Final Heaven Discord member tsubomi translated a comic that was a large part of inspiration for this chapter. So this dedication is for her!

Chapter 23. October 6, εуλ0007-December 8, εуλ0007

She stared in disbelief. The trademark blond hair, the same spiked mess it had always been. Features still soft, boyish still, but etched into adult lines.

And the eyes. Brilliant blue as she remembered, but lacking the ocean-deepness that had always been in her memories. In the rainstorm's dark, it was impossible to miss – the glow -

She'd heard of this, but never seen it before – the mark of SOLDIER. So why, then, had she found him here like this?! She hadn't suspected Shinra would be so careless with their own. Had they done something to him?

If they had - she would add that to her list of crimes to avenge.

"Tifa…" he forced out, as if from a voice long in disuse. Even her name sounded raw on his tongue, harsh, not the soft way he had spoken it as a boy.

"Cloud," she said the word aloud this time. What did they do to you? What else could have happened to you? What could hurt a SOLDIER?

He looked around, shaking his head, that turquoise glow a glazed confusion. "Tifa…" he repeated, clearing his throat, the vibrations of her name warming it back into use. "….Where am I?"

"Sector 7 train station." He looked blank at that, surprising her. His body was here, but the inside of his head seemed elsewhere… "In Midgar," she added helpfully.

That seemed to ring a bell. "Midgar," he said, eyes growing sharper, evidenced by the narrowed brightness. "When did you… never mind. You can tell me everything later. It's been a while."

That it had been. "Cloud… you don't look well," she fussed, raising her hand maternally to his forehead, but he gently brushed it away. He reached up instead to clutch his hand himself.

He coughed. "It's been… uh… five years?"

Seven years. "A long time," Tifa answered carefully. Whatever injury he'd sustained… it must be affecting his memories… "I didn't expect to find you here," she continued.

He grabbed her wrist. "I didn't expect to see you here either, Tifa," he answered. "Or anywhere else. After the reactor… I was so afraid you'd been killed… when I saw you lying on the floor like that…"

Alarm bells were screaming in her head. You couldn't have known… you, you weren't there, Cloud! You never came back for me! "How bad was I?" she prompted, fishing for an answer he shouldn't have. "You know, when Sephiroth cut me…"

"Bad." He traced the line where her scar would have been, decently avoiding her cleavage and picking up again at the pristine skin of her tummy. Tifa shivered. "I didn't think you were going to make it…" he repeated. "I hoped you got out. "He squinted, and seemed to see her clearly for the first time. "You've changed.""

I had no choice. I did what I could to survive, to live, to get my revenge. "A lot has changed," she told him. "I own a bar here, now. I had to come somewhere. Nibelheim is…"

"…gone," he finished. "How could I forget? The heat of the flames…" For a moment the aqua-green glow of his eyes faded to pale baby blue. "I heard my mom screaming, Tifa. Dying. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget that…"

Neither would Tifa… the image of her bloodied father, downed by the Masamune of Sephiroth, bleeding into the ground before the reactor, was burned into her own mind forever. But after that – a cluster of images, uncertain hazy – nothing certain until she woke up in Midgar. She'd dreamed she'd talked to Cloud his face somewhere lost a field of white… Could that have been the reality, and not the other way around?

Or… a sick thought hit her… what if this wasn't really Cloud at all? An empty shell of mind washed out, replaced with different memories? Could Shinra even DO something like that?

Never assume anything is too evil for Shinra, she reminded herself.

But nevertheless… he was her last link to Nibelheim. She couldn't let him slip out of her grasp… couldn't lose him until she figured it all out. First things first, get him out of the rain. "Come back with me, Cloud. We'll get you cleaned up, maybe set you up with a drink. I still make some of those Nibelheim dishes we loved," she encouraged. "Some hearty stew, cook up some eggs…" He'd need the protein, the density - he looked emaciated as well as sick.

It seemed to be the promise of food that got him going; he nodded, and made to stand up, but stumbled forward, sword scraping on the pavement.

Tifa caught him, grunting under the weight as she took in a familiar-seeming sword for the first time. They must give this ridiculously huge thing to ALL their SOLDIERS, she thought sourly. No one else could wield a thing like this. She lifted it experimentally. Titanium, then, or mythirl. Not quite as heavy as it looked, but still far too heavy for she herself to lift. She figured she could at least DRAG both him and the weapon back some, but certainly couldn't CARRY either; he'd have to support some of the weight on his own.

"Come on, let's go," she encouraged, attaching the sword to his harness and throwing one arm over her well-toned shoulders. He shuffled, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other, as she guided him on the path back home.

The walk wasn't long, but the effort of the journey sent Cloud dabbling into unconsciousness once again. Gritting her teeth, she had no choice but to keep moving forward, breathing hard by the time she climbed the short four steps to the door of Seventh Heaven.

Inside waited her current version of family. Wedge, playing the role of Marlene's "teddy bear" was across the street tonight, watching Barret's daughter as per their rotation. Marlene always claimed Wedge read stories best. Biggs was watching the bar in her absence. He tended to attract a different sort of good-looking boys than she did; but the night's business would be good either way. (A good businesswoman catered to her clientele, after all, she thought a bit smugly.) Jessie technically had the night off from their extracurricular activities, but appeared to be poring over some diagrams anyway. She claimed she couldn't get enough of the stuff. And Barret…

Barret was being Barret.

"Yo, Tifa!" he greeted her as her head stuck in the doorway – only then noticing the man hanging off her. "Who the hell is that? Your new boyfriend? You know you don't hafta get them drunk to go home with you, right?"

"Yeah, all you gotta do is snap your fingers," Biggs wisecracked. Without lifting her head, Jessie snickered.

"Stop it, Barret! He's a childhood friend of mine," she began, and he's not well, she was about to add, but at that moment Cloud jolted into alertness, and the welcome drained from Barret's face as he took in Cloud's eyes.

"What the –" Barret leapt to his feet, wielding his right arm in readiness, nearly knocking the table over. Jessie whipped her head around at the commotion, as pens and pencils rolled to the floor. "Tifa! He's from Shinra! What are you thinking, bringing him back here?"

Cloud's hand still rested on her shoulder, but he stood firm now, and there was no unfocus in his blazing eyes. "WAS with Shinra. Left them years ago, when they dicked my hometown over. Fuck 'em. I'm a mercenary now. Use this sword for myself," he finished, and Tifa saw him place his hand on the hilt, as if for comfort.

"Oh yeah? And which town is that, cocksucker?" Barret replied, equally braced and ready.

"You know, I've always wondered why 'cocksucker' is necessarily an insult," Biggs mused. "I mean, couldn't you try something more original, like 'Shinra shit-cleaner'?"

"Stop!" Tifa threw them ALL a warning glance, including Cloud, whose chest she pushed back against before he could lunge forward. "Barret. Same town as mine, obviously, if I know him from when I was a kid." Barret caught her eye, and nodded – he was the only one who so much as knew the NAME of her hometown - the others merely accepted her reticence. In the slums, one's past was one's own business. "Biggs, my glassware costs are already high. Another fight in the bar, and we'll have to serve in those red Shinra-logo plastic cups." Biggs scowled, knowing she was only half-joking. "And Cloud." Turning to him, she softened as she realized he was weakening again. His hand had dropped, and she could feel his weight beginning to settle against her shoulders once more. "Um, Cloud, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Cloud."

Barret didn't fail to notice Tifa's change in tone. Oh geez, Tifa, don't tell me… he groaned inside. Couldn't you have fallen for someone more appropriate, like a slum rat or a drug dealer, or a Turk? Tifa was normally the most level-headed person he knew, but he supposed a man could make even HER stupid. Her judgment was being clouded, so to speak, but this… uh…

He knew that look. It was the same look that had passed once between him and Myrna. And she had hardly been the most proper choice, so it wasn't like he could really fault Tifa.

"Childhood friend, huh." He didn't think anyone would be convinced. People being what they were, there'd be rumors around the slums by morning…

"Barret," she cautioned. We can trust him, the unspoken subtext. "We don't have anything to hide." She left off the last critical word. Yet.

And they didn't, not really. Some fever dreams, scratches on paper, a little dabbling in amateur espionage. Just a shared hatred for Shinra from untold events of secret pasts binding them together.

Tifa guided Cloud to a barstool, he gratefully sliding on, and prepared to take charge. It was her bar, after all. "Biggs, if you're done with setup, wanna go on break? Before you leave, would you bring us some of tonight's special I made earlier?"

Biggs got the hint. So did Jessie. "I'll keep you company," she told him, and hurriedly stood, scraping her chair. Tifa noticed Jessie surreptitiously scoping out Cloud; had she been looking since they'd come in. Her eyes flickered conspiratorially to Tifa, trading her the best-friends look they had shared so many times before. This one's a real hottie, that look said.

Tifa wondered why that should bother her so much this time.

"Barret," she turned to him. "Don't you think you should be getting home to Marlene soon? Wedge might want to come back home in an hour or so."

Barret got the hint. "Marlene probably won't let him go without a few more stories," he agreed, exiting the door, leaving her finally in silence.

Tifa breathed.

At long last, some time alone with Cloud. Maybe now she could get some answers. She waited until Biggs brought the bowl of stew, then patiently observed while Cloud dug in with the hunger of a wolf.

"When was the last time you ate?" she asked.

"Don't know," he mumbled between mouthfuls. " 'S good, though."

She certainly hoped so. It had been a recipe his mother made most famously; she wondered if he remembered. Just sheer luck of the draw that she'd decided to make it today.

As he reached the bottom of the bowl, she stepped behind the bar. "I'll make you a drink," she told him.

"What do you make here?" he asked.

"The best in Sector Seven." Once, that might have sounded like bragging, but now, Tifa couuld say it with confidence – she'd gotten plenty of accolades from the neighborhood. Her reputation, and that of Seventh Heaven, rode on it. She had no idea if Cloud was much of a drinker nowadays, but she figured it would loosen up his shoulders and his tongue...

She pulled down a bottle of mid-range whiskey – there WAS no such thing as high-end in the slums – and went to work. Splash of preserved wine. Some of the spice infusion that made a great drink with wine all its own. Another dash of bitter infusion that someone else in Sector Seven made – the acrid taste mollified any imperfections of the base spirit, and the bitterness was oddly pleasant, in its own way.

She paused. She wanted to make something nice for Cloud – an orange would be perfect, but they were so expensive, she had to charge extra for a slice, if she could get them at all. On a hunch, she decided to add a couple drops of artificial-orange-flavored vitamin concentrate - sold ubiquitously by Shinra to make up for the lack of fresh produce. She figured Cloud could use the vitamins, anyway.

Cloud watched her work in fascination. Pour, dash, stir, shake, strain. Drop. Sliding the glass across to him smoothly. Economy of motion. No wasted movements.

Tifa, a bartender. Not so crazy, really; she'd talked a few times about doing some such thing in Nibelheim, a local's pub or café, something that wouldn't detract from the saloon but rather complement it. No, what was surprising was finding her doing it here in Midgar. He was glad she'd made it out safe, but – Midgar? Why would she WANT to come here? After the reactor, he'd thought it would be the last place she'd want to live.

He himself didn't want to be here now. He wasn't sure how he had got here, a vague sense of looking for – something? Someone? Not Tifa, he thought – even as confused as he was, he was certain he hadn't expected to find HER here. With n full memories, nothing but disjointed flickers to call on, he was sort of reverse engineering his history, making educated guesses to fill in the blanks – he'd been a mercenary, he knew that for sure, a perfect choice for an ex-SOLDIER – so he must have been living… hell, he could have been anywhere. Everywhere.

"How do you like it?" she asked him.

He realized he'd managed to slurp up half the cocktail while he'd been lost in thought. The pleasant haze was beginning to muddle those thoughts just enough. "I like it," he finally declared. "Wasn't too sure about it, with all the stuff you put in, but – it all works together. Can't even explain how."

"I had to be inventive." She made a sweeping motion to the shelves behind her. "This is what I have to work with. Take it or leave it. So I work really hard to make something good out of it. People have hard enough lives here – at least forgetting those lives can be a pleasant experience. That's why people come here, for the great drinks."

"Not the beautiful bartender?" Cloud joshed; and Tifa blushed prettily. Bit of a jackass move, but Cloud thought it might be worth teasing her a few more times to goad that response.

Tifa noticed Cloud's eyes drooping. The food and the liquor were together doing their work. "Let's get you up to bed," she suggested. He only nodded, apparently too weary to resist as she led him up the stairs.

He only seemed slightly startled when he realized she was leading him to her room, the various feminine articles of clothing giving the secret away. "Biggs and Wedge have rooms in town, but sometimes they crash here. The spare room's full of their stuff," she told him. "They've known each other forever. Distant cousins, or something. Barret keeps an apartment with his daughter." It was three days until her turn to take care of Marlene; she'd probably go to Barret's house for her turn, even if it meant finding someone else to work the bar. For a while, anyway; she needed to know a little more about Cloud before she trusted him with the little girl. Just a precaution. Besides, it looked like she'd have a big kid to take care of over here. "Jessie has a small room over there as well." No need to mention that more nights than not, Jessie would simply crash out in the basement with the computers; she wasn't even ready to tell Cloud there WAS a basement. She couldn't risk her friends, or their plans, so easily.

"So that leaves my room," she finally told him. It had a big, large pallet, taking up half the room, that they could decently make do with. She could only afford a tiny actual bed, so she went the more practical route instead.

Cloud took it all in, considering. "Far cry from our houses in Nibelheim, huh?"

Tifa remembered heavy wooden furniture, soft, thick blankets. "It's a different kind of home, Cloud," she told him. "That's all that matters."

He only shrugged. She didn't ask more.

She went across the hall, borrowing some T-shirts she knew her roomers wouldn't mind loaning out – Wedge's mostly; they'd be way too big on Cloud, but Biggs' would be too tight – and wordlessly handed them to Cloud. Before she could ask if he wanted some privacy, he'd stripped down to boxers, pulled one from the top of the pile, and within seconds, had pulled the blanket over him and fallen right to sleep.

Tifa changed more slowly, but before lying down on the side he'd left for her, she sat back cross-legged, examining him. It might just be her imagination, but already his body looked healthier, his skin had more color. His breathing was even and deep; she wondered if he'd been sleeping any more than he had been eating.

Something happened to you, Cloud. That, she was sure of. And something recent. Not just what he might or might not have seen when Nibelheim burned…

Now safe at home, she indulged herself, examining him at leisure. Thinking. Seven years. Seven years since their promise, and she'd thought that memory was slipping away… but now, it came back in force, and every emotion she'd had along with it. She lingered on his fine-featured face. She'd spent so long picturing him, never able to get the image clear in her head… but now, here he was, and she weighed him against her passing fantasies, considering.

He's beautiful, she realized in surprise. More so than she'd even expected. Her eyes followed the clean lines of his face and body, more thoroughly than she'd had a chance to at the station. A gentle, almost feminine softness of features remained, but the baby fat on his face had melted away, resulting in contours just sharpened enough for masculine appeal. Impulsively, she stroked his cheek down to his chin. The barest hint of fuzzy hair, not scratchy like true stubble; did he even have to shave? Altogether, a pleasing combination, the effect only magnified by the childlike blond of his hair and his natural pallor; and when he opened those eyes, the blue…

His body, firm and strong. How could it be otherwise? That monstrosity of a sword, now leaning safely in the corner, was statement enough to that. Just before leaving, he'd started to show some tone in his arms and legs; years of childhood scrambling over hills and through the woods finally giving him his adult shape. Looked like SOLDIER had done the rest. Shyly giving into urges she'd never have indulged if he'd been awake, she lingered on his naked arms, muscled just enough to make her want to feel them around her; her eyes traveled over his shoulders, to the now-covered chest she'd caught only a glimpse of, even moving a touch further… down. Her experience with the male body was hardly extensive, but it was just enough to start her wondering what his body might feel like… close.

Inevitably, feelings were triggered she'd tried so hard to suppress, deep-hidden sadness she could no longer restrain, burning in her heart. She'd half convinced herself after that night at the well that she'd fallen in love with him – but it was only the fantasy of him she'd had to go by, the projection of who he would be – all because of a promise made by two little more than children. How on earth had she thought that was enough for love?

Looking over him now… she was forced to acknowledge that she didn't even KNOW him. His absence in her hour of need (yet he knew what happened – how? – she was so lost) it had dented, but not shattered that girl's foolish crush. What had really done it in was the years since, of struggling and making it on her own to the life she had now. How much he had driven her path, if only by his absence - first wanting to be his equal, then accepting she'd be going it alone.

What was a hero, now that she'd been forced to become her own?

The eyes were what hurt the most – no longer Claudia's eyes, so full of softness, but something different, that she didn't know how to read. She was scared to find out the truth, to risk shattering her illusions, or find herself endlessly comparing him to that dreamboy, finding the man lacking and trying to make him fit?

Could she really meet him once again, reconcile him with the boy of her past?

Questions she wasn't going to find the answers to tonight. Not with him fast asleep. Not much left but to try to do the same…

Cloud woke up, blinking, memory coming back slowly. At least there WAS a memory to latch onto. He'd been having some… trouble… with that lately.

He could mostly remember the night before, starting with the train station, even if he'd been sort of out of it. He'd felt like he had the worst hangover of his life. Come to think of it, had even BEEN hung over before? He couldn't remember that, either. But then he had a good strong drink, and felt better this morning, so that couldn't have been it.

An unfamiliar room. A name returned to him – Seventh Heaven. He turned on his other side, and there she was – Tifa Lockhart, only a foot away, in all her morning glory. Sleeping calmly in bed beside him. Did they – No, he realized quickly. He would have remembered such a thing. He was pretty sure of that.

Come to think of it, when was the last time that he – Shit. That couldn't be. That long ago? He certainly hoped there was more to his sex life than that, in those lost lengths of memories. In any case, too long without, he was sure.

Tifa had turned from a pretty girl into a woman far more beautiful than he dreamed. She'd only begun budding when he'd first left Nibelheim, and hadn't blossomed much further when he returned… so where did all this come from? Five years later, all curves and hair and legs… and in the middle, that perfectly toned tummy, a tiny waist just begging for him to hang on to while gazing at the rest. Naked. Her top had slipped to where one wrong breath would leave her nipple popping out; his half-hard dick turning into a full-fledged erection at the thought.

Not that he had any intention of USING that erection with her. He'd wait instead, taking that visual to jerk himself off in the bathroom as soon as he had the opportunity. This was TIFA – a friend. You didn't treat a friend so coarsely.

Especially not a friend who had done you a really, really big favor.

She stirred, and slowly her eyes opened, to find him staring down at her. "Hi," he told her awkwardly.

She smiled, the rising of a sun all his own. "Morning, Cloud," she told him. "Sleep well?"

"Next to you, who wouldn't?" She blushed even redder this time. He'd have to be careful. Those blushes were far too dangerously attractive…

"What's for breakfast?" he asked, grasping for a change of subject.

"Same as everyday," she told him. "Eggs and chips."

Eggs were one of the more reliable forms of nutrition – they were cheap and available, chicken not so much. She'd heard that there was a rumor on the plate that the slum dwellers ate rats instead. Things weren't quite so bad, but one had to be a little clever. She knew how to get meat that was still good quality, just not the choicest cuts, and take her cooking skills to tenderize and flavor them into something delicious. Her reputation was built on that, just as much as her drinks and company.

"I'll make it," Cloud suggested.

"Unless something has changed in the past few years… do you know HOW to cook?" she asked.

His head hung down. "Well, no," he admitted.

"Can you make scrambled eggs?" she asked him.

"How do you make those?" he replied.

"You just, uh… scramble them." She sighed. Looked like she had her work cut out for her. Maybe he could make toast or something. "I'll show you. I suppose eggs Benedict will be out of your reach for a while."

He nodded, and turned to stand. Before he could, she grabbed his wrist; he looked at her, inquiring. She took a deep breath. Might as well get this out of the way, right away. "Cloud… how much do you remember?"

For a moment, he looked far away. When he finally spoke, it was slowly, as if weighing every word for its truth. "Really… pretty much nothing, from Nibelheim until you found me last night," he finally admitted. "I mean… There are things I'm pretty sure about. I remember in a sense what's been going on for the past few years… but, you know, distant, like it happened to someone else. And even my memories before then… Very little after leaving to Midgar. I got into SOLDIER fast, but what I did then… Ditto right before I left. The further back I go in childhood, the clearer things get." He chuckled. "Maybe if I reach hard enough, I'll be able to remember being born or something like that. AT least I'll have something to hold onto, then."

What he DIDN'T say… Feelings. He could remember feelings, if not necessarily the reason behind them. He was sure he'd come to Midgar looking for… something. There were feelings about Nibelheim. The town. His house, his mom. And the warm response he'd had to Tifa brought back feelings attached to her… even if he couldn't quite find the memories themselves.

He was naturally drawn to her… but… They hadn't been that close, really. Not as close as he had wanted. So what made her so eager to help him now?

Tifa sat and listened, glum. Whatever had happened, whatever had traumatized him so… possibly he HAD forgotten the promise they had made. The thought brought a soft-feathered sadness nestling its blanket over her. Well. She really wouldn't get any more answers out of him today. Not the least her nagging doubts about Cloud himself - not just missing memories, but the ones that had were just plain wrong.

She knelt to get up herself. "Let's go scramble some eggs then, shall we?"

At first, Cloud got better. Fast. Being SOLDIER – and devouring her cooking– he gained back his missing weight in no time, honing his firm muscles, sharp jawline. Bringing a sparkle back to his eyes, but there was still an emptiness behind she couldn't explain.

He began to practice. She saw him twirl around his giant sword with the ease of a feather – fascinating to watch from the window above. She loved to watch. Admiring him.

Dreaming of him…

He shared her room still, in a capacity no more nor less intimate than the first night she had brought him home. Still, rumors flew fast, fueled by the bored gossips of the slums and a populace fascinated by the stranger in their midst. Time, to time, she'd catch a curious face peeping in.

More than once, Tifa was stopped to ask if they were "just friends". She suspected her laughing "no" was convincing few. Barret's good natured teasing wasn't helping. Cloud got the worst of the ribbing, the man's inherent defensiveness not doing much to help, but though Barret was gentler with her, his protective self still dominated; and she found herself without a convincing answer, leaving him considering.

And then there came the bad days.

He'd be securely on the mend, and then these episodes, headaches and seizures, leaving him shaking and semi-aware as he fell back into her care once more. He'd go from a picture of health, to a near-helpless invalid, and Tifa, pained to see it, could only start caring for him from the start once again.

He flinched in visible pain when she coaxed him to try and remember things; whether that pain was physical or emotional, she could not say. His head jerked, and he shivered; she was perennially worried he'd go into one of those strange dreamsick seizures again, leaving him hours disconnected from reality.

She'd brush his pale hair back from his forehead, he so painstakingly vulnerable. She wondering, powerless, what could be done, what had been done. Grateful only that he'd fallen into her care. Slowly, the episodes got shorter, weaker. Less frequent –and still, she persisted. She'd nurse him as long as was needed, until she was sure he'd be okay.

But what after that?

She wondered if Cloud would stay. So far, he didn't seem to have much of a plan either way. Last time, he had left her with a promise. She'd hoped his return was his way of keeping. But was he just going to leave her again? Walk out on her without even that slim thread of hope?

Or would it be better that way? If he was going to leave, maybe he should just LEAVE. Take that sword, make it a quick, clean cut. Let her move on free of his betrayal. She wished her heart wasn't telling her that it would never work that way.

Sometimes she would see the shades of the boy she remembered. He'd keep her company silently while she closed up the bar, his presence a comfort to her. Familiarity, reassurance, if perhaps not the warmth she could have hoped for.

Maybe he hadn't protected her when she needed it. But maybe, just maybe, instead she could protect HIM.

Barret worried.

Tifa thought herself a partner in his plans, but she was young, still so terribly young. That smile of hers was made for hearts and flowers, too young for blood and fear and regrets. That was for old timers such as him, those old enough to have earned their scars in the bitterness of life.

He saw her with Marlene, the unforgettable joy of both his girls together… wishing there was someone else who could make her feel that way. He'd hoped she'd find happiness, somewhere, somehow, get out of the slums to the life she deserved.

He saw her with Cloud, the hurt in her eyes as she tended him with care, the man still afflicted and weak. He'd peek in the door, see her gently sponging Cloud's sweat-moistened brow, kneeling on the floor, Cloud in fitful sleep.

He'd been able to let go of some of his initial fear and anger. Looked like Shinra had fucked that boy up good. In which case, the guy couldn't be all bad.

Tifa was in love with him. That was plain as day to him – had been from the start. He didn't know how Cloud fit into her past, a part she rarely wished to talk about and never wanted to dwell on.

She needed forgiveness. She needed love. He couldn't bring himself to raise his hopes, but he could see something in these two broken people might need each other, might let them find their way back to themselves.

Would Cloud really be the one who could take her away to the happiness she deserved?

Would he be the one to bring back the smile she still had deep inside?

Cloud knew her eyes were on him. He always knew, a sixth sense he'd developed, some Tifa-radar that always let him know where she was in proximity to him, and slowly, a sense of how she was feeling as well. Finely attuned to the little details that made her so truly her.

He marveled at what she'd become in the years since; he was proud and pleased to see what she'd made of herself. She'd settled into this new life in the slums, so different from the wide-open spaces of their birthplace; but as days turned into weeks that he stayed with her, he realized that there was more to this new community than he'd first appreciated. In some ways, it was actually friendlier, more open, than the set-in-their-ways attitudes he remembered as a boy. Even more so when he'd realized she could fight – that, he wouldn't have expected from the Tifa Lockhart who had been the idol of Nibelheim.

Was this really the Tifa he once knew? It made him nervous and apprehensive, in a way he found he rather liked. He looked forward to finding out more.

Maybe he'd stick around here a little longer after all…

"AVALANCHE," Barret said.

"That's our name?" Biggs asked. "Where on the planet did you get THAT?"

Jessie pulled up the visuals on the computer. The downstairs liquor room was now a mess of screens and cables, the young woman having rigged up the pinball machine to cover the entrance somehow. Adding to the mystique of their secret hideout. "We're plagiarizing it, sort of. This was another group that's been active for several years. Shinra caught up to them on October 5."

The same day she had found Cloud, Tifa realized. She wondered if there was a connection. But that wasn't a riddle she could solve right now, nor should she, when they had other concerns – like Barret's stepping up the program, taking on a name making their casual plans something more tangible and real.

"Isn't that kind of like painting a target on our back?" she worried.

"It gives us continuity," Barret said. "We picking up where they left off."

"But we're different, though," Jessie added. "They were out to destroy the planet. We're out to save it."

Tifa till fretted, not much satisfied with the answer. That was their stated objective, sure, but – what were they getting into, really? On paper, save the planet, sure, sounded great, but how exactly, did they expect to do THAT?

"The reactors," Barret said when she voiced the last. "We're going to take them out."

"You're kidding." Tifa was disbelieving.

"It's not as out there as you might think," Jessie told her. "We got the plans straight from the original AVALANCHE. They were already thinking of doing something like this. All we have to do is follow their strategy. Build the bomb, disable the reactor. Move on to the next."

Biggs placed a hand on Tifa's shoulder. "You know how much those damn Plate citizens, all those fucking Shinra employees, depend on those reactors, and leave us with the scraps. We're used to doing without down here. But Shinra will be maimed."

"Still," Barret pointed out. "gettin' inside these reactors ain't gonna be a piece of cake. Jessie's working on deciphering the codes right now."

"They've got all kinds of security," Wedge said. "How are we going to get past that?"

While they discussed options, an idea began to form in Tifa's head. Cloud… she could trust him. Was she sure about that? He'd been with SOLDIER, right? If they were actually going to do this, they'd need a little extra something they didn't have yet…

Cloud was out back again, running through the motions of swordplay. She knew his sharpened senses must have already detected her there, but she let herself stand for a while, just watching him. She quietly appreciated the clean sweep of his motions, the easy grace with which he stepped through the forms.

"Tifa," he finally said; she tried to pretend to herself that the sound of him saying her name didn't give her a thrill. "You needed something?"

"I was wondering…" Why was she so nervous about approaching a childhood friend? Because you didn't know him like you once did, came the thought behind that. Because you don't even know if it's him at all, nagged another behind that.

"Are you planning to stay in Midgar long?" She knew what she wanted him to say.

He DID stop then, letting the sword drop like nothing more than a stick, and looked at her. Not precisely giving, but… not cold and indifferent, either. It was spinning her head in circles. "Maybe," he told her. ""I go where the money is."

"Is that all that matters to you?" she answered. Hurt, not irritated. She wanted so badly to have faith in him, even while he presented ego rather than the gentleness she remembered.

"What else is there?" he asked.

Well, if it was money he wanted, at least there was a way to get him to stay. "Well, in THAT case, I have a proposition for you…"

Cloud listened with interest. Save the planet, he didn't much give a shit about it. Revenge on Shinra, that sounded a little more appealing. But above and beyond that…

What had Tifa gotten herself INVOLVED in here? Trapped, more like it, in something he feared would swallow her whole. Even while she'd made him the offer, he could sense her hesitation, her uncertainty at odds with her pleas for him to help, aid what sounded to him like a dangerous and possibly stupid plan. But if he took this job… maybe he'd have a chance to keep her safe.

Superficially, she seemed she'd changed so much from the girl he'd known; but it was an illusion. The core of her was still the same; her beautiful heart had not altered. If only he could say the same about himself…

A long time ago, he had made a promise, a promise under the stars… despite all he couldn't recall, this particular memory flared with emotion so bright, he didn't doubt it for a moment. Something like that would never escape. But… what if she'd forgotten it herself? He doubted it, but… he'd hesitated to bring it up, to remind her, to crush her hopes and tell her that he couldn't keep that promise to her.

Because he was too far gone from the boy who had made it.

This way, though – maybe there was a way to keep at least some of his word… He'd get through this mission, keep these losers from getting caught and leading Shinra back to HER. Maybe once this bit of bloodlust was sated, he could convince her to give up this foolish quest.

Shinra couldn't be beaten. He didn't need to be the one to tell her that. Had she not learned anything from Nibelheim? They would do whatever they wanted – the best you could do was look out for yourself. Like he was doing.

You mean hiding? You mean running away? taunted his hidden voice.

Maybe running WAS what he was doing. He'd thought he'd come to Midgar for a reason, but now he couldn't for the life of him remember why… He'd be leaving, sooner, or later; he knew that for sure.

Maybe, just maybe, he could ask her to go with him…

Tifa was the one who stayed back. Not to look suspicious, Barret said, but Cloud suspected it was more than that. He was glad for it, however it worked out – that ancient promise was foremost in his mind. If he could pay it back in little pieces, at least some of his guilt could be assauged.

The sword he carried was really more than enough, but he checked his arsenal nevertheless. Lightning. Always his favorite. He'd need it against whatever mechanical grunts were sent against him. Ice. Perhaps not as useful, but packing more rarely hurt. Really, all he needed was a Restore, and he'd be prepared for nearly anything.

"Ready?" Barret cocked an eyebrow.

"Was all along," Cloud shot back.

The older man sneered slightly. "Still don't trust ya," he said.

"Don't have to, " Cloud replied. I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for Tifa.

"Public Safety has this one under control," Tseng told her.

Distraction was not in the Turk lexicon, but Cissnei felt it nevertheless, as her eyes glanced towards the brief. Tifa's not on this mission. She found herself tremendously relieved by that.

Somehow, she'd managed to keep Tifa's connections to Nibelheim secret from Tseng – the man who knew all secrets. She trusted Tseng, to the extent that she could trust anyone, nowadays, but the last survivor of Nibelheim –

Well. Almost the last.

Cloud Strife, SOLDIER First Class. Ex-SOLDIER. No one around him to prove him wrong, but… Reports said he had the capabilities. So here's the consequence of Hojo's experiments. Only time would tell how far this would reach.

"So we're out of this for now?" The blood would be on Heidegger's hands this time.

Turks assassinated individuals. Public Security annihilated sectors.

She felt the cleanest she had in a long time.

Tseng gave her the barest of looks, no need for more. "Only for the moment. I suspect we'll be involved in this soon enough." He turned his head towards the wall where any normal office would have a window. "This is going to press Shinra's hand. You know soon enough they'll push to bring in the Ancient."

Cissnei shivered unwittingly. Lives would be changed. Aerith. Cloud. Tifa. What's going to happen next?