"Tifa!" Marlene shrieks as she hurls herself out of Barret's truck. Tifa catches her with open arms and spins her around, feeling a foreign sensation of lightness that has been absent for longer than she cares to ponder. The numbness of passing time and consistent monotony has taken the edge off of missing people, but seeing Marlene brings that ache flaring back to life and simultaneously soothes it.
"Oh, I missed you!" Tifa sighs as she sets her down. Her heart feels heavy as she takes in how much Marlene has grown in the past two years. She isn't the tiny slip of a child that Tifa remembers, coloring in the corner booth of Seventh Heaven. Now, she stands a few inches taller and her dark hair is longer and her chocolate eyes sparkle with the first whispers of budding maturity.
As his daughter proceeds to chatter rapidly about their trip and Denzel, Barret hops down from the cab of the truck with two bags slung over his shoulder. His prosthetic hand grips the straps while his real one beckons for Denzel to slide out of the middle seat.
Tifa watches intently, observing the boy as she absently hums and nods while Marlene's voice fades into background noise. He is thin and pale, with chestnut hair and a guarded gaze. His quiet, careful demeanor reminds her so strongly of a young Cloud that her breath stutters in her lungs. Thoughts of Cloud always snowball into pain, so she does her best to keep from pondering the similarities too much.
Barret's heavy hand falls onto Denzel's shoulder and steers him away from the truck.
"Tifa, this is Denzel. Denzel, Tifa."
Tifa swallows and forces her lips to curve into what she hopes is a warm smile. "Hi, Denzel. It's very nice to meet you."
"Thank you for letting us stay with you," he answers in a soft, polite tone.
He looks all at once nervous, unsure, and hopeful, underneath the thick overcoat of shyness. Tifa melts, her eyes softening.
"C'mon," she says as Marlene grips her hand. "I'll show you guys your room and you can get settled while Barret and I talk."
Once the kids are set to the task of unpacking in Tifa's bedroom—she'll be sleeping on the couch during their stay, much to the dismay of her shoulders and back—she and Barret step back outside into the early afternoon sun. Barret dons his sunglasses as he sends a scrutinizing glance around the residential area, one of only a few in urban Gongaga, as most of the townsfolk prefer to live away from the bustle of the city's heart.
"Nicer than the slums," he comments. "But there's something about this place that feels…"
"Similar?" Tifa finishes.
"Mm."
Tifa is silent for a moment as she wraps her arms around herself. She has to convince herself to ask, "Tell me more about Denzel. You were a bit vague over the phone."
Barret lets out a rough sigh and scratches the back of his head. "Honestly, Teef, I told you pretty much all I know. Cloud found him in Midgar and took him in. Then he dropped him off without a word." Barret shrugs his massive shoulders. "Kid just said that Cloud has something to take care of."
Tifa is both dismayed and grateful that Barret doesn't have any more information about Cloud. Part of her yearns to know how he has been doing, but she understands that any concrete news would likely be corrosive to her sanity.
"And…Denzel has Geostigma?" she prompts.
"Yeah, on his forehead. It doesn't seem that bad—he still has the energy to play with Marlene, most of the time."
Tifa nods. She can sense the tense aura radiating off of Barret as he withholds what is surely a barrage of questions, so she decides to meet him halfway.
"They can stay as long as you need," she begins. "I have a lot of money saved up so I can easily take some time off from work. And if I need to cover someone's shift or run an errand, I have really nice neighbors who can watch the kids."
"So, you're doing okay, then?" Barret asks, pouncing on the small glimpse into her life that she has provided. "Do you like it here? Where are you working?"
"Gongaga is…good," Tifa says simply. "It's quiet. I work at a bar a few blocks down."
Luckily, this seems like enough to pacify Barret's concern and curiosity. He nods, his shoulders relaxing a bit.
"Good," he rumbles. Tifa can tell that he wants to say more—almost does, in fact—but he stops himself and settles for a sad smile. "I wish I could stay, but I've got a long drive to the site. But maybe when can catch up sometime soon?"
Tifa merely purses her lips. "Better say bye to Marlene, first." She can't bring herself to address his tentative request, and the way his face falls slightly sends a bolt of guilt through her heart.
But Barret bounces back quickly, likely because he wasn't expecting much to begin with; his rough hand curls gently around her bicep and squeezes fondly. "Thanks, Teef. It's…really good to see you."
She allows her hand to rise and drape over his as her eyes grow misty. "You too, Barret."
.O.O.O.O.O.
Cloud slams the door shut behind himself and storms down the steps of Rufus Shinra's place in Healen. Quiet anger tumbles within him like the bubbling cap of a volcano, tinged with fiery astonishment. How is it that even after all Shinra has already done to the world, they're still finding new ways to fuck it up?
He wants no part in it. Whatever hornets' nest Rufus and the Turks have stirred, Cloud is beyond tired of getting stung.
However, despite his vehement denial of interest in these foreboding affairs, the involvement of Jenova bothers him. Rufus was conspicuously careful not to mention Jenova during his mention of the "investigation" in the Northern Crater, but Cloud figures there is little of interest there besides whatever is left of the alien's body. Additionally, the talk about "Mother" is rhetoric that Cloud has heard before, like the distant growling of thunder before a maelstrom. It sets his very blood on edge.
His arm twinges as he starts up Fenrir. Starbursts of mako green flash across his vision, though they are pierced with a sickly blue that feels intrusive, like a contaminant. Cloud recalls the mental interruptions he used to experience before his memories were corrected—he figures that these new, similar episodes are brought on by the Geostigma eating through his bicep, as if his psyche is fragmenting once more under the strain of the illness. After all, they were absent when his health was intact, and had been ever since he emerged from the Lifestream with Tifa—
Cloud derails that train of thought and instead focuses on the route back to Edge before his abysmal mood can darken any further. Rufus Shinra has already decimated the placid apathy in which Cloud dwells these days, and recalling the events of the final battle will only further remove him from the blankness he prefers.
He'll head back to the church and go through the newest delivery requests. The menial work will allow him to recalibrate.
In the meantime, he wonders how Denzel is doing—it's been a few weeks since Cloud dropped him off in Corel. He misses the kid, but he knows that Barret will take care of him now that Cloud can't. His illness has been getting worse and he isn't sure how much time he has. If there truly is no cure for Geostigma, Denzel deserves to live out the little rest of his days without being completely surrounded by the sickness. Now that Cloud is also deteriorating, he is content to do so without dragging anyone else down with him.
Shiva, he hates it, though. The solitude.
With that thought, he pulls over and flips open his PHS. His friends used to call frequently, leaving messages that fluctuated from imploring to worried to anger to faux casual, but his voicemail is mostly full of delivery requests, these days. He still receives a rare text from someone of the old guard, but only on outlying occasions such as birthdays that Cloud never remembers. However, he noticed a voicemail from Barret earlier and decided to save it for after his audience with Rufus, so now is as good a time as any to hear it.
"Hey, Spike. Sorry I didn't call sooner but things have been crazy with work—not that you deserve the courtesy in the first place. Still, I guess you oughta know—Denzel and Marlene have been staying with Tifa for the past couple of weeks. You dropped him off just before I was supposed to leave for a project, which you would have known if you had taken a damn minute to check in—anyways, the excavation's been extended so it'll be another few weeks before I can pick up the kids. Just figured I'd let you know. Don't even ask where she lives, 'cause I ain't telling you."
Silence.
Cloud slowly lowers the phone, staring blankly at the screen until it times out and flickers to blackness. Then, he replaces it in his pocket.
He finds himself irritated, but not with Barret. Cloud has to admit that he didn't really leave Barret many options. But he doesn't want Denzel around Tifa, or Tifa around Denzel. That is a picture of the past and present—for he seems to keep a foot in both worlds, these days—mingling in an unsavory way. It's a conflict of interest, a complication. He had been hoping to handle Tifa simply, cathartically, in whatever means necessary to relieve the perpetual pressure on his chest. He still doesn't know what such resolution would look like, but he knows that having Denzel in the picture won't be any help.
Maybe it won't matter. Maybe he'll die before he finds her. Maybe that'd be best.
Cloud kicks away from the dirt and sends it flying up into a billowing fog in his wake.
.O.O.O.O.O.
Tifa gasps as she comes up for air, having just finished the remainder of her whiskey tumbler. Her hand reaches out in a practiced motion, gracefully snatching up the open bottle on the table sat before the sofa and tipping more of the soothing alcohol into the glass. This will be her third round; the first sent warmth into her muscles, loosening them into relaxation, the second made her tired, and this one will finally take the sting out of her abysmal thoughts. Then, the next will dull her wits enough that she can lose herself in an arbitrary TV show and eventually slump over into a sorry excuse for sleep.
Aerith knows all of this because she's seen the cycle repeat plenty of times.
"I wish we could have gotten drunk together," Tifa says quietly to the room that she thinks is empty—the kids are asleep in her bedroom, after all. "I bet it would have been fun. I was never really a drinker, but, well…"
She waves her glass, eyes growing hazy.
Aerith can't help but crack a sad smile at the idea. "Yeah, you're probably right. The two of us, drunk? Would have been a blast, huh?"
"What would you say if you could see me now, I wonder," Tifa murmurs. "I'm not a whole lot of fun right now."
"I'd say, 'I love you and I'm sorry you're hurting—now give me that bottle so I can catch up.'"
"Guess it doesn't matter. I wouldn't be like this if you were here."
"I am here. Just not in the way you need. I wish I could be here for you."
"I really should stop," Tifa says before taking a sip. "For the kids. I should be better than this—for them."
Aerith shakes her head and folds her arms with a scolding pout. "You should stop for yourself. You're always pouring yourself out for others, with no regard for your own wellbeing. And then you have to do things like this to keep yourself sane. Honestly, how have you made it this far? I would have exploded by now."
Tifa merely chuckles. "I'm kind of surprised, honestly. I mean, Marlene has always felt like my own, but I'm really shocked at how quickly Denzel has come to feel the same."
"You're a natural mother. I've always known that about you."
"Maybe it's because I see so much of Cloud in Denzel."
Aerith hums in agreement. She has lingered around Denzel enough—whether he be in Cloud's care or Tifa's—to cultivate an idea of what the boy is like. He is quiet, and kind, and endearing, just like Cloud. At least, Aerith thinks, like Cloud used to be.
"I love those kids," Tifa whispers, staring at her glass in melancholy contemplation. "I…don't know what I'm going to do when they leave."
Aerith's hand twitches, wishing to land itself on Tifa's as a comforting shield. "They may leave your house, but they don't have to leave your life."
Tifa's glass is half drained. Aerith watches her stare at it for a few moments, her merlot eyes decidedly soft. Then, she rises and moves into the kitchen. Her steps waver only slightly in inebriation, and they take her to the sink where she slowly pours the rest of the whiskey down the drain and sets the glass aside. Her hands brace themselves on the edge of the counter and she leans so that her hair falls around her face. Aerith misses its former length, how it seemed to reach for the earth with eager fingers. She used to braid it for Tifa on days of particularly laborious travel, when the temperatures were sweltering and the monsters were plenty, and the activity gave them a chance to bond over mindless chatter. It was during those times that Aerith would allow herself to simply bask in the happiness of having a best friend. Having grown up through such a lonely childhood, she treasures those moments to this day.
"I miss you," Tifa whispers into the silence that she hears.
"I miss you, too," Aerith replies.
A/N: Huge shoutout to verdance. Your reviews make my day!