Heart Less Love
Part Seven: Paths
"Strength without determination means nothing, and determination without strength is equally useless…"
The click of the door alerted her to the fact that someone had entered the apartment and the following clicking of boots on the floorboards was a sure give away. She smoothed down her hair, mocking herself a little mentally for still being nervous despite having lived for so long with the girl of her dreams. Marlene and Denzel were crowded over the table, putting together the decorations for a party.
Soon enough they came around the doorframe and she smiled, beamed almost, upon laying eyes on the oval face of her angel, marked with lines of weariness about the eyes and a a suspiciously dark stain on the side of her head that dampened her golden brown hair to rust. But the green eyes were filled with love and an apologetic hesitancy that kept her by the doorframe, holding her skirt a little and one hand caught in the tangle of the necklace.
"Aerith?" She said, looking from the flower girl to Cloud who came in after her, groaning and stretching so that Denzel noticed and chirped his name, in the same kind of worship he'd been lucky enough to have devoted to him from the day Cloud had found him.
The day that Aerith had guided a lonely and hungry boy to the loving and desperate arms of two equally lonely and broken people…
"I'm alright, don't worry," Aerith replied softly, coming to sit down on the small thick rub in front of the fire, curling her legs to her chest and tilting her head so she could peer into the flames. The firelight flickered on her face, licking the curves of such beauty. Tifa rubbed her arms. She hadn't noticed how dark it had become outside.
"Vincent and Cid?" She asked of Cloud instead.
"Cid's setting up his permit and Vincent won't be long behind."
"Ah, I'll make a hot drink then?"
"Hot chocolate," Aerith's voice pleaded from the fire and hearth.
Tifa knitted her brows, "Of course, not a problem. I know you like it. Hot chocolate, kids?" She called, gesturing to Cloud as she made her way to the kitchen. She wore loose clothing, a tightly fitted black shirt with a white cross on the back and her somewhat baggy trousers with the black bow-ties done up on either leg. Barefoot, she padded silently into the kitchen with the affirming cries of the kids for hot sweet drinks.
"I'll take any food you have going," Cloud offered in what she supposed he thought was a helpful manner, but she just fixed him with a wry and amused look.
"Cloud, if I wanted a portable vacuum then I would apply for a Typoon materia offshoot from Yuffie."
"Hey, that's sort of insulting; I at least put the food to good use. I'm energetic and… stuff. And more to the point, starving. I think it's the cold."
"It's summer."
"The unexpected cold?"
"Just so you don't go on and on at me, I'll make you something. But this is a one off deal alright?" She pulled open the fridge and hauled the crock of cream out that she stored there for the hot drinks she called her 'guilty little pleasure' and set the jug on the counter. It beaded almost instantly as she went looking for her pan that she always used for the drinks. "Probably just something cold, like left over chocobo."
"You still have that?"
"Waste not, want not. So, what's up with Aerith and where did that wound come from?" She straightened with a pan in her hand and smacked it there most suggestively whilst eyeing him levelly.
"Woah now, that wound is completely not my fault so don't start getting that look!" He shrugged, "She had a vision."
"A vision?" Tifa paled, "Not like…"
"No, not the Planet. She said she was someone else, somewhere or perhaps some when else would be closer." Cloud itched his neck, eyes roving over her perfectly neat and tidy little kitchen, "She was so wrapped up in it that she almost waded into the water to her head and beyond. Luckily Vincent spotted her and we dragged her out. She put up one hell of a fight."
"I see…"
"Of course, that's where the discussion comes in."
"Discussion?" Tifa said softly, fearing the very word. Discussion usually meant that trouble was around the corner.
"About why we have to go on a journey," Aerith said softly.
Tifa swung, as did Cloud, both of them pivoting to stare at the doorway where she stood, hands clasped to her throat and watching them with sad, distant green eyes. She hadn't seen eyes as far away as that since the time when they had been journeying together and it frightened her, it frightened her that something was going to take this girl away from her. Again.
"We do?"
"You're going to let me go alone? I will go, whether you come with me or not."
"…Where? Why?" Tifa slammed the pan onto the cooker, feeling foolish, "I mean, why can't someone else go and do it?"
"Because I'm the only Cetra left." Aerith flinched a little and bent her head, "I know you find it really hard to accept, but there are other things for me to do. Don't you remember what I said to you, when I came back? Among those flowers, I said, 'The Planet brought me back for some purpose'. My job isn't over."
"…" Tifa ran hands into her dark hair and sighed in aggravation. "I know."
"I'm sorry… I understand it's hard for you to accept this, but this… this is reality. This is the world I live in."
"Am I not… part of that?"
"Of course, I mean… I just…" The ancient sighed and brushed a hand along the necklace, "I'm not like you, or Cloud or even Vincent. There are parts of me even I don't know…and so much has changed."
"…"
Aerith left, leaving her there to stare down at the mug in her hand. She felt the old burning prickle behind her eyelids and shot an angry look across to Cloud who lifted his hands, his own expression weary and tormented by the same fears that daunted her.
The love that had spent months travelling with them all had certainly come back a changed person. It wasn't just the memory problems. She said the voice of the Planet was stronger, even her natural powers seem to be enhanced beyond a level that Tifa could ever recall them being. Even back then, Aerith had bordered on the miraculous, reviving a person from the brink of death to full recovery. There was nothing that she could not touch and restore.
"…"
"The cream's boiling over," she said listlessly, her appetite for the rich drink fading with the cold biting uncertainty in her gut. "Grab it off the hob, Cloud, don't look so lost."
"Yes ma'am," he almost saluted and with a flourish of his hand snatched the cream from any further danger, placing it on the heat treated mat on the small wooden kitchen table that seemed to eat up far too much space in her cosy little kitchen.
The uncomfortable silence was broken by the sound of laughter from the other room, the laughter of children and Tifa looked up to Cloud, who was looking at the doorway with thoughtful eyes. She murmured, "Tomorrow came a bit too quickly."
"Quickly? It's been months, Tifa."
"Has it? The time has flown by… I thought it was all over for… all of us finally. Now she's being hauled away and damn it all, Cloud, I'm angry… I'm so angry about this. And you know what?" She slammed the mugs down, "I'm so pathetic that I'll lie to her. I'll lie and laugh and hold her and tell her that I don't mind when inside I'm dying with the anticipation of her vanishing again."
"You know," he said, "She was so happy."
"Huh?"
"Happy that you would be going with her. The first thought was 'Tifa's coming with me' and she was smiling," Cloud gave one of his rare, crooked little smiles, "And it was nice to see. She loves seeing the world, no matter how dangerous, and she wants to see it with you. Stop focusing on the bad stuff and support her, because she needs that."
"This isn't happening," she groaned, "This is my nightmare – being lectured by Cloud Strife about relationships and supporting people!"
"Now that is insulting… twice in less than an hour, have you been practising?"
Against her will, relief breaking through her anxiety, Tifa began to laugh weakly and started making the hot chocolate. He was right of course, an adventure with all of her friends again, that would be more than worth it. And tomorrow? It could wait for another day…
"You're feeling better?"
The soft and soothing voice of the Ancient was her only alerting noise that she was no longer alone in the small apartment room that Tifa kept for guests. Her eyes, dark grey-violet like the brief press of an oncoming storm travelled to meet those of the flower girl, eponymous heroine that had pushed back countless dangers and turned the tide of war and strife always in their favour. The eyes of the Cetra were calm and unruffled, the face smooth as marble and like the faces on old statues she had sometimes seen, beautiful and distant.
Her hand grazed her shoulder, the tug of stitches almost gone now with the miraculous spells and techniques of this slender twig of a woman. Yuffie smiled just a little, moving away from the apartment window, the light outside giving everything little colour, only bleached subtle tones variegated depths and distance.
"Better, thanks to you. I know, you've come to ask what you couldn't in front of the others, right?"
"You're perceptive."
Yuffie sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and tucking her hands between her legs. The skin felt cold, no wonder, for she wore little more than a white shift that echoed unpleasantly of hospital gowns and the hand-me-out night wear that they always had on hand for emergency cases, trauma victims.
Of course, she knew that Aerith Gainsborough, the last Ancient and therefore by right, Lady Gainsborough under the traditions of Wutai, had been itching to her ask her this question for the longest time. She knew it as much as she knew the sun rose, east to west, the sky changed like her mood and the night always brought dreams. Since the moment on the shores when they had come away from fighting the monster body of Jenova on the boat to Costa del Sol from Junon, she had known that it would come, willing or unwilling, to haunt her.
"So ask, ask it. You know you have to know it, right?"
"…"
"Really, I'm ready for it."
Aerith didn't move, just those sweet and sad green eyes haunting the shadows of the door where she stood, "Yuffie, are you part Cetra?"
"I don't know." Yuffie sighed, "See, not much of an answer I guess. If I have any Ancient blood in me, it's really diluted, to the point of uselessness. I know you've been wondering since that day…"
The moment where she had fired off her simple healing magic without aid of a materia, the widening of shocked green eyes amidst the madness and fright that had beset the flower girl. It was that moment that Yuffie had come to realise that mastery of any magical element outside of Materia and Cetra was almost unheard of, apart from special cases such as Vincent where the magic mutated inside.
"Do all ninja use such arts?"
"…not really. I think I get it from my mother. But she died when I was so young, in the war between Wutai and ShinRa, world powers going for more money, more land. I can't even remember her face. She was the village doctor, and after she died we had to draft in someone else, but everyone always said that there was no one who could heal as well as my mother." Yuffie stared at the floor, "I wish I could help you, tell you that you're not alone. But even with what I can do, healing and destroying with skills outside of materia, I am … a remnant of a remnant… of a remnant even!"
"…I had to know. I had to ask, I am sorry, I didn't mean to draw up painful memories."
Yuffie laughed, covering up her welling sadness with the jovial sound, "No, that's okay, really. So, what did you find out there?"
"I found that I know so little, even now." Aerith turned and sat down on the bed next to her, but the springs hardly seemed to shift with the feathery weight pressed upon them. "The world has many secrets left still."
"Secrets are good."
"Not this time. The Black Materia, where it fell when Sephiroth died at the North Cave, I have to go there."
"Woah, what?" The ninja girl stared at her, "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"…Oh. What did Tifa say?"
Aerith was silent for a moment and briefly she wondered if she'd said something wrong. Then the girl just laughed and held her necklace, looking sad and distant, her gaze through the window to the light beyond. In that moment, Yuffie knew that whatever claim she had to even a drop of Cetra blood would never compare to the gift and curse granted to the woman, slight and splinter slender beside her. And that, she concluded, was a good thing.
"She'll go with us all."
"Us?" Yuffie stood up, trying to ignore the jab of pain in her shoulder, "And by us, you included me, right?"
"Yuffie… with that wound…"
"Wound-schmound, besides, the materia all belongs to me. You wanna use it? Then you all have got to take me along, simple as that! Besides," She clipped her nose with a thumb and attempted the cocky stance and grin that Cid often used, "Where would you guys be without my superior fighting skills?"
"How could I ask others to go, when it could be so dangerous?" Aerith sighed. "A big adventure together again, that's great, but this could really be it. This could be even more dangerous than the last time."
"Well, here's a hint."
"Hmm?"
"Don't go praying in strange places this time!"
Aerith blinked those brilliant green eyes at her, looking a little shocked then as it sank in that the nin' girl was joking with her she began to laugh. Gently at first, but soon, hand on her chest and middle, she was laughing whole heartedly.
Vincent was a dark shadow on a slightly less dark wall, for some reason no matter where he stood; he seemed to have the habit of making the place look untidy. Cloud often wondered if this was simply natural talent on his part. He even wore a sharp business suit and with his hair cut, he continued to maintain that very special and unique talent of his. It made Cloud want to yell at him to sit his ass down, but when that ran through his head, it was comically chased by the vision of another ten years down the line and he'd just the chain smoking, foul mouthed man that Cid is.
Instead, to prevent such actions, he leaned next to Vincent and folded his arms, trying to mimic the talent of the silent man with ruby eyes and consequently as he lacked such a natural skill, failed miserably. He only managed to look uncomfortable with his backside grazing a very rude bump on the knot work of the wooden panelling.
"Tifa is going," grated Vincent.
"Of course she is. You know she can't bear to let Aerith take a moment away from her."
"Fear."
How did he manage to do that, too? Cloud wondered. He managed to make the most simplest of statements speak entire volumes, epics of meaning and even the single word oozed feeling and acres of understanding. Then again, the blond had come to associate anything longer than two sentences from Vincent as marking a sign of some new apocalypse.
Beggars could not be choosers…
He wasn't entirely sure that was the phrase he wanted. Yet again, the Mini-Cloud/Cid combination ran through his mind and he sucked in a breath of air.
""Fear of losing her, a strong motivation, but you know Aerith wouldn't appreciate being swaddled to her armpits in cotton wool, no matter how well intentioned it is."
"Possibly."
"Possibly? That girl loved her independence and in some ways, still does. I think Tifa has to try and realise she won't vanish again."
"Love hurts."
"Speaking from experience?"
"…"
Cloud sighed, "Well, either way, her mind is set and that leaves one large problem that she hasn't gotten her head around just yet. The kids. Where are we going to take them?"
"Corel."
"I'm sorry, that one slipped me by a little fast there." Cloud looked sidelong at Vincent, who slowly creaked as he leaned forward to take a mug of hot chocolate in his hand. He eyed said drink with a vague rumble in his stomach – he'd devoured his earlier and promptly burned his tongue. He couldn't help it, he was a growing boy…er… man…
"Barrett's in Corel. Marlene is his daughter."
"Oh yeah," The blond sighed and looked up to the ceiling with the lights inset into the wooden slats, "I'd forgotten about that. I guess Cid should at least radio through to him and inform him that his daughter and Denzel are visiting."
"Done."
A brief flicker of annoyance sparkled in him and he folded his arms tighter, the smell of the hot chocolate was really making him hungry. "Do you guys have to think of everything? I bet he said he wanted to come too." Vincent nodded. "But realised now he's the Mayor that he can't run off at a whim." Vincent nodded again. "Poor Barrett, kids and a mayoral job. I'm sure it's the stuff novel and short story nightmares are written of."
"Aerith?"
"Hmm?"
The ruby eyes slid to him, "How has she been?"
"Distant. Sad. A little distraught. The little argument between Tifa and Aerith was interesting to watch. There really is nothing like watching the power struggle in a relationship." Cloud chuckled, "The one calling the shots is definitely Aerith."
"Figured as much."
"Hey, do the kids know where we're going?"
"Yep."
"And why?"
"…yep."
"Oh." He shoved from the wall and looked about, feeling tired and old suddenly. "I wonder how they felt about it, knowing that bad things will happen again. I bet Marlene will be worried. Anyway, I'm going to help the kids pack and then start on my stuff. Are we going by airship to wherever Aerith points us?"
"Of course. I love to travel in 'style'." Nothing about Vincent's face or tone of voice suggested sardonic wit, but the suggestion was in the precision of his sentence. Cloud laughed.
"Don't let Cid hear you say that." He turned to go, then looked back, eyes on the steaming mug, "…are you going to drink that?"
"…Maybe," Vincent lifted the cup to his lips.
"Spoilsport," Cloud muttered.
She played.
The music was alive and she lived each shivering note, each decadent fall.
She played to the highest note and dove deep into her melancholy on the furthest chord. The stars sang out their desires with each roll and wave of notation she played with fingers deft, supple and sure.
The music was recorded on no sheet, no dots or lines to hold the sweet cadence tonight.
She played from the heart, from the pain she lived, she loved, she knew like none other for tonight, this night, her pain was a second skin and she needled herself with it, she needed it and loved, lived it.
The words came from nowhere, her voice a gentle contralto and warm but bittersweet, like the falling of leaves after an exceptionally beautiful summer, the memory of such beauty that would not come again and that sadness she sang with, she captured.
She came to me when I was broken
An angel sent to save my soul,
And strings once cut she took them up
From ashes made me whole.
From yesterday until the dawn
She made the demons go away
And on the shores where nowhere is
Came with her a brand new day.
Until she went away, you see
And left me there in sorrow,
Said, "Take these dreams, I have no need
Of them in what is tomorrow."
She hammered the clauses, the sentences, the nail on the head with the melancholy jibe and diatribe she ranted and raved in sweet dissonance. She played with madness, with love, with aching need and the chorus, the verse and bridge, it drove her away somewhere else.
The journey is always long for her
But for her, I am her rest
And what lacks in me I find in truth
Is reflected in her best.
Whatever came, whatever went
Whatever yesterday had held for us,
We gave it away with two loving hearts
Entwined with loving trust.
Until she went away, you see
And left me there in sorrow,
Said, "Take these dreams, I have no need
Of them in what is tomorrow."
A familiar prickle, a toughened burn on the backs of her lids and still the ivories tinkled and still from somewhere she played allegro, she played the piece piano. Softly, softly and forever with fingers that knew the saddest bridge and slowest phrasing, she wept and played, piano.
Tears for tomorrow, for what might have been
Tears for sorrow, for every little dream
How could you take it all away, how could life do this?
When I thought I'd found a paradise, my Idaho, my bliss
And to the grave consign my heart, watery and blue
And take away the yesterday, I might have had with you..
She went away, away, you see
And left me there in sorrow,
Said, "Take these dreams, I have no need
Of them in what is tomorrow…"
She bent her head, fingers falling numb as the apartment deathly silent in the aftermath of her music, heart wrenching and soulful. The tears dripped from her nose and chin to the keys, splattering there.
She made no move to wipe them clean, let the tears rest there for all she could care. Tomorrow was coming too quickly, tomorrow was coming far too fast. She could feel the time bomb waiting to go off, ticking silently, stalking her and only her. Would it all end up the same way?
"Tifa."
She jerked around on the piano stool, wiping her face furiously.
In the doorway, silhouetted by the light of evening lamps beyond the open apartment window that spread morning light often into their hallway, there stood her love, her dream and her only desire. The green eyes were sad, sweetly sad and resting upon her. Had she been listening to her playing the entire time?
"That was beautiful," said the Ancient instead.
"…I didn't mean for you to hear that. I must sound… so selfish…"
"Tifa…" There was a rustle of clothing and quickly, the girl was in her arms and pressed in against her, close to her chest.
The first kiss was a soft press of skin, lips to cheek which began to trail down to the corner of her mouth. The kiss drew away the hot tears of frustration and anger, mostly directed at her self. With slow motions, her arms drew about Aerith and brought her closer, closer still until the keys made a discordant sound, so pressed against the piano was she. But the kiss, soft and insistent was all that drew her attention.
The first hand to unlatch a button however, was her own and for this night, magical and melancholy, she knew the girl of her dreams would be hers alone and there would be no setting of the table so you had to eat with a knife and spoon, there would be no frustrated silences, no angry tears. Instead there would be love.
As Tifa pulled back just a little to look at Aerith's face, she was surprised to see that the other woman was crying too, but slower tears than her own. "Aerith?"
"I love you," The flower girl whispered and pressed back into the kiss, one hand slipping down Tifa's stomach in a stroking motion.
All conscious thought fled her then in the moment of sudden passion rising up inside her, great wings unfolding, with only the sad, little lonely though trailing after them that tomorrow morning as it had been on that fateful morning so long ago, she might wake without the flower girl again… but the fear fled as the bedroom door was kicked closed…