Tifa is back in the darkness. It's as cold as she remembers. Empty. Devoid of anything or anyone else besides her.
Just as the last time she was here, after the Lifestream swallowed her and a catatonic Cloud into its churning viridian current, her voice wobbles weakly into the nothingness.
"What's happening?"
She doesn't know why she is here. She doesn't know how she got here.
"Cloud, where are you?"
She can't see or hear anything, but somehow, the impression of what she's done falls suddenly and heavily upon her.
"No! It's not me! I'd never do anything like that!"
The phantom accusation persists, overruling her thoughts and senses.
"No! Stop it! Stay back!"
In reminiscence of the past, Tifa runs. Her boots pound against the hard, unforgiving emptiness surrounding her.
"Somebody, help! Please!"
Running is useless. Every footfall stacks upon the pressure of Aerith's dead weight. Tifa falls to her knees and cradles her head.
"Cloud, help me!"
"Tifa."
Her head shoots up, eyes wide and wild as they search him out in the dark. He cuts a sharp figure before her, swathed in the uniform that is both SOLDIER and not. His back is turned to her and she can see the corded muscles beneath his shirt that shift with his even breaths—his sword is in his hand. The timber of his voice catches her off guard, void as it is of the soft quality it usually takes on when he addresses her.
"C-Cloud."
He turns his head so that she can trace the lines of his profile, though his face is shrouded in shadow. Tifa thinks that maybe the darkness around them is clinging to him, dripping off of him like rainwater. His gloved hand tightens around the grip of his sword as her voice trickles into silence.
"You killed her," he says simply.
Tifa's next inhale is ragged, darting down her windpipe as if to escape that statement.
Did you love her, Cloud? Despite everything that's happened between us, I've always wondered. Selfishly, jealously, guiltily, wretchedly, I've always wondered if you loved her. If you love her still. If you ever loved me.
"I'm sorry." It's tattooed on her lips, on her heartbeat. It's all she can give. It's nowhere near enough.
The image of him wavers like ripples over glassy water. Tifa wonders if it's the shadows dragging him away from her or if her eyes are filling with tears. Perhaps it's both.
"I didn't want to do it," she whimpers, propelled by the sudden need to make him understand. "I can barely live with it. I-I don't think I deserve to. It should have been me—it always should have been me."
Her eyes have fallen, unable to retain their hold on him as she vomits the words. His voice is closer when he replies and the low rumble of it draws her gaze upwards once more.
"You're right."
You loved her, didn't you?
Mako flares down upon her in hateful fury as the wide blade of his sword spears through her, tearing with planned perfection into the scar left by Sephiroth.
Tifa awakens with a violent sob. Her cheeks are wet and her eyes are unpleasantly puffy but it is the spectral sensation of Cloud's bloodlust that sends her reeling. Rigid fingers dig into her chest as if to hold the yawning edges of a through-and-through wound together.
Long moments drag on as Tifa wills her breath to steady and her eyes to dry. When she calms enough to wipe her face dry with trembling hands, she rolls off the couch and staggers toward the kitchen.
Her modest table is already occupied by a small boy.
"Denzel?" Tifa squints into the pale moonlight filtering through her sheer curtains. Her eyes are still sticky and achy, eyelashes bound together uncomfortably, and she curses herself for appearing this way in front of him. Kids don't need to see their guardians self-destruct—especially kids who already have enough trauma of their own to deal with. Denzel lost his parents and now he has a terminal illness; the last thing he needs is to witness her weakness. In an effort to soften the potency of her distress, Tifa remains distant from the soft moonbeams and tries for a smile. Maybe he won't be able to see her flushed, damp cheeks in the poor lighting.
"Tifa, are you okay?"
Shit.
"Yeah," she answers in what she hopes is an assuring, convincing voice. "My allergies act up this time of year, that's all. Why're you up?"
Denzel nudges the glass of water sitting on the table with the hand that holds it. "I was thirsty."
"Oh."
Tifa turns to the cupboards and grabs herself a small cup, filling it at the tap. She hesitates for only a second before sitting at the table next to Denzel, who watches her with unreadable eyes. He seems too alert for a child who has only just woken to get a drink. Marlene, for instance, is practically a zombie for nearly a half hour after rising, communicating only through grunts and gazing around through heavily lidded eyes.
"Can't sleep?" Tifa asks before taking a careful sip.
Denzel shakes his head. Tifa glances over the sweep of his mahogany hair and the young features of his face, deciding that he will be quite a heartbreaker when he grows up. She has the sudden thought to watch Marlene for signs of a crush, more out of curiosity than caution.
But, oh, does she see Cloud in this boy. Hardly any time at all on this Planet, and he has already been through so much. Tifa reads the fragility in him that Cloud succeeds in hiding from all but the few who know him well enough to find it. And then there is the quiet strength of hope for a better future, a resolve to carry on despite the horrors of the past. Tifa fears that she has stamped that out in Cloud by taking away its inspiration. She promises herself that she will be painstakingly careful not to do the same to Denzel for as long as he's with her, despite the mark of death mapped out across his forehead.
"When I can't sleep," Tifa begins softly. "I read. Do you like to read?" It's almost a lie. She used to read to fall asleep, but now she just drinks.
Denzel nods.
Tifa gets up from her seat and crosses to the small living area to pluck up a worn book from the squat table in front of the couch. The corners of the pages are well creased from years of dog-earing and the title on the spine in unintelligible from countless bends. Its familiar weight sits in her hands until she places it before Denzel, who looks down to read the title.
"It's my favorite," Tifa tells him as she reclaims her seat and takes a sip of water. "You can borrow it for as long as you want."
"What's it about?"
"…A hero."
Denzel's eyes widen minutely in childish wonder. "Like Cloud?"
Tifa smiles, hoping that none of her potent emotions skirt along the curve of her lips. She nearly shivers against the phantom sensation of a sword in her chest, a physical manifestation of what it feels like to have Cloud Strife look at her with such cold, unyielding hatred.
You did that, hisses a venomous voice in her mind. You put that in him.
"Yeah. Like Cloud."
.O.O.O.O.O.
Denzel likes Tifa.
She is warm and kind, if a little subdued. Her cooking is really good. Her hands are gentle when she bandages the sickness on his forehead.
He wonders why Cloud has never mentioned her. If it weren't for Barret saying so, Denzel would have never guessed that Cloud even knew Tifa.
He misses Cloud.
The day that Denzel had been caught rifling through Fenrir's compartments, looking for food or something worth bartering, Cloud had absolutely terrified him. There was a hard glint in his strange eyes, his dark outfit was intimidating, and the intricate sword hanging off his back was absolutely wicked. But his voice was soft in volume and inflection as he asked Denzel a few questions—where are your parents, do you have a place to go?—and before he knew it, Denzel was plastering himself to Cloud's back as the motorcycle sped out of Midgar and back to Edge.
Since then, he has seen amazing places and met fascinating people. Cloud doesn't let Denzel go on every single trip he takes, especially the ones with dangerous routes or more demanding cargo. But that suits Denzel just fine, because he has a few friends in Edge to keep him occupied and on some days, he simply feels too unwell to travel.
Cloud has never had a problem with leaving him by himself for a little bit. And so, when Cloud suddenly announced that he would be away for "a while," Denzel was surprised to learn that he would be sent to stay with someone else. He wonders now if "a while" actually meant "indefinitely."
Maybe Cloud changed his mind about having Denzel around.
Yeah, he misses Cloud. But he likes Tifa, and he likes Barret and Marlene, so he tells himself to be okay.
The thing about Tifa is that she is sad. Denzel can see it even though she is successful in hiding her melancholy from Marlene. And he has noticed that if he ever says Cloud's name, Tifa changes the direction of the conversation with immediate haste. Denzel doesn't want to make her feel worse, so he avoids mentioning Cloud.
One day, however, he absolutely cannot help it.
He is walking back to Tifa's house with Marlene, the two of them having just left the modest playground a few blocks down. Marlene is humming quietly as she arranges a small bouquet of wildflowers. The afternoon is starting to fade into evening and Tifa will be expecting them home for dinner soon. Trickling streams of people bustle along the sidewalks, returning home after a long day of work.
One of the pedestrians silkily steps into Denzel's path, seeming to have melted from the shadowy alley between two buildings.
Denzel's footsteps slow and he reaches out to grasp Marlene's wrist in an effort to keep her next to him. She glances up in question and gasps quietly at the man who is smiling at them in a way that is clearly meant to be disarming but is merely creepy.
His long hair is a dull silver and his eyes remind Denzel of Cloud's. Strange black clothing clings to his lithe frame as though he has been dipped in it. There is a long-barreled pistol hanging off his hip.
"Excuse me," the man says in a silky voice as Denzel and Marlene halt a few paces away. "Is this you?"
A gloved hand holds out a photograph and Denzel's eyes widen as he looks into the grinning faces of himself and his parents. He almost dashes forward to snatch the lost picture, but restrains himself to a gulp and a hesitant nod.
The man's smile widens. "I found this at an old church in Midgar while I was looking for my brother—Cloud Strife. Do you know him?"
Something isn't right. Denzel feels a deep sense of foreboding that borders on fear, and he can tell from the slight shake in Marlene's hand that she feels the same. He wants this man to go away.
"No," Denzel says with a shake of his head. "Sorry."
"Ah." The man's expression shifts into something that Denzel cannot identify, but it still fuels his desire to get away. "That's a shame. Well, here you go."
He extends the photo towards Denzel.
Two urges war inside him—one to run, and one to retrieve the only remaining keepsake of his family. After a long moment of indecision, Denzel drags Marlene along as he jogs up to the man, snatches the picture, and darts around him to sprint down the sidewalk. He and Marlene clip a few passersby in their haste, earning nasty shouts and aching shoulders, but a wave of relief washes over him as Tifa's front door looms into view.
The pair bound into the house with heaving chests. Denzel's forehead is tingling fiercely—the sensation flared to life when his hand brushed against that of the man.
Tifa frowns at them from the small kitchenette. "Hey, you two—is something wrong?"
Denzel expects Marlene to launch into a frantic account of the weird encounter, but she merely turns her wide brown eyes to him.
When his breath returns, he sums up the situation. Tifa's scowl deepens from curiosity to outright concern. As he listens to himself, Denzel realizes that his words cannot convey the eeriness of the man and that he simply sounds paranoid. But luckily, Tifa doesn't seem at all dismissive.
Instead, she kneels before them and places a hand on each of their shoulders.
"I'll look into it, okay?" she promises. "It may have been nothing, but I'll find out for sure. In the meantime, why don't you guys eat and then we'll watch a movie, hm?"
Despite the lingering unease, Denzel feels slight reassured. He nods and Tifa smiles before turning her attention away as Marlene describes the pretty flowers that had fallen from her hand during their run.
That night, while Tifa converses quietly with someone on the phone, Denzel lays in bed and stares at the photograph of his family until he falls asleep.
.O.O.O.O.O.
"So, does anything about that sound as weird to you as it does to me?"
"…Honestly, Tifa, it does. In fact, I think it's pretty serious."
"…Reeve, what do you know?"
"…I've been in recent contact with Rufus Shinra—"
"Rufus Shinra—?"
"He recently sent the Turks to the Northern Crater to retrieve any remaining Jenova material in an attempt to research Geostigma. They were successful in recovering the head, but not before they were attacked by three men who match the description that Denzel gave you."
"So, this guy that spoke to the kids…he's after Jenova? But then, why did he ask about Cloud? And why did he call Cloud his brother?"
"You'll have to ask Cloud."
"…"
"Tifa…Tseng and Elena were injured pretty badly during that encounter. Whoever these men are, they seem quite strong."
"What are you hinting at, Reeve?"
"You and the kids were sought out because of your link to Cloud. With that in mind, I think that you should come to HQ. You would be safe here."
"But—I have a house here, a job—"
"I know. But…I have a bad feeling about this."
"…Me, too. You're right. So, does anyone else know about this?"
"Vincent. Apparently, he's the one who recovered Tseng and Elena. He's gone to dig up more information about the attackers. And when I spoke to Rufus, he told me that he was planning to reach out to Cloud for assistance."
"And did he?"
"I don't know—I tried to follow up, but I can't get ahold of him."
"Did you try Reno?"
"No—didn't think of it. But I will. If a phone call doesn't work, I'll send Cait."
"Alright. I'll call Barret and fill him in. Do you think I have time to make arrangements here, or should we leave soon?"
"Candidly, as soon as possible."
"…Okay."
Tifa hangs up the phone and drops her head into her hands. She frets about the dark foreboding looming on the horizon. She thinks of Cloud, and then Aerith. And then, after a few minutes of allowing herself to be haunted, she fires off a text to Cid and snatches the whiskey bottle up from the table she's sitting at.
A/N: Those who are particularly familiar with the original game will recognize the beginning of Tifa's dream as the small sequence just before she ends up in Cloud's subconscious when they fall into the Lifestream. She's in a vast dark space by herself and apparently hearing voices or seeing things, and she says the same things. It's never really explained so I've always been a bit curious about what she experienced there.
We're getting into Advent Children now. It won't be shot-for-shot faithful, since we're in AU territory comparatively, but it'll follow a loose roadmap of the movie.
Have a great day :)