CHAPTER 23: MARCHING ON

In and out, in and out—the repetitive passing of the needle through the fabric was soothing. Claudia watched the thread move through the material with unseeing eyes. Lately, her heart was heavy with guilt. Cloud was maturing and starting to make ambitious leaps toward a future of his own, and it was her fault he was at such a disadvantage. Lately, the boy had been repeatedly inquiring about his father and Claudia could only bring herself to tell her son bits and pieces about her time with the man she had loved with a ferocity that she'd likely never feel again. After years of resisting the pull of her memories, now they were beginning to haunt her in the daylight and not just in the shadows of sleepless nights.

Aren had made her weak at the knees when she first saw him at a late summer fair in her home town. His crooked smile drew out her own sheepish grin. Their romance had been short and intense; the intoxication of her first love was an addicting thrill that only grew as the months went by. She was pregnant by January and was able to hide it from her parents until April. They turned her out after several arguments about shame and deception. Aren had held her until she felt safe, whispering gentle promises into her ear while gently rubbing her swelling belly. In the morning, they packed their things and headed south on one small wagon and Aren's tired old horse.

Her pregnancy had been uncomfortable and they traveled slowly because of that, bouncing between small villages as they made their way through the desert. Aren was taking her to his childhood home on the southern plains where he was certain that his parents would be more than excited to have a grandchild, even one conceived outside the security of marriage. Claudia was sure that it was the stress of travelling in the desert heat that brought on her contractions, and Aren had clumsily helped her deliver Cloud into the world one August night. Their son had been so small and sick that they decided to halt their travel, taking refuge in a nearby town for the first year or so of Cloud's life.

The money Aren made from selling and fixing firearms as well as other miscellaneous tools combined with the gil Claudia earned from her skills with the needle provided enough to get by, but not enough for a good doctor for the baby. Between the cost of feed for the horse and the expense of the mustard oil to help the baby breathe, they couldn't even afford a marriage license. Two months after Cloud's first birthday, Aren decided it was time to move. With a grin, he sadded up his horse, hitched the wagon, and smoothed his thumb over Cloud's cheek as he promised Claudia they'd reach their destination in two weeks. They only made it three miles outside of town before disaster struck. Desert raiders were lying in wait for those too inexperienced to travel without the safety of a caravan. In an instant their wagon was surrounded, Claudia shielding the baby while Aren reached for his rifle. He was shot before his hand could pull the weapon from its hiding place. But the joke was on the bandits, for the couple had very little of value.

In and out, in and out. Claudia noticed her stitch work had become uneven as she recollected; the moisture welling in her eyes made it hard to focus.

They took the horse and left the young mother with little but the baby in her arms. She stumbled the distance back to the village and screamed for help. Aren clung to life for three days before succumbing to blood loss and infection and Claudia had never felt more lost in her life. She didn't know Aren's parents or in what village they lived on the southern plains. Even if she did, they had no responsibility to take care of their son's illegitimate child and his mother. How would they know she wasn't lying? Cloud didn't have his father's dark hair or deep brown eyes. Claudia sold Aren's leather boots and gold necklace chain to pay off the wagon driver to take her and the baby wherever he was going with his wagon of goods. She ended up in the mountains.

There was no way to escape the guilt in her heart as she watched Cloud struggle as he grew, carrying the burden of her own stigma. She yearned to help him, but didn't know how. Even if she felt she could move on and marry another man, it was impossible to hope to find a husband in this conservative environment. After befriending Lia, Claudia had hoped that Brian would be kind to Cloud and give him some sort of role model to look up to as the boy grew into a man. But he was not as kind as his pretty wife had been, and Cloud's unlucky nature delt him another blow.

Anxiety had plagued her heart ever since Cloud had started talking about joining ShinRA. Since she had arrived in Nibelheim, she had wished that the boy would grow up and leave this place to escape his stigma and finding a better life somewhere where people wouldn't judge him. But now that it was actually happening, she was frightened. Cloud was her reason to put a smile on her face, her reason to rise up every morning and face the struggles of being a single mother, her reason to keep living. It was selfish and terrible, but Claudia wanted him to always stay by her side. She couldn't face the loneliness of a life without meaning.

"Hello?" a gentle voice called out, accompanied by a knock on the front door. "Ms. Strife, are you there?"

Claudia rose, opening the door to see Tifa smiling shyly, grasping the loose knot of a large cloth bag. A thick strap held a bulging leather pack against the girl's hip.

"Tifa! So nice to see you, today," the knot in her chest loosening at the sight of Cloud's little playmate, who wasn't so little anymore. "Won't you come in?"

Her young neighbor thanked her and quickly stepped into the house. Claudia looked her over, her seamstress's eye automatically noticing the ill fit of Tifa's frock and the way the frayed hem climbed towards her knees. The blonde offered Tifa a seat at the kitchen table and put the tea kettle on the stove to boil.

"What a pleasant surprise! What brings you here today, little lady?" Sitting herself in a chair opposite her guest, she leaned her cheek on her hand and smiled.

"Well, I was wondering if you could help me with something." Tifa's eyes didn't rise to meet hers as she traced the grooves in the table with her finger. "I need some new clothes, but I don't think my father is going to be able to have any made for me. Please, Ms. Strife…could I watch you work? Maybe I could learn how to make things for myself."

Claudia was quiet for a moment, considering the girl's words. What kind of man didn't find a way to dress his daughter properly? Lia would be rolling in her grave to know that pretty little Tifa looked like a pauper in her shabby clothes. It was no secret amongst the village that all was not well in the Lockhart house, but Brian should have some sense of decency for the basic needs of his only child. If she could provide for Cloud on her meager earnings, surely the local carpenter made enough gil to supply adequate clothing. Claudia realized that Tifa must've taken her silence for reluctance when the girl spoke again, lifting her leather pack to the table.

"I-I don't have any gil, but I brought you these as a form of payment," Tifa said, producing a variety of home grown vegetables from the bag. "I'll give you whatever I can—or I can help you with some chores to earn my keep. I just—I would really appreciate your help, if you're willing." Strands of her raven hair pooled on the table as she bent her head forward submissively.

"Oh, Tifa…" Claudia began, reaching across the table to place her hand on Tifa's fingers. "Those are from your garden, aren't they?" Tifa nodded. Claudia rose from her seat and began stuffing the produce back into the bag. "Keep these and make your Papa a nice dinner. Your presence here is enough payment for me."

The girl's head snapped up at Claudia's words, and the woman shot her a toothy grin. Bowing her head back down, Tifa thanked the seamstress profusely. Claudia smiled and nudged the cloth sack with her foot.

"What's in here?"

"I brought the fighting clothes you made me. The pants are getting a bit short and I was wondering if there was any way to make them longer," Tifa said, bending to remove said garments from the bag. "Also…I brought some of my mother's clothes. Please, don't tell my father! He doesn't know—I just thought it might be less money if maybe I can make myself clothes out of the fabric of her old ones. That way, he wouldn't recognize them and be upset."

Claudia let the girl's words sink in.

"Besides…if I could wear her clothes, I'd always have a little bit of her with me."

… … …

It made Claudia happy to see Tifa leave her home more cheerful than when she came in. They had settled on a simple agreement: Claudia would help Tifa obtain some well-fitting clothes if she came by a few times a week to learn to sew and keep her company. Starved for female companionship, both ladies seemed excited about the prospect of spending time with one another.

However, the visit had given Claudia a disturbing glimpse into the state of the Lockhart home. Something was very wrong. Tifa barely seemed like the vivacious little girl who boldly prompted her son into endless hours of play. Her shyness and quiet presence had surprised the woman, and it made unease settle into her stomach. She had quickly calculated what she could afford to give the girl—settling on some socks and undergarments. She'd already decided to make the girl a bra of some sort to hold her tiny breasts in place and reduce the ache as they grew. Everything else would have to be made from the material of Lia's clothing. As much as she'd love to supply the girl with everything she needed, Claudia couldn't afford to waste a scrap of fabric.

When her son came home from school and went straight to his packet of ShinRA pamphlets, that familiar lump formed in her throat once again. Maybe Cloud would think about it and determine that the army just wasn't a good fit form him. Although he had grown out of most of his childhood frailty, he was still small for his age and lacked the muscle and endurance required of a member of the military. Maybe he'd decide to marry Tifa and stay in the mountains. Claudia glanced at the boy, seated on the floor nearby. She shook her selfish thoughts away as she continued stitching.

"Tell me what you've read about the SOLDIER program, Cloud."

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter! I think I'm the only one who catches a nasty cold when the weather gets warmer. Maybe it's allergies? I'm feeling better now, but whatever it was really stole my limited time for writing away from me last week! It always feels strange to me when Cloud isn't involved in a chapter; he'll be back next time!