CHAPTER 51: LIONHEART
Tick, tock, tick, tock…
The broad hands on the wooden clock turned slowly. Perched on a bar stool, Tifa waited. She had closed the bar at two in the morning but didn't feel tired at all. AVALANCHE left for a mission at half past nine with promises to be back before closing time. Now that she'd adjusted to running the bar on her own, Tifa felt confident enough to handle everything without Barret and the others while Marlene slept soundly upstairs. The crew hadn't been able to progress with their anti-ShinRA plans in recent months, with the distraction of the bar's renovations and the influx of work in their own day jobs. For now, their efforts were mostly surveying and espionage: gathering information on reactors, guard patrol routes and using Jessie's skills to hack into computers to reformat key cards and collect passcodes.
She looked at the clock: two forty-five. They should've been back an hour ago, at least. Fear gnawed at her insides and her eyes burned with unshed tears as she watched the ice melt in her glass. It bubbled up from her core, tightening her chest and throat, and her breaths became unsteady as she succumbed to mild panic. If they got caught, ShinRA may come for her, too. If she was arrested for assisting AVALANCHE, what would happen to Marlene? What if she never saw their faces again? What if today had been the last time she would hear their voices? How could she survive without Biggs's goofy laugh, Wedge's soft voice or Jessie's quirkiness? How could she ever find the will to move forward without Barret's comforting presence and unbending companionship?
She shifted atop her stool, praying and worrying as she sipped at whiskey in an attempt to calm herself. What would she do if something happened to them? How could she get by? Raising Marlene alone would be so difficult- looking after her while making a living without help, not having enough money to send her to a good school, explaining to her how her father died...
It would've been the same with Aria, wouldn't it?
She was afraid of the stillness around her. That awful, suffocating quiet that made it so hard to keep the shards of the past from rising like nausea in her throat. The incessant electric hum of the refrigerator and the slow whirr of the ceiling fans wasn't enough and Tifa felt herself start to shiver as a cold sweat dotted her forehead.
People in her life had a habit of disappearing, and the thought of losing the people she cared about again made the alcohol churn in her stomach. Tifa bit her lip to keep it from trembling as she watched the ice melt in her glass. All it took was one little accident to get them caught by Shinra, one tiny misstep to remove them permanently from her life. How could she ever bear starting over again? The thought of coping with more loss was overwhelming. She was a skilled martial artist—surely there was more she could do than sit here and wait. What if they needed her help? What if they were in trouble, hoping that she'd come and help? Even if they were, she couldn't leave Marlene alone. Tifa felt so vulnerable there, swaying on a bar stool, bent over hard liquor and taking gasping breathes to try coping with her anxiety.
Instead of dissolving her fear, the alcohol seemed to be making it worse, and she didn't know what to do. Tifa wished she could just fall asleep and wake up feeling safe and secure. In Cloud's arms…
Her body shook with the force of a hiccough and her hands trembled as they clutched the sides of the stool. Tifa's thoughts whirled and whirled, like water swirling down a drain, and she threaded her fingers around the hair at her scalp and pulled. When her eyes were open, she saw the emptiness of the bar and struggled to breathe under the crushing weight of her desperation and loneliness. When her eyes were closed, she was haunted by golden hair and brilliant blue eyes. But she couldn't let herself remember. She had to run away. Her life was different now; she had left her past behind, hadn't she? Tifa had let go, but everything she wanted to leave behind relentlessly chased her. It was too much!
"Daddy?" A small voice whispered before calling out into the dimly lit corridor. "T-Tifa?"
Tifa pressed her lips together to still them from trembling. She slid from her seat, careful to keep her balance as the world wavered at the corners of her vision. "I'm here, Marlene. What's wrong?"
"Where's Daddy?"
The wood of the banister felt cool under her fingertips as she ascended the stairs. Little Marlene stood at the top in her little yellow night dress, face calm though her brown eyes were wide with fright. She reached out to take Tifa's offered hand, and the pair slowly made their way back to their room.
"He'll be home soon, sweetheart. He's just running a little late."
Marlene rubbed her eyes when Tifa lay down beside her in their bed. She stared into her guardian's tired face and seemed bothered by the unhappiness she found there. It was so difficult to hide anything from such a perceptive child; a fact that unnerved the older girl. Tifa kissed the top of Marlene's head before tucking it under her chin. Wrapping her arms around the little one, she began to hum and stroke one chubby cheek with her thumb. Tifa wasn't sure if Marlene would ever know that in times like this, it was the little girl who was doing most of the comforting. The toddler's even breaths drew Tifa into her own uneasy sleep soon enough.
... ... ...
Water. Water was all around. The endless blue enveloped her in peace and tranquility. She was suspended, floating, her long black hair fanning out around her. The silence made her feel at ease for once and she is calm, closing her eyes against the comforting feeling of weightlessness. It is here that she can finally be at peace, resting her weary body and soul. Tifa is rocked by the water's current, letting herself sink into the depths. Though the waves of doubt and unease might riffle the surface of the water high above her, they would never reach down to the bottom where she lived. Perhaps she had sunken so deep that even her troubles couldn't reach her.
Suddenly, a sound of anguish rips her from her lofty passive state: the familiar voice cutting through the boundless quiet. Cloud is crying, screaming, and crimson eyes fly open to search the void. Deep blue morphs into an emerald green. Tifa swings her head wildly in every direction, swimming uselessly forward, pumping her arms against dense liquid. Once crystal clear, the liquid slowly became murky and thick, obscuring her vision. His whimpers and keening sobs became louder, clearer, and she thought she could see his dark silhouette through the turbidity. Tifa reached out to him, but her hand collided with a glass wall, as if a window separated her from Cloud.
She tried to call out to him, frantically clawing at the glass between them. Again and again she screamed his name, until the liquid filled her lungs like lead. Her body screamed for air. Tifa pawed towards the surface, hoping and praying that she'd get there before her lungs burst. Climbing, climbing, her chest tightening. Her body went numb as she broke through the surface.
... ... ...
Tifa gasped awake, sitting rigidly amongst tangled sheets. Her breath was ragged and uneven as she whimpered freely into the cold night. Beads of sweat dampened her forehead. Curling over herself, she let out a broken moan into the blanket that covered her knees. She'd had this dream a handful of times. It gripped her, her heart refusing to leave it behind. Time and time again, she pushed it away, but troubling visions of Cloud found their way back in her sleep. The loud pounding of her heart threatened to drown her thoughts away, but Tifa knew deep inside that she could never let it go. Hearing his voice never failed to stir up memories of her beloved. She sat alone for a while, thinking only of Cloud, numbering his qualities and imagining his virtues. It had felt like a lifetime since Tifa had been a cherished little wife to a gentle young man who valued her more than life itself.
But as years went by since their parting, she began to doubt her memories as the grey of the slums washed over her heart.
She sat up straight, hugging herself tightly, letting tears stream down her face. There was so much Tifa wanted to say to Cloud, if she could just see him one last time. She'd tell him to hold on to those times they spent together in the sheltered mountain groves. She'd tell him how much regret burned inside her: that she didn't stop him from working for ShinRA, that she didn't hold him in her arms longer and savor the last traces she'd ever feel of his warmth, that there were words she couldn't voice that day.
She felt so alone, so utterly alone, and she couldn't stand it.
Marlene stirred beside her, rolling over in her sleep. Delicately, Tifa picked her up and rose to her feet, cradling her little body to her chest. She felt weightless, like a white spectre, drifting out the door in the still blackness. Bare feet ghosted over the cold floor as her hair brushed over her shoulders and the goosebumps on her arms. Her body moved of its own accord down the short corridor and into Barret's bedroom. To Tifa's great relief, he was there: a dark mass within pale sheets. He was safe; he was home. She tried to stifle a whimper, managing to restrain it so that only a small squeak escaped her throat. Crawling into bed beside him, she set Marlene snugly in between the bodies of her guardians. It was an indescribable comfort to hear Barret's soft breathing and feel his warmth just inches from her. These things were tangible-real, evidence that his presence wasn't a vision or a dream.
She wanted to stay forever like this, bound to the only two people in this world that made her feel like she had purpose. Tifa wanted to pretend that nothing would tear them apart, though life had taught her that she had no control over such things. In the busyness of each day, it was easy for her fragile heart to rest. Chasing after a toddler, cooking, cleaning and running the bar exhausted her to the point that she'd normally drop off into a dreamless sleep seconds after her head hit the pillow. But it was nights like these that struck terror in her bones and drew out the unrelenting fear that festered under her skin. When sleep eluded her and refused to set her free of the welling panic, there wasn't much she could do to comfort herself. So far, the only solution Tifa had found was the reassurance of Barret's bicep resting against her shoulder and the warmth of Marlene nestled between them. It was only then that the visions of blue eyes ceased and she could let herself fade into the black.
… … …
She wasn't sure when it was that she began to submit to her bad moods. Was it because of her recurring dreams? Was it her fatigue? Was it the stress of running a blossoming business or the dissatisfaction of trying to search for meaning amongst the everyday mundanity? Tifa was normally masterful at hiding her feelings, but lately they'd been finding their way through, like water seeping through cracks in a dam. She usually wore a carefully constructed mask of tentative optimism and quiet patience around others, afraid to let them see everything that swirled like a hurricane inside her. Perhaps Biggs and Wedge and Jessie would think she was just a burden if she let it show how much she was hurting. If Barret knew her twisted past, would she cease to hold value in his heart?
Tifa finished putting the groceries away and closed the door to the pantry with a little more force than necessary.
Was it really these fears that held her back? Or was she afraid of talking about Cloud and Aria and Nibelheim because it meant that she'd finally have to face the reality of her current state? As much as Tifa liked to tell herself that she wouldn't look back and her deceased loved ones would never return to her, but still, she felt like she was always searching for them in the crowd or waiting for them to come home. If she talked about it—discussed it with someone—would that mean facing that fact that every last thing that had bound her to the girl she was had been swept away? Seventh Heaven's patrons were usually messy, pushy, and far from polite, but one thing Tifa loved about bartending was listening to their problems as they attempted to drown them in alcohol. Focusing on other's peoples' problems distracted her from dwelling upon her own.
"Tifa!" Marlene's voice called out from the bar space. "Tifa, look!"
With a weary sigh, she headed out of the kitchen. The toddler was crouched on the floor near the front door, head on her knees as she studied something on the floor. "What is it, Mar?"
"Bugs!"
She pointed a chubby finger at the crack under the door where a stream of ants was marching through. The two girls took a minute to stare, watching where the parade led to. "Why are they coming inside, Tifa?"
"Maybe because it's cold outside, or they know we have yummy food to eat." Tifa said, rising to her feet. "Where do you think they're going?"
"Dunno…"
The ants stretched along the wall, like a living black string, winding their way around toward the kitchen. After the handful of structural problems and the plethora of repairs the building required before they opened for business, an insect infestation was the last thing that they needed. They certainly couldn't spare the gil for an exterminator, but luckily, Tifa didn't think they would need one. Growing up in the country had taught her a trick or two.
"Well, we can't have them getting to the food and making the customers upset, can we?"
"No, no!" Marlene came to stand at her side, tiny arm wrapping around Tifa's bare leg. Her big brown eyes were filled with concern. "If bugs are here, they won't come!"
Tifa ruffled the little girl's dark hair. "Don't worry. I know how to get them away. My mother taught me that ants don't like cinnamon."
Scooping Marlene into her arms, she made her way to the spice rack in the kitchen. She let the toddler carry the little glass bottle of cinnamon back to the front door, where she crouched once again to observe the insects.
"Look! The bug is lost!"
Tifa followed Marlene's pointed finger where there was one ant out of line by a few feet. It weaved left and right, wiggling its little antennae as it frantically searched for the others who were marching steadily along with purpose. Together, the girls used their hands to corral the bug back toward its kin. They giggled as it ran this way and that before finally rejoining its colony, falling into step. Tifa thought that perhaps her life was something like that ant's. As a child she had been walking along, secure and safe, until one misfortune after another had spun her out into chaos and frantic, desperate loneliness. For so long she had suffered. But if a wayward ant could find its way back to security and safety, surely she could. Right? All she needed was a little guidance. But this sort of healing required her to allow others to help her, and Tifa wasn't sure she could do that. The thought of exposing the most vulnerable parts of her to anyone filled her with an icy terror. She took a deep breath and folded up her fears, hastily tucking them away behind a smile.
"Ready? I'll show you how to sprinkle it."
Marlene watched as Tifa laid a neat line of cinnamon along the length of the ants' path. She was amazed as the ants began to fall out of line with one another, tumbling into a small disorder, but refusing to cross over the line of cinnamon. They seemed confused and began a hasty retreat. The toddler laughed, clapping her hands and wiggling with excitement. She ran along the wall to the front door.
"It's working! It's working!" she cried, hopping from one foot to other. "Bye bye, ants! Bye bye!"
Heavy boot falls sounded on the wooden porch right outside the entranceway. Marlene fell quiet, looking up and waiting to watch the door knob turn. Though she was certain of who it was, Tifa went to stand by the little girl, just in case. With a jingle of keys and the sliding of the lock, the door opened to reveal Barret's large frame. Biggs and Wedge followed directly behind. Marlene squealed with delight, throwing her little arms up toward him as he scooped her up and led the others inside. Tifa gasped in surprise as Barret laughed, pulling her in for a squeezing hug with his free arm.
"Ain't nothin' like comin' home to my two best girls!"
Marlene giggled and rubbed her hands over his scruffy jawline. "Missed you, Papa!"
"I missed you, too, little lady!" Releasing Tifa, he crouched on the floor and set Marlene on her feet. "Look here; I got somethin' for your treasure box."
Big brown eyes gleamed as the girl grinned. Barret shifted to pull something out of his pocket and she peered curiously at his closed fist. Slowly, he opened it to reveal a little sea shell. Marlene let out a small, joyful noise as she reached out to take it. Tifa's heart dropped out of her stomach as she stared at the alabaster piece against the dark skin of his palm. She swallowed compulsively, watching the little girl turn it over and run her little fingers over the ridges and grooves. It seemed stupid, really, that such a small thing could cause her to lose her cool. But it wasn't just a little shell, was it? It was the memory of frolicking in the waves with the love of her life and a dream of a house near the roar of the surf. That insignificant trinket represented the hope for the future she and Cloud had once had: the hope that had evaporated so quickly before her eyes as she watched, helpless.
"Welcome home, Barret, Biggs, Wedge…" Tifa clenched her fists and breathed deeply in an attempt to still the pounding of her heart. "There's dinner on the stove. Please help yourselves."
She didn't let them see the tears that burned at the corners of her eyes as she disappeared into the basement.
Hastily, Tifa ripped off her cardigan and tossed it over the chair in front of Jessie's computer. She marched over to the punching bag in the corner and reached for her leather gloves, equipping them swiftly. One punch was quickly followed by endless others. Sometimes, when she was overwhelmed, it helped to vent her frustrations in this manner. Tifa enjoyed the feeling of adrenaline through her veins. When she focused on just the motion of her body, the precision of each impact, she could forget about everything for just a little while. In this way, she could achieve a small bit of normalcy in her strange life. But after only a few minutes, Tifa knew that this session would be different than the others. Her mind refused to yield to blank serenity and instead ran forward with as much fury as her flying fists. One fear exploded forth into the next, like fireworks in a night sky, and she exerted herself even harder to try and outpace them.
Barret was here, tackling each day alongside her, when everyone else she needed had left her. What if he died, too? Barret had seen her at her worst and welcomed her into his life at the lowest point in hers. He was truly heaven-sent, taking pity on someone as broken as herself. Tifa hoped that she had paid back even a small amount of his kindness by obtaining and maintaining the bar. But it wasn't enough; nothing was enough, because she wasn't enough. She was nothing but a source of misfortune and disaster. Everyone who had come to value her in this life had experienced significant misfortune; what made Barret and Marlene safe to be around her? Was she putting AVALANCHE in danger by simply being a part of their lives?
Her breath hitched as she sniffled, trying to bite back a strangled, miserable whimper. Long, black hair whirled behind her as she swung, landing a kick with her heel.
Every time things seemed to be going well for her, something would come and destroy that security. Happiness and hope would shine through only to tumble into despair shortly after. Tifa was sure that as long as she was alive, there'd always be something to drag her down. Comfort would come only to be followed by ever mounting ordeals and it hurt to think like that, realizing that it would always be this way. This constant fear was like a disease that had wasted her inner strength, refusing to be healed by all of life's little joys.
That damn little seashell.
She wanted to crush it into a fine powder under her heel, scattering pieces as her hopes had been dispersed upon the wind.
It was hard to face the fact that as hard as she tried, nothing would erase memories of all that came before. Tifa wanted to believe that Cloud was just a mark on the complicated map of her life; a ghost that could be buried in the rotting splinters of her memory, forgotten and blurred as time stretched forward. He didn't deserve to be forgotten, but if she dwelled, she'd drown. Just like Papa. With Cloud, Tifa buried her youth, her strength, and her better self. Zangan had once told her that when faced with hardship and disappointment, one could choose to be bitter or to be better. Tifa wanted to believe that she could rise above it all, that she could defeat the sadness and rage that threatened to consume her. But when she took a step back and analyzed herself, all she saw was resentment and the desire to for retribution. She knew it was wrong, but fighting against these feelings was like trying to swim against a raging current. It was alright to be sad. It was alright to lament. It was all right to feel anger. But it was not all right to lash out like she wanted to, and she felt like a stranger in her own skin as she yearned for retaliation. Zangan would surely have been ashamed of who she'd become.
Papa would've shaken his head, muttering: I told you so.
If only she had stayed. If she had convinced Cloud to quit and the two of them could've stayed in Nibelheim to vanish like the rest of them. That way, she wouldn't be stuck, lingering here and wondering why she was alive after all that had happened. That way, she wouldn't have given birth alone in foreign place. That way, she wouldn't have had to suffer the crushing loss of her husband and infant daughter only to live on, stumbling forward like an empty vessel.
The chain of the punching bag rattled with the force of her heel.
But it there was something else that ate at her heart all this time, though she couldn't put her finger on it. It wasn't until that moment that she realized what was bothering her. Tifa paused and caught her reflection in the large television screen on the opposite wall. She panted, studying her silhouette, and she felt her throat get tight. It was as if the joyful little girl, running barefoot from their secret spot by the stream to her red roofed house in Nibelheim, no longer existed. She felt that this new girl, with her sad eyes and bleeding knuckles, had destroyed her. The child with a cherry red bow in her hair had been replaced by a brawler in a short skirt and a crop top. What a contrast she was to Mama's beautiful, flowing robes. Tifa remembered being embarrassed by the scantily clad women in Midgar, but now it seemed she was one of them. She was running so far from her past that the very thought of wearing a bloomers and a frock made her sick to her stomach.
Was she ever the prized child of a small mountain village? Did she ever spend hours with her head out of her bedroom window, giggling with Cloud over childish nonsense? Or maybe that, too, was only a dream. Maybe she would never be like that again.
With a sharp exhale, Tifa turned back to her punching bag, smashing clenched fists against the worn leather once more. She had lost everything that had made her who she was, and she felt so desperately lost. Why couldn't she shake this despair after so long? Would she be like this for the rest of her life, succoming to agonizing dreams and boundless fear and anxiety in her waking hours? If you lose yourself, what is there to do? Every time she blinked, she saw their faces, and it drove her mad. Tifa had lost all control to her fears. What was she fighting for? Was it just a distraction as she waited for her own eternal sleep? Holding on to a dream of home had surely only hindered her, but she needed help letting go. This was her home now. Nothing remained in Nibelheim that made it home anymore.
She beat the punching bag with all her strength, trading the discipline of precision for anger. Fists drove into the bag again and again, faster and faster, as Tifa blinked against the sting of sweat and tears in her eyes. For so many years, her cries for help were met with silence, and it was just as well. She didn't deserve a helping hand. Mama would've cried to see her in such a state. Papa would've been angry in his shame of what she had become. Cloud would hang his head, for surely he had thought she was stronger than this. Aria, if she could have known any better, would have been grateful that she didn't have to suffer with such a mess of a mother.
Grief rose out of her throat, manifesting in a cry of rage as she landed a final blow, hitting the punching bag so hard that it lurched, the chain snapping as it hit the wall and landed on the floor. Tifa sunk to her hands and knees, drawing in ragged breaths before crumpling into a ball on the floor. Her hair fanned out around her and stuck to the tear tracks on her cheeks, bangs matted to her forehead with perspiration. Shaking with sobs, Tifa succumbed to her burning anguish. She didn't move from her place on the floor when she heard the hydraulic whir of the pinball machine lift as someone came down into the basement. Barret rushed over to her, afraid she had hurt herself during her exercise.
"Tifa! Tifa, are you aw'right?" he sputtered, looking over her for an injury. It quickly became clear to him that it wasn't a physical wound they were dealing with. "What is it? What's got you like this?"
Barret had rarely seen Tifa cry. From the handful of years they had spent living with one another, she had two moods: cautiously ambitious and passively content. She was always quiet, always grateful, treating him and Marlene like precious gifts. Melancholy was always laced in her countenance, her movements, intertwined in everything that she did. He knew she had been through a great deal, thought he knew very few details of her past. Something inside him broke seeing her like this, and Barret gently tried to coax her up and into his arms.
He stroked her head and spoke to her patiently, as one talks to a child. "C'mon, now. You're aw'right. Tell me what happened."
"I-I can't f-forget them!" she sputtered. "I w-want to forget!"
Tifa continued to try to speak, but her erratic breathing and uncontrollable hiccoughs prevented her from communicating clearly. She dissolved into further sobs, and Barret had no choice but to let her cry until her tears ran dry. For a long while, they sat there: Tifa curled into him, clutching at his shirt as he kept an arm around her, attempting to soothe her with encouraging words. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when her breathing became slow and even. Then, softly, she spoke.
Tifa told him everything; it was the most he'd ever heard her speak since he'd met her. She spoke of her mother's death, her father's downward spiral, her marriage and the shock of moving to Midgar. Barret learned of her loving husband and the bond that they shared, his mysterious death and how she struggled to get by and ended up at Bailey's Pub. With a trembling voice, she told him of her beautiful baby girl who had never had the chance to open her eyes to this world. He held her the whole time, encouraging her and rubbing her back like an anxious parent. Barret had no idea how much Tifa had held within. So much had been compressed under her timid exterior that it had become too much for her to bear and he couldn't understand it. He'd always worn his emotions on his sleeve. He boiled over like a like a frothing pot but always felt better afterward. Maybe this explosion and someone to listen were what she needed. His heart broke for her. How much she had endured for someone so young.
When she was finished, he tilted her chin up to look at him. "Listen to me, Tifa. You're an awful sweet thing—an' strong as hell, too. You've been walkin' around all this time with this burden on yo' back. You wanna forget them, but they've all given you somethin' that's made you into the amazin' girl you are. S'up to you to use what you got. Your life is important, Teef. They knew it, I know it. They've given you what you need to keep goin' in this world. Your life is important. Don't you ever forget that, and don't you ever forget them. "
His own words surprised him. Barret was not one for encouraging speeches, especially when the girl's insecurities reflected many of his own. But like Tifa, he had kept his past to himself. Maybe it was time to share it with her, like she had shown her bleeding heart to him.
"How do you do that, Barret?" she asked, lowering her eyes and pulling away from his chest to sit neatly in front of him. "How do you deal with remembering what you've lost and still move forward? My family is dead…everyone I loved in Nibelheim is gone."
"Nibelheim? The little place out west that burned to the ground a few years back?"
Tifa's head snapped up. "It burned? A fire?"
"That's what the rumor was in Corel, anyway. Said the whole place went up in smoke, but ShinRA rebuilt it like new."
She slouched under the weight of the truth about her home, and Barret watched as a number of expressions fought for dominance on her face: shock, sadness, despair, grief and finally anger. Her fists clenched, tugging at the hem of her skirt. She spoke through grit teeth. "They did this. They destroyed Nibelheim! Didn't they? They covered it up. Why would they do that?"
He snorted. "Dunno. Maybe th'same reason they set my hometown ablaze."
"What?"
"Yep, killed just about all of us. Some members of AVALANCHE attacked the mako reactor they built there, causing a big explosion. To punish them, ShinRA made an example out of Corel, blaming us and burning the town to the ground." Barret grazed his fingers over his gun attachment as he continued. "My best buddy Dyne and I were a few miles outside of town when it happened. ShinRA attacked us, too, before we could get back to the burning village. He died, I got my hand blown off. When I managed to get back to town, my wife was dead. The only survivor I found in the flames was Dyne's little girl, Marlene."
"Oh, Barret. That's terrible." She hung her head once more. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know…"
He let out a humorless laugh. "Looks like we got more in common than hatin' ShinRA and lovin' Marlene."
Tifa pulled her hair over her shoulder in a nervous gesture, running her hands over smooth ebony locks. She dragged her knees up to her chest. "They all suffered so much and it's my fault. Cloud, my baby, my parents…"
"Ain't nobody's fault. Nobody's but the ShinRA," Barret said, placing his hand on her bare knee. "S'not fair, but life's that way. Not all of us can be together in the end."
"I miss them so much."
"You'll always miss 'em. But they're always part of you if you hang on tight to what they gave you, what they taught you." He tilted her chin up so that her eyes met his. "You've been so busy lookin' at what you've lost that you haven't let yourself be happy with what you have left. Don't worry about them—you'll never be apart if you keep 'em close to you. You're feelin' too much and thinkin' too little."
Tifa bowed her head, leaning forward to press her face against his broad chest as she circled her arms around him. She knew he was right, and it felt so liberating to finally understand that she didn't need to block out their memory completely to function normally. Drawing from the strength she had gained through her hardships was the key to possessing the ability to look her fear and sadness in the face. She had lived through countless horrors; certainly she could stand like a stone against the next hardship that came along. Tifa could push forward with the knowledge that she and her loved ones would never truly be apart, because as long as she welcomed the memory of them, they'd always be part of each other. Her family may be dead, but they'd live on inside her if she let them. Tifa cherished the thought of never truly being alone, knowing that it would give her the courage to continue doing things that she never thought she could.
The passing of her loved ones had closed the door on her dreams of a normal life with a normal family. But Tifa had been staring for so long at the door that had shut that she didn't clearly see the others that had opened. Life wasn't just about her or Cloud or Aria. She could choose to waste away her life, like Papa had. But her eyes had finally been opened to the tools of healing in front of her, and Tifa would definitely choose to use them. Until now, Tifa had been blind to the fact that hope for her future lay in people just as ravaged and heartbroken as herself.
Wine colored eyes closed as her friend rubbed soothing circles on her back.
If Corel hadn't burned, she would've never met Barret. If Dyne and his wife didn't die, Tifa couldn't be healed by Marlene. If Cloud was alive, she wouldn't have snuck goat's milk and Marlene would be without a mother figure. If her parents didn't leave this life, Tifa wouldn't understand what it was like to be an orphan and coach Marlene in her eventual struggles. Life wasn't a straight line; It was many tangled lines all woven together. So many lives were intertwined, depending upon one another to meet their individual fates. One small thing affects everyone else. If she could help AVALANCHE take down ShinRA for the good of the planet, maybe she'd help endless lives in their quest for happiness and peace. And at the same time, for her, bringing ShinRA to its knees would help her feel better by taking vengeance for her loved ones.
"Barret…" she blinked, eyelashes still heavy with moisture. "I want to be a member of AVALANCHE. I want to avenge my family. I want to save the planet."
He stiffened, then sighed, reluctant to revisit this frequent argument. How could he guarantee her safety if she wanted nothing more than to put herself at risk? The last thing Barret wanted was for Tifa to get involved and end up injured, arrested, or dead. But at eighteen, she was considered an adult, able to make life decisions on her own. He knew he'd be furious if anyone stood in his way of the desire that burned in his heart.
"You've got guts and muscle and fists," he said. She lifted her head, face full of hope. "But you know I need help with Marlene."
Tifa knew she should've been content with that task; grateful to be protected by Barret and given the chance to live, but her heart burned with fury and the thirst for vengeance. She wiped her eyes with the back of her arm, her voice unwavering. "I know. She'll be my first priority. I just…I need to feel like I'm using what everyone has taught me to knock ShinRA's feet out from under it. They're evil, Barret. They've got to be stopped and I can't stand not doing anything about it."
His smirk drew a tentative smile upon her lips. "You'll never give up, will you?"
"Never."
"We'll start you out slow. Don't get into any trouble, y'hear?"
Tifa let out a small, incredulous laugh. "Oh, Barret! Thank you!"
She almost knocked him backward with the force of her embrace, and he let out a hearty guffaw. "That's my brave girl!"
In befriending this man, she had changed from a girl facing a lifetime of despair and emptiness to someone who had purpose and direction. He had found her, trapped in her cage of fear and hopelessness. Back then, she hadn't had the strength to even rattle the bars, let alone break them. But now, she was free. Spreading her wings and flying toward a fate decided by her own hands, no matter how questionable her ambitions might be.
Courage welled up inside her, like the rush of high tide, and she welcomed it as it washed over her.
...
A/N: I've received some questions regarding the possibility of a sequel to this story, but I'd like to ask my readers if they would be interested in reading one. We only have a few chapters left of What It Means To Be Living. Now that we're close to the end, please let me know if you would like to read a continuation of this that runs through the events of the original game (FF7), even if you don't normally review. My life is about to get really crazy, with hunting for a house and a baby on the way, but if enough of you would appreciate more of this story I'll do my best to continue writing as much as I can!