Chapter 35. December 16 – December 19, εуλ0007

The flowers waved weakly, gusts of wind driving through the crumbling walls of the church. Kunsel just stared at them, this time in confusion rather than fascination. Somehow, it felt so strange to him that they should still bloom here, silent and lonely, even with their mistress gone far away.

He'd gone first to Aerith's house, finding it locked up tight enough to already give an air of long abandonment, though he knew it had been mere days. He'd wondered if Aerith and her mother had any intention to return, or if they'd find somewhere new to settle down together. Kunsel could hardly blame them – even as he wondered how they'd escaped so easily, in Aerith's case out of the Shinra building itself. Stranger still, there was no sign of pursuit, and therefore no trail for him to follow.

Few in Sector Five had actually seen Elmyra leave, though nearly everyone knew of her absence, and words of worry and consolation came from all quarters. Seemed Zack was not the only one besotted with Aerith, making the series of events that had befallen her all the more tragic.

But he'd located a handful who had personally witnessed Aerith's mother depart – there were mentions of a little girl. About the right age… Kunsel quickly dismissed the notion, impossible. After what Aerith had told him those years ago… the sheer magnitude of coincidence that would require, was inconceivable.

He brushed a hand through mouse-brown hair, a match to eyes that glowed more subtly than most with mako, a golden tinge where others bore shocking blue. Zack's eye color had changed; his hadn't. One of those unpredictable effects, but Kunsel didn't mind. Average height, average build (if more toned than most) - he'd been told he was inconspicuous, and that suited his purposes just fine. Especially now.

He wondered how long it would take Midgar's pollution to win the battle against the expanse of flowers surrounding Elmyra's little house. Or would the blossoms stubbornly fight on, for Aerith's sake?

In the meantime, he was left with nothing. No hope of Zack's return; no sign of Aerith.

Nothing but a lone soldier in a lonelier church, wishing he knew more than he did.

Ever since Kalm…

Cloud tossed and turned, his sleep it seemed forever interrupted, lost in that milky-white mist that was starting to feel like home. Tifa… she had just sat there, but she was there that day, wasn't she? She had to have been… could it be his memories were wrong?

Why hadn't she SAID something? Backed him up when the others were looking at him like he was making it all up?

The door opened, and he heard her unmistakable steps. Assuming he was sleeping, she didn't turn on the light. Tossing the covers back, he rolled to his feet, taking advantage of this chance moment to pry some answers out of her.

Tifa, help me…

She was leaning over her bag, tail of hair sweeping the floor beside her. He snuck up behind her, and as she straightened, he caught her around her waist; she whirled inside his arms, fists already raised at the ready.

"What are you doing, Cloud?" she asked, half-panicked, slowly lowering her gloves as she recognized him.

He ignored the question. "Tifa, where were you in Nibelheim? When did we see each other?"

She flinched, and he knew. "There's something you're not telling me."

She laughed nervously. "What are you talking about, Cloud? I led you up the mountain. You remember, right?" She met his eyes, nervous, seeking affirmation; but somehow trust would not come to his gaze. "I… we should go, Cloud. Something's happening outside."

He let her slip away, delaying joining the others for a few moments more. His worries were not relieved; they were far more intensified.

Help me feel like I'm not crazy…

Am I crazy?

That was what Cloud found himself wondering once again. Reno and Rude had disappeared somewhere into the sweltering tropical jungle after the most cursory of fights. Cloud's group remained, facing the ruined reactor in the distance, crowning the only outpost of civilization in this section of the world.

Gongaga. They'd followed Sephiroth's trail to here, but if the man had indeed come through, he'd left little trace. The Turks had wisely abandoned this dead-end lead. Still, Cloud couldn't bring himself to leave; he felt something uncomfortably familiar here, settling like an unscratchable itch between his shoulder blades.

He let the feeling roll off like water. Shinra had a reactor here – of COURSE I would have heard of it at some point – but he could recollect neither hearing of the reactor itself or its apparent destruction. Even after quitting Shinra at Nibelheim, news like that would have traveled to globe to – well, wherever he had been at the time.

Damn, it was irritating not knowing these things.

"What were they talking about?" he asked, shrugging, returning to the Turks' strange, overheard conversation. It had been the girls who'd caught their voices first, alerting him, he catching only a few words out of context at the end.

Aerith exchanged a glance with Tifa. Oh, Cloud, you are so charmingly clueless sometimes… Reno and Rude's girl talk was just silliness, but she had to admit her heart jumped in surprise at the mention of Tseng. She'd known, surely, that he harbored feelings for her deeper than he let on – there could be no other explanation for some of his actions – but it was just so… bizarre… hearing it confirmed. Does he still? That new Turk, Elena – could she be the one to change his mind? And did Aerith want him to? A jelly little she-devil inside wanted to keep his protection, borne OF that affection.

She glanced back to Cloud. I'm not in Midgar anymore. I can't count on Tseng – he'd been left behind along with Shinra and Shinra's city – and from what he'd said at the mines, that was where he would stay. At least as far as Aerith was concerned. Another figure of her past, now lost to circumstance to be buried in the pages of her history – and she couldn't help but mourn, just a bit.

Tifa, for her party, was thoroughly shaken. Rude… what the…? She never would have expected. He'd always seemed at least a little… decorous? towards her. But what she'd overheard from him… "Mmm… that body... and that impossible hair… and strength and a charming personality besides. What guy wouldn't want that?" She'd briefly blushed, but a small, sly part of her wondered. Did she have an unexpected ally in the Turks? And did Cloud really take in what Rude was saying?

Really, just when you think things couldn't get any more confusing… She looked back to Cloud, the man looking at the road ahead; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aerith glancing towards Cloud as well.

Tifa berated herself – when did she start getting so manipulative, anyway? Deep down, she knew the answer to her own question – to protect those she cared about, she'd do whatever needed to be done.

Which begged the question of who was saving who.

With Cloud, she sort-of-always wondered, ever more so after their conversation in Junon. Now, waiting for his lead, she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.

Cloud was ever conscious of his companions behind him, but at the moment… Aerith… she worried him the most...

Ever since Cloud had uttered the name of their destination, she had been visibly tense. Once or twice, he had seen her overtly upset, stray unshed tears diluting her eyes.

One of those times, Tifa had gone to her, placing a concerned hand on the other woman's shoulder. Cloud had been too far away to hear their hushed words, but he could see them in the distance, Aerith finally shaking her head and Tifa pulling away. Tifa stood there for a moment, hand raised as if unconvinced; but let it drop a moment later, walking away to leave her friend in uncharted solitude.

Cloud knew he was certainly no better than Tifa for comfort. In fact (here he had to be honest with himself) he was actually quite a bit worse. Still, he was the team's leader, and he had a responsibility to those under his command.

As the fire crackled down one night, Aerith remained the sullen self she had become, staring into the flames as if their vaporous flickers could provide some answers. Maybe to her, they could – Cloud certainly couldn't find answers any which way he tried. Better a fire tell something useful to SOMEONE.

He plopped himself on the ground, awkwardly scooching closer to her, closing the gap a little further than he'd normally feel comfortable with. She looked up, her expression showing she knew his discomfort, but she didn't shy away as he settled himself next to her.

"Everything okay?" He lifted his hand, a jittery imitation of Tifa, then setting it right back down on the ground – the thought of touching her in this moment somehow seeming a little, well, off.

"Why do you ask?" she replied, forcing a smile.

He sighed. He really was terrible at this. "Aerith…" he began, not sure what to say; but his companion bailed him out, reaching for him, her own fingertips barely grazing his forearm. He swallowed, skin prickling form the unexpected contact, uncomfortable with all the possible meanings.

"I know, I know, I haven't really been myself, but… I can't really give a straight answer." She continued on, in a practiced tone; Cloud wondered if she was repeating the same things she had already told Tifa. "It's just… a feeling… that I've been getting, and it's getting worse the closer we get to this place." She gulped. "Kind of like a… foreboding. It's just made me pretty emotional, I guess."

She looked Cloud straight into the eyes then. "I can't really say much more than that. Because I don't know. Sometimes the Planet tells me these things, gives me these feelings, but it doesn't always give me straight answers. Don't you know what I mean?"

Cloud said nothing; he had nothing to add, even as those green eyes, glowing nearly as his mako-brightened own did, continued to bore into him as if to find answers the fire didn't give. "I guess you really DON'T know," she finally said. "Part of me was hoping you did."

She withdrew into half-distance as she returned to contemplating the fire, and Cloud wondered if she was even talking to him, or just the world around them. "Cloud…" he was started out of his own reverie. "You ever feel alone? Like really, completely, alone?"

All the time, thought Cloud. "Sometimes," he told her. "Don't we all from time to time?"

Her expression was pained, stretched; for a brief moment, she looked so much more of the Ancient she was. "I guess maybe I shouldn't have put it that way," she said, apologetic. "I mean, of course we all do, but…. I'm the last Cetra, Cloud. What does that mean? What am I supposed to do?"

Questions Cloud could not hope to answer. He hardly knew what he was doing himself, most of the time feeling like he was just faking it. "But… we're here for you, right?" I'm here for you, was what he suddenly wanted to say. Wanted to protect this beautiful flower from all harm, from all the ugliness the world could spit out at her. He had a sudden urge to throw his arms around her, pull her close, tell her everything was going to be alright.

If only he was sure he could keep such a promise.

He shook his head, dizzy and dazed. Where had all THAT come from?

Aerith seemed to not have noticed; in fact, she seemed now to be ignoring him altogether. There was little need for him here. Reluctantly, he left Aerith brooding, and snuck back into the deep of the night.

Aerith sat there for long minutes afterward, finding little optimism. Nevertheless, Cloud's presence had been… a comfort. But the hour grew late, and there was little left to do but seek the pale sanctuary of sleep

She rose, their fire now bare sparkling embers, and turning, ran nearly into the broad chest of Barret.

He looked down at the young woman, his warm brown eyes reflecting those last sparks; Aerith marveled at the contradictions in this powerful, brusque man. One arm bearing a weapon, the other able to scoop Marlene up to his shoulder with practiced gentleness. A metaphor, perhaps for what we all have inside.

"You alright there, girl?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Aerith hedged, but Barret raised one arm, blocking her path forward.

"If you say so." Aerith knew she wasn't fooling anyone. "I saw Tifa talking to you, and Spiky. I guess I figured it was my turn too. Not sure Red has much to say."

Aerith couldn't help giggling at that. The last she had seen of their four-legged companion, he had been sprawled on his back across the fire and some ways back, purring contentedly as a housecat – though he'd have been horrified at the comparison. "Yeah. I guess maybe he's saving his words for when he gets home, huh?"

Barret made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "Yeah. I guess that's our next stop." He paused. I'm kind of looking forward to it. You know, that's where the original AVALANCHE got its start?"

The original AVALANCHE. Aerith remembered their leaders, turned away by Cissnei at her church. Cissnei. What was she doing now? Aerith had never seen the Turk at headquarters… Anyway. That AVALANCHE had been out to use her, same as the company they claimed to be saving her from. Barret's little group here – started as a splinter cell, he'd mentioned – was genuinely concerned for her. She didn't need the Planet to tell her that.

"Well, anyway," Barret told her. "I guess maybe you and me are due to learn a few things there." He looked at her warmly; she returned his look with a smile, the first she'd really felt in days. "We haven't much had a chance to talk, but I don't think I ever got to properly thank you for what you did for my Marlene."

No, it's I who should be thanking you, she thought, but that wasn't something she could say, even to those she was learning to trust. Not yet. "It was nothing," she demurred, but Barret wasn't having it. "No, it was plenty, girl. And don't I know it."

He looked off into the midnight-dark jungle ahead. "Don't know if we're going to find Sephiroth there or something else, but best get some sleep. I sure plan to." He looked at her one last time before leaving, confirming she was okay; and Aerith tried to tell him with her eyes.

She did feel better, somehow. Better than she had felt in a while.

The encounter with the Turks left behind, Cloud led them forward through the overgrown path. Maps aside, he wondered if this truly was the way to Gongaga. He'd heard it was a backwater village, so he'd hardly been expecting much, but the scene before him looked like nothing but charred, contaminated ground.

"The reactor here," Barret told him. "Just like the one in Corel. Wrecked everything around it, leaving nothing but rocks and shit." He kicked a stone for good measure.

"Terrorists… here, too?" Cloud remembered Barret's story of the destruction at Corel, the reactor a burned out husk, though when they'd traveled through it had seemed intact – good as new, almost. ("Rebuilt by Shinra to cover it up,"Barret had scornfully explained.) Guilt bubbled up, its oil-slick surface reflecting images of Sector Eight. Now that he'd had the chance to REALLY see what the destruction of a reactor could do…

"Nah, this one kinda malfunctioned." Ha laughed scornfully. "Kinda. What am I sayin'? It wasn't like it was a malfunction, those were Shinra's words. This was a full-on fuckin' disaster. Decimated, this town. Lots of people killed. And they had the gall to just call it a malfunction."

Tifa was glued to Cloud's side, concern creasing her pretty features, while Aerith drifted behind, quietly taking it all in. Tifa put a hand on his arm, and he flinched; hurt tickled her concern, and Cloud felt immediately terrible.

How could he explain to her what he did, or more accurately, didn't feel – confused, conflicted, not even sure what ABOUT – it made him pull back into his shell, wanting sometimes to just huddle away from it all and let the world fix itself. How had he let himself be chosen as leader? But for all their sakes, he'd fill the role as best he could, even as he was plagued by self-doubt.

He didn't have the luxury to do otherwise.

Aerith had experienced her brief moment of levity after the Turks, but now she drooped again, lagging at the rear of the group and her mood returned much to what it had been the night before. If anything, it seemed to have worsened.

Aerith… an idle something occurred to him. Aerith had that ephemeral tie to the Planet, haunting her with some greater purpose and the unknown future she'd set out to find – but it was Tifa who day by day looked out for them all, her quiet caring extending to whomever needed it most – often him, trying in her little ways to make him feel better, endlessly persistent even when she found no success.

He wished he could shake the feeling that her concern was misplaced. But there she was, making sure everyone ate and slept, subtly checking on everyone's mood, glue holding them together in the most mundane of ways. Two women, their differences complementary in so many ways, and both tied to him with strings of different colors.

Rough houses, dirt pathways, were all there was of Gongaga to greet them. Backwater was one thing – but, Cloud thought, this was positively backwards as he looked around at oil lamps and well-drawn water. Some inquiries with the villagers revealed why. Suspicious at first of the group, until Tifa, with her approachable demeanor – and Barret, perhaps through sheer presence – assured them that no, they were not affiliated with Shinra in any way, couldn't stand them in fact. Then and only then could the townspeople be persuaded to open up to the strangers in their midst.

All over each other now, they prattled the story of the day the reactor exploded, all the lives that were lost, barely a family untouched. Their choice to move back to nature, life before mako – the promise of comfort was not worth any more lives. Shinra, for their part, was uninterested in rebuilding for an ungrateful public – nothing had been heard from them since bare rumors of an appearance months before – but whoever had been in that helicopter had left without a word.

Here the woman who had been telling the story stopped, considering. "Now, you seem trustworthy enough, young lady" she told Tifa – "but HIM – " here she gestured to Cloud – "he's got those glowing eyes. You SURE he's not one of them?"

Cloud's voice was flat and dry, but underneath it covered up a cold fury. "I WAS one of them," he emphasized. "Not anymore. I've got my reasons. They took plenty from me too."

The woman harrumphed, obviously unconvinced; but she seemed taken enough by Tifa to override her doubts about this mismatched group. "Well, then," she said. "Perhaps you should pay a visit to the Fairs. Lucky enough to survive the explosion, both of them – you'd think after something like THAT, their son would come running back, but no. Ran away to join SOLDIER – so young, too. Maybe you could give them some kind of explanation why they didn't hear from him. Hey, maybe you even knew him… What was the boy's name again?"

"Zack," came Aerith's strangled response, and Cloud turned to see the blood drained from her face. Pale and fragile, she suddenly seemed – and Cloud's heart went out to her. I'm here for you, he tried to send the silent sentiment – but she was somewhere so far away, someplace he couldn't hope to reach.

Turning to Tifa, he was surprised to see her equally shaken, and he could only shrug in confusion. Why was Tifa upset by some word of a random SOLDIER? He hoped someone would think to clue him in. Who was this Zack guy anyway? Some bastard he must have been, not even checking if his parents were alright, after a reactor had EXPLODED.

At least I was THERE to see my town destroyed, he thought bitterly. To see my mother die.

Nevertheless, a lead was a lead for… Well. Some kind of information. Whatever. They'd certainly learned nothing about Sephiroth here. "Show me where their house is," he ordered curtly; the unimpressed woman glared, disapproving, but pointed out the location anyway. The residence lay at the border of the village, just at the edge of the creeping jungle. Cloud wordlessly turned towards it, the Buster Sword straight and firm on his back, as if it was propelling him forward.

Behind him, Tifa fell into step with Aerith, the two of them chattering in hushed whispers, he could only pick up the one word. Zack. It made him twitch unaccountably; avoiding the discomfort, he closed his ears…

"You knew Zack?" Tifa asked Aerith, surprised.

Aerith sighed gently, a long, drawn-out breath. There was so much she didn't feel ready to tell. Not to Tifa, not in any way that might risk crushing her heart, and not Cloud… Well. She was still unsure where that line of thought and emotion was leading her.

"I did," she replied, her tone final, trying to dissuade the other woman from asking more. "You did, too…" she angled carefully, pausing to gauge the other's response.

Tifa answered no faster and no less reluctantly than Aerith herself. "He came," she finally said. "To… Nibelheim…. Once." So. Some random mission of Zack's where they'd crossed paths; but then Tifa firmly clammed up, saying no more. Another woman with secrets she didn't want to reveal. Aerith desperately wanted to pry, but simple fairness dictated she couldn't get answers without first providing some of her own.

Still, Aerith had her reasons for keeping secrets – reasons that had nothing to do with what they were doing on this journey. It helped no one to share. But Tifa… she was the only one of them who knew Cloud more than the slightest, knew him way back when… and it was obvious there was something she wasn't telling.

The other woman had the key, somehow, in words she wouldn't speak. The way she looked at Cloud – her heart as plain as day. Had been from the start.

So why? Why wouldn't she do whatever she could to help a man they both - they ALL cared about?

As much as she liked Tifa, she couldn't help but feel a spark of hatred in that moment. Shamefully, she pushed it back down. We can't help what we feel… only how we choose to act on it. An attraction she couldn't help, didn't understand, even as she faked indifference. There is something very special about him. I've never met anyone like him before. That's how she'd described Zack, with the newness of budding emotion. Was it possible to experience that twice in a lifetime?

"Don't tell Cloud," Tifa suddenly urged, as if defending herself from Aerith's unspoken thoughts.

"All… right" Aerith agreed reluctantly. Not until she knew more about the secrets Tifa carried within.

"But I can't believe it, you knew Zack," Tifa chattered on nervously, repeating the same sentiment over and over, until Aerith finally interrupted with a question that had been tormenting her own mind. "I wonder why Cloud doesn't know Zack? I mean, they were in the same class in SOLDIER."

"That's a good question," Tifa agreed. First Class. We're a small, elite group. That's what Zack had told her – They MUST have crossed paths somewhere, unless – She had no idea how to fill in that blank. Nibelheim. Too many inconsistencies. She recalled the single photo, two First Class SOLDIERs towering over the skinny teenage girl between them… a photo lost to ashes. She wished she had that photo now. Would it have made a difference? Zack had been in Nibelheim. Aerith knew Zack. How did it all come together, where were the connections still unseen? She felt so close, just on the verge of understanding… something… but before her, nothing but a broken bridge she couldn't cross.

A bridge… When Cloud had told them about Nibelheim, one part stuck with her – he recalled the bridge breaking, he catching her. That hadn't happened – she'd already been across. Why had he inserted that one aberrant detail in otherwise near-perfect recollection?

Looking forward at the man she followed… she wished she had the courage to ask.

They'd reached their destination. Cloud rapped soundly on the front door; it opened to reveal a couple not quite elderly, but just at the border of being so. Twin unreadable expressions, then the wife's eyes suddenly widened, she inhaling sharply. Tifa knew what must have startled her so.

Cloud's Mako eyes…

…she must know what that meant.

Tifa nudged Cloud aside, trying to put on her most welcoming smile. "Excuse me – is this the Fair household?" she asked. "We heard you had a son named Zack…"

"Zack?" the man asked, pained worry and sadness creased across his brow. Behind him, his speechless wife gasped, a visible tremor wracking her body; Tifa thought she saw tears threatening. "Do you know him?" her husband asked. "Do you know our son?"

No, Tifa was about to say. "Yes," Aerith spoke up behind her.

Two pairs of weary eyes turned to look at the girl in pink. Tifa felt compassion emanating from her friend's graceful bearing. "Come in… please…" the man invited weakly.

Cloud stepped inside, followed by Aerith and Tifa; the room being Tiny, the others remained outside. They could hear Yuffie's endless chatter, Barret's rumbling baritone in response, picture Red stoically tolerating their human antics. Zack's mother fussed, offering them a seat, some tea or coffee. Cloud remained solidly standing; Tifa and Aerith took seats, Tifa politely protesting no really, don't go to any trouble. Aerith only looked confused and numb. Tifa wished she could read her friend's mind as easily as Aerith seemed to read hers.

"You have to understand… this is quite a shock to us," Zack's father began, addressing his unexpected visitors. His wife stood by his side, nodding in solidarity. "He left so suddenly… Country life wasn't for him. We knew that from the start…. But to have so little word from him… we couldn't help but worry, and then you just showing up on our doorstep, asking about him after all this time…" His eyes flickered, darting to Cloud in particular.

"He wrote us several years ago – that was the only letter we got. He said he'd found a girlfriend – must've been so proud to announce that." Zack's mother paused for a moment. "Well, we just figured she'd kept him distracted after that, but as time dragged on…." She looked pointedly at Aerith. "That must have been you, then?" she asked softly.

Aerith shifted uncomfortably, trying to control the chaos of emotions swirling inside. He wrote them about me…? Tears were going to burst, and she couldn't do anything to stop them. She didn't want anyone seeing her like this… she ran for the door, out into the village, desperate for a place where she could let the sobs come unhindered.

Cloud watched after the distraught girl, torn, wondering if he should follow her. Turning to Tifa, looking for guidance; but she only stood stiffly before saying the one word, "Zack…" before she, too fled the house.

The door slammed shut, leaving Cloud scratching his head, dumbfounded.

"What's got you two?" he asked the door. The door had no answer.

Behind him, the couple was silent, but their eyes remained haunted by the loss of their son. Cloud mentally added it to his list of scores to settle with Shinra. "You should go after them," Zack's father urged. Beside him, his wife nodded, and with one last look for approval, Cloud grasped the knob of the front door.

He was just about to exit when he heard the wife ask, "And which lady is yours?"

He pretended he hadn't heard.

Zack… That name sounded so familiar. Yet for the life of him, he couldn't remember actually hearing it. A First Class SOLDIER? Must've run across the guy somewhere, at least some rumors about him, but with all the holes in his memory, who knows what was missing?

He needed to fill in those gaps somehow. What did Tifa know? What did Aerith?

He glanced around, surveying the sparsely populated village. A glimmer of pink behind that house over there, a tail of dark hair behind another – Who first? Damn, he didn't know how to deal with ONE upset female, let alone two.

Split responsibilities - he had to decide. Keep it simple. Aerith had left first. He went to her.

Aerith huddled behind one of the stores, looking away into nothing; wiping a hand across her face when she saw him. For the moment, at least, tears seemed to be gone. But her eyes were rimmed red, and she sniffled as if the tears could erupt any moment.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I, uh… I didn't know Zack was from here. He… he was the first love I told you about." Cloud nodded once, hoping he projected compassion; he must have, since she continued. "I worried… he went missing after a job five years ago." Before she had a chance to tell him… "You would think he would have at least let his parents know, right?" Eighty-nine letters. How does one measure a love? Is it by secrets never told? "It was probably me." But your parents, too? What happened to you, Zack? "He really loved women… a real ladies' man." The way he touched her with reverence, whispering words of love with fingers and lips on her body. They lying together in the church, she nude amongst the flowers, he describing the beauty of a woman's curves… "He probably… found someone else." Better that – than –

She realized she had started crying again; she moved to cover her eyes. Cloud reached out a hand robotically, as if involuntary; it stayed there, hanging for a moment, before he retracted it, purely confused. "No one could take your place, Aerith," he told her, but the glow in his eyes was dull as she searched for answers in his turquoise stare. For just a moment she was breathless as she saw –

- it was gone as quickly as it had shown, leaving her wondering what was behind that window, the curtains now shut tight. The barest glimpse of his true self, and now it was gone.

Whatever…. that… had been, it rapidly crumbled into awkwardness. Cloud dropped his hand, clearing his throat for lack of anything to say. Aerith averted her eyes, hoping to spare them both any further embarrassment, allowing him to make a discreet exit.

His mind was swimming. What had just happened there? Something he wanted, craved even… but WHAT?! Nothing that lent itself to a simple answer.

Roughly, he shoved the question away. He had responsibilities to meet.

Tifa… he found her at the opposite end of the village, staring up at the ruined reactor. She turned at his approach, guilt washing over her face before she whisked her head away again. That was all the confirmation he needed.

She was hiding something… why wouldn't she tell him?

"You knew Zack." His words, as simple and direct as ever. She wanted to deny it, no, I don't, what, who are you talking about – but he reached for her face, softly cupping her chin, turning her to look at him. She swallowed hard, silence her only protection left. "Tifa… tell me," he urged. Behind that, the unspoken question: don't you trust me?

Tifa wished she could tell him, it's not that simple. "Does it matter?" she asked, bitterly. "Just another guy, running off to join SOLDIER, same as you did…" Her own resentment surprised her. And then, Cloud, you never came back…

He was taken aback by her harsh words; regretful, she backpedaled hastily. "But… you made it in, didn't you? I really respect you for that. I'm – " here she gulped – "really proud of you, Cloud. It's – almost like I made it in myself." And she realized, she meant every word of that, too. He really did it, he'd become what he said he would, hadn't he?

"I…" Cloud trailed off, response uncertain. Tifa's eyes looked at him with the shining trust he craved from her. That he'd needed, ever since they'd clinched a childhood promise under starry skies, when he'd realized he'd been given the chance to earn it.

He'd made it into SOLDIER. For HER. But how? He couldn't for the life of him remember, and he was getting pretty tired of this shit.

He shook his head, a vain attempt to clear it, feeling a small warm hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, ashamed – he'd upset her, but here she was soothing HIM once again. Her eyes were soft, melting autumn warmth, but in the rear, a heat he couldn't deny. Flames licked around the edges as he felt something – electric. Captivating. DIFFERENT.

She realized he was staring at her. Too much. Tifa wanted to look into those eyes forever… they tempted her with wanting and needing, but were still on the other side of the invisible barrier of the truth; she wished she could tell him, but shied away once again. Too much, too soon – and hoping she wouldn't regret this choice later –

"We should go, she told him, calm and firm, denying her pounding heart.

Cloud nodded dumbly. "I think we're done here," he replied, and together they turned to leave Gongaga, and the ruins of its memories behind.

Cissnei withdrew her head from the corner where she'd been peeking, watching the rogue party depart.

She'd first been prepared with an excuse, in the unfortunate circumstance that she was seen. Checking on Zack's parents. She'd done that sporadically through the years, doing her part as well to keep them under Shinra's radar. But, she realized quickly enough, that would bring up more questions than she could truthfully answer.

Aerith deserved to know. But Cissnei couldn't tell her.

Cloud… based on the reports, it seemed unlikely he would recognize her. But Tifa… surely she'd recognize Cissnei. How long before they pried her for answers? Would they realize she could untangle all their confusion?

But she wouldn't. Too much, too soon.

Now, she could only be grateful she hadn't been spotted. Then again, stealth wasn't exactly the strength of this little AVALANCHE offshoot.

She'd been tailing the group ever since they left Midgar, sometimes behind, sometimes a hop in a helicopter to get ahead – the mobile unit Tseng himself could not be. Officially, keeping an eye on them to stop Shinra's – Rufus's – pursuit of Sephiroth, their new stated goal, the man they now thought was their best chance to get to the Promised Land. But her hidden, secondary mission the same as it always had been – two she was following, and even beyond that, her own personal mission, a third trail Tseng didn't know about.

Destinies unexpectedly intertwined the consequences unknown.

And she found herself wound up tighter and tighter, the closer they – and she – got to there.

NIBELHEIM…

…drifting…

…that was the feeling he'd become accustomed to above all else, here in this luminal world…

He felt the tug. The temptation to let go, to join the souls of the Lifestream as one, find eternal joy and peace. But that was for those who had no business left with THIS world.

Zack was not one of those.

Aerith… guiding him like a light (even as there was no true light to be seen, everything being as one to whatever comprised his senses now…) a splotch of emotion, the lingering bonds of love, giving him at least the vague sense that she was there.

Was she well? Was she happy?

Did she miss him?

Had she moved on?

…of course, he had his hopes for that…

and then… Cloud…

He hadn't been able to figure it out at first. Why he had been able to follow the man – even from the start, as Zack's spirit rose from the material world, leaving Cloud to himself, traversing the plains to Midgar. Carrying Zack's dreams and honor on his shoulders, in the most literal sense. Another spot of light, different in character but no less drawn to his sixth and seventh senses.

Eventually, he realized – that was exactly what it was. The sword. A talisman of sorts, from his mentor to his protégé, a continuous line of hope that let Zack follow Cloud, feeling him as he grew closer, closer to Aerith –

- until finally, the chance came, and he reached, just a bit further, a spiritual push to a literal drop.

Cloud… and Aerith. The two people that meant more than any other to him. He could no longer be there for his love. And Cloud – Tifa was dead, her young life snuffed out in the reactor that day. Cloud was not Zack, but perhaps they could find a sort of chemistry all their own – and just maybe, some happiness. Together.

He sent out his wordless wishes.

Cloud… take care of her for me…

…love her for me.