Chapter 56. March - April, εуλ0008

Other times, they hurt.

Tears would fill Tifa's eyes as they fell into making love, finding comfort in each others' arms when the pain threatened to overwhelm. Cloud, so uncomfortable in his own body, would treat hers with soul-deep reverence, making her softly aware of movements both his and hers as they found a pleasant rhythm, one they revisited again and again.

It was a bittersweet answer to a honeymoon, overshadowed by all they had seen and endured. An afterthought of happiness rising from the ashes; the smallest of reminders that there could be something new. Still, Cloud might have been content to stay in that suspended reality forever, but Barret, and increasingly Tifa as well, became more vocal about the need to return to Marlene.

How am I going to face her mother? Cloud wondered, the dilemma dragging along with him as they journeyed forward, there up until the moment they arrived in Kalm and a few pointed inquiries led them to Elmyra's new residence.

The first thing Cloud noticed was the flowers. Elmyra was in the city's heart and lacked the patch of land she'd had in Sector Five – idly, Cloud wondered how that garden was faring – but instead they spilled from terracotta pots and wooden window boxes, as if part of Aerith still remained with her mother.

It was made all the worse when Elmyra greeted them warmly, ushering them inside, offering them tea and snacks with the warm hospitality she'd had when first meeting Tifa (she'd been less than enthused about the two men, Cloud recalled; but Tifa had been welcomed as warmly as a second daughter). Elmyra assured them Marlene was merely playing at a neighbor's house and would be along shortly, pushing them to make themselves comfortable in the meantime. The three of them looked at each other awkwardly; Cloud knew that, as their appointed leader, this task fell to him as well. He cleared his throat.

"Elmyra, there's something we have to tell you," he began; but Elmyra shushed him, hanging her head sadly.

"I already know," she told them. "A man from Shinra, a Mr. Reeve Tuesti – "

"You know Reeve?" exclaimed Barret.

Elmyra flinched, surprised. "You know Reeve? How?" she asked.

"It's a long story," Cloud hurriedly exclaimed. Eventually, they'd have to tell Elmyra, all of it, but first –

"Later," Elmyra urged. "Anyways, Mr. Tuesti – Reeve – came himself. Showed up on my doorstep out of the blue. He told me… what happened to my daughter. Didn't want to give too many details, but I pried him until he told it all." A tear began to trickle down her cheek. "But I think I already knew." She sighed and drooped; Cloud could almost see her aging years right before their eyes. "When Shinra took her… well... I was so worried I would never see her again. But my biggest fear was that… she'd be trapped at Shinra. A fate worse than death. So I owe you a debt for getting her out of that place."

You wouldn't think so if you really knew it all, thought Cloud; she would hardly be so welcoming had she known how close he himself had come to… No matter now. He'd keep that secret safe. He looked to Tifa for the courage to continue; the unwavering trust in her eyes made his heart leap and propelled him forward. "Elmyra, we can only say how sorry we are. She left on her own – we didn't get to her in time." How different might this conversation be if he had… he still couldn't bring himself to think it.

"Don't be," Elmyra reassured. "I'm sure that you did all that you could." Her gaze lingered briefly on the ribbons they all three sported; since that say in the Forgotten City, they'd only removed them to wash. It was a tacit acknowledgement that it was the closest they could get to having Aerith with them again.

Did we really do all that we could? wondered Tifa. Did I? Once again, she was troubled – had she spoken up when she had a chance, might Aerith still be there with them? Or would an even worse outcome have resulted? Did Aerith truly have to die for the Planet to be saved? "At least… maybe she's with Zack again," Tifa suggested.

Elmyra looked at her sympathetically, but before she could open her mouth, they were interrupted buy Marlene's excited chatter as she came barreling through the door.

"Daddy!" she exclaimed. "I could hear your voice all the way next door!"

"MARLENE!" roared Barret in excitement, lunging forward to scoop up the little girl in his arms, swinging her around as she smiled and giggled. Tifa stood back, her smile full of warmth and love as she looked at the girl, and Cloud pondered. She always did say she wanted a family, he remembered. He'd wanted to give her one. Did he finally have his chance?

Eventually Barret deigned to set Marlene down, allowing Tifa her own chance for a hug. "You guys got the bad man!" Marlene exclaimed. "I saw it through the window!"

"Yes, sweetie," Tifa told her gently. "We got him. But other bad things happened, too."

"I know about the flower lady," Marlene told her, putting on a brave face although tears were starting down her cheeks, a mirror of Elmyra's reaction. "I'm sad about that."

"I know, sweetheart. Me too." Tifa set her down carefully, as Marlene gazed her big brown eyes upward. "Sadness was the price to see it all end."

Even as teary-eyed as she'd become, Marlene couldn't stop her eyelids from drooping. "I think she needs a nap," Elmyra stated. "She's probably worn out."

Tifa nodded. "Do you want to go upstairs, Marlene? I have a present for you, anyways." Marlene nodded, and Tifa took her hand to lead her upstairs, trailed by Barret and then Cloud.

"Two flights up, first door on the right. Can't miss it. I – well, I took some things of Aerith's to decorate it," Elmyra said. "You'll see."

Sure enough, odds and ends bearing Aerith's signature, baskets adorned with pink, floral paper on the table, littered the room, giving it a familiar quality. The windows of the gabled room lay open to catch the breeze; she gazed out over the pointed rooftops of Kalm. Beyond, in the distance, she could see all the way to Midgar – or whatever was left of it, anyways. It was the one place they hadn't yet returned, and Tifa wondered if she had the courage to face its memories.

Kneeling down beside Marlene, she pulled out the pink ribbon she'd bought in Kalm while Cloud was stalling this visit. This one was more properly a match, in color and width, to Aerith's lost original; as soon as she'd spied it in the store, she knew it was a sign. "Barret wanted you to have one. Like these we have too, see?" She raised her arm to show Marlene.

Marlene's eyes widened, reaching for the new treasure. The simplest things that brought joy to a child…"It's just like the flower lady's!" she happily exclaimed.

"Exactly," Tifa nodded, though she somehow couldn't bring herself to say Aerith's name. "That gives me an idea. How about if we put it in your hair? You know, like she did?"

Marlene gleefully plopped down in the chair, eagerly waiting as Tifa gathered her soft brown strands. She'd met Dyne along their journey – how on earth were they going to explain that? – but Marlene looked nothing like him. Must have taken her looks from Dyne's late wife, then. A woman she would never meet – never know Marlene's real mother. Her daughter's hair had grown only a couple inches since the start of their adventure, but it was just enough, and she began to weave it into a careful braid. Securing it at the top and the bottom with small bands found in the dresser, she finished with a net bow, tugging it fiercely as if willing it not to be lost. "There you go," she soothed, and Marlene scampered up to admire herself in the full-length mirror across the room.

The girl reached up to touch her new ornament, then turned to Tifa with a frightened look. "Is there going to be more sadness?" she asked, tearing up once again.

Tifa sighed, forcing down her own fear and anxiety. "I hope not," she told Marlene. "We're going to try." At least we'll have each other… Still, Tifa couldn't help but look at Marlene with an overarching pride; she'd known Marlene for over half now of her young life, and all of her conscious memories.

In the mirror's reflection, she noticed Elmyra, quietly standing in the doorway, watching, observing The older woman seemed to approve. "I used to do Aerith's hair just the same way. She loved it, too."

"Not too many little girls don't," Tifa replied, thinking of the way she herself liked to dress up as a child. And have tea parties. That she made the boys come to, not realizing they would never have participated if she hadn't been the one suggesting it. It had been one of her few concessions to girlishness; most of the time she'd been a solid tomboy. Marlene was more girlish, but she could be rugged in her own way; then again, how could some of Barret not rub off on his child?

"You know," Elmyra said with slightly forced casualness, "you'll have to be her parent now, Tifa."

"She has Barret," Tifa deflected.

"She needs a mother," replied Elmyra. "Barret is a better father than I first gave him credit for, I'll give him that, but there's no substitute for a woman's touch. From what I've seen, I'm certain you're up to the task. It's clear you love Marlene very much."

Tifa thought about that. She was still uncertain. But Elmyra's confidence encouraged her; perhaps she could do as well as the older woman had done with Aerith.

Speaking of… "Are those Aerith's old clothes?" she asked, looking at the belted yellow dress Marlene wore. A little long, but...

"It is," Elmyra confirmed. "That's… actually… the dress Aerith was wearing the day we met." The day her mother died. "Marlene and I found it this morning ,and when she insisted on trying it on, something just felt right about her wearing it today. Maybe we sensed you were coming." Elmyra looked Marlene over, appraising. "Marlene looks like she's going to be a little bigger than Aerith was at the same age, so the fit isn't too bad, even though she's so much younger."

"Her birthday's April second. She'll be five," Tifa told Elmyra. "Probably the first birthday she'll really remember. I don't know if we'll be able to make it special, though." Behind her, Marlene continued to ooh and ahh at her own reflection.

"Aerith's was just last month," Elmyra told her. "Marlene and I made a cake together. Angel food, Aerith's favorite. It was enough."

"I did the dec'rating," Marlene announced proudly, apparently paying attention after all. "We made it pink. It tasted good."

"I don't even know that we'll be able to do that much," Tifa worried. What kind of life were they really going to bring a child into, anyways? Without even a place to call home, no roots to set down?

As if on cue, she heard Cloud and Barret clomping up the stairs, entering the room a moment after. Barret's expression was grimly set, angry yet determined. Cloud's expression was neutral. Not unreadable, just undecided about whatever it was that they had been discussing downstairs.

"See my new ribbon, Papa!" Marlene shouted.

"It's very pretty." Barret closed, opened, and closed his mouth again before finally speaking more. "Sweetheart… I've been thinking. Maybe it IS best if you stay here with Elmyra – "

"I have to be with you guys!" Marlene interrupted. "I have to take care of you!"

"I'd love to keep her here, but I don't think it's a very good idea." Barret turned to Aerith's mother, considering. Elmyra pursed her lips, vaguely disapproving. "You couldn't keep her safe by staying away. Better she stay with you. No matter where you're going." Trading a normal life for power. You can't have it both ways. That's what she had told Cloud, flush with the memory of Aerith's heartbreak over Zack – and Marlene – but perhaps there was a second chance after all. A glimmer of hope. So much depended on Marlene herself – she, like Aerith, had her own hidden depths, but it was too soon to know if she would cover her hurts the same way. Or if she'd show her father's effervescent hope instead.

But despite it all, there was a silver lining to all that had happened, and for that, Elmyra was endlessly grateful. Marlene, in the end, was free of Shinra for good. Aerith had made her difficult decision, and this was the reward. Marlene would grow up free.

She hoped Tifa was right, that Aerith was somewhere reunited with Zack, having finally found some peace.

"We need to go. Find our normal lives somewhere," Cloud offered. We have normal lives? doubted Tifa. Not since Nibelheim, and we tried that already… Meanwhile, Barret had scrunched down, reduced to a gooey marshmallow of a man as he giggled with his daughter on the floor.

"I'm not sure you should stay in Kalm, either," Elmyra suggested. There's some kind of new plague going around. Ever since Meteorfall. They're worried it might be contagious."

"New plague?" worried Tifa.

"Since Meteorfall?" asked Cloud.

"Contagious?" Barret's head snapped up. "Well, that settles it. I don't want Marlene anywhere around that."

But where would they go? thought Tifa. Even so, she knew. The one place she'd been more afraid than even Nibelheim to face.

The cliff was arid, dusty, devoid of vegetation, but Cloud was insistent that they come to this particular spot. Cloud and Tifa stood together at the edge, staring into the distant remnants of Midgar behind them, Barret held Marlene's small hand in his giant one. Marlene looked anywhere and everywhere at once, but what she thought about it all, she wasn't saying.

New growth could be seen in the city ahead, unfamiliar sprawl at the eastern edges. Tifa squinted, but Cloud could see quite clearly – barely better than the slums, a shantytown to start, but it was something. Midgar itself had taken the biggest beating from the Lifestream; they'd seen the way the land had shifted and changed elsewhere, making old maps obsolete, but it seemed the Planet had it in for this city in particular.

Not surprising, really.

Tifa hadn't expected to be back here, but after Nibelheim, she supposed this was the closet to what she could call home – Nibelheim could no longer fill that space. Never again. No, she reconsidered. Home now, was where Cloud was. As long as we're together – all of us, she amended, including Barret and Marlene in the thought – it'll be alright. Even if it's here. Especially if it's here.

In some twisted way, we belong to Midgar now.

"Why did we come here?" she finally asked; but it wasn't Midgar she meant.

Cloud knew what she was asking, but the answer he gave was silent, carefully unsheathing the Buster Sword. Her eyes, searching; realizing why he'd picked up an alternate in Kalm. Placing the point precisely against the dirt, with one strong push, planted it firmly into the ground before them.

The sword was a memento of honor more than it was a simple weapon; it deserved its rest. He stepped back to observe his handiwork; he could still feel its weight pressing against his shoulders. The burden was not yet gone.

Zack, you knew what a burden honor was, didn't you? Did you know what a trial it was sometimes just to keep living? Cloud thought he probably had.

As he raised his head, Tifa saw his eyes holding boyish sadness – better by far than the emptiness that had been there before, his beaten voice was that of a man far too grown. "This was where Zack died," he said, in tones hushed, even awed.

Ohhh… Tifa lifted her head to the horizon. So close. She hadn't even realized. Zack, you almost made it back to Aerith. And he would have, too, had it not been for Cloud… She owed Zack a debt she could never repay. Another brick mortared into the wall of her guilt.

She turned behind to make sure Barret and Marlene were out of earshot; Barret was smiling, watching his daughter carelessly scooping handfuls of dirt into piles, amused the way only children can be. "Tell me more," she pleaded, placing a hand gently on Cloud's arm, suddenly desperate to know it all, no matter how hard it might be.

Cloud balked at first; she could see this pained him, but she couldn't' help that. Not if she was going to learn the truth. Still, at first she thought he would say nothing, until he hesitantly began. And then the words came pouring out of him, tubes and mako remembered only as broken slivers and pools of green splashed over the floor, broken remnants after he'd been freed. He kept reaching for his upper left arm, near where the ribbon had been tied; she wondered if he realized it. No pain with the memories; in fact, little emotion at all. Fragmented stills, just enough for her to start to picture how Zack dragged him all those miles and all those months, an unresponsive shell of a man. "He could have abandoned me anytime, for Shinra to find and return to the lab – " and Tifa's blood boiled. Finally, a man dying on this hill, so close to keeping his promise, and Cloud's first words in years –

"And he told me I would live for him. To be the proof that he existed. To be his living legacy," and Tifa realized she was crying.

So close…

She looked the distance to Midgar beyond. Cloud had made that last lap on his own. He'd come back.

Against all odds, he'd somehow come back to her.

The city built on mako lay crumbled in the distance as if expecting them. This time, they'd come back together.

It lay in the ruins of Midgar, but Midgar it was not. For one, the sky shone blue above, an upturned bowl with clouds lazily dripping around its inside, holding them under its curve. The sky frightens me, Aerith once had said, all that freedom; and a small part of Tifa was starting to understand why. The immensity of possibility, everything laid out before them, when all she really wanted was someone who could tell her where to go and what to do. But no such answer would be forthcoming. They would have to figure this out on their own.

It was enough to make her want to sprout wings and fly away, join those clouds in the sky; but no, she had her own Cloud, right here on the ground. Clouds could be happy; clouds could be mysterious. Her own was both, in turn, but more than that, he was solid, he was real.

From below, Marlene yanked at her hand as if wanting to remind herself that Tifa was still there. Lately, the girl had clung even more closely to her side than she had Barret – the one thing she could never tolerate was being left alone. Even Cloud's company was found acceptable, the man thoroughly startled and confused when Marlene began chattering at him as if she'd known him all her life as well.

She looked down at the girl affectionately; Marlene was now staring rapt at the sky above. "Clouds," she pointed out, still humored by the name of the man being those things in the sky as well. It was all so new to her, a child who had lived her life in the shadow of a hovering plate.

Truthfully, it felt new to Tifa as well – she hadn't realized how much she'd become accustomed to the plate as just another marker of five years living in a sector gone. Jagged parts still protruded above, some at awkward angles, all looking in danger of falling anytime – why was it that seeing a plate actually collapse, she still craved the shelter it provided – an aura of protection when so much else was in flux.

People around them scurried with hardly a glance for the newcomers, so absorbed were they in fending for their own survival. Strangers, all, probably from the former Sectors Three and Four. She'd heard once that the sectors had been their own towns once, names now forgotten with disuse by all except the oldest citizens, before they were united by Shinra into a mako-fueled metropolis. Idly she wondered, would people recede to what had been there before, or were they creating something new?

She favored the latter possibility, watching people scavenge the debris for whatever they could work with, even down to children stealing nuts and bolts. Using what they found to build up as they could; half-finished domiciles rugged impromptu shops, were sprouting everywhere she looked. People bartering items and labor for clothes, for food, the basic necessities of life all in short supply.

But people had to start out somewhere. So did she.

A dual crunch of heavy boots heralded the return of Cloud and Barret. They'd been gone since morning, exploring, investigating, leaving Marlene in Tifa's care. Tifa turned eagerly, wondering what they had discovered. Cloud stepped closer to her; she could feel his radiating warmth hanging in the air. "They're calling it Midgar's Edge. Edge, for short," he told her. "But there's no real organization. People just making it up as they go along. They just don't really know where or how to begin."

"Well, maybe this is a place where we can help," suggested Tifa.

Cloud looked dubious. "We could try."

"It won't make up for everything," she cautioned, "but it's a start."

Barret, meanwhile, was kicking at the debris. Shit, I've always been a worker, that's what I do. "Well, I can tell you something we can do right away," he told the others. "Help these people find the stuff they need. They don't know how to build things, not so they last." Even with one hand, he could heave and carry, putting his bulky strength in the service of a new cause. "Some of this junk is useful, and if not, then we three are probably these folks' best bet for figuring out how to get what they need."

"Then it's settled." Cloud was already scanning the space around them, but Tifa knew their decision had already been made. This was where they would stay.

Marlene's birthday came and went, one bright light in what seemed an otherwise darkened sky. Tifa dressed her in one of the nicer pieces with which Elmyra had gifted them, wondering all the while how Aerith had felt in this same blue dress. Had it perhaps been worn for a birthday as well? A first celebration with a mother who was still a stranger; had she been missing her birth mother the way Tifa missed Aerith now?

Cake was out of the question; they could barely find enough of anything to eat, leaving Tifa wondering if they should have insisted on Marlene staying in Kalm after all. Barret's sometimes hollow-eyed gaze at his daughter suggested he had been thinking the same thing. But Marlene bore it all with stoicism beyond her years. She'd tougher than I am, Barret had once said, and Tifa was only now appreciating how true that really was.

More than once, Tifa had tried to push a greater portion of their meager rations towards the men, insisting they were doing most of the hard work; only to have Cloud push it back, saying the mako gave him less of a need to eat. He seemed to be telling the truth; even with the slim pickings he took, he showed no signs of slimming or weakening. Barret, meanwhile, was openly struggling, trying not to complain even as he took on the heaviest jobs. Tifa tried to pull her weight, both literally and figuratively, but she found herself limited as the primary purpose of her days began to be overtaking Marlene's care.

She thought she'd hidden her worries so well, but it shouldn't have surprised her that Marlene saw right through it. "Daddy was right about what he said the other day."

Tifa stopped midway through brushing Marlene's hair, preparing to rebraid it with the bow that the girl now refused to go without. "Which thing that Barret said, honey?"

"When he told you that we had to keep on living. He said, uh, you had to live to uh-tone for things." Marlene looked at Tifa very seriously. "The Planet wants it that way."

The Planet? "How do you know that?" asked Tifa, genuinely surprised.

Marlene puffed up proudly. "I saw it. In the glowing ball. The one the flower lady let me hold." The White Materia, Tifa realized in shock. Marlene could hear what it was saying? Was it like those incomprehensible globes in the Forgotten City? Did it speak to her in language, in pictures, in terms a child could understand?

Tifa didn't know. But for the moment, she let her questions lie. It was the truth, whether it was Barret or the Planet who was saying it.

They met people, but hesitated to form any true friendships; they hardly wanted others to know the role they'd played in wrecking these people's lives. The reactor bombing, sector Seven, and now this – it brought home to Tifa every day the way her selfish actions had caused so much harm to others.

So many things she kept secret, but even so, Tifa was the first of the three that people warmed to, especially when she had Marlene with her. Cloud wasn't especially sociable, and Baret was downright intimidating, but eventually people came around to those two as well. She stopped correcting people who assumed Marlene was her daughter, wondering what they'd think when they heard Marlene call Barret "Papa"; but soon discovered that no one really cared. In the aftermath of Sector Seven and Meteorfall, probably a quarter of all households had members not related by blood.

Even so, not every lost soul could be taken in. There were orphans everywhere, and few orphanages like the well-kept Leaf House of Sector Five. She heard some had gathered into groups for protection, cooperation, with no one but each other to turn to. These lost children made their way scavenging in the wreckage, every day trying to meet the endless needs of others.

The guilt never truly let go.

Devoid of true shelter, they slept in half-ruined houses under the precarious remains of the plate. Abandoned structures, remnants of roofs giving sparse protection against drenching spring rains. The only viable bed they'd found on the second floor of one such house, solid though rough, was given to the females; while the men slept below, making do with tattered blankets and a cold metal floor. But neither Cloud nor Barret complained a, twin mirrors of stoicism as night after night they huddled against opposite walls.

On this night, though, sleep would not come to Cloud. He longed for Tifa's closeness – ached for it, in fact. Too long without feeling her warm body against his – too long since they'd made love, rapturous with the sensation of touching her inside and out. Hours of tossing and turning were his torture before he flung blankets away, and hesitantly crept up stairs that nevertheless creaked in complaint.

He slowly opened the door, it giving a low whine, but Tifa and Marlene remained asleep as he stuck his hand into the room. Tifa's arms were wrapped tight around Marlene, while the now-five-year-old snuggled near, occasionally mumbling and fidgeting. Tifa puller her closer in comfort without ever waking.

He couldn't help but feel jealous. He loved her. After so long, parting with the dream of having her all to himself lodged bitterly in his throat. Physical intimacy was a rare treat, found in a few precious moments where they could sneak away. Barret, their co-conspirator, keeping Marlene away for the few minutes it took to renew their intimate connection. Awkward couplings against a hidden wall, rushed where he wanted to give her slowness and softness, mollified only by her fervid desperation equal to his own.

Still, he would take those crumbs; given the alternative, he wouldn't trade this for anything in the world. Why would he, when there was nothing else that he wanted? I only want you, however I can. The sort of thing his heart always thought, but his voice never said. He fumbled through the days focusing on what he had to do, trying to ignore the ghosts sharing the air around them.

A lump rose in his throat. Tifa, Marlene looked so perfect together, completely serene in each others' company. A circle he couldn't enter. He started to go, only to hear Tifa rustle behind him. He stopped, looking over his shoulder back at her.

Marlene was still deep in slumber, but her eyes were wired; he wondered now if she had merely been pretending sleep while he stared. Her arm reached out. "Stay," she urged "Cloud, you belong here too."

Still, he paused, uncertain; but he couldn't say no to the pleading in her eyes. He crossed the few steps to her, sitting behind and lying to curl his body around her own, flush like spoons. Tifa let out a soft sigh as he settled in.

He pressed himself against her, craving the warm reassurance of her near, but suddenly realized his body had reacted involuntarily and a throbbing erection was now pushed against her rear. Embarrassed, he jerked back, but she rolled slightly to reach for his hand, pulling it back over her and Marlene both. "It's okay," she acknowledged. "Give it time."

Time. Now, it seemed that was the only thing they had enough of. But for now, that was the best he could for. That, and hold her close.