Chapter 55. February, εуλ0008
They'd all separated with the best of intentions, promises to keep in touch, Cid already earmarking the airship for frequent trips across the continents – but deep in their heart of hearts, they knew it would never really be the same. How could it be? Brought together by war, they were unprepared for the fact of peace, and inevitably they would draw apart as the realities of their own lives began to set in and preoccupy them.
Cloud, Tifa, and Barret remained together, a throwback to their beginning. Barret was eager to get Marlene, but Tifa sensibly pointed out they needed to have some idea where to take her – there was little point in reuniting with the girl if she was only going to wander adrift with them. That was no life for a child. And though Barret grumbled over the loneliness he tried to hide, eventually he had to admit that the best thing he could do as a father would be to leave Marlene with Elmyra a little longer.
No one much wanted to mention the other reason for delay. Going to Marlene meant breaking the news to Elmyra about her daughter's death. Was it kinder to leave her in the dark a little longer?
So far, though, they had little idea of where they wanted to go – just definitely where they didn't. Rocket Town didn't seem right, Barret vetoed Corel after a brief stop at the wrecked town, and Gongaga – well, neither Tifa nor Cloud wanted to touch on that.
It was perhaps some last residue of homesickness, nostalgia for something that no longer existed, that made them consider even the pretence that was Nibelheim as a possible place they could call home. But as soon as they crossed under the Shinra- built gates, Tifa knew it was a mistake.
True, it was no longer a Shinra façade; even in the brief span of time sine Meteorfall, the demise of Shinra, refugees had begun to flow in – people who would become true citizens of this town, not actors in Shinra's cover-up drama. Tifa could see the signs of families laying down roots – crops, even flowers being planted, children running in the streets. The Shinra mansion still loomed across town, and somewhere above that the reactor remained as well; but none of these new arrivals had any idea of the horrors that had occurred within. She wondered if someday they would retake the mansion and repurpose it – she hoped it could be rescued into something new. A hospital. A school. Something that would redeem the building's sins and let the town become something real.
But for all her hopes, Tifa knew that whatever this town would become, it wasn't a place she could start a family of her own. The emptiness in her heart would only live on if she tried to stay – and that was something she didn't want a part of her future.
"We shouldn't have come," she murmured, too low for even Cloud's enhanced hearing to pick up.
Barret had separated, leaving to scrounge up supplies – or so he said. But Tifa could read the truth. It was really for her and Cloud, leaving them to share their grief and mourn for their losses here, both separate and mutual – and through that, to close the proverbial book on this tragic chapter of their lives. To let them, together, find a way to move on.
She smiled secretly. It seemed Barret had come to respect, even like Cloud after all – even as he had been determined to hate Cloud at the start. The gruff manner he often pit up …that was just his protective side; the side that would take on Cloud, SOLDIER or not, on a heartbeat if he ever laid a hand on her in anger.
Not that she had any fear of that. Sweet, shy, awkward Cloud – that was the true him, the one she'd begun falling in love with before she even knew what that meant. And he hurt himself more than he'd ever willingly hurt her or anyone else. That was who he was – and she didn't want him any other way.
The man himself was leaning, arms crossed, against the water tower, trying to remain stoic as Tifa anxiously paced the square. The motion helped her think, familiar awareness of her body helping to sort out the disorder in her mind. Or kept her from thinking, depending how you looked at it.
Finally, bored of watching her tread the same stretch of ground for yet another time, he interrupted her churning thoughts. "It doesn't remind me of anything anymore. No dreams or nightmares, nothing." Translation: it wasn't their Nibelheim. Not anymore. Their Nibelheim lived on as all lost souls did, only a vision seen in the Lifestream.
"It reminds me of far too much..." Perhaps Cloud's missing memories were a blessing in disguise. She'd had five years to let her hatred fester, burning on the fuel of all she had lost.'
'
Revenge is not the way for a martial artist to go, she remembered her Master's words. You must find some forgiveness in the end. But how could there be forgiveness on this scale? She didn't know where to start; she'd risen back from nothing, but though her anger had faded much, the embers still smoldered with memory.
But at least one person came back to me.
He'd turned to look at the sky as she approached, on her lips the question she'd waited for so long to ask. "Cloud," she said, startling him out of his reverie, "Why didn't you tell me when you came back to Nibelheim?"
Cloud blinked in surprise. "Tifa… you know why."
"I know why, but I mean… why?"
On the surface that made no sense; still, he seemed to intuitively understand what it was she was asking. Nervously shifting, he glanced at her, then back into the clear sky above. Tifa wasn't certain he was even going to respond; she was just about to tell him, embarrassed, to forget she even asked, when he finally opened his mouth.
"I thought about it," he told her. "I went' to your house once, but… you weren't home." Tifa saw a blush tracing his pale features. "I went in… uh… went in your room and everything. I really was determined to see you for a minute… but after that, I got scared."
So close. Tifa moved a step closer, entering his intimate space with the assurance he would welcome her as easily as he welcomed her in bed. "But… what if you had?" she persisted.
He slid his hands forward, encircling her waist. So tiny, he thought. My hands can almost meet. Boy, he sure had thought about it – and it looked something like what was happening right now. It was daytime, lacking the star-sweep of night and romance, but otherwise all the elements were there. The water tower. Him. Her. But…
"I know," he told her softly. "Believe me, I know. But, Tifa… what else might have happened? You might have been killed… or worse… been one of those horrible experiments." Like me. He hadn't saved her from the blade, but maybe he had saved her from the tube. No, even worse than that - one of those empty shells in the black cloaks, the Tifa he knew never to return. He felt her shudder underneath his fingers. "I mean, I didn't know that then, but knowing what I know now…" He hung his head. "I couldn't have forgiven myself."
"It wasn't you fault. None of it," she reminded him vehemently.
"It wouldn't have mattered," he cut her off, somewhat curtly. "When I held you in that reactor – you don't even remember that, do you? The first time that I held you – I knew I couldn't take it if anything ever happened to you. I'd always think I could have done better.
Pain crossed Tifa's face, and cloud balked; he hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. "But –"
He shushed her with a finger to her lips, sighing. "Tifa," he began. I've thought about this. I know the years have passed, but… it's not that my memories are missing. There's simply no memories to miss. Not even a sense of loss for knowing they are missing – I only know it's that way. You're the only thing that really reminds me that the years have passed.
You're right about that, Cloud. I'm not the same person I once was. But he still saw her as that smiling girl; she wonders if maybe she could find that girl again. "I just feel so weighed down," she admitted.
He gazed at her with love, soft passion, plush in his eyes. "Tifa... you're the strongest person I know. But if you forget that sometimes… I'll be there to remind you."
It was captivating, seeing herself in the mirror he held. "You really will?" she asked, suddenly anxious and unsure where the question came from.
"I'll try." Tifa realized he was stopping short of a promise, and that troubled her; deep inside, he still doubted he could be what she wanted. She was about to reassure him, when abruptly he turned the subject back. "The thing is, Tifa… you were the only survivor .On that day… you were the only one who got out. Think about it," he emphasized. "You. Got. Out."
"Yeah," she hung her head. Not that she'd had much to say about it; Cloud had defeated Sephiroth – at what a cost to himself! – and her master Zangan had been there, having to choose the one person he could help escape. Dragging her unconscious form all the way to Midgar, where she woke up to find her whole world gone. Sector Seven wasn't the only time I've left loved ones behind.
"Well, I'm glad." The next words came out in an impassioned rush. "If it let you get out alive… even if I'd had a choice, I would have done it for you. If I it saved you, then I'd gladly make the sacrifice."
Tifa wondered if he realized he was gripping her to the point of pain, as if even now someone might be there to take her away from him. This time, she didn't stop him, instead throwing her arms around his neck just as tightly, letting him know she was wholly, certainly there. I would have, he'd said, but he didn't need to – she just knew. He WOULD.
And for that, he would always be her hero.
Belying his forceful hold, he looked at her with the gentleness that was oh so ever him. "This is what I would have done if I had known," she said, before kissing him utterly and completely.
Cloud pulled her body to his with enthusiasm, losing himself for untold minutes. The scent, the feel of her sent shockwaves through his heart and soul, but most fundamentally it was the simple awareness she was there. Tifa. With HIM. And with that he felt just a little softer, lighter.
Because her love set him free.
She broke away finally, breathless, lips swollen and cheeks flushed – a delightful sight to see, knowing it was he who made her this way. A few moments to catch her breath before she spoke. "If you had... I would have…" She stopped.
"What?" he asked in confusion.
She turned her head, laughing nervously. "No. It's silly."
He tilted her face to his. "Tell me anything," he said, sincerity blossoming from his voice. Intoxicated, she couldn't resist.
Tifa looked back at him with the slightest bit of embarrassment, dread. "I… was still a virgin when you came," she told him. "I… I wanted to ask you… to be my first."
Cloud's heart overflowed, coupled with regret and imagination, wondering what that might have been like. If he had been the one… Taking her slowly, lovingly; breaking her in with all the gentleness she deserved. Jealously, he wondered who had been given that privilege, if she'd been treated with all the respect she deserved. It wasn't fair, he knew; it wasn't realistic that she would spend five – no, she thought it was seven, he reminded himself – years pining for a guy who never bothered to write, who she thought had failed her in her worst hour of need. Once again, he thanked the stars, the Goddess, for bringing them back together, for letting them discover what had always been there but both were too shy to admit.
"Are you sorry?" was all he could bring himself to pry, wondering how much detail he could actually stomach. Maybe none; in the end, did it matter?
"Not that, really. A little," she replied. "It wasn't that big a deal. More like, EVERYTHING we never got to experience. We never got to be just two teenagers falling in love. It shouldn't matter. Not after everything else we lost. But it does."
"We'll make something new," he told her quietly. "Come on, there's nothing left for us here." The best part of Nibelheim is alive and well and here with me.
Tifa nodded, as he put his arm around her to lead her away. Crossing the mountain was supposed to bring them back home. But this wasn't home, was it? It was only the home that had marked the start; it wasn't the destination. Home was something carried with you.
Ahead was the future. Their future – and this time, she'd face it together WITH her hero, fighting by his side. Perhaps finally, they'd find a heaven of their own.
Barret mostly left the two of them alone as they journeyed. He never said anything about their evolving relationship, barring the occasional warning look he gave Cloud that said, louder than words, you'd better watch it, buddy. You'd better not hurt her.
As if Cloud ever would.
They tumbled together night after night, enjoying the first blush of their affections, superimposed on the sheer pleasure of just being alive. Lovemaking made them both so truly conscious of that fact, losing each other in exhilaration. After Nibelheim, as well, there was the urgency of survival the desperation that was born out of coming so close to losing each other and promising they never would again.
She writhed in tandem with him, while he took his time learning all the ways to give her satisfaction. He was an eager, avid student of her responses, recording ever pleased reaction for later, never forgetting a one. And after they'd kiss under starlit skies, and he'd gently scoop her to his chest; a tangle of legs and breasts and hair spooned against him, his body fitting so perfectly together with hers.
It was just after such a session, this one early enough that they were forced to separate for the evening's chores instead of falling intertwined into sleep, her voice called across the camp. "Barret… do you have any scissors?"
"Scissors?" Barret turned towards her voice, confused. "Got all kinds of guns, but I'm not carrying any scissors."
She walked back into the clearing from where she'd been out gathering wood for the fire, settling down the bundle of kindling twigs and small logs. "How about you, Cloud?"
"Uh…" He fumbled in his pocket, coming up with a tiny foldable knife. "Will this help?"
"It'll do." She sat next to the fire, and began grabbing at the small strands of hair now hanging over her eyes, chopping tiny bits off here and there. Cloud stopped to watch, fascinated. How did she do that without a mirror? He tugged at one piece of his own haphazard locks; they were getting shaggier by the day. Perhaps he should follow her example.
She grabbed the bound end of her dolphin's tail, and stared at it for a long time, considering. Then, to Cloud's surprise, she laid the knife several inches of above the tie; and before he could say a word, with one deft swipe, chopped off a giant swathe. The discarded locks tumbled to the ground, together with the tie still holding them together, leaving an eerie blob of disembodied hair lying like a small motionless animal on the ground.
What did you do that for, Cloud wondered, but couldn't bring himself to embarrass her by asking. It was her business, he supposed. She stood, hair loosened from its bindings now streaming over shoulders and back, reflecting auburn streaks in the firelight. She could shave her head completely and she'd still be beautiful.
He walked over to the amputated lump of hair, kneeling down beside it. Red ribbons, pink ribbons… it all made him think. He picked it up, tie and all; Tifa's eyes watched him, but said nothing as he crushed it into his bag.
Later, as she sat by the fire twirling a shorter strand between her fingers, Cloud crept behind, wrapping his arms loosely around her. The forest was uncannily silent; he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, content to just have her close this night.
But she surprised him. Twisting in his embrace, she placed her palms on his chest and pushed him to the blankets. Straddling his hips, she whipped her shirt over her head, hair whisked up and spilling back down. Tendrils grazed his lips and nipples as she as she leaned forward over him, tumbling over her now-bare back. He reached up to circumscribe her waist with his fingers and tickle silky ends as he helped her lower herself down onto his waiting hardness.
He sighed deeply as she leaned forward and began to move; watching, feeling. Oh that is just so sexy… I think… He never did realize what he thought, and soon enough, he wasn't thinking about anything.