So. This chapter took me at LEAST forty hours of work to get together. I'm not kidding. Maybe more, I kind of lost track. A dedication to z3rotwooffical, Twitch streamer, because her Remake streams helped keep me company during the loooonnnggg process that was this update. Thanks!

Chapter 37. December 21, εуλ0007

The silhouettes on the horizon had first made their appearance as the sun began to come down from its peak. The pointed thorns peaking Mt. Nibel had shown over the curve of the Planet's surface as soon as they had passed the tall walls of Cosmo Canyon, but there had been nothing but wide green plains laid out bare, broken only by the occasional barn or windmill, between there and them…

…until now.

Naturally, it had been Cloud's sharpened eyes that first spotted the anomaly, but soon enough it became apparent to the rest that something was out of place. Cloud resolutely refused to elaborate, though Aerith, in particular, pried him relentlessly, as they grew closer to the inescapable conclusion of what lay ahead.

Houses. A town, even.

Tifa had been nearly as silent as Cloud, her stomach fluttering uncontrollably as old fears she'd thought she'd beaten were triggered all over again. Her head twitched over and over to him, his eyes focusing sharply on the objective just like the SOLDIER he was, though his jaw clenched in visible tension.

As Cloud brooded, Tifa struggled to calm herself, sudden terror threatening to take her over, she reasoning with her panicked inner voice. It's been five years, she reminded herself. Perhaps people had decided to settle here – there could have been enough resources left over from the fire to make this a habitable location. Plus – as far as she knew, the reactor was still running; Shinra could very well have built a base of operations for it. There were a million ways things could be explained, but even so, it twisted the knife of losing her second home in Midgar that much harder.

Even so, she was able to retain a thin veneer of control – until they entered the gates of the mysterious settlement, and she realized what Cloud hadn't wanted to say.

Her heart wrenched deeper as she heard her mouth gasp, felt her eyes grow wide; shaking her head, she wondered if this was just some horrible dream. The buildings just as she remembered them, a morbid mirror of her childhood memories.

She wanted to reach for Cloud's hand, the comfort of his strong grip, for his sake as well as hers…. whatever THIS was, she wanted them to face it together. But he stood aside, too far to reach… and surrounded by the others, their eyes already scattering over the surroundings in confusion, she couldn't find the courage to close the distance between them.

It all felt dissociated, surreal, her voice not her own as it croaked out the words. "It's... exactly… the… same…" Her ears couldn't acknowledge the hushed questions behind her; she knew she could provide no answers.

Cloud could feel everyone staring with suspicion, devoid of malicious intention but doubtless understandable. Still, that was nothing compared to the pity he felt wavering in the space between he and them. It was only Tifa's outright shock that made it bearable, reassuring that it wasn't only him; that those memories, at least, were shared and real.

"It can't be!" He'd been struggling to maintain composure; but finally, it broke. "I remember it so well! Everything!" The screams of the dying… intense heat of the flames…

The pit in his heart as he realized his mother was lost.

Cloud's outburst jarred her further, and Tifa turned. All the doubts she'd had about him… but here, before them, a lie to both their minds. If HE was crazy…. Was she as well? Cloud himself, the only proof of her own sanity; the two of them each other's backup as her emotions gave in to her deepest kinds of fear. What memories might SHE be missing before waking up in Midgar, that gaping hole in her own history pierced by Sephiroth's blade?

The air wavered, making her dizzy; for a moment, she felt separate from her own skin. The world stabilized; for a moment, she thought she was going to be sick.

A heavy arm laid over her shoulders, and she realized Barret was come to her side, looking over her with worry. Nearby, the rest of her party loosely circled her; except for Aerith, talking softly to Cloud, he shaking his head vehemently.

Kalm, she realized. They're thinking back to Cloud's story at Kalm… the story that made her realize his memory problems were far worse than she'd thought. But above and beyond that, Barret in particular was the only one to whom she'd confessed the barest bones of her history, her hometown, since starting her life anew in Sector Seven. If Barret lost faith in her now… she wondered if she'd have any left over for herself.

But the older man offered only compassion; she accepted gratefully as she leaned into his arm for support, unsure if her own legs would hold her up. "You okay there, girl?" he asked; she nodded weakly, not trusting herself to speak.

Cloud brushed off Aerith's concern, glaring jealous daggers at Barret, even knowing he was being unfair. It was his OWN damn fault Tifa could rely on Barret more than he for comfort – and he clenched his fists in frustration at Tifa's evident distress, the sense of impotence arising all over again.

Cloud had no more answers than she to the HOW of this – and the WHAT, that was sitting on front of them – all of them. Anything could have happened in those blocked-out years, and it made him want to bang his head on the side of one of those resurrected houses. Maybe he could shake some answers lose.

Despite that, he looked around at worried faces and realized the group was still looking to him for the next step. No, not him… to the leader they had made him. All he could hope to do right now was act the part, move on forward, hoping they wouldn't decide their trust had been misplaced in him after all. "We should check the houses."

They huddled in groups of two and three, deciding how best to split up and canvass the town, finally choosing pairs. Aerith and Red. Barret and Yuffie. Cait Sith to wait in the center, to receive and consolidate their information. No one objected when Cloud took Tifa's hand in his, steering her firmly towards a particular pair of houses, built nearly flush against each other. A helpless flash of burning rafters caving in overlaid the daytime image before him, and for a moment, he saw double.

Shaking his head slightly, his vision filled with Tifa's face and her eternal, gentle concern; but he dared not show weakness when she needed his strength to rely on. "I'm fine," he demurred, and though her doubt was obvious, she let it pass as together they came to the doors of the first house.

The house pretending to be his was nothing but a wicked joke; he felt aloof and unmoved, even in what purported to be familiar surroundings. There were just enough details incorrect to reassure him this was an ugly fake – he didn't need the words of an unfamiliar dark-haired woman to tell him that. He'd hardly expected to find his mother there, alive and well, but still… He thought of his mother, her life cut down when she was still so young and vibrant.

He wondered how a pain like that could ever stop hurting.

On the tail of that awkward experience, he'd been about to suggest they bypass the house that passed for Tifa's… but looking at her creased, pained eyes, he realized he couldn't deny her the chance to find whatever answers were here to be unearthed, whatever closure she could find. There would be no other chance like this one. At the base of her walkway, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and her eyes lit up gratefully. Letting his palm slip away, she strode resolutely to the door, just as he knew she would.

He trailed in her footsteps as she traversed the rooms, stopping to touch everything, letting her fingers slide with wistful reverence over walls holding neutral prints, where once had been family photos. Cloud realized with a start that he'd actually only ever been inside the one time, though as she led him up the stairs to her childhood bedroom, he remembered how he'd looked through the window so many times that it hardly mattered. He was nearly as familiar with the room as Tifa was; he as well as she could spot the incremental differences that told this room was out of place.

Still, the similarities there WERE, were striking; Tifa paused thoughtfully in front of the piano. This, at least, was so true to the original, that even she could barely tell the difference. Only the relative lack of wear on the keys truly gave away its replacement. Opening the dusty cover, her slender fingers stroked the keys like a lover's touch; gentle tinkling broke the silence as she travelled up the scale.

She remembered, long ago, playing songs just for him, wondering and hoping if he was listening; Cloud's covered hiding places outside never were as secret as he had thought. The girlish self she'd been trying so hard to deny welled within her, and as she looked over at him, studying something on her desk, she realized she hadn't hardened as much as she had thought.

And Cloud was the linker between those selves old and new. Was that good or bad? She didn't know. How could she reconcile the two – the feelings of adulthood and girlhood both? She thought back to that night on the water tower –

"Tifa, you've got to hear this." His voice interrupted her reminiscing; she looked up to see him staring down to a sheaf of papers in his hand. "Periodic report to Professor Hojo."

"Hojo?" Tifa asked, alarmed, but he raised one finger to signal her to silence as he read on. Clones… reunion… it all was a twisted confusion to Tifa until the end.

"No one knows about the incident five years ago. No one knows this town was restored exactly as it was five years ago…" Cloud looked up; an involuntary flash of fear showed, his features reflecting her own. She willingly let her legs collapse, plopping onto the piano bench, letting her body settle into a slump. Her hands idly grazed the keys, and she felt a corner of paper…

She looked down, and yanked the corner to pull out a folded sheet… aware Cloud was staring at her intently. Unfolding it, she inhaled sharply; her hand flew to her mouth in shock, as she spied her own name written.

Tifa, what's happened to our town?

"What is - " Cloud interrupted sharply, but she motioned him to the piano bench, patting the seat next to her. His expression grew progressively darker as together, they read the words of her old master Zangan.

Not their shared illusion. A bitter, inconceivable truth.

Cloud was livid with anger, and he didn't know if it was for the event or the cover-up; but at the same time, he felt validated in his memories. And underneath it all, gratitude that this man he'd barely met had kept Tifa from harm.

After he'd failed.

Tears filled Tifa's eyes, as a blank page of her mind filled with the ink of truth. At the same time... she'd known Nibelheim was gone, but now, she realized Zangan had shielded her from the worst knowledge. Looking at Cloud, she wondered what else had happened on the mountain that day.

Hojo gathering up troops for experiments.

Zack...

Knowing what she now knew, could she ever bear to tell Aerith the truth?

Cloud readily agreed when Tifa asked him not to mention the bulk of the letter; only the things the team needed to know. Some heartbreaks were only theirs. But he had his own reasons besides. "Black cloaks... could those be the same as the clones Hojo mentioned?" he wondered aloud. Muttering about reunion. Why did that strike a nerve?

Why did it make him feel like time was running out?

Tifa was more convinced by Zangan's words than Hojo's reports, but did they corroborate each other? Have you recovered? Are you well? When had he left this? How much later had he been thinking about her? Would she ever see him again? She was grateful for Cloud's reassuring nearness, before sadness and loneliness could take it over.

But still... nothing they had found could explain Cloud's "remembrance" of that day. So much she still needed to know. Suddenly she couldn't breathe, had to get out of the house and away from air that wanted to choke her. Cloud, alarmed, reached one arm hesitantly over her shoulders; a brush of skin on skin made her shiver. "Let's go... to the water tower," she spontaneously suggested.

Across the square, none were to be seen but Cait Sith, humming in a powered-down rest. A few quick strides took then to the well-remembered structure.

The water tower – a memory they shared. Of all his uncertain recollections, this one was written on Cloud's soul with all the feelings of the promise they had made there. Of this memory, he had no doubt.

And here, Tifa beside him, just as real as she had been in that day.

She stared at him with those big shy eyes, so reminiscent of those as a girl, mellowed slightly into maturity. They stood together at the base, the sun gradually climbing down, knowing the fading light would bring the memory back in full. The question sat between them, understood - should we climb up?

Two adults reenacting a moment of their youth, bearing feelings evolved from the warmth of children, heating now into too much fire to handle – not yet.

But that train of thought reached a halt, seeding doubt - with what they knew now, would climbing to the top of this sham replica destroy the sanctity of that memory?

Nibelheim could not fill their need for nostalgia, their desperate craving for an obliterated past. It was only what lived on in their hearts and minds that could offer them serenity. They were each others' touchstones for this reality, the residues of home - ephemeral threads binding them together that fire and time could not destroy.

Cloud wanted to say something, but as they looked at each other, he could find few words. Her presence was all he needed. "Sephiroth will pay for this," he finally said, wondering if that would give her any comfort.

But Tifa could only look away. She wished she could share his enthusiasm, but… time and distance had done their healing work; and whatever kernel of revenge had remained, had dried out after seeing the wreckage of Sector Seven.

Cloud doubted himself in so many ways, but how could he explain to Tifa how driven he felt? And for whose sake? He wanted to pay back Sephiroth not just for Nibelheim, but get some sort of satisfaction for his own missing years, the only icon he could find upon which to direct some blame. He needed to take it out on something, someone. Even Shinra was too diffuse an enemy for the rage that made him want to drive his sword through the SOLDIER all over again.

But Tifa… her suffering, everything she had endured, he wanted to lay at Sephiroth's feet as well. He wished it could be that simple; but he had to share in that blame. Had he reached her in time that day – might this all have been prevented?

He knew, if it came down to it, Tifa's safety far surpassed revenge. He had a sudden urge to reach for her hand, or even pull her close as he had that night in Aerith's garden – the warmth of her skin was locked forever in his memory, that wonderful and all-too-fleeting rush.

"I failed you," were the surprising first words to come out of his mouth.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Was that really what he thought? He hadn't been there then, but… He'd come back to her, and deep down that had been all she'd really wanted him to. The rest was only the way she'd imagined it, before her experiences had modified that dream into something simpler and more real. Where sometimes she was his equal and sometimes he was her protector, the balance ever-shifting, sometimes she his protector just as simply.

Could he be somehow pinning the failure of his entire self on the events of a single day? A day he only imagined he was there? She'd been too frightened to bring up the real truth, in case it was more than he could bear. Or she. She needed him so badly to be real, to be the boy who had been by her side in this very spot seven years before.

Seven years to the day, she realized with astonishment. How had she not put that together before?

She'd been quietly waiting and watching him for answers – to memories missing, memories wrong. But looking at him now, she decided some of it she could accept at face value - the Cloud who was here with her now. Their childhood selves were not in doubt, leaving her to consider Cloud as the man he had become. Ego, indifference, was all a front for the boy who was starting to peep through once again.

How might things have been different? What if she had leaned over and kissed him that day - if he hadn't fallen apart in embarrassment (entirely possible) might they have had a different future? Or would they simply have ended up dead with the rest of Nibelheim?

Things could only happen as they happened; there was no way to know otherwise. She'd survived, spent years recreating herself into the woman she was now, but regretted being able to be a simple teenager, glad she's had at least some of those experiences along the way with friends in Sector Seven. (Jessie, her heart panged.) What might it have been, too be a young couple in love?

It would never be that simple, now that the adult flames of desire had begun.

She'd been trained to focus her emotions, use the weapons in her heart and mind. But here on the flat plain plane of happiness and hurt it was getting hard. No room for revenge, there was only sadness left unresolved, things lost with the girl who had nearly died that day - or so she had thought. Cloud, the town – it was bringing it all back faster than she could handle.

"I don't know what to say right now," she admitted.

"What do you WANT to say?" he nudged; but she balked, and could only shake her head, eyes lowered, chin dropped.

Cloud stared at the certainty that was her before him. He was sure of how he'd felt for her back then; if nothing else, he had that surety to hold him. But now - he was more worried about what they'd just learned.

There were answers he needed, and he couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling Tifa was the one who had them. He'd already tried prying her aggressively in Gongaga, Junon - now was the opportunity to ask further. What was she not telling him? What it was she wanted to tell him, piqued his curiosity just as much.

But with her so visibly shaken - he couldn't bring himself to ask. Whatever it is, I'll listen. He wondered if she knew. Another silent promise, like the one he'd made to her in Aerith's garden. He was making slow promises to her like making love, a tender touch of souls and their invisible bonds of tragedy and reunion.

She'd calmed some since leaving her house, but was still rattled, dazed. "I don't know what is true anymore," she told him. And most of all, how badly she needed for him to be true. But false memories or not, a promise still tied him to her - his presence here was proof of that. Proud of him in so many ways, she wondered about the destiny to which he was taking her.

At some point, she'd leaned in closer; Cloud found the moment so heavy that he stepped back before he'd even realized it. He wanted to tell her, I'm here for you, but rustling interrupted him; and he filed away the sentiment for later.

A shuffle drew their attention away; Barret and Yuffie stood there waiting. On the other side of the square, he saw Aerith and Nanaki exiting one of the houses.

"We went inside the inn," Barret told him.

"Yeah, and the innkeeper said we were full of it! That nothing like that happened!" Yuffie chirped, visibly agitated, looking like a squirrel next to the bear of Barret's solid bulk. "And there was someone mumbling in the kitchen... but the guy wouldn't let us back to talk to him!" Yuffie shuddered visibly. "Like, he was really creepy, covered in this black cloak and shaking and muttering and everything! Almost like some kind of weird ghost!"

"Black cloak? A ghost?" Tifa asked, alarmed, but before she could say more, she heard Nanaki's smooth, elegant voice from aside her. "Not a ghost, I believe."

"You found something like that too," Barret surmised.

Aerith looked more rattled than Yuffie, even. No, not rattled exactly - dreading might be a better word. "You guys..." she gulped. "I... I wish you didn't have to see this, but I think it's important."

After their companions' reports, Cloud gave the abridged version of what they had found - the cover-up, the mysterious clones - but leaving out Zangan's figures muttering Reunion, the name of Sephiroth. He's frightened, Tifa noticed, the signs barely perceptible except to her practiced scrutiny - the reconstructed village had really shaken him, just as much as her. He just showed it in a different way that she hadn't quite caught at first.

Barret blustered angrily as Cloud wrapped up their discoveries. "Unbelievable," he snorted. "I know they rebuilt the reactor in Corel, but a whole town? Why do they care about this place so much?" Tifa couldn't remember, maybe never knew, how their shabby-quaint town got Shinra's interest, much less how Sephiroth had anything to do with it. With nothing to add, she looked to Aerith, who slowly nodded, and turned.

She led them to the house she and Nanaki had just exited, one Tifa remembered as belonging to a family of four. Nothing to be found in the first floor, but...

"We found beings in a similar state to what Barret and Yuffie described," Nanaki told them, "but we believe you must see these in particular."

Aerith looked straight at Tifa."This could be hard," she declared, reluctantly motioning to the stairs.

"I'm ready." Tifa squared her shoulders, gathering courage from the kindness in her friend's eyes.

Upstairs, what she had been primed to expect. Shaking, murmuring black-cloaked figures, smaller than she expected and then suddenly she realized…

Children.

"Tifa?" Cloud gasped, grabbing her wrist; she could only tremble. When had tears started running down her cheeks?

"I think…" she sniffled, catching her breath, "these were the survivors of Nibelheim." Zangan's letter. Survivors carried away by Hojo…

Could Shinra be that evil?

And as Cloud crouched down to one of the miniature figures, her doubts about HIM surfaced all over again. His missing memories. What might have happened to him in his time under Shinra's care? She felt like she was reaching towards some kind of truth, but she was afraid, so afraid… She hadn't even realized Aerith had drawn her close, murmuring soothing words, but despite herself Tifa felt calmer.

"Where can we get some answers?" Aerith inquired, not stopping her ministrations to a grateful Tifa.

"The reactor?" Barret wondered, then recoiled at the twin looks of horror on Cloud and Tifa's faces. Fuck Sephiroth. Fuck Shinra. Fuck all of them – except Cloud, he was alright after all.

"The mansion," Tifa prompted. "He spent all this time in the library." She first, very carefully, did NOT look at Cloud, scanning the faces of all her companions before finally meeting his eyes.

Was it just a trick of the light, or did his pupils seem thinner?

The descending staircase, the crypt-like passageway – the sense of foreboding followed Cloud through the halls, only heightened after by finding this strange man - in a coffin, of all places.

"Sephiroth has found out the secrets of the mansion?" Vincent had said. "I must go with you to know more." His glittering red eyes had glanced from one to the other, finally settling on Cloud and practically piercing his mind. "And all this while I slept."

"The secrets of the mansion?" Aerith had asked.

More importantly… "Who are YOU?" Cloud had asked.

Vincent was silent for a moment, lost in shadows of thought. "Once, I was a Turk," he said. "Now, I am something different."

"What do you know about Sephiroth?" Cloud asked, but Barret interrupted. "Why should we trust YOU? A Turk, he says."

"Because," Vincent intoned dramatically, "I know too well the horrors of Shinra."

Cloud raised his hand to shush Barret. "WAS, he says. Don't forget… once so was I." Barret grumped, but didn't argue further as Cloud motioned a voiceless welcome to Vincent. "I want to know what he knows."

Vincent had led them to the end of the hall, stopping before a foreboding door that Cloud had last seen under fairly… unpleasant circumstances. The dark-cloaked man stopped, as if letting the feeling sink in, along with his words. "This mansion is the beginning of your nightmare."

Tell me about it, thought Cloud.

The door creaked open to an abandoned lab, looking as decrepit as Cloud remembered it. He stopped, turning to Cloud. "SOLDIER is not all that Shinra has done for experiments," he said darkly, but offered no clarification.

"We know," Tifa said, her voice coming out strangled, shuddering at the memory of those children… Already worried by Zangan's letter, now looking around the lab… she didn't WANT to put it all together… Cloud, the wreck she'd found him at the train station….

Aerith's eyes wavered between her and Cloud. Tifa wanted to reach for her friend's support, but she gathered her courage. Right now, Cloud worried her the most.

"Let's go into the library," he suggested, allowing Vincent to lead them to the room beyond. His eyes scanned over shelves and shelves of books, dusty and dry as the titles they bore. "Sephiroth was down here for a week…"

I know, Tifa thought, realizing something right after. I never said that.

Aerith paged at a book lying open on the table, reading aloud. "Jenova…. An Ancient found in a 20-year old stratum…"

"That is what Sephiroth was told," Vincent replied. "But that is a lie. Jenova was never an Ancient. Gast corrected himself later…" Gast. The same name that she saw in the page before her. The name she believed to be her father… what did one have to do with the other? A strange connection between herself and Sephiroth, yet she knew quite certainly Sephiroth was no Ancient.

She calmly resolved to ask Vincent later. She could not afford to be yet another person breaking down right now. That stage was for Cloud and Tifa at the moment.

"Sephiroth must have found out the truth here," Vincent continued. Cloud heard a slight buzzing in his ears, felt wobbly on his feet.

"What truth?" Aerith asked.

"The truth of his origins." Vincent swept a hand around him. "Jenova was used to create Sephiroth, the first SOLDIER." He looked at Cloud; was it just Cloud's imagination, or was Vincent peering at him more intently than before?

"SOLDIER, yes he was," Aerith objected. "But he was no Ancient."

"And that is the problem," Vincent replied. "Gast never told him."

"Sephiroth… he said he was the blood of the Ancients," Cloud recalled. The buzzing grew louder; a sharp pain zapped his head.

"…Created from a mortal woman as the result of Hojo's experiments…" Vincent's voice droned on, sounding like it was coming from a distance.

"If only he'd been told the truth in time…" Tifa. Her voice blurred, as if through water, overshadowed by another, sinister.

Come to me…

It pulled at him, a tug he'd felt in slight from the small black cloaks Aerith had shown them, but it was nothing compared to this. His mother… he said his mother was Jenova… and as soon as he thought the name, his head exploded from within.

He raised his head plaintively to Tifa, and suddenly he saw Sephiroth behind her, grinning. Sephiroth raised his blade…

Cloud lunged forward, crashing to the floor as his body gave in and seized, only able to gasp the one word like he was vomiting it out.

Reunion.

Footsteps ran to him and arms embraced him, and he felt a déjà vu as Tifa and Aerith leaned over him… and with their faces in mind, he succumbed to black.

Aerith ran her hands over Cloud's unconscious form. "He's alright, but maybe we should get him outside," she proclaimed. Inside, she wondered. She had her suspicions of a connection, but the how and why… that, she STILL couldn't figure out, and her sense of urgency was increasing. Beside her, Tifa, lacking the benefit of Cetra senses, just looked lost and confused.

"I will carry him," Nanaki announced. The others expressed concern, but he nosed his back upwards, rising to bear Cloud over his back, and to everyone's surprise, brought him up the stairs and out with uncanny agility.

Tifa was fraught with worry. The worst I'd seen him since I'd been caring him back at Seventh Heaven… She'd thought he was in the clear, and then they came to THIS awful place. She hoped to never see it again; as far as she was concerned, it should've burned with the rest of Nibelheim that day.

By the time they reached the mansion's gates, Cloud could stand but was visibly woozy; Barret took over from Nanaki to support him. With Cloud leaning on his shoulder, he looked up to the sky. "It's too late to cross that mountain. Sun's already down."

Tifa looked to the west and saw he was right; the sun was gone from sight, only the last marks of sunset giving them fading light. She shivered at the idea of crossing the mountain in darkness, all the legends she'd heard as a child coming back to her. The mountain is full of ghosts. Everyone who crosses it dies. As a headstrong teenager, she had once vowed to cross; now, she was hesitant, and grateful she wouldn't be crossing alone.

Ghosts meant nothing but loneliness to her; and even as Zangan had made loneliness one of his lessons to her, it wasn't a state she sought. The sadness she'd felt since entering Nibelheim was weighing her down, and she wished she had someone to turn to. But Barret was holding Cloud, Aerith was obviously distracted by something, and she didn't know either Yuffie or Vincent well enough yet.

She felt a touch, and looked down to see Nanaki brushing his nose against her palm. "He will be fine," he told Tifa. "I could feel it when I carried him."

Tifa so desperately needed that reassurance. "How can you be so sure?" She could hear Cloud finally talking, awkwardly.

"I can sense the strength from him." He pointed his nose towards Cloud, before turning back to her. "From all of you."

Tifa couldn't help it. True or not, it brought a smile to her face. With a thankful brush of Nanaki's mane, she moved to where Cloud was rapidly recovering. Barret stepped away; Cloud stood up straighter, if a little weakly.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"Better," he said, with a small, sheepish grin. "But Barret is right, we can't cross, and we're certainly not staying in this town." He wondered if Tifa realized how quickly relief shone on her face. She laughed; he was glad for the sound.

Looking into her eyes, he realized there were answers maybe here… just not in the way he had thought.

"I'm certainly not going to argue with you on that." She was suddenly conscious of all eyes on them; at a respectful distance, but they were there. "And I don't think anyone ELSE will argue with you."

"Then it's settled." He felt his shoulders slump, the weight of the sword almost soothing rather than heavy, a crutch holding him up. He was grateful for the support as the others started to organize themselves, while in his mind he heard the echo of those final words.

I'M COMING FOR YOU…

Cissnei had not wanted to go back to the reactor.

Cloud's party seemed inclined to bypass it as well. She could hardly blame them. What reason would they have to revisit a place of such memories? Even so, it was a dead lead now, just another power plant humming along. No further touched by Hojo, the same as the abandoned mansion. Left alone since Cloud and Zack's escape.

But the need for subterfuge has driven her here up into the hills ahead of them - the hills where she had first met Tifa, though she was not as lost as on that day. Then again, in another sense, she was more lost than ever. And so, she turned to the only spot on the mountain that might offer some answers.

The reactor was stale and empty, its memories a faded dream, eclipsed by all that had happened that day and its consequences.

She saw empty pods, thinking of Cloud as she'd seen him on the eastern shore, desperately mako poisoned and breaking her heart with the spirit that was lost. She looked to the chamber above, JENOVA written across the entry, wondering what it meant - a name she'd only heard here and there as a project of the science department. Her Turk soul was bothered – a secret even the Turks didn't know – and she suspected even Tseng didn't have the answer. How that must drive him crazy.

Their orders were explicit. Rufus had decided Sephiroth was their first and only goal. AVALANCHE, Cloud, even Aerith to be left alone, except to keep them from reaching Sephiroth first and the possible explosion that might result. The only real problem was, Cloud continued to follow the General, and Aerith was sticking with him. And the man who had joined them today… what did he know about it all?

Part of her mission here had been to keep Cloud and Tifa from finding out the truth of their hometown, though it seemed they'd got some of the answers anyway.

AVALANCHE itself, they seemed to have forgotten about. Barret's small group was out of Midgar and no longer a nuisance they had to worry about. Not that the plate drop hadn't stamped the group's demise into everyone's minds. How would the Turks live that down? She doubted the slum residents bought the story that it was AVALANCHE's doing; their distrust of Shinra ran deep. Frankly, nowadays, Shinra disturbed her, too.

And for that reason she'd considered breaking cover, defying orders. Letting them know all the secrets she knew – the ones hid here at Nibelheim, maybe all the rest as well. Would she be doing Aerith any favors by letting her know? That her boyfriend had been Hojo's plaything for years? It had been hard enough on the detail during her pregnancy and afterward, Cissnei finally grateful to be called off the assignment. She might give Aerith some closure; she might do nothing more than stir up pain all over again.

At least Aerith had Cloud to protect her, he and his new, unaccountable strength – it would assure Aerith's safety quite well, if Cloud wasn't so damn dedicated to following Sephiroth. Tifa seemed to have lessened in resolve, but Cissnei could see she, too, followed Cloud unquestioning. Couldn't you find something other than revenge else to drive you, Cloud? If Tifa can let go of her hate, why can't you?

You could do it, Cloud.

You could keep your promise to Tifa.

If she was honest with herself, she was a little scared of what Cloud had become. Still a wild card, unknown how it would be played. Staring at the chamber above, she gave up on the reactor telling her anything she didn't already know.

Turning from the mysteries inside, she automatically looked to her PHS. No reception. But as she stepped outside and bars appeared, almost immediately it rang with a call from Tseng. He was brusque as always, as he gave her the message in a clipped, efficient tone. We know where Sephiroth is heading. We have info from Reeve as well. She tried to squeeze her own words in, to tell him Cloud's group could not be diverted, but Tseng cut her off with a brief Never mind, and the call closed with a click.

She was relieved the need was gone to tell Cloud the truth. Reports suggested he had no memory of Zack; could she bear to tell him about the friend who had cared for him, about how he'd been nothing more than a vegetable? She couldn't deny she had a soft spot for Cloud and the values that had once shone within; she dearly hoped that hadn't been destroyed.

She wished she could steer him from this race with Shinra; she wished she knew what he was getting out of it. If there was any way to help him, that was something she needed to know.

Back at Midgar, Tseng stared at his disconnected PHS. Truthfully, he didn't think Cloud could be steered any direction at this point; still, he wished Aerith wasn't on the path with him, even as he hoped Cloud would keep her safe. Nothing good could come from being involved with Sephiroth. They seemed to be headed for Rocket Town next; he wondered what would happen when Cloud and Rufus again crossed paths.

As Cissnei ambled towards her designated pickup spot, she dwelled on that day. Seeing the cover-up, feeling impotent and helpless. Stuck on the border, just as she was now, between following her conscience and just trying to survive.

Aerith and the others would have to make it on their own for now.

Cloud, don't forget that promise…

Tifa tossed and turned in her sleeping bag, mind running through the events of the day. Here in the foothills about town, the dark spines of Mt. Nibel loomed overhead, but for once those spindly crags offered up a modicum of comfort.

Not enough to help her sleep, though.

She'd thought she'd be angrier. The black cloaks, the mansion, the strangely duplicated town. But all she could feel was wellsprings of sadness and heartbreak bubbling up, even when she thought they'd been dried up long ago; recent events had nothing if not refreshed them.

And no matter how many times she turned it all over in her mind, trying to make sense of the mystery, here she was – All of it intrinsically mixed with her unidentified feelings for Cloud; one inexorably led to the other, and the dilemma struck at the most fundamental levels of her heart.

So many doors…. And Cloud, the one key.

He was her last tie to her first home, when everything else from there was lost, he returning to her life just in time for her to lose home all over again. A third time, if one counted today; Zangan had been right to tell her she'd never go home again, because this certainly wasn't her home. Cloud, her life's only continuous thread, and she wondered if she was clinging to him for that alone.

But no, she couldn't believe that. He was her friend.

Right?

And floating even on top of that, there was that spark – something new. Something not only a fact of adulthood; with guys before, she'd never felt even half what she felt just being near Cloud. More than time separated these last seven years between them. There was their gawky teenaged selves making promises about dreams under a starry sky, with no idea what the future had in store; and now they'd skipped the in-between stages, meeting again as different people, getting to know each other all over again, boy vs. man.

An awkward juxtaposition this excursion had driven home… so to speak.

She was finding herself surprised and pleased at the man he had become. Only starting to understand the depths of his kindness; the passion of his youth had melted into the softness that would creep into his eyes when she needed it most to be there.

She closed her eyes, picturing his chiseled jaw and nose with his other baby-fine features; mentally she roamed his body, the arms that he'd wrapped around her in the garden, so strong and secure. His firm chest, just broad enough, contours giving themselves away through the thin fabric of his sweater. She breathed and let her fantasies take her.

Cloud was on watch; as she looked at his empty place, she wondered – was it her imagination, or had he placed it closer to her than to the others? No matter, it was empty now. What if it was shared? the idea appeared - Furtively, she glanced around. Everyone within her range of vision seemed to be solidly asleep.

Underneath her covers, she let her hands slide up in tandem, scooping both her breasts to tickle her own nipples – picturing those same perfect lips nipping her ear, traveling down her collarbone to take the place of fingers she now imagined as his as well.

She slid her right hand downward, traveling over the toned abs she'd often caught him staring at. Another thing she sometimes hated, the attention she got for her looks, but from his eyes she craved it - not missing when they flickered to the band of revealed skin above her thigh highs, blushing slightly every time she realized what thoughts were crossing his mind. Thoughts she found herself delighted to be putting there.

Her left hand continued to caress her nipple, imagining it was him. Imagined him sucking on it. Would he like her breasts, or would they be too big and gangly for him?

She squirmed slightly at the idea, allowing her hand to roam freely further, sliding in between her legs with the same virginal shyness she felt every time she pleasured herself. One finger flicking lazily over her clit, allowing the sensation to build slowly and naturally, she recalled doing this same thing and thinking about the same man, years ago when this town still stood.

Excited at her youthful recollections, she gasped involuntarily. She glanced furtively around to make sure no one had noticed, before her left hand descended to join her other, and she gave herself up to fantasy and sensation.

She wasn't surprised to find herself wet. Her left hand slid easily between her folds, coating her fingers with her own moisture. She teased around her entrance, as nervous as if it wasn't just she alone doing this. She wondered if he had any experience. Would she have to guide him, or would he take the initiative? Either way would be fine, she realize, as she pictured him between her legs, his naked chest she'd seen the literal barest glimpse of, his muscled arms holding himself above her.

Cloud was simply beautiful, was what he was.

She poked just her fingertips at first inside her soaking opening, the sensitive ring of flesh contracting at the sensation, nearly coming right then as she pictured Cloud sliding inside of her.

She paused, sliding at first two fingers inside of her, then three, picturing him on top of her, now fully devoted to the pursuit of her own pleasure. She wondered how big he was. Would he fill her just right? How would he move? What might he say, or would he just kiss her again and again?

Would he look into her eyes?

The last thought sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her toes; she had no time to brace, tensed muscles releasing so abruptly that she cried out before she could stop herself, leaving her gasping as she let her body take over. Waves of relaxation washed over her as the aftershocks squeezed out the juices of her orgasm. She rolled her head, halfheartedly looking around to see if anyone had noticed – though in that moment, she found she didn't much care.

In fact, in that moment, if Cloud had heard - she might have rather liked it.

Slowly, her body stilled. Her breathing had returned to normal, but her heart was still slightly racing as she heard a pink-champagne voice out of the darkness.

"Tifa?"

No hiding she was awake. "Aerith," she called back softly, propping up on one elbow.

Aerith sat down next her, pulling her knees to her chest and tucking her pink dress sloppily underneath. "I knew you were still up," she started. Even without moonlight, Aerith's eyes glittered ever so faintly. "I could feel you thinking."

Tifa didn't doubt Aerith meant that in the literal sense. "There's just so many, things I don't understand, you know?"

Aerith knew. Boy, did she know. But she didn't want to get into the truth of the rebuilt Nibelheim – she just knew Tifa hurt. "I'm worried about you, Tifa," she said.

Tifa plopped her head back on the makeshift pillow, staring blankly towards the moonless sky. "I thought I was over it," she vaguely motioned to the town down the hill, "but Sector Seven… and now this…" She paused; her eyes glistened wet. "I learned to rely on myself." I wanted Cloud to be proud of me.

Aerith laughed, a tinkling, chirpy sound. "Well, you sure can fight."

"You can, too," Tifa replied. "I've seen it, remember?"

"Well I'm glad I can contribute," Aerith demurred.

"You can heal, too. Even WITHOUT materia. That's really impressive. I'm not so good even WITH materia."

"Your strengths are different. Speed. Focus. You've got that down. You're a monster in battle sometimes, you know that?" Their eyes met in the near-dark; Tifa could feel herself blushing, but basked in the compliment nevertheless.

A long, but not uncomfortable pause stretched out, the women taking comfort in each other's silent companionship.

"I miss Marlene," Tifa finally said.

I do too, Aerith silently replied. The child the Planet wanted. She'd been wondering why it had asked her, but now that Tifa was in the picture, perhaps there was an answer. Well, and Barret, and even Cloud was in there somewhere, but…"You're really her only mother, aren't you?"

Tifa paused deeply in thought for long seconds. "I guess… I hadn't really thought about it that way," she finally said. "I guess I really am."

Another moment passed; Aerith shifted position, folding her knees underneath and leaning towards Tifa slightly. Tifa turned her head upwards, towards the peak looming overhead. "Tomorrow we cross the mountain," she finally said. Aerith noticed a slim shudder, Tifa seemed herself unaware. "I'm scared."

"Don't be," Aerith urged. "Why?"

"Because… when I was little, they said the mountain was full of souls. Souls of those who died. "She paused, weighing whether or not to go forward and say more. But who could she trust, if not Aerith? "Like my mother."

"I know." Aerith placed one arm carefully around Tifa's shoulders. "We'll see our mothers again, someday. In the Lifestream."

"But… I feel lonely now." Tifa brushed her hand over the sniffles that had started. "And now there's more people that I've lost and won't see again until then…" She buried her head in Aerith's shoulder, trying to keep the tears at bay. "They say the mountain is proof those people lived. Is it selfish of me to think that's not enough?"

"Of course not," Aerith soothed. She stroked Tifa's hair lightly, a gesture she remembered her mother – both of them – doing. "Think of the people you still have around you. You earned those people, their friendship." And deep down she felt a bit jealous; loneliness had been her companion far more than it had been Tifa's.

"Don't say that. You're one of us too," Tifa told her. "I'm... glad that you're here." And Cloud too, she thought. I don't know if I could have faced today without him… Does that make me weak?

Aerith thought back to Cosmo Canyon, even back to Gongaga, and all she'd learned there – she'd thought she'd been coming to terms with her loneliness. The day before she had felt so separate, the lessons of the elders leaving her with a blend of terror and fascination. She'd felt rootless, but today, perhaps, she felt a little closer to the rest.

Aerith rested her hand on her chin. "You know what they told me in Cosmo Canyon?" Tifa shook her head no. "About the Promised Land. That it's a land of supreme happiness, something we all have to find for ourselves. Maybe that's what's over the mountain?" Tifa's brow scrunched in thought.

Her new life, her new people. Particularly Cloud and Tifa, the two who most needed her attention right now. She'd done what she could to shield Tifa, feeling ambivalent whether or not she was helping - in that moment with the children, knowing how much that would hurt… But Tifa was such a strong person, she hardly needed the help.

Cloud was another matter. She'd tried to probe him, but found herself getting nowhere, lacking the path to his heart Tifa had. What he needed…

"It's a new moon," Tifa interrupted. Aerith realized she was now gazing heavenward. "You can really see the stars."

"I've… never really seen stars," Aerith told her.

"Really?" Tifa asked, shocked and amazed.

"You can't really see them above the plate, between the city lights and the pollution," she explained. "Even so… I always liked the night sky. More than the day. The day sky frightened me. I liked it under the plate better. But the night one made me feel like it was safely wrapped around me. But I never much thought about stars."

"Don't you feel… constrained, underneath, though?" Tifa asked. She'd never one hundred percent adapted to the plate hanging above her at all times; she couldn't imagine anyone preferring it.

"Not really. Too much freedom… to me, that's what feels like loss," Aerith said.

"I guess – that would depend on what you are trying to get free of?" Tifa thought once more of Cloud, taking her to an unknown freedom but not alone; she couldn't help but note the irony that when she finally returned here, it was with him.

Aerith didn't really know how to answer that. "Freedom… can be complicated." Terrifying. She stared straight up, letting herself really take in the stars; she'd never realized how many there were. The sky takes away the people I love. Did Cloud and Tifa worry about losing each other? Looking around Nibelheim today, she had the sense that the two of them together were grounded more than they each alone; she envied them the luxury of worrying about each other, when she was beholden to the world.

"Anyways," Aerith excused herself, "I just came to say hello. I'll let you do your own thing." Tifa started to object, but Aerith hushed her protests, sweeping her gaze significantly to where Cloud kept watch in the distance; keeping them safe. "Don't forget," she said softly, "to treasure what you have."

Aerith rose and departed, her meaning left clear, and Tifa was left thinking. And that lead to the inevitable topic once again.

Cloud.

Nibelheim was not providing any answers; the answers could only be inside his head.

Talking of Marlene had reminded her - The concept of home was still so important to her, but home was not these slapped-up buildings lacking souls. Home was the people that filled them.

Treasure what you have, Aerith had told her.

Maybe it didn't matter what memories he was missing. Maybe instead they could make some new ones.

She knew she could stand on her own, but she still needed Cloud, and that was the crux of her dilemma. She still needed their promise. Together, they could keep it.

And that promise sent her to him.

Vincent left his post at watch, Cloud taking over, even as the man insisted he had little need for sleep. Had he really been sleeping for nearly thirty years? What kind of stasis had held him for that long?

Cloud had many questions, but their new companion was not his first and foremost concern. He'd eventually have to pick Vincent's brain for what he knew about Sephiroth, but every time he tried to untwist the puzzle in his head, that zapping pain snuck up on him, as if he'd been reaching for something too hot to touch.

Pleasanter thoughts awaited him, and he was grateful for this time to himself to think about the other thing that was on his mind.

Tifa, the one line connecting him to home – the one he could count on when he doubted himself the most. She the reassurance that his memories were correct, that he hadn't imagined the Nibelheim incident they had survived together.

If this was an illusion, it was their shared illusion.

He WISHED that day could be nothing but an illusion.

He paced the few steps of his post, never taking his eyes off the surroundings. Why didn't she blame him more? If she did, would it be easier for him to try and make it up to her?

He needed to keep the promise to her, whatever it took. That was the key.

She hadn't cried when they'd stumbled on this… whatever this was. He kind of wished she had. Maybe he could have tried to console her, to share once again what had passed them in the garden. He'd been slowly coming to realize – what she needed – was a hero in the emotional sense, not merely the physical. He still felt so impeded by the simple inability to feel… but he could try.

Part of him wanted to run from the memories of failure, unable to stop seeing them every time he looked at her. Tifa, bleeding and unconscious, on the floor of the reactor. But slowly, those images were losing focus, fading – replaced by those newer and sharper, miniature victories to take their place. But no, he couldn't run, because he'd made a different promise to her in the garden - paying back the promise in little pieces.

Being a hero was different than he'd once believed. He'd thought he'd traded away the idea of being one for the life of a merc instead, but what else COULD he have done after Nibelheim? Now, to his surprise, the option was still there – muddling the black and white he'd seen before. His ideas of being a hero had changed once again, along with a better sense of what he was fighting for.

He was starting to understand – what she had really been asking him to promise. "We'll meet again." Was that all there was to it?

And though he had doubts about himself, she needed him now, and for that he would fight through it. What can you give to a woman out of that? Elmyra had told him. He hoped to prove her wrong - that the price of strength was not the loss of everything else he held dear.

He wanted to do so many things for her. Keep her safe, keep her happy. Wanted to see her always smile. "You're really a pretty nice guy." Those simple words gave him wings. He wanted to tell her everything the promise meant to him –

- and he hadn't even noticed her approach, coming up like an exclamation point to his thoughts.

"Hi," she said, hands between her back and shyly shifting back from foot to foot.

"Hi," was all he managed to cough out in return.

He'd been engrossed in thinking of her long ago, and now, as so many times before, he was struck by the contrast. Blossomed, matured into all of her beauty, he was fascinated by this new Tifa that was before him; even as the core of her, her beautiful heart, was left untouched. He'd seen it come out when she was with Marlene, the same bright smile she'd had as a girl, and Marlene's glow in return.

"Couldn't sleep?" he finally asked her.

It was too dark to see, even for him, but he could've sworn she blushed. "Sort of."

He'd been surprised to find her a capable fighter – but then again, she'd always had the spirit. So strong, so brave, yet he wanted and needed to protect her anyway.

"I just thought… I'd come out here and think for a little while. It's been a strange day, you know?" she continued. He only nodded.

Tifa had brought Aerith's eyes with her, the ways the other woman was able to see Cloud new and fresh – and Tifa was finding she liked what she saw. It was so simple, she was amazed she hadn't put it together before. Cloud, deep down, just needing someone to care about – and people who cared about him. And perhaps in this little group they'd collected, he could finally start to find what he needed.

Being here, back where it all started, had brought up so many things. She'd been making a new self, slowly rediscovering love - but Cloud brought back such a flood of feelings she had thought lost, despairing of ever seeing him again. How real was the new identity she'd created in Midgar when the world seemed to be crumbling around her? Having him as the common thread made her feel less fragmented, more put together. The boy that knew-her-when.

He was looking at her, she realized. Just… looking. Amazing how a simple look could carry so much weight… The safety he radiated had been so much a part of facilitating her transition into needed sadness - the shoulder for her tears to fall on. Even here at the scene of the crime, she couldn't find the anger she so badly wanted to feel, craving the comfort of this man's presence instead.

Cloud, her support, succeeding where he thought he was failing. He was most a hero to her… when he was simply trying to be a man.

And that's what had driven her out of warm blankets to seek him out this night. She raised her eyes to his, but found she could meet them for only a second before it started to feel like too much of – something.

She was still reeling on five years having gone by; but home, family were as potent a wish as ever. As was the promise – now was when she needed it the most. Needed him. While she was being flooded by these so-different phases of her life, he gave her a sense of things coming full circle. Complete. Like maybe her world had some cohesion, re-cemented brick by brick.

And as he helped her to reconcile herself, she felt like she could see him more clearly as well. Part of her feelings were new and specific to adulthood; she wasn't just falling for a past fantasy - there was physical attraction, raw and new.

Was she ready to call that love?

The stars alone gave enough light that she barely noticed the absence of the moon, the spray of them over the sky like petals on the wind. She dared a look back. He hadn't moved.

His eyes glowed faintly in the lowlight; now they didn't seem like the harsh SOLDIER eyes that had frightened her so; but a true blue of his remembered self.

She pictured him starting with a gentle kiss, as her gaze traveled from blue eyes to pink lips and back again, vacillating between tender feelings and burned-deep desire. Would his lips be as soft as she imagined them? Unconsciously she took a step closer, leaning in a bit further, succumbing to the irresistible draw.

Cloud found himself frozen to the spot, the gap between them closing imperceptibly, but his awareness with every diminishing inch of space. Tifa's closeness flustered him… in a way he didn't exactly dislike.

The temptation to pull her into a kiss, an embrace, was strong. His boyhood desires burned in his loins for that, and more. Lust inflamed by the nearness of her body, unquenchable even if her cared to stop it.

Today had left him surer of certain things than ever; he was starting to think maybe he could love her like a man. But he was so unsure he could BE a man. Or was he? As he stood and looked at her – REALLY looked at her, fragile and resilient at once – he wondered if maybe he wasn't failing after all.

Her quiet validation made him feel both stronger and weaker with her by his side. He was starting to believe she might be the answer, if not the easiest one. The trust he'd been craving, right under his eyes the whole time.

And she was still counting on him, still willing to let him try.

Tifa wasn't the only one who wanted to fill the void left by Nibelheim. Perhaps today he realized how much he wanted a home too, but the idea of a home, a family even… seemed such a remote possibility. That's what made him hesitate to call it… love.

He wasn't the boy who made that promise…

But perhaps he could be the man who made another, and another.

"It's so nice out. The quiet." she observed, her voice breaking into his thoughts. The moon was new and fresh, yet invisibly breaking open the sky full of stars to invigorate their memories and spirits. "A new moon…"

"It's also the solstice. The darkest day of the year twice over," he replied. That's true, she realized; she'd forgotten the date. "Seasons are changing. Kind of reminds you all over again, how fast things are changing around us, huh?''

"Yeah…" she trailed off, considering. "Are you tired at all, Cloud?"

"Nah," he said. "I'm fine on watch for a while."

"Well… in that case… would you like a little company?" Tifa breathed. "We could maybe… look at the stars for a while. The new moon makes them so much easier to see." New moon. New beginnings, new promises…

He cocked his head boyishly to the side. "That sounds… nice," he told her. He paused. "Tifa." Stargazing… reminded him more of feelings than failures. "New memories."

He reached up a hand, stopping short of brushing her check with tough leather. With so many missing moments like this, moments like this were that much more precious to him. He felt closer to her than ever, borne of kinship and relief that he was not the only one whose memories the others doubted. Tifa, he trusted to tell him the truth; Tifa was the one who assured him he was real, the proof of his sanity. They turned to watch the sky together, so close, yet not touching.

The solstice bore a peace of its own. Tifa remembered how Nibelheim had celebrated this as a time of transition, the mountain its symbol, a liminal space. A dark barrier where all was lost, to begin anew like Phoenix, new life in miniature. Warm memories it might have hurt to bring up again – but Cloud was there, silently by her side, his presence a simple comfort when she felt so adrift. Solstice would be a homecoming wherever they were, whatever new life they went on to.

"You know," she told him, "I've never really thought about it, but when they used to tell us about the souls of the dead crossing the mountain… the mountain's kind of a way of keeping track of time too." She lifted her head higher, trailing the slope above. "I was so afraid of what was on the other side. Aerith told me, maybe we find the Promised Land there. I never really thought it might be a place to be reunited. Sounds so much less frightening that way, don't you think?"

"Yeah…" She was right, of course, but Cloud wasn't sure what to answer. Seasons. Lives. So many ways to say measure time. So many ways things changed. Tifa… Yet the resilience of feelings remained. "Maybe that's the only real lesson we can take away from here – the passage of time," he mused.

She sort of understood. Midgar had neither sun nor seasons and it hadn't truly hit her how much time had really gone by. Cloud was the REAL marker of the difference, visible in the ways he'd grown in body and spirit. "The last five years… you haven't exactly had a home, have you, Cloud?" He didn't answer.

They looked at each other awkwardly, and Cloud wondered if she was thinking the same things he was thinking. Even as they grew close, some things would be left behind. Accepting change led to a fuller understanding, that you had to let some things go to make new memories instead. Tifa was still looking to the heavens; but all he wanted to do was drink her in.

Tifa could feel his eyes on her. Seasons turned in more than one way. Five years in Midgar, but that chapter of her life was finished; perhaps not just a chapter, but an entire book closed.

She didn't know what would be in the next, but she knew she and Cloud would be characters in the story together.

Survivors reunited, here under the stars. Tied through time and space by a promise.

It was those unchanging stars, not a fake water tower, that made the memory of that promise so achingly real.

In Cosmo Canyon, they'd asked him, Were you able to hear the stars whisper? And he could swear he could. What were they saying? As they stood there, listening to the different types of quiet, he wanted to tell her everything the promise meant to him; and he realized, he was finally learning to feel. Cloud looked at Tifa.

Stardust glowed on her face.

Soft feelings of youth had blossomed into adult feelings still unexplored, still undiscovered. The world of emotion was in so many ways unfamiliar to Cloud, leaving him unsure how to proceed.

Still, as he looked into her eyes underneath the same stars where once they'd made a steel-strong promise, he knew those feelings would evolve, and endure, as long as the two of them survived.

He'd do everything in his power to make sure that was a long, long time.

Tifa stared at the sky, trying to will a shooting star into being, wishing for something to wish on. Thinking how her wishes had changed through the years, from little-girl fantasies to something more real and true.

"What would you wish for?" Cloud asked when she told him.

She didn't hesitate. "A life with meaning."

Cloud. Existing all this time without love, without a home, traveling anywhere a merc would go, she guessed? No wonder he was so awkward, so starved for love yet so unsure how to get it.

Indecision had been holding her back. She didn't want it to keep holding her back. How much time might they have, really? She started to open her mouth -

- and suddenly, as if her thoughts had summoned it, there it was, a shooting star, its tail streaking across the night sky; gone in an instant, but the afterimage flashed in her mind as she gasped.

She turned to him; he'd lifted his face to the sky, and she was glad they'd been able to see the shooting star together. "What did you wish for?" she asked.

He hadn't wished on the first shooting star, all those years ago. He hadn't known. He still didn't know… but perhaps now, with the cheap wash of Nibelheim laid out below them, he was finally starting to understand.

"Did you get what you wished for back then?" he asked. She could only nod; she could not give him her answer in words.

You came back, she thought.

I'll always return, the reply she could not hear.

Because now… one thing they knew, their promise was a star of its own… something to guide them, and lead them back home.

Cloud had already risen to take over the watch when Aerith had left to talk to Tifa; but it wasn't until she returned to her own spot that she discovered Vincent back at his own, not from where Aerith had laid hers. Deliberately. She'd hoped to pry his brain for a few more answers, since as she'd suspected, he didn't show need or even inclination towards sleep.

He wasn't cold, she realized; merely reserved. Stoic, perhaps. Unfortunately, he couldn't expand much on what he had already told them; she carefully danced around directly asking about Gast, but she did learn Vincent had been locked away in that awful vault since years before she was born. Why would he do that, she asked herself. But asking him felt like overstepping boundaries.

At least the conversation let her form some impressions of the man, finally realizing what he reminded her of, a bit. Cloud. An older, wiser Cloud. Only subtly, but it was there.

Vincent might be able to do without sleep – but Aerith, Cetra or no, lacked that power. And as her eyelids closed and conversation became more forced, Vincent politely suggested she should seek some rest.

Still, her mind wouldn't let her.

She tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Here, in the foothills, she was beginning to feel the true cold of the mountains proper, but she much preferred that to the interspersed warm breezes that reminded her Shinra's reactor was humming along – a place none of them had been eager to visit. Not that the mansion had been much better of an experience.

So now she knew… why Sephiroth thought he was one of the Ancients. Despite everything she knew, she could almost feel a stab of pity for the man. From birth, he'd been nothing but another one of Shinra's creations. And that made her wonder further – at least at the start, had there at least been some hope for him? Was he as much victim as terror?

Naturally, she knew straight off he was no true blood – his cold, disinterested demeanor gave it away. And as all roads of her thoughts had led as of late, this one went to Zack as well. Those he loved were his strength, in direct proportion to the depths of his caring. And if he had only known… if he'd had the opportunity to actually BE a father… what might he have been like then?

Instead, Zack had left a big, empty question mark of what-could-have-been, and no matter how many times she tried to stop herself, she couldn't help considering the lost possibilities. It left her craving, NEEDING, more information, with no idea where it could be found.

Rolling onto her stomach, she crossed her arms and placed her head on top, thinking.

Zack had come to this town. Tifa had met Zack. These were the facts. But bringing up the subject to Tifa… she was scared any talk of love might uncover her own feelings for Cloud, reluctant, bittersweet, unwanted for the trouble they might create.

Yet for all that undeniable, and sooner or later, she would have to work that out. She brushed the thought away roughly, leaving it for her subconscious to dwell on.

Flowers reached for the sky. She'd told herself that once, as much as she'd been frightened, here she was, under the sky and free. Free of Shinra, free of Midgar, and somehow, she was becoming free of her memories as well. Not the memories themselves - those she'd never want to lose – but the power they'd held over her for so long.

Selling flowers, seeing the sky, leaving Midgar – these were all things she'd expected to experience with Zack, and look, after all, she'd been able to do them on her own. Well, not completely alone – but without the perfect dream she'd counted on for so long.

But above and beyond her new friends, her new family, she was accompanied by the whole world now. Not just her sparse patch of flowers near the church, nor the garden by her home, spoke to her now. It was ALL the voices and feelings struggling at once to be heard, to teach her over and over the value of connection, of love. She was experiencing the entire flood the Planet could offer, but more importantly, she was starting to feel ready to listen.

The other side of the coin was the price the Planet demanded of her in return. The burden born to her as a Cetra. This overflowing of feelings that she could never escape completely – it was hers to teach, and pass on. Remind those who had lost their way from the Cetra path to reach out, not just to each other but to the Planet itself. One lifetime would never be enough for this.

The Planet was as starved for affection as, well, Cloud.

Cloud. The problem she was still trying to solve. He'd die a slow death without connection. But no luck - his soul was out of her reach. Telling him outright all she knew – she feared it might be so damaging; unlike Zack, his heart was so fragile and hidden. Not wanting to let him know too much, too soon, she tried to carefully ration out the crumbs of knowledge she gave. To nurture and protect him.

He wasn't Zack… but he was someone, and that calmed her some as she faced the world. She felt so many things for him, borne of familiarity, affinity. But as much as she wished she could play-pretend, wishing dearly she could call it love, she tended to maternal as much as romantic, her role to guide him forward.

She rolled over on her back, staring at the sky, letting the images of the stars float above her eyes.

Truthfully, it was the feeling of loving him she craved, not he himself; an extra step removed from something that could be made true, and confusing because it could feel so much the same. And she could see in his eyes it was the same for him, a puzzle that would frustrate him until he gave in to love formed without that veil.

She wanted to teach him how to love above all else; another way to find meaning in her relationship with Cloud, and that gave her peace. In Cosmo Canyon, those feelings had burned through her, sloshed up in the maelstrom of confusion she'd found there, stirring the furor of her soul. But like her thoughtless flirtation back in the Shinra cells, she cringed in embarrassment.

Wanting to help both herself AND Tifa, she'd made a conscious choice to step back, and as she let go of Cloud, she found it easier to let go of Zack as well. Zack, if you ARE in the Lifestream… we'll meet again one day.

In the constant state of flux between happiness and disappointment she'd been experiencing since meeting Cloud, could she say, and actually mean it with her whole heart, that she cared enough for him to want what's best for him?

And she knew what that was.

She could try.

Tifa… was also part of what Aerith needed to move ahead, in the smaller, gentler ways so like the woman herself. Yes, she wanted to get to know Tifa for the sake of Marlene. Yes, she wanted to know what Tifa knew about Cloud. But she wanted to get to know the other woman just for Tifa herself. And she wanted to help Tifa with Cloud, make sure Tifa well and truly saw him for who he really was; how could Tifa know, when Cloud himself was not truly open, not entirely whole?

She thought of the empty feeling she'd gotten when trying to tend to those poor black-cloaked children; she shivered.

Cloud and Tifa together were grounded in a way she couldn't hope to be. Freedom had come so dearly for both she and Zack; she couldn't help but envy her friends their relative lack of freedom, inextricably bound together, childhoods entangled; indulging the precious luxury of something so little yet so big as simply worrying about each other.

Wistfully, she let her eyes caress the heavens, following the milky green streak of the galaxy across the sky. It had been in the garden that she'd told goodbye to Cloud before it had begun, but now she understood, it wasn't just that. It was a goodbye to all the things that couldn't be, a second love, a normal life. Because Cloud was not for her, nor she for him.

But even on that hope-drained plateau, she found a peace, a calm, in the emptiness that opened into possibility. A crossing-over of another sort, just like the mountain they would climb tomorrow.

And with that revelation, as she curled up on her side and finally let herself drift towards an overtaking sleep, one final thought occurred to her.

Had Cloud started to hear the flowers?

An early morning wake-up call: Tifa yawned and rubbed her eyes, looking towards Cloud's retreating back after he'd gently shake her awake. His own gear, already done up with military precision, lay not far away; closing the gap between them in a literal as well as figurative way. The night before, she'd wanted to get closer – but perhaps it had happened, if not quite in the way she'd been thinking of earlier.

Tifa blushed at the memory, as pink as if he had actually been watching – and she wondered once again, if she was certain SOLDIERs couldn't read minds.

Cloud busied himself breaking camp after waking all but Vincent. Vincent had been up since daylight, and really no one knew if the man had even slept at all.

Enigma he might be, but Cloud already felt a kinship with the man – united by their pursuit of Sephiroth and their hatred of Hojo, even if he did not yet know all the reasons why. The skills of a former Turk would be valuable, as would his knowledge of Shinra way back when; Cloud hoped he might yet get some answers about the Nibelheim Incident.

He couldn't shake the feeling that the answers were right under his nose, if only he could decipher them.

Rustles and chattering broke the early morning air as the rest of the team followed his lead. As they finished the last chores, Cloud stole one last glance towards the village below; even knowing it wasn't home, he couldn't help a sad nostalgia for what once was.

He turned to Tifa; the pain in her eyes showed she felt it too. Not to mention her anxiety about the next step. "Ready?" Cloud asked her, eyes carefully searching hers. She nodded, straightening her shoulders.

They'd discussed this at length; it was Tifa's moment to play leader. She had to be the one. She'd been the mountain guide, way back when, bragging (truthfully) that no one else knew these mountains like she did.

She took her spot at the head of the party, but as she turned towards the trail reaching upwards, she couldn't shake the remembrance of the LAST party she had led up this route. Zack, warm and friendly; Sephiroth, cold and aloof. And the trip after that…

She remembered a nothing blur of her sprint up to the reactor on… that day. The feel of the Masamune in her hands. The pain as it sliced her open. Her father – she was suddenly ashamed to realize, in her shock the day before, she hadn't remembered him, not once. But now…

The memory hurt so much it was overwhelming; she distracted herself with the scenery. Just as she remembered, the burbling vents spewing viscous green that children had always been warned away from; it was said if you fall in, you'd fall to the inside of the earth. She'd never learned if it was true. It wasn't mako, though – she'd been inside the No. 5 reactor, remembered the smell and feel, and this was different. Pure Lifestream?

Aerith seemed to think so. The other woman was gazing intently at every hole they passed, a rapturous look on her face; Tifa wondered what she could be seeing. Herself, all she got was a general sensation of comfort and peace; she wondered why she'd never noticed as a child. Had she just not been paying enough attention?

And then, another suppressed memory – she and Zack, making their way down the hill in cooperation, to get the nameless trooper to safety. Injured protecting her, though he'd obviously been outclassed; the fight had already turned to her when Zack had arrived. She was embarrassed to realize she'd never asked his name.

Zack… she stole a glance at Aerith, but the other woman held her head, facing the sky. What was Aerith thinking about, she wondered? She wished she could tell Aerith the truth of Zack on that day… but how could she, without revealing Cloud's memories as wrong? Another bind she was trapped in, and Cloud couldn't help her out of this one. She was on her own.

Aerith stared everywhere, entranced; even on this stony, lifeless mountain, she could still feel the spirit energy all around. As invigorating as when people usually speak of fresh mountain air, but with that little extra bit invisible to senses other than a Cetra's. The mountain might seem foreboding to some, but to her it felt like coming home; she wondered if Tifa felt the same.

She reached to her hair, where the White Materia seemed to hum approval, and for a moment, it was like her mother was right there with her. She wished that could be the truth. Same as many times before, she wondered what the materia itself was supposed to do. But her mother wasn't there to tell her, and the materia itself had nothing to say.

They were still low on the mountain; but even so, the path had already turned brown and dead. Children would bravely climb up here to look at the pools, even though they rarely made it past the second or even the first. Higher up, on the mountain proper, teenagers might venture; but Tifa had gone further, and further, making the mountain her second home.

Though she'd missed Cloud then, it was still a time of her life she remembered fondly. The exhilaration she'd felt training under Zangan, culminating in a promise to one day cross the mountain.

Today, it seemed, was going to be that day.

Cloud's head somewhere else, too; they reached the bridge, and Tifa very carefully did NOT look at him. That story he'd told in Kalm… Pulling her up when the bridge broke. One aberrant detail in a story that he otherwise remembered far too well. She could feel his obvious discomfort, as he nervously shifted; she wondered if he would say anything to clarify, but he remained silent as they crossed, and she was relieved of the need to verify something she could not.

Aerith had been obviously brightening the past few minutes, her smile wide and open, and as they entered one of the mountain's inner labyrinths, Tifa realized why. The mako fountain. A revisit for Tifa, but this time with Cloud by her side.

Cloud looked at Tifa peering over the mako fountain, a near-duplicate of the last-time they'd been here. He remembered her poking at it, her curiosity charming him at the time.

It still did.

"An overflow of thoughts and memories, too much to handle, leading to mako poisoning…" Tifa straightened. "That's what Sephiroth told us the Lifestream was."

It could be, thought Aerith. But it doesn't have to be. Memories don't have to be toxic. "It's also how we use magic." Not if they're made of pure love. It drew her back to thinking once again what made a Cetra; this time, the materia seemed to want to respond. "Like… when you use materia… you're kind of doing what a Cetra can do. Accessing their memories."

"Yeah… Sephiroth said something like that too." Tifa suddenly didn't want to stay here any longer. "Let's… just keep going guys, okay?"

The passages meandered through the mountain; and as they traveled for what seemed like hours through its bowels, Tifa was hoping her memory wasn't failing her, and she wasn't getting them forever lost. She was immensely relieved when she finally saw sunlight, and as they broke out into the open… she realized…

"We're at the top!" she cried out in joy.

The view was just as spectacular as she remembered. Grasslands as far as the eye could see… Rocket Town, their destination, off in the distance. If she squinted, she thought she could even see the ocean beyond.

She'd made it. But after crossing the world to come back home… it just didn't seem like such a hurdle anymore.

Maybe she was stronger than she thought.

Cloud came up, crouching next to her as they stared together into the wide open ahead; she was glad he was here to share this moment with. We have to go over the mountain to find what we are looking for… did Cloud remember his mother saying those words?

"We did it," she told him. "We finally crossed the mountain." Maybe we'll even make it to the Promised Land.

His barely perceptible smile was all the answer she needed. Maybe we will.