Whew! Finally got this done. Dedication this time goes out to Mayari, fearless leader of the Final Heaven Discord Server. Enjoy these 7,360 words of Cloti goodness!

Chapter 52. January 20, εуλ0008

Everyone had left. Dusk was settling in, and as the day's light – perhaps the last day they would have left in this world – Tifa looked up to the stars.

They'd anchored far enough away from Midgar's lights that she could see them bright and true. How many times in her life had she seen stars like this?

She knew.

Nibelheim – their return to the fake of their town, when she and Cloud had stood in the hills above; their child and adult selves both present at once, pondering the bond that had been there all along, versus the one they were only now beginning to create.

Further back. The water tower, a girl and a boy with no knowledge of what was to come, hopes and dreams still pure. Seven years, and it seemed a thousand lifetimes away.

A naïve young girl thinking that a hero from stories was going to come save her, take her away from – what? Her spoiled, pampered little life? Before she'd had any true knowledge of horror, of danger; before there had been a day where she'd wanted to scream for her hero's name.

And her hero had been there.

But that wasn't the all of it. There was a part she knew now that she hadn't known before. A hero could save her in a pinch – he could take her anywhere, around and across the world – but he could never take her away from herself.

His job was to show up.

Hers was to be ready when he did.

But when he showed the next time, five years later, it was not on some white horse with a gleaming sword, but haggard and sick, shivering in the rain where he sat curled in a ball at the train station, sword dragging in the mud. Five years, for which she had waited for a moment that would never exist. Years in which she'd had to be her OWN hero, heroine, whatever, facing trials more mundane, forging her way against monsters that never looked like her nightmares… until he came back… and they DID.

She tilted her head to see him standing atop the expanse of the small hill, gazing away from her and into a distance unknown. Perhaps looking into the horizon, perhaps into his own head. It was to the north he turned, while she gazed west into the setting sun. Her hero, broken but never beaten, even when he thought he was. Imperfect, damaged, and oh so much more real for it.

She understood now. Every step she'd taken… it was for her, but also for him. So she could be not someone behind him, but proudly beside him, an equal to the man she loved. Ready to fight, together, side by side – the way, deep down, she had truly wanted it to be.

She wanted him beside her now, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to go to him. To take those last few steps. Even now, after everything they'd been through, was it such a simple thing of which she was truly afraid. Feet that wouldn't move, a mouth that would not speak…

"Tifa?" His voice sounded so loud on the quiet hill, so sudden she wondered if she had spoken out loud without realizing. "Where… what are you going to do?"

Did he think she was going to leave, too?

Tifa hung her head, raw and ashamed. "Where would I go?"

"I guess…." Wherever you wanted to, was what he wanted to tell her – but it wasn't what he wanted to say. Stay. Don't go. Don't leave me. Don't leave me here alone.

Stay with me.

Tonight.

Forever.

He'd never been able to say it before. Yet even now, at the end of time… what stopped him?

"Have you forgotten?" Tifa asked, a touch of bitterness creeping into her voice. "I have no place left."

He hadn't. He remembered holding her in Aerith's garden – was that really only weeks ago? It seemed galaxies away – and the silent promises he'd made there.

To be there for her.

Always.

To be her home.

If she'd let him…

So many things he wanted to tell her. A lifetime of words. "Everyone has something they are holding onto," he whispered to the northern lights. Something irreplaceable. Something he nearly lost, too many times.

Even once was once too many.

"I don't want to lose you," Tifa spoke, his ears catching her words clearly; he wondered if she had heard his own.

She knew, too. She didn't want to lose him, either. But other things she also, knew – she wanted no regrets. "Whatever comes next… I want to be beside you."

Even if that's only until tomorrow.

Even if that's forever.

"I'll never give up," she continued. "Not as long as you're with me."

I will be. I promised. For as long as you need; for even longer. "Tifa." One word… all he could manage to say, but somehow it was the one that meant everything.

"Cloud," she said, his own name soft and fluid on her tongue. "The way you say my name… I heard it." Screams of pain, torture, accusation, hate. Bitter languages trampling her ears, noir whispers in the darkest of dark. "In the Lifestream. The only thing I heard clearly. I followed it…"

"I heard the same." Cloud's voice, warm milk with honey, plush velvet over her skin. "You calling my name… calling me back." When all I wanted was to let myself be lost. You, calling me; I never would have found my way back without you.

A promise I made, and in the end, you were the one coming to save me. Your love, your light. He had so much he owed her – his life, and more… If only for that, he'd had to save himself.

Promises were never kept by the dead.

"We live to find the answer," he murmured, looking at the stars that were beginning to appear behind the dimming sunlight.

Tifa gazed up too, only half-seeing; her vision was looking into her heart. "Is the answer up there – or inside? We've been looking for answers and going about so many things all wrong – " So many mistakes – "did we maybe know all along?"

She took a deep breath. The stars above, their only companions, twinkling their own language; the same stars that had watched over them from the start. Sparkling like silent judges above, speaking in words all their own. If stars could think, what would be on their minds? "Do you think the stars can hear us, Cloud? Do you think they see how hard we're fighting for them?"

"We'll find the answer someday." Cloud could feel himself blushing. "I learned that from you, Tifa." And she was right about another thing – some of the answers they had known all along.

Cloud knew. He KNEW. Was he forever going to keep it to himself? "Tifa…" The first word was always the hardest. "There are so many things I want to say to you…"

He didn't have the words. He didn't even have the words, to TELL her he didn't have the words. The irony couldn't help but make him laugh.

Tifa heard his laugh; she felt much the same. After all they had been through – she couldn't find words either. The stars above seemed to be laughing as well, mocking her with their pinpoints of light. There they were, watching, waiting, for the nothing that was going to happen. Unless…

Tifa wrapped her arms around herself, staring blankly ahead. There wasn't time. There might NEVER be time. But there was a way left.

She inhaled sharply. Could she really – could she take the risk?

Could she afford not to?

Slowly, deliberately, she began to unlace her gloves, hanging them off her skirt. There was only one choice. To finally consummate the relationship, to let themselves be close, revealing themselves in the most fundamental way. To cross the mountain and find what lay on the other side.

She wanted it. Ached for it. Her dreams had indulged her so many times; she'd given herself the simulation of her own touch. Yet the real thing – she was still afraid. Swallowing that was a greater fear – far more than anything that might happen when they faced Sephiroth, she was terrified of never knowing.

The sun slipped below the horizon. It was well and truly night, now. "Cloud…" She didn't move, but she could feel him turning toward her; she didn't know how she could be so sure, she just was. "Words aren't the only thing that tell people what you're thinking."

Cloud blinked in surprise. She couldn't really mean… THAT, could she?

Only one way to find out. But now… with something that had so long seemed to elude him suddenly within his grasp… He was frightened. Terrified. To be this close to something – to have the chance to be that close to her…

He braced himself. I swore I would never lose another chance. Yet another promise made in the Nibelheim reactor that day, caressing the side of her face as she lay dying in his arms. He took a few careful steps forward. Touching her face…

Suddenly, he realized the strangest thing. She took off her gloves. And it hit him – that was her signal. To let him know.

Touching her face in the reactor, his arms wrapped around her as they jumped from the train, holding her in Aerith's garden - he'd never touched her without gloves on. And he suddenly, desperately needed to feel his fingertips gliding over her skin, her warmth underneath his palms. Tugging off his own gloves hastily, he shoved them roughly in his pocket before taking another nervous step forward.

Tifa did not turn, remaining looking forward towards Midgar – where so many troubles, yet so much hope began. She couldn't face him. Butterflies agonized her stomach. Had she really said… had she suggested... No, of course she had... Did he get the picture? Would he take the bait?

She heard him coming closer, slowly, so slowly, suddenly wishing she could take the words back. No, she didn't, not really, but… She felt the heat radiating from his body mere inches behind her, and desire flared to shush the doubts and fear.

Tifa didn't move as he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. The feel of her skin under his hands, that simple grazing of flesh, razed electric shocks through him as he leaned in closer, relishing the press of her body, the scent of her hair.

She felt tingling, heated longings running through her body at his touch; she wondered if he knew that he was trembling. He caressed her upper arms, inching downwards to finally cup her elbows in his palms. He could not see her face, nut he could hear her breaths coming faster, matching the pace of his own. She's nervous, too, he realized with a start. How was it that pure, untainted desire could turn them both into ragged bundles of nerves?

It made him want to soothe her, comfort her – make her more relaxed even if he couldn't do much to help himself. Strangely, that resolve seemed to temper his own fear. He slid his hands down to hers, covering them and interlocking them over her belly, pulling her ever so gently closer, wary of how he'd gripped her tight enough to hurt before.

She melted softly into the embrace, pressing her back against his chest, head against his shoulder, turning just the barest inch. Her eyes gazed down; in a way he was glad. Had she looked at him right then, he might have dissolved on the spot. She was in his arms, sensations overwrought, and it felt wonderful.

He'd only experienced it a handful of times before; the first, in the Nibelheim reactor that day. He had scooped her in his arms, she seeming so light even before his mako-enhanced strength.

It seemed hardly so long ago at all…. Though he knew now it had been years, years in which he'd been imprisoned and hidden from the world. On the tail of that realization came another – Tifa had still been half-girl then, he himself just at the barest start of manhood – but in his arms now, was definitely a woman.

It wasn't just her rounded-out shape, though that was certainly pleasing – but even more the sense of her, the way she carried herself with pride, that made him very aware that they were no longer children. Just two adults alone with each other, friends on the verge of becoming more.

He remembered now. That remembrance was a gift she had given him. Parts of his memory could not be restored, chunks of time that to his mind had literally never happened, leaving nothing to be taken away – but now the memories he DID have spoke bright as day. Gently laying down her unconscious form, praying to who or what he didn't know, overwhelmed by the desperate fear that Sephiroth's blade had taken what he held most dear…

His hands slipped down and across her waist to take each of her palms in his own; her left hand in his right, her right in his left. He gently cupper her fists in his own; she slid her fingers in between his, intertwining them.

A tug on her left hand gently turned her in his arms. She leaned against his shoulder, soft even in her strength, rich brown hair whisking on his skin. He squeezed her tighter, moaning softly when the curve of her right breast pressed against him, plush and yielding; his right hand dropped to slide around her back, while his left moved to where her waist – so tiny! – nipped in; pulling her closer, closer, molding her form to his own. Her small hands, delicate piano fingers belying the power within, rode up his vest to fist briefly in the material covering his collarbone before interlocking behind his neck.

His right hand reached to stroke the side of her face, shivering at the sensation, devoid of the gloves that had buffered his touch before. Her eyes flirted upwards and he leaned in, nose brushing her own. Hot breaths mixing as they hit the cold damp of the evening air, lips a flyspeck apart.

Even as long as far as he'd come, this was by far the longest distance he'd ever had to cross.

Her eyes flickered expectantly, mako-lit blue meeting firelit embers.

A moment drawn out, knowing something was about to change– perhaps even more frightening knowing it was for the good.

He leaned in cautiously, slowly, and with the tenderest motion… he crossed.

And with that barest touch, it was changed… forever.

She smiled at their secret, imitating his gesture as their lips met his again, once, twice – and then the rush as they devoured each other, a lifetime of anticipated bliss flooding the space they shared.

Kissing Tifa was not as good as he had thought. It was better. Indescribably so. Damn Sephiroth, damn Shinra, let Meteor hit right now, I could die a happy man! Forever passed in those moments; he could have lost himself and never returned. She was heady, intoxicating, and he couldn't resist pulling her closer still, tight enough to worry once again – but no, she was pressing her body against his just as eagerly, not even caring that his groin, aroused and ready, was pushed quite firmly against her, as she snaked her arms more firmly around his neck. He was kissing Tifa Lockhart, and there was nothing but this moment.

He wanted this to never change.

He wanted so much more.

Their ardor began to cool, the first rush sated just as did the air around them, orange and pink now disappeared beneath the horizon.

A shiver wracked her body, no mako fire within to keep her warm. His own nearness could only do so much. "You're cold," he whispered to her; she nodded into his shirt.

He took her by the hand, she following unquestioning, trusting. She knew she'd follow him anywhere in that moment. To the ends of the earth – and if they made it through the next day, even beyond. As long as he was with her.

Nibelheim was gone. Home was gone. Home was no longer a place; it was a spot in time, a person in the now. Home was Cloud.

She wanted to go home again.

He urged her up the ladder to the relative warmth of the Highwind's interior. Into the gaping maw of the cargo hold; even if the crew was aboard there somewhere, it hardly mattered. The ship was huge, and for all intents and purposes, theirs alone.

They climbed to the bridge, and through the glass sphere of the stationed ship, the stars winked their approval as they kissed again. His hands traveled further, sliding down from hip to knee and back up behind, a nibble on her ear, a squeeze of her rear. She pressed her body to his, twisting sinuous curves against sculpted planes of arms and back, urging him to touch here, caress her there, anywhere he wanted, anywhere and more more more.

They stumbled into the stable blessedly free of warking chocobos, tumbling into hay that poked Tifa where leather did not protect her, catching in Cloud's hair as she guided his hands over her chest. He indulged himself, palming, squeezing those magnificent breasts, sliding his hands under shirt and over bra to tease her with a pinch of nipple, giving her a taste of what he planned to do. Kneaded them, her strong muscles holding them proudly firm and high; he smiled in satisfaction as his fingers drew long, low moans from her throat, his erection growing harder and tighter even in his baggy pants.

He wanted so badly to USE that erection, but that would happen soon enough; time was not to be wasted with Tifa tangled around him and he was loving her with his hands and mouth. He wanted more, wanted to hear mewling cries, her naked body flush against him, panting for more as she screamed his name…

Tifa pulled away, his heart plummeting until she stood and yanked him to his feet, playfully picking hay from hair nearly the same color. He grabbed her hand, ready for another roll, absentmindedly noticing a door and yanking the knob unthinking.

As they peeped inside, Tifa's heart dropped into her stomach.

They'd forgotten about this. Not even a room, really more of a small alcove, small lamps giving lowlight, but the real light was above – where the domed window gave a glass canopy of stars and moonlight. Just a stablehand's room, only used with the full crew and chocobos onboard, there for someone to tend them overnight. Just the basics of needs. A table. Some drawers. And there, barely under the eaves – a bed.

Cloud gulped. He knew as soon as he had seen it. He NEEDED to be with her tonight. He wanted to take her here, under the stars…

Tifa gazed forward with awkward caution. There was no going back; would she break away, pull him back outside? Did she even want to? She had to finish what she had started.

She knew. It was time.

She took a deep breath, turning her face up to his. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

He squeezed her hand in encouragement, his eyes clear and certain, his voice quiet and loving. "I hope so," he said softly.

Someone had to start things; but even as she swallowed and steeled herself, Tifa could feel herself blushing as she turned away, tugging him forward by the hand. Because more was riding on tonight than a simple act. It was her heart on the line.

She hoped she could trust him to be gentle with it.

She tugged him forward, sitting on the bed and pulling him to sit beside her; he took both her hands together inside of his. The mattress sank slightly under their combined weight. She looked at him nervously; static, uncertain how to move forward.

A long moment passed, with just the comforting feel of his hands on hers. His brow furrowed, sensing her anxiety. "Tifa… this isn't your first time, is it?"

She stopped herself from laughing out loud, thinking of the handful of flings she'd had when first arriving in Midgar. Before meeting Marlene and finding out she needed love of a different sort.

But this WAS a first time of sorts, wasn't it? The first time with a man she loved…. She looked at that man – just looked. His face wore that blank expression that spoke volumes if you just knew what to look for. Right now he was concerned, caring, eager to put her at ease. He was CLOUD.

"No," she finally told him, shaking her head with an embarrassed laugh, the word trailing off as she dropped her head, unaccountably self-conscious. She forced herself to look back up. "Um… yours?"

He drew one hand away, brushing fingers through unruly hair. "Ah… no, either," he replied, chuckling awkwardly, matching the sheepishness in his voice. "Well. Glad we got that settled."

Tifa could say nothing back, silently reaffirming her resolve. She could feel the rosiness persistent on her cheeks. Her eyes traveled of their own accord to the straps and buckles that held his sword harness on. She reached up to his neck, sliding down his collar, letting it expose just a few inches of skin; just enough to tease him and make him crave more. He swallowed thickly.

She leaned in to kiss him gently as she slid her hands to his waist, first unbuckling the emblem in the center; Cloud stared in fascination as her deft fingers undid the fastenings, opening him up, until finally the whole thing fell to the floor with a whump.

Tifa smiled. He looked so much softer, touchable, without it. Her fingers wiggled in the ribbing of his sweater, grabbing fistfuls of fabric; ripping the shirt away from his pants, bunching the fabric to pull it free as he raised his arms to help her yank the shirt over his head.

She sat back, admiring. He flinched slightly as her hand touched the center of his chest, but settled into the pleasure of her touch, enjoying the surprise as she ran his arms over his arms, his chest, his abdominals. Kicking off his shows, his lips grabbed hers, hands steadying her shoulders, leaving her hands to reach downwards.

Eagerness was infecting her as much as it clearly was him. Unbuttoning his pants, she yanked them downward as he raised his hips to help, kicking off the garment and leaving him in nothing but boxers. To his surprise, she reached inside, giving him a few firm strokes, making him groan in rapture before she pulled those off as well.

Tifa leaned back from Cloud, now completely naked before her. Oh, WOW. Cloud was gorgeous. Absolutely perfect. If this was what Mako infusion did for you, she'd take it. Her eyes followed down, and nearly popped out of their sockets. She certainly hadn't expected him to be so… impressive.

Cloud smirked slightly, watching her greedily devour his body. Flooding in were all the things he'd imagined, things he wanted to do to her, things he wanted HER to do to HIM – his balls tightened at the thought – and he was grateful he had enough self control not to simply explode then and there.

He leaned forward to kiss her, one layer less of clothing separating them, and wrapped his arms around her to gently pull the two of them down to lie side by side. Even the contact of her clothing against his bare skin drove him wild; the little teases of flesh, even more so. He kissed her leisurely, stretching out long minutes before he stealthily began to divest her of her own garments. He wanted the focus to be HER. Still, he couldn't resist a snap of her suspenders as he detached them, earning a yelp as the leather slapped her skin.

Undressing a woman was always a pleasure, but this was different. This was TIFA – a beautiful present he was unwrapping, undoing the cloth packaging that held her, not rushing to the treasure inside. He pulled her white top off, burying his nose and lips in her cleavage; his hands busy stroking her legs through her stockings, one finger teasing the band at the top where they met skin. He sat up to slowly remove one red boot, then the other. As he casually undressed her, he broke his gaze away from excited first glimpses of her gorgeous body to meet her eyes, gauging her reaction with every new touch; interspersing touch with kisses across her lips and face, down her neck, across the sweet curves of her breasts. Her earlier shyness had faded, gaze clear and steady; hesitation melting away as easily as the articles of clothing pooling beside the bed.

Her shorts-lined skirt went next, leaving her in soft utilitarian black cotton that nevertheless was dynamite over her lush curves. He groaned, propping himself up to ogle her, a finger tracing the defined lines of sharp abs and flat tummy. She lifted her arms to him, and he gave her free reign as her touch roamed now more surely. Warmed up, she needed little encouragement now, and her hands explored confidently. Just enough to show she knew how to move around a man's body; he didn't know whether to be grateful or jealous for that fact. She gripped his muscles far more firmly than he had touched hers, digging her fingers into them with a pain so sweet. She cupped his ass, his hips jerking in automatic response, and he growled deeply, unfettered, when one hand firmly gripped his shaft to give him a few more rough strokes, the soft feel of her fingers on his cock making him want to whine and beg for more of her hand, her pussy, her mouth, anything that would give him the relief he so desperately desired.

But he could wait.

He wanted to be gentle with her. His thoughts wandered with his hands, grateful for past experience so he wouldn't be blinded by his own pleasure. That would come in any case, he knew. The most important thing was making her feel good. He figured he knew enough not to embarrass himself, and hopefully, not to disappoint her.

Abruptly, he remembered something he had been taught, and he slid his hand under hers. She looked at him in confusion, then understanding, as he let her guide his hand with her own, showing him how she liked to be touched. Some places expected, others surprising, but all of it exciting, he relishing every inch of her skin where his hand made contact – making a mental note to revisit the journey with his lips at a later date, but for now he just wanted to look into her eyes.

Strokes from the small of her back over her ass. Long slides over her endless legs. He gripped the hem of one stocking, slowly rolling it downwards, kisses following the exposed trail of skin down to her feet. His lips traveled back upwards, stopping just at where the seam had left a bare indentation on her alabaster skin. As he lifted his head away, she looked at him quizzically, thighs twisting in anticipation. Smiling slightly, he repeated the process on the other side, this time kissing upwards just a couple inches higher, earning a gasp from her. He lifted his head to see her wide-eyed gaze of desire and frustration.

He definitely had her attention now.

One hand behind her back, he pulled her up to seated next to him, the better to remove her black bra, stopping to admire his first sight of her magnificent breasts in full, playing briefly with them before addressing the last remaining garments. Yet more kisses swallowed her as he tugged off her panties - the last remaining clothing shielding the sight of her from his eyes – leaving her wondrously, gloriously naked before him. As a last thought, he pulled the tie from her hair, tugging a dark curtain over her shoulders, framing the total of her beauty.

She tried to tug him down, pulling him on top of her – wasn't that what happened next? But he only grinned, and with his fingertips between her breasts, lightly yet firmly pushed her back down on the bed. Tifa looked at him in surprise.

He merely shook his head in response to her unvoiced question. He never remembered wanting so badly for this to be a shared experience. He didn't want to rush this; he planned to explore every inch of her beautiful body.

He lavished further attention on her incredible breasts, teasing her nipples with feather-light touches, then a firm pinch before his mouth followed to harden them further. She moaned sweetly, the sound as erotic as every other assault upon his senses.

He started by kissing her eyelids, her nose, finally her lips before moving to her earlobes, her neck. Moving down further, he nuzzled between her breasts, kneading them delicately. He continued traveling down her lovely abs and waist, inching ever closer to that dark triangle where her essence lay.

He parted her legs sweetly, admiring for the first time the beautiful flower there; her pert pink lips, the button of her core, the welcoming opening that he desperately wanted to slip his fingers inside – but he wanted the first thing she felt inside her to be HIM. Bending forward, thirsty for her taste, he ran his tongue up through her slit, wrapping his arms around her thighs to anchor her in place as she involuntarily bucked in response. Intoxicated by her pungent scent of arousal, he continued long, languorous slides, dipping the barest tip of his tongue inside of her – she gasping with surprise at the unfamiliar sensation. Moving to her sensitive nub, he switched to butterfly flicks of his tongue, earning gasps and whines eternally pleasing to his ears – until finally she grabbed his hair to pull his head up and away; her eyes wild, needing, frantic.

Now that was more like it.

He propped himself up on his elbows, politely wiping his lips on the back of his hand, before he crawled upward to loom over her, looking down at her with all the love he could muster.

She reached to the border of his waist and hips, pulling him towards her. He slid one hand between her legs to make sure she was ready – oh, she was MORE than ready – and took himself in his hand. The question was in his eyes, and she gave him a nod to answer. Lining himself up with her opening, he slid bit by bit inside, as easily as if they'd been formed just for each other.

She gasped, and shuddered slightly, and then – he'd never forget this, not as long as he lived – she smiled. And that's when it really hit him.

This was going to be something REAL.

She swiveled her hips against his, urging him closer, deeper. Not that he needed the encouragement; he wanted to be as deep inside her as he possibly could be. He let her twist herself against him, the two of them making incremental adjustments until she found the way that felt best to her; and with one deep kiss, he began to rock gently against her.

Hearts beating against each other, bodies joined and intertwined. Her cries a question he had no choice but to answer. His touch was his words, every kiss a promise. All he had imagined and more, heightened senses of sight and sound no match for the sheer pleasure of seeing and hearing her response. Strength nothing for a delicate touch, speed meaningless when they went slow.

He couldn't break his eyes away from hers, only interrupting the gaze to kiss her again and again. Wanting to look deep inside her soul with every loving thrust he gave her. He was on top of her, inside of her, hearing and seeing and touching and OH GAIA SHE FELT SO GOOD –

Tifa had been right. He didn't have the words. There was only one way left to show her how he felt, and that was by being close. As close as two people could possibly be. Everything faded from his mind but desire, an overwhelming need for this woman wrapped around him, a world closed down to just he and her.

Tifa moaned her pleasure, wanting him to know how good he was making her feel. She loved the way her body fit with his, the way her walls clamped around him, gave him pleasure – she wanted to surprise him with her touches too. Arching her back against him, encouraging him further, showing him how much she liked his movements, his fullness inside of her. She stared back at him, his vision intent on her, admiring the beauty of his face, the kindness in his eyes, the love that was there all for her.

Jessie had been right, she realized. THIS was making love – there was no going back now that she understood. How could her silly little love affairs ever compare to THIS?

Cloud couldn't believe this was really happening, that he was making love to TIFA LOCKHART, and if he'd ever had any doubt about the way he felt, it would have been shattered by the sensations that let him know she was THERE. With HIM, really WITH him, wet and warm and real in embraces of arms and legs – her thighs against his sides, her feet stroking the backs of his calves, every brush of skin maddening in the most wonderful way. Her motions, her cries, letting him know she was enjoying it. Enjoying HIM.

They had crossed a line, and there was no going back. He'd done it. He'd consummated his love for this woman – had he ever NOT loved her? If so, he couldn't remember – and his thoughts were swallowed up by her, the look and feel and scent of her, something for the longest time he had never dared to believe he would be experiencing – and it was as if his whole life had been leading up to this moment. This was Tifa, Tifa who he'd known so long, who was so strong and yet so vulnerable in a way that captivated him, taking hold and not letting go.

Tifa breathed deeply, relishing the feel of him, the simple knowledge of having him near. Cloud… he was here, he was real, he was what she wanted and needed and loved… she wanted him, only him, and why had she ever thought she had needed more? The only man she wanted inside her from now on, and she loved him not because of who he was or in spite of it; it was something that just was.

All her awkwardness and self-consciousness were gone; this felt utterly natural, exactly what she was supposed to be doing then and there, in this moment. Every touch drove her further upwards, more and more intense, with every step wondering if she could possibly take any more before he pushed her just a bit higher –

It was the ragged pace of her breath, the pitch of her cries, her legs tightening around his hips that warned him what was about to happen. He'd expected her to close her eyes, loll her head back, but instead she grabbed his head, forcing him to stare ever more intently, deeply into her eyes – and that's how he saw it happen as she clamped down on him like a vise, her eyes growing wide and wild as her hips raised to slam against his, her walls squeezing him over and over again – and he found himself tumbling right over that edge with her as they climaxed together, no longer sure of where he ended and she began, every thought fleeing his brain but that overwhelming feel and scent and sight of her, her, her.

Their gaze didn't break as they came down from their peak, breathing hard. Not truly pulling apart so much as separating naturally, sliding gracefully apart from each other, he still clinging to her hand.

WOW… I've never seen anything like that… ever…

Never seen her as beautiful as she was now, hair tangled, sweaty, cheeks flushed, skin glowing and eyes nearly as bright as mako could make. And he was the one who had done this to her. He felt so special and privileged that she had allowed him to see her in that moment of closeness and vulnerability.

He thought he fell in love a hundred times again in that moment.

Something had been completed here tonight that had been a long time coming. And as he gripped her hand in his and their eyes stayed connected, he finally understood.

I realize something I never knew before, Tifa. It's… trust.

That was what made all the difference.

She softened into his embrace, and there were no words as they just kept looking into each others' eyes, he softly kissing her down from her high. But eventually her eyelids started to droop. He pulled back the blankets, tucking them securely around her before pulling her back into his strong embrace.

She snuggled deep into his arms, he now merely grazing his lisp along her face and her rapidly closing eyes. He'd thought her ready to drift off, when her eyes melted open once again.

"Cloud," she said languidly, the first word that had been spoken in quite some time.

"Tifa," he whispered back, and her name meant love.

"I almost forgot," she told him. "There was something I was supposed to tell you."

Forgot? Supposed to? "What is it?" he asked, questioning, curious.

Her sex-sated eyes opened, her expression absolute peace. "After you left… I wondered about you. I thought about you. I even looked for your name in the papers...

She did? She really did? "I love you," he burst out as if the words had been waiting, the three words as if they were one, embarrassed he hadn't said it in the way he should – followed by relief that it wouldn't be another day, not even another second those words would remain instead.

She only smiled. "I love you too," was all she replied, and it was those few words that were all that mattered, as he was left staring into space with the feeling of her breathing slowing as she clung to him in sleep.

It was late, and he was still awake.

He hadn't expected to sleep; he hardly needed to. Nor did he want to; he just wanted to lie back and relish the feel of her longer. But she did, and he could feel her soft, rhythmic breaths against him.

He was satisfied just to have her there against him, their legs intertwined, as his thoughts drifted, circling around, orbiting one single center – the woman in his arms.

He kissed her gently on the forehead; she stirred slightly beside him. It could have been his imagination, but he thought he saw her mouth quirk into a smile.

Was she dreaming? He hoped it was something pleasant; with a shiver, he realized it might be the last dreams she might ever have. He didn't want to think of that quite yet. Here, he was just a man together with a woman, no world falling apart around them.

For himself, being awake, next to her, was dream enough for him. After all this mess, all the pain, how could something have happened that was just so…. right? He'd thought he'd have to do so much to prove his love – could it really be something so simple and so sweet?

It was yet another reunion of sorts – and one he hoped to have with her again, and again. At the same time, this was something completely new. When they had made their promise, making love was nothing but a distant dream; it took their adult selves to meet and merge this way. The affection of their childhood had truly blossomed into love. It wasn't a memory or a residue; it was THEM, here and now.

A shiver of terror remained; he'd come so close to losing this chance. The prospect of NOT touching her, loving her – something had happened tonight that could never be taken back, no matter what happened next, and it was that thought that gave him relief. He'd never have to regret not having the chance to love her this way.

He realized with surprise that Tifa was the one to touch this body of his, unfamiliar in its capabilities and shape; her explorations made him feel at home in his skin. Here was someone who didn't think he was a puppet or a monster or damaged goods. He'd been forced into this body, made into a weapon, but if you could use it to love a woman this way… maybe it wasn't all that bad.

He didn't wonder.

He wasn't afraid.

He didn't doubt… because he knew.

This was love.

He'd found it.

What do you do when you get what you've always wanted? The one that he had always loved, always needed, all the lust and tenderness of a lifetime built up. He felt peaceful for the first time in forever. Whatever happened next, they would be sharing it together. This is how it would be… "From tomorrow on," he spoke quietly into her ear. "No one else, ever…"

But dreams always came to an end, and usually too soon. The barest hint of darkest grey overtook the midnight black outside; the light of the stars just beginning to dim. Only a little longer to look at them…

He didn't want to do that alone.

He didn't have to be alone anymore.

He'd been absentmindedly caressing her, but he put just a little more pressure on, ever so casually firmer until she stirred, and he began to gently ease her out of sleep.

Her eyes fluttered open, slow and sleep-heavy still. She looked at him, puzzled. "What time is it?" she half-mumbled.

"It's getting close to dawn," he told her. "I want to go see the sun rise. With you."

She nodded, and he reluctantly let her slip away, out of his arms and the blankets as she began to put on her discarded clothes. He followed suit, picking his own garments from the tangle on the floor, a remnant of their eagerness for each other.

They stood, smiling a little nervously at each other, still filled with the feeling and sensations of what they had been doing not so long before. The awkwardness of new lovers who had seen each other for the first time in that most intimate of states. He took her hand, leading her back into the bay of the airship, then down to the ground below.

The stars still shone, not yet obliterated by the increasing light of day. He remembered it all so clearly – the girl he'd made a promise to under those same stars, now bearing the full curves of a woman, soft and yielding in his embrace.

He'd made a promise to protect her.

But really, he'd promised her his heart.

She sighed, her head heavy against his chest, still half-held by sleep. "Sorry to wake you," he offered, apologetic.

"No-no, it's alright," she stuttered. "Just hold me… a little bit longer…" She let her head fall back again, her eyelids droop. "This day will never come again… so let me have this moment…"

Anything you want, he thought to himself. Anything I can give to you, I will. If he could. "This might be the last time we'll ever be alone together," he told her with regret.

"Then let's make the most of it," she told him.

And as the sun began to peek over the horizon, dawning what might be the last day of the earth… there was no more need for words.