Chapter 64. October 16 – October 24, εуλ0009

The next day dawned bright; his arms were still wrapped around her. Tifa woke to their weight, unexpectedly relieved, as if she'd somehow expected him to disappear during the night.

But no, he was still there. Maybe last night had done the trick; maybe, despite her fears, there was still something there after all. Her hopes were bolstered further when, stirring awake, he leaned over to give her a sweet kiss on the cheek before throwing back his covers to start the day.

She rolled onto her stomach, taking a moment to admire Cloud's rear view. "Should I get up with you this morning?"

Cloud looked back at Tifa, surprised. The sunlight ran sparks through her rich dark hair, the blankets curved worshipfully to her every slope and indent; he could hardly keep from putting his hands on her right then and there. "Sure, if you like," he told her. "But… don't you need your rest? I got home… pretty late last night." And he'd kept her up for a while even after that.

"I know, but…" She smiled up at him shyly. "I thought it might be nice. Start the day together." Like normal couples do.

He didn't say anything, but when she rose out of bed, he was already there, holding her favorite robe to throw around her shoulders.

The kids were asleep; it was too early for even them. They'd go up and wake Denzel and Marlene soon enough, but she wanted to enjoy these few minutes of comfort and companionship. The loving look that was in Cloud's eyes.

They talked about nothing in particular, the way she'd tried so hard to force conversation before now easily flowing, as Cloud told her about giving Denzel his first (short) ride on Fenrir. Tifa had been against the idea, but Marlene all for – and she caved, with Cloud and Marlene wearing her down on either side. And of course, after that, Denzel had to have his own turn the very next time he was feeling better.

It was a small sign, but did Tifa dare to hope that Denzel was on the mend?

She hadn't given up on her hope for this family. And the way Cloud was looking at her now, the first beams of a smile brightening his face, she dared to dream for the first time in a while.

With the tension eased, she felt just optimistic enough to broach at least one of the things that had been on her mind. "So, did you work out that problem?"

Cloud's brow scrunched in confusion. "What problem?"

She stuttered slightly. "You know… the one you said you had… when I asked." When I asked if you loved Marlene. When I asked if you loved me.

Do you, Cloud? Please say you do…

"Oh." Now Cloud remembered; an answer he'd given her, too near-asleep to really think it through. He remembered – but he couldn't explain, even though he understood. How could he tell her he couldn't allow himself happiness without the forgiveness he needed – a forgiveness that would never come? That he couldn't find the cure for the boy she'd sent to him – because he hadn't told Tifa he was even looking, much less how desperate he'd become?

Tifa, misinterpreting his silence, backpedaled on her works. "It's okay," she blushed, "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to…"

"No, it's okay. I do." He did. "I just don't know if I CAN explain. I haven't worked it out – I can't, really, maybe there isn't any way to work it out. Once someone's gone, they're gone, right?"

That was it, Tifa realized - the forgiveness he needed – still wrapped up in Aerith. It wasn't something she could give to him. No wonder he was so afraid of happiness – he'd seen how it could be taken away so easily. But so had she – yet, here she was now, trying to live, while his heart was still dragging through the past. As much as she'd been worried that he didn't really love her, the idea that he couldn't be happy with OR without her hurt her far worse.

"But now," Cloud continued; his thoughts seemed far away – "I've got another chance to save a life. Maybe even I can do it."

And just like that, Tifa truly understood why Denzel was so important to Cloud. A chance to redeem himself for Aerith. It gave her a peek into something she hadn't appreciated before – a glimpse into how deep his guilt really ran.

"So you brought Denzel home because of Aerith," she said softly.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "But – there's more. I didn't tell you that I found Denzel by the church." He kept to himself, for now, exactly how many times he had gone to that church. Which made him wonder – was it just coincidental that he'd found Denzel, a side effect of being there so often, or was there a reason he'd found Denzel just then?

Tifa thought for a moment. It wasn't that she was angry, but she couldn't deny that Cloud had hit a nerve. A reminder that parts of him would always belong to Aerith, parts she couldn't touch. It wasn't a love rivalry, but it still hurt, hurt that she wasn't a part of that bond, that it wasn't a pain she could take away.

But…

"The next time you go," she told him, "we'll go there together." Thinking back, she realized she herself hadn't been back there at all. Not since they'd fled Shinra, a daybreak chase along a broken highway to get away from Midgar, thinking they'd never return.

Now that al least part of his secret was out, Cloud was left uncertain. He was glad she didn't hold his trip to the church against him – but he still wasn't sure he wanted her there. Didn't want to include her in that guilt; there seemed to be so few things left that he could protect her from, but this one he could.

Tifa forgave, Tifa understood – but even if Tifa thought he was enough for her, Cloud didn't agree.

He rubbed his arm. Thought it was rested enough. But that strange ache wouldn't go away. Maybe he'd really hurt something…

"You don't have to bear it alone," Tifa said softly, as if she could read his thoughts. "Aerith didn't just bring Denzel to you. She brought him to us. To our family."

Cloud smiled; the feeling was genuine. But he was still troubled underneath. Tried to silently let her believe everything would be alright, though something screamed its fear inside. What if he let Denzel down NOW? He owed it to Tifa, also, to save the boy; he couldn't face her if he failed.

A promise that still drove his life…

"Why are you guys both up?" came two small voices from the door of the kitchen.

Marlene barreled in first, throwing her arms around Tifa, but she was pleased to see Denzel shyly walking in behind. His color looked a tad better today; it was promising. He headed over to Cloud's side of the table, but he didn't object when Tifa hugged him good morning on the way. He really is mine too, she thought.

She looked back across the table. The smile was still on Cloud's face. Everything will be alright, said that smile.

It will be, she smiled back. I know that now.

Confessing to Tifa had taken away a small guilt – but the big one was right in front of him.

Back to the books, night after night, resolve hardened even further. As if Geostigma was his personal fault. But wasn't it, in a way? Still no answers, but where else was he supposed to look? He couldn't shake the feeling that the answer was right there in front of his nose.

Tifa had come in just a few minutes before. Dressed in nothing but a white button-down shirt (the one Cloud had bought in case he ever needed business attire, which he never did, but the way it looked on her made it worth the purchase), hair loose and tousled as she slid her arms around his neck and down his naked chest - he tried not to wince as she rubbed that sore spot on his arm; it was probably nothing to worry about - trying to coax him to give it up and come to bed. He was sorely tempted; this last week had been a positive resurgence of lust, a smiling Tifa encouraging him to give, receive, and everything in between… It made him feel all the more apologetic, as he turned her down with something noncommittal.

Tifa looked down to the desk in front of Cloud. He hadn't said a thing, but she could see what he was trying to do; there was an unspoken understanding that neither of them would volunteer this to the kids, not wanting to give Denzel false hope. But she knew he was frustrated, they both were, and there was nothing she could do to help him. Not with this. She did the best thing that she could leaning forward to wish him good night with a gentle kiss; knowing she wouldn't sleep well until he joined her.

The phantom pain burned through his arm once again, more severe every day; it seemed to strike the worst whenever he sat down to look at the books. Always centered around that one pinprick of a spot on his left arm, as if something had been injected there… a fact that made him wonder what might have happened to him during those gratefully absent memories of his time under Hojo's care. Though he'd gladly recall every horror if it would give him the answer he needed.

Suddenly it flared like it never had before; he gasped as his muscles cramped and seizer, waiting for it to die down to a lesser throb. But it never truly went away. Not anymore.

He hadn't told Tifa about the pain – it would be just one more thing she would worry about. And she worried about him plenty already – though maybe not without reason. Because he was exhausted. Working all day, reading into the night, and what did he have to show for it? But he just kept doing it, because it was what he had to do.

He might be exhausted but he hoped she could sleep well at least, That he could give her that one small thing.

A woman he couldn't make happy. A family growing apart. They'd had their flirtation with normalcy when Denzel had arrived, but it hadn't lasted. Tifa seemed at least superficially satisfied, but deep down he knew even it wasn't enough.

HE wasn't enough.

And if he didn't succeed here, the boy across the hall would die, and the rest of his family would suffer the pain.

The turmoil of his emotions matched the breaking ache within his body, and with each feeding the other, he wearily let his head fall forward to the desk.

The night was still when he woke up.

Cloud shook his head in confusion at first. He was still in the office, but hadn't even made it to the bed – he'd passed out right on the desk. The last thing he remembered was the gnawing pain in his arm, right below the ribbon, and he turned to make sure it was still securely on –

No.

It couldn't be.

There, just below the pink strand, Aerith's memory providing no protection. The distinct blackened mark that he'd seen so often on Denzel's body.

The telltale mark –

Geostigma.

He didn't need to see the beginning trail of deadly ooze seeping down his arm to know the truth. He froze, his whole body seizing in terror while he panicked, screaming inside.

How could he have gotten it? He mostly agreed with Tifa that it wasn't contagious – or it would have showed up long before. For that matter, Tifa and Marlen were as vulnerable as he was – it couldn't be from Denzel. He dropped his eyes to his desk; it was as if he'd caught it from the books themselves – but of course that was impossible…

Was it something about him? Could he be putting his family in danger just by BEING with them?

He panicked. He couldn't be there. He ignored the little voice that told him it was just excuses, his out from facing things he couldn't deal with at home. Geostigma was incurable, everyone knew that – if he was facing death, he couldn't let them watch him shrivel away. Couldn't let the suffer that way.

He'd been mindlessly cataloguing what he should take with him – get away, just get away, murmured the undercurrents in his brain, and he followed. They'd be better off without me, he told himself, grabbing his duffel and shoving things inside, loose clothing and miscellaneous items scattered around the office. He slung the bag over his shoulder – at least the bed would be made, he thought bizarrely, she always hated it when he left it rumpled – when he realized he'd left his sword upstairs in the bedroom.

Leaving without it was not an option. Bracing himself, he snuck out of the office and resolutely passed the children's door. It's better this way, he told himself. Better that they just hate him.

Better Tifa should just hate him –

Hate him, a clean cut, and move on. He was still telling himself that as he gently eased open the master bedroom door.

Tifa was deep in sleep, too deep for his entrance to wake her. How long did it take to reach that point? Tiptoeing carefully around the bedroom – their bedroom, he thought nostalgically, where they'd slept and made love so many times – he willed her to stay sleep. Conscious of her at all times, as he retrieved his sword from the dark corner where it rested.

He was just about to leave when he heard a murmur coming from her direction. Carefully, slowly, he turned towards the sound.

She stirred slightly even though obviously still asleep. As he watched, she involuntarily stretched out her hand to the empty side of the bed. "Cloud…" her voice trailed off poignantly…

…and his heart broke in half.

He wanted to drop his bag, run to her, take her in his arms for just one more night -but no, he'd be lost when he touched her, one kiss and he'd never leave again.

He loved her too much to be able to walk away after that.

He loved her so much, he HAD to walk away.

"Please forgive me," he whispered, but he wasn't sure what he was asking forgiveness for. His thoughts were disjointed, near-hysterical. You'll be fine without me. You always have been.

Empty words, hollow, as he steered himself away, without the slightest idea of where he was going. Somewhere. Feeling a shell of a man, he scurried down the stars, putting on his boots at the bottom before he marched across the bar and out the door.

It was a clear night out; he'd left Fenrir just outside for once, as if he knew. Starting the engine, he allowed himself one last furtive look at the windows of seventh heaven, speeding away before he could change his mind.

Upstairs, Denzel nearly jumped awake when he heard Fenrir's roar; had he missed Cloud leaving this morning? Opening his eyes, though, he realized it was still dark. Running to the window, he saw Cloud tear away, and he realized what it all meant.

It had finally happened. Cloud had left him.

Sun was streaming out the window when Tifa woke up, groggy but at least somewhat refreshed. She'd tossed and turned, missing Cloud' warmth, but eventually had been able to fall back into a sleep of mostly-pleasant dreams.

Cloud's space was empty again; the blankets there, undisturbed. She'd left him in the office, buried in his books, the same as he'd been for as many nights as she could remember now – so driven, so dedicated, yet so saddened by it all.

She didn't know if the children realized what he was doing, and why. He hadn't exactly told her himself; she'd put it together on her own. As much as she admired his efforts, she knew he wasn't coming up with any solutions, and she could see how it was killing him inside.

She rose, throwing on some clothes and peering into the office. He wasn't there, and the bed was made - strange, that never happened unless Tifa did it for him.

He might have left for an early job, true, but to never have slept on the bed at all? Had he simply stayed up all night, gone to work in the morning? She needed to talk to him about that – they were hurting for money a little bit again, but that was no reason for him to be killing himself this way. They'd figure something out.

She was distracted by the sound of the children slowly waking up; she needed to take care of them this morning. It was Denzel who peeped his head into the office first; he seemed unsurprised to see Tifa there instead of Cloud. Distracted, she greeted him perfunctorily, fussing with the things on Cloud's desk as if she'd been in the office for a reason. Denzel watched her for a minute, she feeling his eyes upon her and wanting to avoid the obvious question just a bit longer.

It didn't work. Denzel looked around, suspicious. "Tifa, where did Cloud go so early?"

"Probably out on a job," Tifa assured him, but even to herself the words sounded unconvincing.

Denzel clamped his mouth shut; he didn't want to tell Tifa what he'd heard. Cloud left too early for even a job, he thought; but he didn't want to tell Tifa that. He knew it would make her sad – he didn't want to see her sad. Besides, he already knew the truth – Cloud left because of him.

He reached for the ring, as if making sure it, at least, was still there. Cloud, you promised! But Denzel guessed he had been too much after all.

Tifa couldn't help but note Denzel's crestfallen expression, reflecting the way she felt inside too. A gnawing dread that what had worried her most had finally come to pass. But she didn't want to say anything yet - Cloud could very well come marching back through the door, this every evening, and he'd tell them how he left so early just to be in time for dinner, and Tifa would feel silly for having worried at all.

And even if not… She had to remain strong. For the kids.

Marlene peeped through the door next, looking around more openly confused than Denzel had been. "Where's Cloud?" she asked, repeating Denzel's question.

Tifa opened her mouth to answer, but the lie wouldn't come out a second time. Feeling the tears welling up, she had just enough time to run upstairs and shut the door behind her, burying her head between her knees as the sobs began to come in earnest.

Denzel and Marlene were left staring at each other on the landing, unsure how to react. "Well," Marlene finally said, "I guess I'll… find us something for breakfast. It'll have to be cold though. I don't know how to use the kitchen yet."

"I do," Denzel told his sister. "I'll come help you in a minute. Don't turn anything on until I get there, okay?"

Marlene nodded, and scampered down. Denzel looked first down the stairs to the bar below, then up to Cloud and Tifa's bedroom, where Tifa had lately fled. He went upstairs.

Pressing his ear to the door, he could hear Tifa's tears, barely muffled by the thin piece of wood between them. As he stood there listening, he could no longer avoid the undeniable truth.

This was all his fault.