Tifa's brow was knit in a sudden crease, gaze distant and on the floor. She hugged her abdomen, fingers tense, her other hand white on the table.
All the boy's anger dissipated like chuff. "Are–… are you okay…?"
Wine looked up. Depletedly.
She was so pale!
"Yeah…" she rubbed her tummy gently, "just a bit tired…"
Her voice strained, eyes crinkled, Denzel didn't buy it. And struck – to bubble and overflow – was the well of guilt he'd suppressed.
"Tifa…" To his further worry, the barmaid was suddenly on her feet. "Tifa–… are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'm fine, sweetie… Just wanna lie down for a bit."
Denzel shadowed her to the stairs, vigil for any signs that she wasn't alright. But if so, she hid it well, giving him a comforting smile.
"We'll talk later, okay?" she said gently, giving his shoulder a squeeze, and the boy nodded, feeling terrible as he watched her ascent.
XxXxXxXxXx
Tifa spent the rest of that evening in bed.
Later came and passed with the bar opening, Yuffie juggling drinks and preparing dinner while the kids took orders.
Their meal was a special Wutaian noodle soup, which was delicious. Or it should've been. With the ruby smile that held the world missing, Denz found his stomach in a knot.
He'd promised…
He'd promised…
He was supposed to be looking after her…
"It's not your fault," Yuffie saw through his mask. "The little ones are probably having a spar or something. And speaking of fights…"
The kids followed her frown to a slurred yelling across the room. "...I better sort this one before it starts."
Denzel watched her rush off, guilt rising as Marlene sighed.
"Idiots. Why do they have to go and make trouble like that?"
At 8 P.M., the kids took some reheated soup upstairs and found their guardian in the depths of slumber. Her dark tresses were fanned around her, one hand curled by her cheek. The other lay draped across her middle, fingers in a loose sprawl.
"She looks so tired," Marlene whispered quietly, laying the bowl on the bedtable. And Denz's gut coiled at realizing Tifa atop the duvet in her day clothes.
Her forehead was folded, the softest of lines crinkling the corners of her eyes. Below them rested unsettling shadows, cheeks sallow and blanched.
Yet even so, sapped and drained even in sleep, Denz couldn't help but notice just how beautiful she was.
Even with two lives inside her tummy, pushing it into a strange, knolly swell.
Marlene brushed back a veil of raven, and Tifa stirred, instinctively hugging her middle. The girl's fingers grazed her cheek, brow forming a matching knit as she murmured, "She's cold."
They made do with the spare blanket from Cloud's office, and Denzel brought a chair with too. He pulled the fleece up to Tifa's chin while Marlene tucked the edges comfy.
"I'm gonna go help Yuffie," the latter whispered.
He nodded. "I'll… stay for a while. Um… make sure she eats…"
He listened to her footfalls depart, then, blushingly, reached for Tifa's hand. Her fingers responded with an instinctive wrap, soft and gentle and cold.
Denzel swallowed at his heaviness, allowing the peace of her breaths to wash over him. He watched her bump rise and fall with their rhythm, fleece wrinkling at the shift of her fingers.
Tifa's brow wiggled for a moment, and the blanket rumpled some more. Denzel wondered if the babies were kicking. The one on the left kicked a lot, she'd said. He wondered if she was uncomfortable.
He felt a swell of frustration toward him. Why can't he just… sleep?
That was all the babies had to do, wasn't it? Sleep and eat and grow. Why did they have to be so… demanding all the time? Why did they have to make his Tifa so sick?
Her fingers curled a little firmer round Denzel's, and the boy's frustration shifted toward himself. She carried so many burdens… and tonight, he had added to them.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered quietly, thumb brushing her calloused knuckles.
I'll do better. I promise…
I'll… I'll look after you…
"Denzel? What in Gaia are you doing up there?"
The boy teetered, arms waving like propellers in his one-legged stasis.
"A Monk's body–…" his hands flung out to steady himself, "is in perrrfect b–… balance with the mind!"
Cloud couldn't hide his smile. "This one of Tifa's lessons?"
"Lesson number three," Denz replied with staunchness. He hopped from his left leg to his right, wobbling mildly. "Tifa says a Monk can find inner peace anywhere."
"And she told you to find inner peace up there? It's a painful fall down that staircase."
"Lesson number four. There's no such thing as a painless lesson. And enduring pain makes you stronger."
The man chuckled softly, "Won't argue with that one."
"A Monk can stand on just the big toe for hours. Or any of his fingers. Even the pinky."
Cloud's grin broadened. "Let me guess, Tifa says–"
"Denzel!" Tifa did say – or yelp – appearing beside her fiancé. Merlot swelled in panic. "What on earth are you doing?!"
The boy staggered and she dropped the crate of groceries in her arms. In a flash she was by the bottom step while he flailed at air.
"Reciting your lessons," Cloud answered amusedly. He stooped to stop an escaping orange, "Gotta say," rehomed it with the others, "they're a step up from the ones you gave me in Sector 7."
Wine inspected the boy's stance, and slowly, the worry within turned to pride. "Well," Tifa smiled at her other half, "I have a more competitive student this time."
Said student beamed, hopping smoothly from his right leg back to the left.
"You were Tifa's student, Cloud?"
"Sure was," the bladester grinned. The couple's eyes locked playfully, "In a lot more than Zangan arts."
Tifa grinned back, "Well, you'll have to watch out on the latter."
Warmth swelled in Denzel's chest, rushing to his ears in a quite different form as he staggered a bit.
"Will I now?" mako gleamed with jest. "We're not at the big-toe stage yet."
"I can do the big toe!" the boy exclaimed, propping himself on his tippies. "Here, let me showwhoooaaaaaa–…!" to, after a futile windmilling of his arms, find himself in a topple.
"Whaaaaaaaggghhhh– oomph!"
He crashed down into a solid cushion. Eyes squeezed for a moment as a grip loosened around him.
"Lesson number one?" warm breath tickled his hair, and with fruity vanilla filling his gasp, Denz looked up into merlot.
"Your biggest enemy is you," he mumbled, untangling himself embarrassedly. "Argh!" he yelped, wincing loudly at the sharp twinge in his ankle.
"Mmmh…" Tifa mused as Cloud's palm left her back. "I think it might be time for a review."
"Denzel…?" Tifa's voice was a croak as the boy reentered the world of wakefulness.
"Hey…" he croaked back, gazing up lazily, to realize himself on her bed, arms folded into a pillow.
Or, his front half on her bed… Straightening his – rather stiff – back, he sat up, mind slow to follow suit.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, answered by a familiar burble.
Tifa looked down with colored cheeks – Thank Gaia. "Guess that gives us away, huh?"
Merlot drifted to the untouched soup on her bedtable. Her tummy gave a longer and louder gargle. "Yuffie's?"
"Yeah. It's called ramen – it's really nice. She promised to make it again when… Cloud's back."
And you're better…
Tifa's mouth was smiling, but in her eyes Denz saw a sadness. She was beating herself up, he could tell. For being unable to mother them. For being sick…
"I'm sorry," he mumbled shamefully, "for… for yesterday."
Wine searched him confusedly for a moment. Then with a shift to understanding, softened.
"It's alright, honey," she murmured. "I know you meant well… and Madson probably deserved it. But sometimes the better thing to do is the hardest thing. Even when he doesn't deserve it… even when he's not sorry…"
Denzel frowned at his hands, fidgeting with the blanket.
"Being the hero doesn't always mean kicking butt, you know." Tifa's fingers gently cupped under his chin, "Sometimes…" She lifted it slowly, tilting her head until they were eye-level, "…it's the little things we do for others that count the most."
Her eyes twinkled, filled with affection, and… proudness?
Thank you, they whispered as her hand cupped his cheek, and Denzel understood, consumed by fuzzy warmness.
Cold ramen and a blanket didn't amount to much, but under that loving gaze the boy suddenly felt on top of the world. He grinned back, leaning into Tifa's touch, her thumb playing over his freckles.
"Tifa?"
The boy jumped.
"Hey, sweetie."
Turning to find Marlene already beside him, bombarding their guardian with questions.
"Are you feeling better? Are you hungry? Are the babies awake?"
Tifa's smile confirmed the first inquiry, before her stomach answered the rest with a long and powerful rumble.
Cocoa darted to her untouched ramen. "Oh, you must be starving!"
"Yeah..." she smiled down sheepishly, palms smoothing her shirt, "we are…" And sky followed wine to the clock displaying the numerals 6:18.
Below them, Denz noticed the alarm was set. Of course their Tifa, sick and exhausted, would be getting up at 6:30 on a Saturday!
"Tifa…?!"
Make that before 6:30. The boy turned in shock to find her out of bed, rummaging the wardrobe!
"What are you doing?!" the kids blurted together, gawks met with the long, chocolate tresses flowing her back.
"Getting started on pancakes."
"But Tiiiifaa…!" Marlene exclaimed while Denzel leapt to his feet.
Forget (her scrumptious, mouth-watering, heaven-sent) pancakes! "You should be–…"
"…resting!"
"I'm well rested thanks to you guys," Tifa muffled, yanking one of Cloud's gigantic sweaters over her shirt. "Besides, you heard these two," she patted her buried bump. "Gotta get some food into them before anything else."
Depletion be damned, she was out and down the hall before either child could protest. "Good grief," Marlene sighed as they scrambled after her.
The kids watched their heroine like hawks that day, dashing round to help with chores and the afternoon bar-shift. (Words like 'rest' were about as effective as stepping into a Gorkil's nest and ordering it not to strike.)
Not that their efforts were entirely fruitless in terms of observations, though.
For one, Tifa set a new house record on breakfast – finishing (snacking forsaken for deluging) three banana and caramel pancakes! Which boasted itself in her bulge of stomach when she'd put on her work attire.
Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare! (The boy could've sworn her bump hadn't been that round yesterday!)
A few of Seventh Heaven's regulars spent the afternoon ogling too, Giga-, Tera-, and Penta-glare-free.
(Well, at least from mako. Denz found his own blood boiling considerably.)
The ultimate event, though, came just before supper, after the young mom – at Yuffie and the kids' unwavering insistence – finally put her feet up.
"Tifa?" Marlene interrupted Cade the Cuahl's monologue, and Denz abandoned the world of tv as he glanced toward their couch.
Tifa was snuggled with the girl at her breast, cheek cushioned in cinnamon hair; gaze hooded with fond exhaustion while their palms roamed her tummy.
Her bloating, bulging tummy; brimmed with babies and stew… It was like it had… mushroomed… In the space of a day…!
Marlene's eyes crinkled curiously, as Tifa took her smaller hand and drew it down lower. Latter watched former with yearning, pushing her little fingers down more firmly, until a few moments later the girl let out a gasp.
"He's kicking…" She looked up to a broad, merlot grin. Then, eyes drawn back to said happenstance, repeated awestruck, "He's kicking!"
Wine held the joy of the universe.
"Or she–…" Marlene spluttered. Her cheeks split in a goofy grin, "She's really– it's–… wow!"
"Here…" Tifa wore the most adoring of beams, rolling up her jersey, and she re-placed Marlene's eager palm on her tank top beneath.
Goggling, Denzel suppressed a gasp of his own.
Hugged skin-tight, free from wrinkles of shirt, Tifa's bump looked so much rounder. And it wasn't just the day's feasting for its voracious wrigglers within…
Her tank was stretched thin, hem only just reaching her shorts. Her bellybutton had stretched to about twice its size too – a gaping hole in the middle of the fabric!
"Mmmh…" the barkeep hummed lovingly, "finally a proper hello."
Marlene giggled, "A huge hello!" awe consuming her features. Then, her wide eyes darted upward, returning to wine, "Does it hurt?"
Tifa shook her head. "They're not quite Soldier-level yet."
"Are you sure?" the girl asked worriedly, and her heroine chuckled, cuddling her close. She lay her cheek back into her breast, "What does it feel like now?"
"Funny…" the woman pondered. "Kinda like… when you have a lot of butterflies. Except they're all in one spot and… well… rougher."
"Oh." Marlene gave a dazed nod. Then, at what must have been a prominent pelt, her hand augmented its fondle.
"This one's definitely the boy," she stated seriously.
"Y'think so?"
"Mh-hmm. For sure."
Tifa chuckled.
Marlene was very sure she was getting a brother and sister. Shuffling down in their snuggle, she sought wine's permission, before the young mom beamed and she lay her cheek on the bulging cloth.
"Would you like to feel too, Denz?" Tifa asked, fingers playing with the ribbon in Marlene's hair as–
"Huh?"
Denz dragged his gawk to her eyes. And the room grew incredibly hot as his throat betrayed him in a squeak.
"Oh– I, uh–… er-ghmm. I'm good."
Stupid!
Guilt rushed to his ears, but subsided under Tifa's grin.
"Does this mean I win?" Marlene muffled against her, and the boy felt a funny little twinge in his own gut.
"It does," their guardian lovingly stroked her cheek.
"I even beat Cloud?"
"Even Cloud."
Tifa tilted forward playfully, hands hugging her (outward) occupant, and as little fingers journeyed her tummy, Denz found his own in a flutter.
Marlene beamed proudly. "He's gonna be so jealous." And at the endearing laugh that left Tifa's lips, said father was beat there too.
TBC.