Chapter 54. January 22 – January 31, εуλ0008

From the beyond, the consciousness that was Zack fair surged with pride.

Cloud, you really did it. Saved honor and dreams. The sacrifice he had made… he'd made the right decision. Disillusioned, jaded, it had been time to pass the torch. Cloud was the one meant to be the hero; Zack could only contribute his drop in the bucket, the saving of one man's life. It was enough.

Angels and monsters, SOLDIERs and heroes. A question he had wondered, when he was – alive, it still felt so strange to think that way – but now he was beginning to understand. We ARE angels – or we should be. Guardian angels. Meant to protect.

Angeal, I understand now. If only you hadn't forgotten yourself in the end. His mentor had been there to welcome him to this beyond; but he hadn't had these words then, Angeal disappearing like greenish mist before he could find them. He hadn't been able to find his mentor again.

"You'll find him when he wants to be found," Aerith reassured him. "I haven't been able to find my mother – I mean, my birth mother – either."

"Why wouldn't Angeal want to be found?" Zack demanded in frustration.

Aerith only smiled sadly. "I don't know, I really don't know," she told him. "I might be a Cetra, but that doesn't mean I have all the answers."

He felt ashamed, having half-berated her for something over which she had no control. Hurriedly changing the subject, he explained what he'd been thinking about. "That's what SOLDIER should have been," he finished. "We were taught that our power lay in the connections we have. Genesis, Sephiroth, even Angeal – they cut off those connections. Instead of reaching out. I think that's when things started going wrong."

Aerith tapped her lip thoughtfully. "It makes sense," she said. "Cloud has only been starting to find friendship, love. I think that's why he won. Even facing Sephiroth by himself, he carried their strength with him."

Zack smirked. "So, did Tifa fucking him save the world?"

"Zack!" she explained, punching his arm in mock anger. "But, seriously, it's kind of true. I wonder…" She paused. "Being a Cetra is made up of love. To really access all your powers, I mean. So maybe SOLDIER and Cetra aren't so different after all." Zack's arms had been cuddling her loosely; he tightened his grip, his warm strength surrounding her. "So you're a true SOLDIER, then."

"Not a Cetra?" Zack teased.

"We'll see," Aerith smirked. "You have a long ways to go."

Suddenly her heart sank into her stomach, and as she looked into Zack's eyes, she knew they were thinking the same thing. Their daughter. Part Cetra, part SOLDIER, an untried experiment – as soon as she thought that word, she wished she could take it back, remembering that had been exactly Hojo's plans for her – with no way of knowing how she might turn out. All they could do was watch, and hope, and pray.

"The gift of the Goddess," she whispered slightly.

"What's that?" Zack asked, puzzled.

"Something I remember my mother saying to me when I was very young. Still in the Shinra building. 'The Cetra are the gift of the Goddess to the Planet, and the Planet is Her gift to us.' I haven't thought about that in a long time."

"So there's a Goddess, too, somewhere around here?" Zack swiveled his head.

"Not sure. When I prayed, I always assumed I was praying to the Lifestream. Maybe they're the same thing." She shrugged. "I'm really not sure. And if there's a Goddess, does she have a destiny in mind for us? I thought 'destiny' was just the will of the Planet, the way it wanted things. Especially after Holy nearly destroyed Midgar. I really had to try and convince the Planet humans weren't the threat, that they could be redeemed." She swallowed. "I'm still not sure the Planet's convinced." The White Materia had been there to balance the Black. It wasn't there for humans; it was only their own self-centeredness that made them think that saving the Planet necessarily included saving them.

Sephiroth was trying to become one with the Planet, she remembered. All the way to the end, he never understood – the Planet would have never allowed it. Whereas she and Zack had been allowed into its embrace, here in the flow of the Lifestream. She wondered if Sephiroth's spirit had made it here, if the man had in some sense reached his goal in the end, dissolved in these same currents as well. Dark whispers sometimes came to her, a vague sense of unease, giving her the nagging feeling that all was not yet pure.

He might be here… but would he be able to keep his identity? Sephiroth was still, in many ways, an unknown quantity. The corruption of Jenova had been something her distant ancestors had not been prepared for. Something from outer space, from outside this Planet. Was the Lifestream part of all Planets, or just this one?

Was there still a danger? Had her decisions been in vain? She had no way of knowing; time, as it were even here, moved forward only. The choices, the costs, you had to make to save the world, and you just fumbled along blindly. Her heart went out to Cloud and Tifa, still on the surface, she seeing them but they not able to look back in return. Lacking her perspective, they'd suffer all the more for contemplating the road not taken. She could only hope they would find comfort in each other.

Speaking of comfort…

Zack had not moved. She'd tell him all of this later. For now, she just wanted to enjoy his presence, his touch.

She'd barely noticed his touch had changed, but was suddenly very aware of where his hands had traveled to. One caressing her thigh, inching up the hem of her pink dress; the other rubbing her ass in a quite entitled manner.

Not that she planned to push him away.

"Do you think I should change my clothes?" she suddenly asked. Here, where thoughts controlled all, she could change her attire in a moment. Zack had already, perhaps unconsciously, simplified his clothes into something that was reminiscent of his uniform, but softer, more touchable; no buckles and straps in the way. Those sometimes appeared, and the Buster Sword along with them; for the moment, both were thankfully gone.

"As long as I can take it off," he replied predictably. "And it still has to be pink. That was the deal."

"No problem," she told him. Thoughts of fashion design were overpowered by Zack's increasingly eager touches, he ready to enjoy what they could just as easily, even more so, than when they were alive. Anytime, anywhere. She'd been surprised to find out that was one of so many human emotions that carried over, making the afterlife in some senses even more pleasurable than its counterpart.

"Untie my hair," she suddenly ordered. Of course, she could have undone it herself with a simple thought, but she wanted to feel him doing it, cautiously pulling out one tendril at a time the way he always liked to do.

"With pleasure," Zack grinned. First, the ribbon, tugging carefully on the ends and letting it float away to the ground around them. She felt her unloosened hair begin to slide forward, fallowing over her shoulders and breasts, tickling her with its own erotic prelude.

Eager now, fervid, Zack was not half as gentle as he yanked off her clothes. Warmth surrounded them, no breezes to chill and pebble her exposed skin. She leaned back, Zack between her opened legs, balancing on her elbows to watch as he divested himself of his own garments; in between, he reached out to rub her clit, her lips, in just the way he knew would work her up to the same pitch he had clearly already reached.

She couldn't help but admire him. So much bigger, stronger, in so many capacities, yet she'd never had an ounce of fear he might hurt her. His biggest strength was the simplest and sweetest, his loving heart. Puppy, indeed. And as he lay on top of her, sliding inside her, filling her to the brim, and began to pleasure her with long, smooth strokes, his hand between her legs to help her along, she could feel that heart beating against her own.

Life might be over, in the sense she'd always understood it, but it was still possible to feel very much alive.

The night of Sephiroth's defeat, he had her again.

He'd had her slowly, longingly; seen that look in her eyes, felt every inch of her body as she shivered and shuddered against and on him. Now, high on both that memory and Sephiroth's defeat –just the simple fact they had survived, they were alive – Cloud just wanted to fuck the shit out of her.

Tifa met his lust with equal fervor, grappling with her strength against him, her legs pulling him deeper inside, he exploding without warning as she ground herself against him, desperate to reach her own finish.

And after that, a second time, a third, slow once again with the soft resonance of familiarity, and the calming knowledge that this time wouldn't be their last.

Tifa stood by Cloud at the rail, staring together towards the receding Lifestream. Its bright afterimage was still burning her eyes, even as one by one the Lifestream's feelers withdrew back into the earth, the last shimmering green lights finally winking out.

Midgar before them, half destroyed by the combustion of opposing forces, and her feelings were nothing if not mixed. The goal AVALNCHE had been aiming for all along – the end of Shinra, of Mako power and its costs – but with so much loss riding along with it, her small moment of rejoice was being eaten alive by the guilt and shame of the part she'd had to play in it all.

In contrast to her own dark thoughts, Cloud stood beside her with a smile that was calm, even peaceful. The most serene she'd seen him since… well, ever really. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Huh?" He turned to her surprised.

"You were smiling," she told him. "I figure you were thinking of something nice."

"I am?" Even as he seemed unaware of the fact, that smile hadn't dropped off his face. "I guess I was."

He turned, looking down to the ground once again. "I was thinking… we have a new beginning." He'd been thinking back to what he'd said in the Operations room. A life without pretending. It would be wrong to do anything else, after all that had happened. He owed it to so many people. The people of Nibelheim… Zack... Aerith… his friends… and Tifa, Tifa most of all. The one that had made the thought even possible.

Tifa was quiet for a moment, mulling that over. Maybe he was right, even though all she could see before her was an ending. Maybe living on, carrying that weight as Barret had said, as Jessie had given her wish with her last words that Tifa atone for the sins of them all – and moving forward anyway. Maybe living was her own punishment to bear. If that was so, she would willingly serve her sentence.

"You're right," she told him.

"But I'm worried," he said.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I've always made such a mess of living," he told her; his smile drooped as his head hung down, embarrassed. "But there's one reason I think I might do better now." He looked at her once again; a new smile, this one soft and warm. "Because I have you."

"Cloud…" His words struck a chord deep within her heart. "You've always had me." You just never knew. And I never thought to tell you.

His smile grew even broader, barely seeming like Cloud. "But now I know that, Tifa," he told her. "Now I know."

The two of them would be together, but there was one last thing they all had to do, before they parted ways.

They'd come back to the Forgotten City of the Ancients. A destination by silent unanimity; Cloud had barely exchanged a nod with Cid before the pilot was flying towards their destination. As if somehow they'd known the last time they'd all be together had to be here.

It wasn't a straight shot; from the deck of the airship, they could see the upheavals of the Lifestream, the radical changes to the landscape below. Places connected that weren't before, or now separated where rivers, even seas, had flowed in. Mountains crumbled in one place, arisen in another. It was a wonder anything was still standing at all.

She was glad for his presence beside her; she didn't think she could have faced this place again without him. Cloud had his own barely-concealed guilt here, she knew. Sephiroth had held the blade, but Cloud hadn't been able to stop him, and in his eyes that'd be nearly as bad. If not more so. But didn't she share in that blame as well? For not speaking up when she had a chance? Was her friend's blood on her own hands as well?

Had they – had she – really done all that they could?

Tifa stared into the lake's murky waters, the ghostly ambient light doing little to clear the gloom. Eons ago it seemed since they'd been here, but that day's memories could never be lost. Cloud's back bore the sword of his hero. Cloud had told her of that dying promise to Zack, to live on, to be his living legacy; she owed it to Aerith to do the same."Aerith, I will take up your sword," she whispered; Cloud must have heard, but he showed no sign.

Are YOU okay? She started at the voice, it must have been her own thoughts, but she couldn't shake the sense that it was Aerith's voice, speaking directly to her heart. She instinctively tried to protest, of course I am, why wouldn't I be – but Aerith would see right through that; and she couldn't keep lying to herself. I don't know, shefinally sent the thought back.

They'd come to tell her the world was okay now; but Cloud was certain she already knew. It hadn't been his imagination – she'd been there with them, all along, to the end. The hand he'd almost reached for; the smiling face he could almost swear he saw.

But it did little to spare his guilt. Couldn't he have done better? He'd promised to come for her, had that been his mistake? Should he have just stayed away? What I wouldn't give to have that moment back. To do it over. Do it right this time. Would he really have been able to? Would it have made any difference?

He didn't know.

He was trying futilely to resolve those questions when Tifa started crying beside him, quiet tears at first, multiplying into full fledged sobs. He wanted so badly to throw his arms around her the way he had in Aerith's garden, but with everyone watching, he jealously didn't want them to share in such an intimate moment. He'd make it up to her later; holding her, kissing her; making love, caressing her body with his own, comforting her the best way he knew how. The sole way that was reserved to only him, from now on.

He suddenly became aware that the others had stepped back, giving he and Tifa their moment alone, as they had been doing more and more since… when? Probably long before he even noticed it was happening; it seemed he and Tifa had been fooling a whole lot of nobody except themselves. Well. He didn't mind; not to discount their feelings, but he and Tifa needed this the most, a fact transparent to all. Would they find any forgiveness here?

Or was sadness simply a price they had to pay?

A squeeze of his hand reminded him of Tifa's comforting presence; her beautiful eyes were puffy and red, but the flood had stopped, at least for the moment. They could allow themselves that tiny bit of intimacy, at least. Theirs was a different type of closeness, now.

Cloud turned to her, placing his unlinked hand on his shoulder. An anchor through the storm of pain that threatened to engulf her. She could feel the tears ready to start again, here with his solid presence to cling to when she felt so lost. For now, I can just let myself cry as much as I want. He'll be there when I'm done.

Cloud, please don't let go. I can't do this all by myself.

It's only because I have you that I can think of moving on.

He didn't let go, just stood there unwavering. Tifa took a deep breath. It was time, time for something she'd been considering since their near-tryst at Icicle Inn. She'd been hesitating, the urgency of their quest taking precedence – but really, she just hadn't been sure how he would react. Still wasn't, really.

Regretfully, she stepped back and let Cloud's arm drop. Bending down, she picked up her bag and shoved a hand inside, aware all eyes were regarding her curiously. Her fingers brushed what she was looking for, closing her hand around a bundle of ten slender pink ribbons and drawing them out. Not quite the pink of Aerith's bow, more the magenta-red of her jacket if anything, but it was all she could find on short notice.

Placing all but two carefully on the ground, she touched Cloud gently on his arm; a small gesture, but the casual naturalness of the touch so evocative of the familiarity they now shared. Cloud looked down quizzically as she coiled a thin strand around his bicep. I love you so much, Cloud – you'll understand this with time – this is my gift to you. Tifa looped the ends together into one knot, then a second. That you remember the way you cared for Aerith. She tugged just tight enough that the elastic of the ribbon would hold it in place, nestled in a dip of his well-defined arms. Because I loved her too.

If we hadn't met you, Aerith, we might not be together now. Aerith was a part of that bond; they all were, in a way, but her most of all. Aerith had been the catalyst that had made it all happen; without her, they'd still be dancing their feelings around each other, if they hadn't been dead under the Sector Seven plate. She was part of their past; now, perhaps, she could be part of their future as well.

Cloud fingered the ribbon gently with his other hand; he seemed to understand. She answered in her eyes, raising her arm to him; he nodded. Taking the other ribbon from her, he drew it around, gently caressing her arm in the process; slowly he tied it together somewhat less gracefully than she, but with an intense focus as if one misstep could shatter this moment in time.

Maybe it could.

He returned to her with eyes that she'd once thought cold, expressionless. How could she have ever thought such a thing? Mako eyes told no secrets; every emotion sparked in those flames, fading to the palest blue for sadness and kindness, the totality of his softer side. Now, what shone was his wish for kisses; promises for those later, and more. She cupped his elbows in her palms, pulling him into their own small world, tied together by one more string.

Reverential silence was suddenly broken by an explosion of sound within a clearing, as suddenly they seemed to be surrounded by chattering yells and arguments. "What the fuck?" asked Cid's voice, followed by Yuffie's high pitch berating him. Tifa turned to see Vincent silently allowing Yuffie to tie one of the ribbons around his wrist, leaving Cid staring at his now-pink-adorned own flesh; after which she grabbed another and began winding it through the center of her shuriken. Somehow, Nanaki already had one tied to his foreleg; Barret struggled, trying to figure out how to tie the damn thing on himself before Cid finally took pity on him and helped – both stoically pretending they weren't two grown men tying pink ribbons on each other.

Vincent contemplated the memorial he now carried with hm. Another sin to atone for, they piling like rocks on his soul. He knew, regretfully, where he had to go next. Back to Lucrecia's cave. He'd told her Sephiroth was dead, a simple white lie; rather than telling her Sephiroth was just as good AS, the monster he'd become under Hojo's care. Now, he could face her with that statement full truth; but leaving aside the own role he'd had to play in their son's demise. A mercy killing, to be sure; something completed in a void free of emotion, never mind that he'd never truly had a chance to develop paternal feelings anyway. It didn't change the facts.

Barret stood stock-still, realizing there was one more chore ahead of them. They had to break the news to Elmyra – and Marlene. He'd have to be prepared for anger and blame – he surely deserved it, with his ill-fated quest to save the Planet. Tifa had the right of it after all, didn't she? He wished now he had listened, but he'd been riding high on a righteous sense of justice, not noticing who he'd stepped on below. Myrna, you wouldn't be proud of me for it; you always told me I was too rash. Cloud, I hope you listen to your woman better than I did. But he could only move forward, and try to do better. Maybe he could find another way, a real way, to contribute to this new world without Mako. Something to offset the part he'd played in bringing it about.

Who knows, maybe he could even find love himself again one day. Once Marlene was a little older; for now, his little lady was the only one he needed in his life. Myrna had once told him - what seemed foreboding now - that if anything ever happened to her, she'd want him to find someone new. If it was her wish, than shit, he owed it to her to do it.

Cid had been on the verge of lighting a cigarette, but somehow he couldn't bring one to his mouth – it just seemed so wrong to do so in this place. This was Aerith's place, now, and she didn't seem to be giving permission. "Fuck," he swore aloud, before thinking he shouldn't be doing that either; shifting nervously, he focused on Cloud and Tifa at the lake's shore. Huh. I'd better rethink my whole approach. He'd been avoiding commitment like the plague, nevermind that he knew perfectly well he was half-married already. It had been a bumpy road, though, and he was jealous of how quickly (relatively speaking) Tifa and Cloud had settled into each other, calm and natural. But maybe, with a good woman like that, it wouldn't be so bad.

He HAD a good woman, and he'd been treating her like shit. Oughta do something nice for her when I get back. Flowers. Women liked flowers. He wished Aerith were around to help him pick the right ones out. But even if he couldn't find any, he could go him, tell her to sit her ass in the chair and he'd make her some damn tea himself. Chamomile or some of that soothing shit she liked; he'd even force himself to drink a cup of it with her. Run her a nice hot bath. With bubbles and crap. And then he'd take her to bed – sex had become such a perfunctory, basic act, just a mere sating of urges, and when was the last time he'd made love to her properly?

The times were few and far between; he hadn't realized until his life flashed before his eyes, the rocket hurtling towards Meteor, how much he had missed that. She was such a tiny thing, she always seemed so fragile beneath him, but when he slid his hand between her legs to stroke that tiny nub in just the way he knew she liked, he'd work her into a frenzy that left her begging for him to give her as much as he could, he struggling not to hold back when he was sure he was about to break her in two. Behind their closed bedroom doors, theirs was a whole other world than what they'd been showing to others. He'd have to make those match.

He sighed. It was getting time to propose. He knew that, deep down. He really owed her that much – well, that, and so much more. But it would take him a little time to prove he was worthy. Guilty, he realized she already thought he was good enough, but he sure didn't think that about himself. Time to learn how to be a fucking husband, and maybe one of these days, even a father. Like Barret – the big man practically turned to a puddle of goo every time he talked about his daughter. Cid wanted that too.

Cait looked speculatively at the last two ribbons lying on the ground; Tifa herself helped the little robot tie it on, feeling Cloud just behind her. "Don't worry," she assured Cait, wondering if its feelings could indeed be hurt, had she not thought of this; "there's one for you and Reeve both."

"I was kind of hoping to give one to Marlene," Barret groused.

"I have one – " Tifa looked first at the lone ribbon in her hand, the empty ground beneath her, then to the surrounding party. She clapped her hand to her mouth in embarrassment. "Um, I guess, Yuffie kinda took an extra," she blushed. "We'll find something else for Marlene, okay? I promise." The girl who was almost a daughter to her was as much a part of this as were any of them. She was the future they were fighting for, after all.

Standing, Tifa and Cloud relaxed into the moment; he grinned, she giggled. She leaned in, her forehead brushing his cheeks and nose; he was just that barest shade taller than her to make her feel comforted and safe. Around them, the joy and laughter had succumbed to whispers and quiet conversation; she could hear snippets reminiscing about their lost friend, sharing their sorrows and happiness.

Aerith had brought them together; her memory had led them to the end. She herself had been the tie that bound them together. After this, the members of her little group wouldn't need each other quite the same way. Maybe wouldn't even see each other much, if at all. Except for the two of them. She and Cloud.

Sharp grief would, in time, fade to the dull throb of pain. That would be always with them; but eventually she hoped to find enough happiness that it would barely have a chance to breathe. Drown the full of sadness, but never losing the memories it contained within.

Remember Aerith, she wished silently. But Cloud… don't forget to dream of our future too.