Chapter 59. October – December, εуλ0008

Parents. Marlene's simple child's explanation seemed to hang in the air for weeks afterward, as Tifa wondered and worried how it might change things. It wasn't fait to think of Marlene as a complication, but things were confusing enough with only the two of them in the equation; though she knew Cloud better than anyone, in so many ways his heart was still a mysterious space to her.

She had to remind herself to be patient; after all, with his missing years, Cloud was barely more than a child himself. And on top of that, he was missing those years because of her. Guilt upon guilt, and she found herself teetering on the balance between needing him so badly, and trying not to tether him with too short of a leash.

He was doing so much for her. Rustling up supplies for the bar from wherever he could find them, going as far as he needed and staying out as late as he dared. And as much as he deserved to hear it, she didn't know how to tell him how much she truly appreciated him; but if she didn't let him know, might he one day stop, give up on her? It was a heavy weight on a relationship, even before Marlene entered the picture.

But even as she worried about how Cloud might adapt to these new circumstances, there was a bright side to it as well. One more person in their little household meant they were that much more able to comfort and support each other. To get each other through the difficult times, if only by the knowledge that they were not alone. To know there was someone at home waiting to see them again.

And if that didn't make a family, what did?

For now, all she could do was take each day as it came, without either hope or dread.

"Let's just call it date night," Cloud deadpanned.

Tifa snorted. Actually snorted. The idea of "dating" was so far removed from either of them or anything their lives had become. That was for those just getting to know each other, dancing around feelings that weren't certain to be reciprocated – but their experiences were so beyond that, that the idea of dating was basically a moot point.

Nevertheless, they deserved to enjoy themselves every once in a while, didn't they?

They were seated at the bar after close, the only time they could find to unwind together. Needing money, she'd been opening the bar every night, with Cloud gone all day; it was a punishing pace that she wondered how much longer she'd be able to keep up. Eventually, she'd have to start closing down for a day, even two, each week – for the sake of her family if not for herself.

But in the meantime… it was nice to carve out just this little bit of time for each other. She'd put Marlene to bed first – no matter how late the bar stayed open, Marlene insisted she couldn't fall asleep without Tifa – but once out, she'd invariably sleep soundly through the night. That's when Tifa and Cloud would sneak downstairs together for their furtive couplings, the lack of romance offset by the excitement of their urgent need for each other. He'd lean her back against a table, or she'd straddle him in a booth, hurriedly pulling away only the most necessary restrictions of clothing in their rush to devour each other, grinding roughly against each other until they sloppily climaxed and Tifa not even caring about the seats she'd so lovingly furnished.

But tonight, Cloud had surprised her. When she came downstairs this time, feeling more haggard than usual after a trying shift, Cloud had sweetly greeted her with two filled cups of her own house special, and some leftover snacks raided from the kitchen.

Now, the alcohol was pleasurably seeping into her system, leaving her relaxed and giddy. Cloud himself was loosening up, breaking into the slightly goofy smile that pleased her so much to see, when she could finally get him to stop being so damn serious.

Food devoured and drinks near-empty, they sat casually chatting about meaningless things, just words to surround their space. Moments of alcoholic closeness during a problematic time – she'd certainly dispensed the stuff to know its power to loosen tongues as well as other inhibitions. Even so, she wasn't saying the things that needed most to be said; instead, just flirting with the man by her side.

So serious, so soft. She wished he could see himself the way others saw him, instead of beating himself up for every little thing.

Seized by an impulse, she rose from her seat and walked to the other side of the bar. She leaned forward, making a special point of angling herself so he could see directly into her cleavage; he swallowed as his eyes darted involuntarily to the view. "Welcome, stranger," she purred with a twinkle of flirtation in her eyes. "First time here?"

To her delight, Cloud took the bait, staring pensively into her eyes for a moment. "Yes, ma'am," he replied. "But I've been told a lot about this place. Good food and drinks, but the real draw is the welcoming bartender. She really makes the place feel like home."

Tifa brightened inside, but decided to have a little fun with him anyway. "I'm sorry, sir," she told Cloud. "She's off tonight. You'll have to make do with me instead."

To her relief, Cloud chuckled at that. "I suppose I'll live," he told her. "You look like you might be some pretty good company as well."

Tifa smiled at his silly joke, and Cloud's heart leapt. Giddy with the drink, he couldn't break his eyes away from her - just wanted to sit there thinking about how much he loved her. She meant the world to him – but frivolous moments like these meant so much as well; in some ways, even more. He experienced it all as a relief, to not have to feel overwhelmed by all his feelings, and just act for a while like little kids again. Sometimes he was so surprised to look around and realize that this was his life now; he'd felt for so long that happiness was an impossibility for him, that now he couldn't believe something wasn't going to come and take it all away.

Tifa leaned further over the bar. "Do you think you're going to score or something, mister?" she asked him playfully.

Cloud was a bit stunned, but not displeased by her unexpected forwardness. He took a sip of his near-empty drink, pretending to ponder the question. "That depends, miss," he finally replied. "I figure a beautiful girl like you must already have a man."

She tilted her head coquettishly. "It just so happens that I do," she replied. "And he's strong –" here she leaned in even further – "and handsome –" she reached one hand up to brush his face – "and kind –" she lowered her head and fluttered her lashes up to him – "and wonderful –" and she pulled his face to hers, kissing him long and deep and full of passion, free of the shyness and inhibition that so often left her feeling demure and uncertain.

Cloud couldn't take it anymore. He wanted her now, and looking his elbows underneath her arms, he pulled her up and over the bar; she scrambled eagerly to meet him as he plopped her into his lap.

His hands were roaming everywhere, pressing her breasts against his chest, grinding his hardened groin against her as she wiggled and teased in his grip. But when he lifted her to sit her on the bar, eager to hike up her skirt and ram her until she cried his name, she surprised him by shimmying away.

He looked at her with awkward disappointment. He'd felt her dampness even through her shorts, how did she suddenly not want to go on? What had he done wrong?

Before he could ask the question, though, she answered for him. "Cloud," she began, blushing. "I want… like this…" and she dropped off the bar to the ground, twisting to lean forward, lifting her rear toward him in offering.

Holy Shiva and Ifrit combined.

They'd never tried… this way before. To some degree they were still new at this, especially with each other – piddling amounts of past experiences giving them enough to work with, but still new to the intimacy, the vulnerability, that came from sharing this experience with someone they really loved. They both still made suggestions carefully, unsure of the other's response, fearful of the rejection that might come from something the other might not be interested in, or worse yet, be repulsed by.

Had she done this with… others… before? Cloud didn't know, and he supposed it didn't really matter, but something about the embarrassment with which she had suggested it, told him this was a first for her. It wasn't something he had done either, but now, gazing at her enticing behind presented to him, he strongly felt this was something he'd like to try again. She arched her back slightly, lifting her ass just a touch higher, then reached back and under her skirt to hook her hands in the shorts she wore underneath, slo-o-owly sliding them down with her panties as one, finally letting them drop to the floor and kicking them off.

She had shaved. She had fucking shaved, and her pretty pink folds were that much more visible to him in their glistening wet anticipation, and Cloud wondered if she was trying to kill him on the spot. He didn't think he had ever seen anything as outrageously seductive as what was before him right now; the more so because it was Tifa, Tifa who was bent over and displaying her clean-shaven pussy (when had she done it? It must have been today, planning for tonight; he imagined her doing it to surprise him, thinking of the pleasure he'd get from it, she doing it all for him) right before his eyes; Tifa, who moaned with pleasure as he thrust his groin forward to tease her with clothed friction, before unbuckling his pants and letting them drop to expose his near-explosive erection.

Ever conscious of her sweet spots, he reached around her, between her legs, gently nudging them apart to massage the sensitive sport at the apex of her folds, giving her the caresses she liked the most; she thrust her hips against him, whining, silently demanding he give her more, give her the part of him that she most wanted. Taking himself in hand, he lined up with her now-hairless opening, teasing her at first with only the tip, until just before he was certain she was going to look back over her shoulder and tell him to hurry up and get on with it.

Unable to wait another moment more himself, he gratefully sank himself in to the hilt, relishing in the depth of penetration this position gave him. Even as good as it felt to his cock, he found himself missing something in the press of her body against his, in gazing deeply into her eyes. He leaned forward, offering kisses to her shoulders and the nape of her neck, reaching around with the hand not currently occupied between her legs to fondle her breasts, even squeezed against the bar top as they were. Her head was lifted; her eyes were closed; he could hear and feel the heaviness of her breathing as he drove them together towards a spiking climax, Tifa burying her head into crossed arms to muffle the sound as she cried out her release.

Slowly, carefully, he withdrew; his ego noted with satisfaction his own fluids dripping out of her, giving his spent cock a twitch of arousal that made him crave a second round. But as she stood up, her heavy-lidded eyes betrayed her exhaustion; the act having put her that much closer to the deepness of sleep she deserved. It was a measure of her fatigue that she mumbled only token protests as he scooped her up in his arms, bridal style, and carried her up to the second floor. Entering the double-bedded room, he stopped to gaze up at the third floor, being gradually finished as they had time and money.

Marlene was still sounds asleep, of course; and in exactly the same position she'd been in when earlier, Cloud had come to the door to escort her down for their "date". Idly, he realized they'd left their dishes downstairs; he'd go down and put them away in a moment, wanting Tifa not to have to enter a messy kitchen and bar in the morning. But for now… He lay Tifa down gently next to Marlene on the bed; she was already well into dreams as he softly arranged her head on the pillow.

He straightened, looking down at her with raw longing. How badly he wished he could join her – it ached to have to wait for the room that would be their own. He wanted to be there with her, curled against her, she soft and pliant in his arms as together they basked in the afterglow of making love.

"Soon," he whispered in the darkness, only to remind himself – there was no one else to hear.

Resigned, he turned and left Tifa; hopefully, he'd made sure her dreams were peaceful tonight. As he walked out of the room, he stopped and turned for one last long gaze at the woman he loved, before he stepped out and quietly shut the door behind him.

He worked days. She worked nights. It wasn't the sort of schedule that was conducive to intimacy. As much as she loved Marlene, she found herself craving the strength of his arms around her, the warmth of his body against hers. It made her feel protected. Loved. But she drifted off to sleep each night worried for the man in the other room, alone, and eager for the day they'd finally share a bed together.

Fortunately, for the sake of her family, Seventh Heaven was not the sort of place that needed to be open until well into the night, with the exception of the drinking crowd that appeared on the weekends. Which, granted, was still when a large portion of the bar's income came from. Though that crowd was mostly well-behaved, particularly compared to seedier establishments that sprouted further from the town square – hidden corners and alleys that catered to a clientele she'd rather not deal with – but still, the occasional comments and more-frequent looks made her worry somewhat about propriety, now that she was a taken woman.

After some shopping around for ideas, she finally invested in a change of attire. Something that let her feel a little more… covered, still a touch feminine, while also allowing her the freedom of movement she needed.

She'd forgotten to tell Cloud about it though, until, the day she picked up her custom-made outfit, she lifted her head to greet him and found him standing in the doorway open-mouthed.

"What are you wearing?" he asked in shock.

"You don't like it?" she asked, a hurt look on her face. "I mean, it's better for the kind of work I'm doing nowadays…"

"No!" he denied vehemently. "That's not it…" He took a good, long look at her. She had on a black leather vest and regular shorts, instead of those shorts… skirt... thingies (what did women call those, anyway?) that didn't put her legs on display quite as much for the bar customers, As she turned towards him, he noted the long segment flowing behind her, something like a train. It sort of gave her, well… he guessed presence would be the best word to describe it.

The vest supported her top half quite nicely, stopping just short of her adorable belly button… that oh-so-tiny waist right in the middle of her beautiful curves. Although he couldn't say he particularly cared for it when other men ogled her, it still gave him a bit of a thrill to know he had what other men couldn't touch.

"Cloud?" Her anxious voice brought him back to his senses, realizing he had drifted from thinking about her new clothes to thinking of how he might get her OUT of them. She was standing there, waiting for him to… He should give her a compliment. Yes. That was it.

"Um…" He grasped for something to say. "The sneakers are cute."

That brought a smile to her face. Cloud had no idea why. "Thank you, Cloud," she beamed.

Sneakers. Huh

Tifa looked Cloud up and down critically. He'd abandoned the SOLDIER uniform not long after he shed that identity along with the Buster Sword, but now his wardrobe was something haphazard, nondescript. Mixed dark garments devoid of personality. He was a good-looking man, whether he realized it or not; he really should put some effort into his appearance.

"You might want to consider getting something new as well," she delicately suggested.

"Oh." Cloud looked down at his clothes as if he'd barely realized he was wearing anything at all. "I guess… maybe…"

Clothes weren't the only thing Tifa wanted him to fix.

His hair was growing out again. Thick globs of those insolent, ridiculous spikes that only got worse as they got longer. Even his mother had never known what to do with it, finally putting it in the raggedy ponytail he had worn for years and just… ignoring it.

Come to think of it, maybe that was one reason why he had always found Tifa so pretty - her long smooth dark hair shining in the sun. He was suddenly very grateful she hadn't cut it further. Especially now that it was so integrated into his… erotic taste as well.

"I should just shave it all off," he grumbled.

"Oh, I don't know," Tifa replied from behind him; in the mirror, he could see her brandishing the waiting scissors. "I sort of like it the way it is, but I think we can make it more…" here she scrunched down, bringing her head level with his own, and nuzzling her chin into his shoulder – "heroic."

She gave his hair a caress that was almost maternal, and a tug that was most definitely NOT, and in that moment, Cloud knew he would never be chopping off his hair, EVER.

Tifa hummed softly as she set to work, nicking here and there with no real strategy, just trusting her own impulses and her sheer familiarity with Cloud's hair and face. The crazy shape was deceptive; as she ran her fingers through his soft, delicate strands, she thought how like it was to the chocobo down she'd so often compared it to. He didn't actually need to shave, either – in fact, his entire body was nearly as hairless as her own, except for one particular blonde nest she was especially fond of visiting. She didn't know if Cloud had been born that way, or if it was some side effect of mako, but it hardly mattered now.

Cloud was not handsome, she thought not for the first time. He was beautiful. A near-unearthly perfection in the fine details of his features, his pale coloring, the sculpted lines of his graceful body. It had been some of the first thoughts she'd had after their Sector Seven reunion – approaching a year now, and she couldn't decide if it felt like a moment or forever.

Satisfied with the back, she knelt down in front of him to finish the job. Cloud eyed the pointy object nervously, but it was a measure of his trust that he never flinched as she began careful snips around his face.

Cloud was startled by the unexpected intimacy of this mundane activity. Tifa's face, close enough to his that he could feel her warm breath, too far away to kiss her tender lips. Her brow was scrunched in concentration as the focused intently on her task, allowing him ample time to simply appreciate her beautiful face; it was almost a disappointment when she pulled away and stood, announcing she was finished.

She stepped back to let him see the result for himself. Cloud found himself hard-pressed to figure out exactly what it was she had done. It was the same… only different. But if she liked it…

"I like it," she suddenly echoed. "It looks more grown-up, but still cute." She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and crossing them in front of him..

"You mean, more like a man?" Cloud asked.

"Like my man," she agreed, turning to punctuate her statement with a sweet kiss on the cheek.

As the bar grew in popularity, so did the endless need for provisions – and so did Cloud's days. Those days turned into nights, worrying Tifa as Cloud began to come home long after dark – sometimes so late that the bar itself was closed. Tifa worried herself silly over it, even though she knew he was limited by the battered cars and chocobos available as transportation. Just because he had mako enhancements, did not make him invincible. He had to sleep sometime.

She liked it when he called, but he usually didn't – and with him doing so much for her already, she was willing to forego this small courtesy. So it was a surprise to her when early one afternoon, the caller ID turned up his name.

"Cloud!" she exclaimed, trying not to make her delight overly effusive. "Glad to hear from you… everything OK?"

"Yeah," the line crackled with static over his voice. He had gone to Kalm that day; reception was decent in Midgar from the refurbished Shinra towers, but as one got further outward, it could be anyone's guess. "Hey – I have something to ask you. There's something I need. Well, I guess you could say something I'm trying to get."

"What is it?" Tifa asked, confused.

"Well – " she could practically see his hesitant expression in front of her. "I want – There's this guy here. I want to trade him a voucher for 7th Heaven. A lifetime voucher."

A lifetime voucher?! They were accustomed to bartering at the bar, but this was unheard of. Even with the bar's success, it would be a lie to say they weren't struggling. She paused, tapping her fingers on the table, frowning in concentration.

"Tifa?" His anxiety could be heard, even through the crackling interference.

"I'm here." She exhaled slowly, so he couldn't hear her worry on the other end. "Ummm… it's okay. Go ahead." It must be important. She didn't want to ask. She had to trust him on this.

"That's great, really great. I'll be home soon," he said hurriedly. "Then you'll see."

"It's getting late," she interrupted. "Don't rush home. It's two hundred miles away! You can stay with Elmyra again, she's always glad to see you." They'd kept in touch with Aerith's mother, by phone at least, even if Tifa and Marlene rarely had a chance to visit.

"Don't worry," he replied, his voice different. Did he sound – amused? Tifa couldn't tell.

"Well… be careful," she replied, the phone call ending with a click from his side. I love you, she said silently to the disconnected line. Isn't that how couples are supposed to finish their calls with each other?

Cloud snapped his phone closed, and turned to the man he'd met in the marketplace that day. "Just call me Traveler," he'd chuckled, "Vendor of one-of-a-kind things from around the world. No stranger a name than Cloud, I suppose."

"I guess," had been Cloud's only reply.

Now, he turned to the same man, the object of their exchange waiting behind them. "It's a deal," he said simply. "Take advantage. Hope to see you there. She's a really good cook."

"The booze itself is worth the trip," the man replied. "That was a lady, you say? She didn't even ask?"

"I guess not," Cloud replied, only just realizing that himself. Huh. If I wasn't sure this was worth the trade, I might be worried.

"Well, that's really something. A woman who puts all her faith in you, just like that? And she can cook? You'd better keep her." The man was two, possibly three, times Cloud's age, and his words had the weight of experience to go with the sun-etched liens on his face. "Matter of fact, let me give you a little extra something to take to her."

Cloud opened up the box in surprise. He only nodded in acknowledgement, but already he was thinking how delighted Tifa would be…

"So how much fuel do I need to run this thing, anyway?" Cloud wondered. Fuel was scarce, and if it could really top out at two hundred fifty miles an hour…

Traveler just smiled, a toothy grin. "Well, that's the beauty of it," he replied. "You can use regular fuel if you like, but it's been retrofitted to run primarily on biofuels."

"Biofuels?" Cloud asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"Organic material." Traveler shrugged. "Wood, paper. The garbage from your bar's kitchen, in fact. Chopped-up monster bits in a pinch. Just throw them in here –" he demonstrated – "and boom, Fenrir will do the rest. You'll be good for hundreds, maybe even thousands of miles."

"Monster bits," Cloud repeated. Bar garbage. That was an innovation he could get behind. Barret had been out with Cid, looking for new energy sources; he should put them in touch with this man. Then he realized another word the man had said, one that had triggered an old childhood memory. "Fenrir?"

"All good vehicles have a name, you know? This's from some old Nibelheim legend. Maybe somebody who was from there way back when, since Nibelheim's a brand-new town nowadays, you know?"

"I've heard something like that," Cloud replied, faking dismissal. Fenrir had been a legend so old, it lived on only as a fairy tale rather than a true myth. Fenrir eats little children who don't go to bed on time. That sort of thing.

He didn't need Fenrir. If he wanted to scare his children, he had real monsters to frighten them with.

"You know the whole story?" the other man asked. Cloud shook his head truthfully no. "Fenrir bound himself in chains to await the end of the world – or the beginning, depending how you saw it. A wolf that took down a god at Ragnarok, the ultimate battle."

That gave Cloud a cold wash of chills. The sword he now wielded was called Ragnarok – one of several he'd acquired along his travels, along with others like Apocalypse and Heaven's Cloud. (He'd particularly liked the name of that last one.) Weapons as well as vehicles could have names; but, he suddenly realized, what made the difference was how he used them. This bike would not be a weapon of war, no matter how its bulky mass made it look like one. Maybe it was time for a new sword too. One he could wield as protector and provider, not soldier. Could he make himself a different type of hero?

He fingered the ribbon around his bicep – a chain of its own. One he had willingly tied on; gratefully, he'd tied himself to love and life, and yes he would stay with that until the end of the world (a fond memory of that night with Tifa surfaced, a night right before what almost was the end); but he was also bound to memory and regret.

Aerith had been with them at the end of the world.

""They say Nibel wolves are from Fenrir," Cloud finally said. "I hear they're vicious creatures."

For a moment, the Traveler looked strangely… sympathetic. "If they are, they aren't true wolves," he told Cloud. "Wolves are pack animals. They can't live alone. The heroic lone wolf is a myth – that's the one who dies. The true wolf always thinks of others."

Cloud didn't reply, instead stroking the sun-warmed metal of the giant motorcycle engine. It was beginning to feel more and more like the bike was meant to belong to him.

Traveler stood a couple steps back, observing. "You know, there's another story about wolves I've heard," he told Cloud. "We all have a wolf of love and a wolf of fear inside of us, and they're both hungry. It's up to use to figure out which one we want to feed. "He lifted the keys out of his pocket, smacking them into Cloud's waiting palm.

There was nothing left to do. He had already stopped by to see Elmyra – a courtesy he never forgot when he was in the town, the least he could do for his debt to Aerith – and the deliveries were (nicely) packed in the storage compartment, insulation built in to protect the cargo from the engine's heat. The precious trinket meant for Tifa was sheltered carefully in the middle. Cloud gripped the keys and straddled the bike, and with a single wave, he was off.

He loved being able to get home early like this. Have dinner with his family, a little time either helping out behind the bar, in the office or watching Marlene; then, if all went well, spending the evening with his head smothered between Tifa's legs. As wonderful as Tifa's cooking was, she herself was still the best meal of all. He smirked at the thought, as the miles flew by behind him.

It was less than two hours later that Tifa and Marlene were startled by an enormous growling, coming closer. Dinner was rapidly cooling on the table, but they rushed to the side windows to see what was happening.

Marlene was the first to realize it. "It's Cloud!" she shouted, running outside as Cloud pulled to a screeching halt just outside the front door.

It certainly was, Tifa realized, gasping at the sight.

He was riding on this giant… monstrous… thing. She supposed it was a bike, but really, "bike" did not do it justice. This was a force of nature. But she couldn't deny, this was worth the price he had paid. How many times would that single voucher pay for itself, when she would be able to get her supplies faster – and from further away? Get things she couldn't offer before. Shop around for the best prices.

She had to admit, though she'd had her doubts, she was proud of her man. He'd made a smart decision.

But she didn't think Cloud was thinking of cost effectiveness at that moment. "Come on," he grinned, "let me take you for a ride around the block!"

Shrugging, she hopped on the back, and he wheeled away. The huge machine purred beneath her legs, it and the warmth of Cloud's body as she clung to him giving her shivers and… thoughts. All she could do was hold on for dear life and let Cloud have control, as he careened not just around the block but onto the main streets, across the square, through alley shortcuts until twenty or so minutes later, she found herself slightly disappointed to realize they were pulling up to the bar again.

She dismounted, and Marlene was there, holding the secondhand camera they'd acquired to record significant occasions. Well, this certainly qualified. She insisted on Tifa posing in front of the bike; Tifa did her best to smile demurely, while Cloud straddled the bike behind her.

It was only later, when she looked at the finished pictured, that she realized Cloud had been staring not at the bike, not at the camera, but right at her.

As exciting as the new acquisition might be, she forgot about it completely as she busied herself with the chores of the evening. She was idly rearranging the bar – it might be closed tonight, but she wanted it ready to go tomorrow - when she realized Cloud had snuck up right behind her.

He had a glimmer of… something… in his eyes. Sweetness, she wanted to call it.

"I forgot completely," he told her, suddenly bashful. "I have… well… a little something for you as well."

"Oh? What is it?" she asked, intrigued.

"I'm not going to tell you," he told her, flirtatious. "You'll just have to find out. Close your eyes."

She did.

"Now open your mouth," he directed, and she complied. She smelled – and then his fingers, soft against her lips, pressing –

Oh my.

Chocolate.

She let the velvet spice melt slowly over her tongue, savoring each and every sensation. How did he... ? The stuff was so rare nowadays, practically worth its weight in gil, and something she sorely missed. He could have brought home ten bikes and she wouldn't have said a word, in those long drawn-out seconds until the morsel slipped down her throat.

Cloud nearly burst with happiness and pride as he watched her indulge, finally opening heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, near sex-satiated in their intensity. He'd learned quickly how much she enjoyed the small presents of unusual foods he brought her – sometimes things given to him like this one, sometimes things he'd discovered – and it thrilled him to know there was one thing that was always certain to make her smile.

Even though he only let a small grin show, Tifa knew he was happy. So was she. They had so few pleasures in their lives… but the few they had, mattered.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him slow and deep, the taste of sweet love still on her lips.

Zack couldn't feel Cloud anymore. The link he'd somehow forged through the Buster sword had disappeared when Cloud let it go; Zack could feel the sword still, marking the spot where he had… died. It was still so strange to think that word. But his awareness of Cloud was gone, and he could only hope his friend had moved on to a new life. With Tifa.

He envied them, a bit. Not because they still lived. But because they were able to be just who they were, childhood friends who had blossomed into adult love. They'd been the ones given the business of moving on in the new world, together facing the lingering pain.

Together healing.

He and Aerith… SOLDIER and Ancient. Somehow that had always gotten in the way. Had there ever been a chance they could have become a normal couple? The more he thought about it, the more he realized – it could never have happened. Not in the way he wanted – the two of them together, living a simple life, raising their child.

"It's not such a good day today. I can feel Cloud's on edge," Aerith told him.
"And there's a little in Tifa, as well. I can see her just a bit, but it's easy to tell on her."

"I thought you said they were doing well," Zack asked.

Aerith hesitated. "They are," she finally said, "but there's this tension that never leaves. They have so many doubts, learning to finally be together. All those insecurities. They come out sometimes, especially with Cloud."

Aerith sat cross-legged before him, surrounded by a field of familiar yellow flowers – thought-replicas of those in the real world that she'd always used to help her see better. He knew a patch had sprouted near his grave as well, the Buster Sword impaled in the ground at the center. "He went to the church today," she explained to Zack. "I thought he was going to bring some flowers home to Tifa and Marlene. I could have seen a lot better then. But he didn't." She sighed. "Every time I try, it gets a little easier to see without the flowers, but it's just such slow going. I wonder if my mother…"

She gulped, and Zack's heart went out; they'd never been able to reach Ifalna, which probably meant she'd joined the Lifestream in full. Gone for good.

Everyone made that choice eventually, once it was time to move on. Zack supposed he would as well, when the time came, but he had a strong sense he still had work to do. It was one of many different ways he felt, different from life in the flesh, that he couldn't entirely explain but was definitely there. Aerith claimed the absence of time flowing had something to do with it; it was as good an explanation as any.

"My mother -" Aerith finally continued - "she could have taught me how to do all this Cetra stuff. But I was too young when she died."

She stood, brushing off her dress by force of habit, though it hardly needed it here. Her hair was unraveled; she usually made it so, now, claiming she didn't feel right with it up since she'd lost her ribbon in the Forgotten City. Her dress was pink, echoing the promise she'd made to Zack, even though she'd insisted it no longer held - ("You'd said you would wear pink whenever I came to see you," Zack had reminded her; "But you're already here," she had protested) - but the style was completely different, long sleeves, long skirt, a slim-fitting velvet bodice in a darker pink nearly matching the short denim jacket she'd once wore.

The effect was impressive, Zack had to admit, even as her long loose tendrils reminded him of the lovemaking they used to share among the flowers of the church. An experience they would likely duplicate shortly. But for now, he just drank her in. His love, the mother of his child. He searched for a word. Regal. Divine, even.

His child… "Marlene?" he asked.

"Still one-way," Aerith told him. "I'm getting closer. She's the only one I can see better than Cloud. But she's just… so young. She has to mature some before I'll really be able to talk to her."

Zack hung his head; he so badly wanted to see how his daughter was doing. There was no one he'd rather be taking care of her than Cloud and Tifa – he'd never met Barret, could only trust Aerith's word that the man was a good father, even if he wasn't present at the moment – but it wounded them when Aerith reported strain between them. He wanted to bang his head on the nonexistent wall that he didn't have Aerith's abilities; he wished he could get through and talk to Tifa himself.

Tifa, please don't forget it's what's in the heart that counts.

He had… regrets… about the way he had behaved in the Nibelheim incident. Leaving her bleeding on the floor while he ran off the fight the enemy. Cloud had been the real hero that day. Not because he'd killed Sephiroth, but because his first thought had been for the one who was hurt.

And then Hojo's experiments had turned that innocent boy-hero into a de facto SOLDIER, the thing that Tifa had shouted she hated the most. Could Tifa still respect him, still love him? Would she be able to see past the mark of Shinra on him?

It was his greatest wish for Tifa. He'd certainly paid dearly enough for it, after all.

You dumbass, Zack chastised himself. Of course she can. She put him back together in the Lifestream, didn't she? He wondered about her caretaking since then – the two of them, he and her, twin bookends supporting Cloud at different times of his life. He couldn't help but feel an affinity with Tifa over that.

Tifa was a hero as well. Being a hero was something more small and unsung, he had realized – he wished he could have taught that to Cloud in time, but now it was up to Tifa to teach him instead. Too keep him moving forward.

He told as much to Aerith. "I hope so," she replied. "Whether he knows it or not, he has a promise to keep to me as well."

Cloud hadn't been able to resist himself. He'd pounced on Tifa nearly as soon as Marlene was asleep, ready and eager. "Cloud," she'd protested, but weakly. "I'm tired –" but she didn't push him away, letting him drag her into the office and its small uncomfortable bed. For the moment, it would do.

"It's okay," he assured her. "We can just play around" – knowing full well that if he coaxed her slowly and gently, he could get her worked up to the point where she'd need badly for him to finish the job. "At least let me see you naked," he half-pleaded; the smile she gave him was only mock-scolding. It wasn't a no.

He leaned back, watching with pleasure as she dropped her garments one by one on the floor. He never tired of looking at her expanse of soft, creamy skin, her fleshy curves, knowing they were his, all his. She walked to him, settled into his waiting arms, allowing him to pet and caress her in the ways he knew she liked, his hand stealthily working towards the apex of her thighs.

Like clockwork, she was soon wiggling and squirming against him, demanding what he was only too happy to give. Stretching out together on the bed, scrunching up not without some difficulty, he thrust inside her with thanks, staring into her eyes as he felt her from below. Intoxicating, the experience always was, a perfumed blend of pleasure and love, a moment when he never felt more alive than this – the one thing they truly did together. "I love you," he gasped out before he was even aware the words had left his mouth, suddenly stiffening up with shyness when he finally realized what he had said.

Tifa's eyes melted, and she reached up to caress his now-shorter locks. "Don't be embarrassed to say that, Cloud," she whispered in the darkness. "Not ever."

He'd come first; made excited and overenthusiastic by the events of the day, he simply couldn't hold back. But she wasn't far behind, and as he pulled out his softening length, he slid three fingers inside her so she could climax bearing down on that sensation of fullness. A few flicks of his thumb had left her crying out her release, shaking and shivering in his arms.

She'd gone to sleep immediately; she hadn't been kidding about being tired. He'd have to wake her up soon enough so she could return to Marlene's room, but for the moment he was content to watch her sleeping body, moonlit-glowing with satisfaction.

Now that the thrill of the day had calmed and waned, worry was starting to set in. Once they'd come back to the bar, Marlene had proudly showed him the drawings she'd made that day, pictures of he and Tifa – a child's-eye view of the two of them. She smiling, he frowning. Did he really look that scary? Still, he found he didn't really mind that she'd drawn him, however it had ended up; it meant she considered him a part of their little family unit. That it wasn't only Tifa that mattered to her.

Was he jealous, a bit? Was that a childish thought itself? He turned to look back at Tifa, recalling Biggs' parting words. Was that what she saw in him? Sometimes he felt so inadequate, not up to being her lover and partner – was he like just another child to her?

She was the stronger one. More stable, more resilient – and despite of all she'd done, he still felt like there were parts of him that were shattered beyond repair.

Marlene… reminded him how much he desired to recapture his own childlike innocence with Tifa; before the world and its cares had caught up to them. Wearing them down slowly with worry in a way that the danger of Sephiroth never had; little taxes on their energy that he feared eventually would all come due. Did they still have a chance to find that again? He gazed out the window, and is if to remind him, a shooting star streaked across his vision; startled, it was over too fast. He wished Tifa had been awake to see it with him.

Reluctantly, he strode back to the bed, shaking her just awake enough for him to murmur it was time to go back, scooping up her lightness the way he had so many times before, returning her to the other room and gently setting her down.

Cloud shut the door carefully behind him, but suddenly Tifa found herself wide awake, left staring at the ceiling, alone. She cuddled Marlene to her, wishing she could be the one snuggled up by Cloud, he protecting her even in her sleep. The hardness of his body contrasting with the baby softness of his skin, the gentle brushes of his touch. Sometimes he was playful with her, like tonight; other times he made love soulfully, leaving her wondering at the deepest recesses of his emotions.

How had he become not just someone, but something she couldn't live without? All that she wanted and needed wrapped up into one.

Still, she sometimes felt like she only knew him so well – there will still parts of his heart she couldn't reach. That remained closed to her – for all she knew, closed to him as well. She didn't always know how to treat him, when to tell him what to do, when to keep her distance. She tried to err on the side of leniency – after all, he'd missed out on five years. Should she really expect him to be on the same level she was?

And if not, would he join her there someday?

Marlene stirred beside her, bringing her back to her responsibilities in the here and now. Murmuring soothing words, she fell asleep next to her daughter as she had so many nights before, and would for a little bit longer. For now, Marlene was the one that needed her.

Tifa was pleased when, a few weeks later, he finally took her advice.

Marlene was sleeping at a neighbor's for the night, giving them an empty room and some precious time to themselves. She sat on the room's second bed, watching him model his new attire. Looking him up and down appraisingly, she found herself pleased with the result.

Boots, still largely functional, as they necessarily had to be. Pants much more slim-fitting – she shuddered at the memory of those baggy SOLDIER fatigues – and a sweater vest somewhat reminiscent of that same uniform, but with a zipper accent that she found… charming, somehow. Personal. One sleeve, he'd explained, to keep his dominant hand more mobile, while the other might need the protection to control the bike.

Matching pauldrons graced his shoulders, the left dominated by the wolf logo he'd seemed to appropriate as his own since getting the bike. It suited him.

"I have a sword on order as well," he told her. A replacement – no, not that, a substitute – for the Buster Sword he could no longer bring himself to carry. "I finally finished the design I've been wanting. Found someone who can make it."

"Is that what's been on those little pieces of paper you've been doodling on?" she asked.

"Yeah." He hung his head bashfully, feeling a bit embarrassed in his pride. "It's… something a little different." Fusion swords, he thought to himself. Not something he'd seen tried before, puzzling even the contracted maker when he presented his blueprint, but… well. The idea just seemed right. He couldn't have carted around the Buster Sword and its pain any longer; he'd returned it to the man who deserved it.

Zack, thank you. But I'll have to find honor and dreams on my own now. He raised his head to Tifa…

"There's one more thing," he told her, fumbling in his pockets. "I just had this idea, you know, for something… I mean, it's probably silly…" He finally found what he was looking for, fingers wrapping around a small box. He pulled it out, opening it to show her. "It's for you."

Tifa gasped at what she saw. The ring, pure silver's glint, molded into the same wolf emblem that now graced Cloud's shoulder, but more delicately woven. More… feminine. Something subtle gave away veins of mythril within – always rare, now nearly impossible to find. She mentally upped her estimation at what this had cost him, not wanting to ask what he had to give or do in exchange…

But it wasn't the cost that mattered most – it was the design. His design… It wasn't en engagement ring. This was something MORE. This asked for nothing back.

He was offering… himself. Asking is she could take him, really take him, accept all of him as he was…

"May I?" Cloud asked, his voice shaking slightly.

She could only nod, a lump heavy in her throat. He took her hand – her right hand – and his own hands trembled slightly as he slid it onto her fourth finger.

"I don't know what I was thinking when I bought it," he mumbled, but Tifa understood perfectly well.

Oh Cloud, you have no idea what you've done, do you? Do your feelings for me really run that deep? A vow more full and complete than marriage could ever be. In some ways he was asking so little of her, but really it was so much more.

"Do you like it? Really like it?" he asked, wide eyes just on that edge of hurt, fear she might reject his unspoken request.

"It's… beautiful…" she answered as she looked at the glitter now garnishing her finger; knowing the one word wasn't enough, but it was all she could produce for now.

Her voice was… distant. Cloud fidgeted uncomfortably, not sure how to take that. It's just a ring, he thought. Just a piece of jewelry. But behind that, there was another nagging voice – it wasn't just that. It was… things… he didn't know how to say, not even to himself. Hopes and dreams he still didn't understand. At a loss to explain, he simply stopped that train of thought.

Just a piece of jewelry. Just a little something he wanted her to have.

Tifa looked up, and he was still staring at her, waiting to see if she would accept it – accept him. Cloud, you silly chocobo… I did so long ago.

She fingered the ring for a minute, then abruptly grabbed him by the lapel of his new outfit, startling him as she kissed him roughly, thoroughly, completely.

When they separated, flushed and breathless and both shyly smiling, she dropped her eyes coyly to the haphazard duster skirt of the outfit - an analogue to her own. "Now," she murmured slyly, "show me how you get this thing off."

Another day.

How many had it been? Denzel had lost count. He thought his birthday might be coming up, or maybe had just passed, only because he had heard someone talking about the New Year being soon, and some bar called Seventh Heaven he was planning to spend it in.

He poked through the garbage, but pickings were slim today. Most of the scrap had been salvaged one way or another as the city of Edge grew and grew. But he had to make a living somehow; had to work if he was going to get something to eat.

He'd been about to turn seven when his parents had died. Days away from it, in fact. He realized he hadn't actually put that together until this moment. Now he was, or was about to be, eight years old, and he could barely remember when he'd lived above the plate – when there had even BEEN a plate to live on – and a family to share it with.

But it was okay. He had a new family now.

Score! Bolts!

The group of kids – the Sector Seven Scavengers, he thought proudly – stuck together in their quest for odds and ends among the wreckage, trash that had once been a city called Midgar. Gaskin, the man who had brought them together, was dead of that strange gooey sickness he'd first seen the day Meteor fell. He thought some of the other kids were like him, even if they didn't want to talk about it – kids who used to live on the plate and lost their parents too. Other kids already were orphans from the slums. Some of them had been in orphanages there, but they said they didn't want to go to the orphanages being built in the new town. They worried what those would be like. And some of the kids had been on the streets all along – they were the ones who showed the others how to survive, sharing hidden treasures of snacks, telling them which monsters were okay to eat.

Denzel was so grossed out the evening someone killed one of those big bugs called cripshays for them to eat. But he was hungry, and it actually smelled pretty good once it got cooking, so he tried not to think about it when someone passed him a piece and he took a big bite. It was delicious.

They probably eat rats here too, just like Mom said, Denzel thought. But as work for the kids dried up – Edge was getting bigger, and bigger machines were needed to build it, not just the small pieces of junk a kid could find –and he guessed eating a rat might not be so bad after all.

And that's when he realized – he was one of those slum kids too.

He sat down on the ground to organize his findings – he'd long since stopped worrying about dirtying his clothes. They probably smelled – he probably did, too. When was the last time he'd had a bath? A month or so ago, the kids had been lucky enough to find some plumbing that still worked. All the ponds they found were so contaminated with Mako that they glowed green, way too disgusting for anyone to want to get clean in.

Sometimes he could smile and laugh, but it was hard to keep loneliness and desperation away. It was pretty often that one of the other kids would think about their missing parents and start to cry. Everyone else would try to cheer them up, and it usually helped. But sometimes that kid didn't feel better, and Denzel noticed they usually got sick pretty soon after that. And after they got sick, they would die. Every time.

Denzel forced himself never to cry.

Kids died or they left. Eventually, it didn't matter - either way they were gone and he never saw them again. Finally it was him, four other boys, and one girl.

One night, while they were sharing what little food they had among them, the girl told him she was leaving. Good, was Denzel's first thought; they all found the girl pretty annoying. "I can't take it anymore," she told Denzel, and she started crying. "I'm hungry, I'm cold, I'm lonely. I want a home again," and she sobbed even louder.

Denzel only shrugged. "I guess. Do whatever you want." He didn't want to deal with her. Sniveling, she disappeared into a corner and flopped over to go to sleep.

Later on, he wondered if he should have been nicer.

Morning came, and while they started getting ready, the stupid girl was still sleeping. Everyone else complained how she was slowing them down; it was Denzel who finally decided to go over and wake her up.

He shook her gently, then harder. "Hey, it's time to get up," he told her, now getting kind of angry. But still she didn't wake up. So finally, he pushed her hard, enough to roll her over and out of her blankets.

He recoiled. Black patches he hadn't seen the night before were all over her arms and legs, and her eyes were open, but they only stared at the sky.

The girl was dead.

Author's Notes: There was a very specific art that was my inspiration for the photo Marlene took in this chapter. It's on pixiv, by the author co-ro, ID# 915093, if you're curious.

Oh, and when I was trying to figure out Aerith's outfit, I kept coming up with Princess Zelda. So that's kind of the visual there.