Chapter 65. October 25 – December 14, εуλ0009

Days went by. Cloud didn't come back.

Tifa started finding ways to move on.

She'd been so afraid at first, frantically calling only to get his voicemail once again, worried he'd finally met a monster that could match him. Or had an accident on the bike – going too fast, just like she'd warned him not to! – and he was lying in a ditch somewhere, and of course it would be the one day he'd forgotten to bring any materia or potions…

But then she started hearing from her bar customers, hey I saw Cloud out on a job today, how's he doing haven't seen much of him around here – and anger replaced worry. How could he be so cavalier as to walk away? she could understand if he'd had enough, but to leave without even saying goodbye as if what they'd had for two years meant nothing to him, abandoning their children, not like she herself had that luxury?

Denzel, meanwhile, was so disappointed in his hero – he'd really been counting on Cloud. And he didn't like that Tifa was left so unhappy. He thought for sure they'd kick him out now, give up on him – but no, Tifa watched over him twice as much now.

He finally worked up the courage to ask. "Tifa… we're going to stick together, aren't we?"

Tifa looked at him, positively shocked. Did Denzel really think that the problems she and Cloud had been having would affect her feelings for him? "Of course not, Denzel," she told him, throwing her arms around him and giving him the tightest hug she dared. This boy is well and truly mine now.

Marlene wanted answers – but Tifa didn't seem to have any. Wondering, she snuck into Cloud's office, not sure why she didn't want to TELL anyone what she was doing. Tifa normally organized Cloud's office, but she hadn't bothered since he had left, only dusting sometimes. The books were still scattered on the desk, along with a long-evaporated energy drink; the family photo sat there, alone, a picture showing Cloud had once been there with them.

She opened one of the big, heavy books. She couldn't read most of the words – they were even harder than a lot of the words on Cloud's maps – but she could see the pictures. Lots of stuff about sick people. He must have been looking for a cure for Denzel, shereasoned. Was that why he left? To go looking more?

She told Denzel that, thinking it might make him feel better, but it didn't. "So I was right, it was because of me," he moaned.

"That's not true! You can't think that way!" Marlene insisted. But Denzel refused to be convinced otherwise.

Tifa called every day at first, Cloud how are you doing - sometimes more than once, but as she became resigned she did so less and less. A day passed, even two, between calls. She'd leave him the information about jobs, and somehow those jobs would get done. After a week or two, though, she started to wonder how she would get the bar's own deliveries; that had been the original purpose of Cloud's business after all. Her inventory was starting to grow thin.

She got the answer in the form of a young man she'd never seen before, hailing from the Chocobo Ranch.

He pulled up in front of Seventh Heaven one early evening, shushing the warking chocobos pulling his cart with a handful of greens. Tifa ran out to see what the commotion was about. "Evening, ma'am," he told her. "I've got a delivery for a Miss Tifa Lockhart?"

"That would be me," she asked, wary. "What kind of delivery?

"Vegetables, mostly. Some meat and dairy. Eggs. S'posed to be everything you need, and if there's anything else that's not usual on your order, let me know and I'll get it for you too. Man who arranged this said to swing by once a week."

Tifa walked over to the cart where a helper was already unloading crates, and nearly burst into tears. This was Cloud's work for sure. Everything he knew she always needed, and a couple extras he'd learned to grab when they were available. Arugula? How did Cloud manage to find arugula? "This is really embarrassing," she told the young man. "I… wasn't expecting this. I don't' have any money on me to pay for the delivery."

"Oh no, Miss Lockhart – "

"Tifa," she offered.

"Erm... Tifa… I t's all been taken care of. Chocobo Bill said this is for an old friend. I'm also supposed to tell you that liquor will come from Kalm in another couple days – Chocobo Sam's on that one. And there's an account set up in your name at the new WRO bank."

He held out an envelope, the WRO's stamp sealing it. Tifa eagerly tore it open, but inside was nothing but an address, an account number, and a balance at the bottom. Cloud must be working more jobs than ever, she thought, gasping in shock at the amount of gil waiting for her. Why was he doing this?

He might have left her… but he hadn't abandoned her. She didn't know if that made it better or worse.

The cart was packing up and readying to leave, but Tifa held up a hand for them to wait. "Hold on," she called; and the young man turned. "Could you… is there any way you could get a message to him?"

The rancher looked sympathetic. "I could try," he suggested. "What do you want me to say to him?"

Tifa thought for a moment. Memories of countless messages left on a silent phone, day after day without a response. "Never mind," she finally said. "I'll see you next week."

She called Elmyra a couple of times, needing the woman-to woman talk. Elmyra hadn't heard from Cloud, either, but she was suitably incensed on Tifa's behalf.

"Men," Elmyra fumed, thinking of Zack; that wasn't fair, but to this day she couldn't help thinking, what if he had just not gone on that one mission? It sounded to her like Cloud was just being a jerk, but given Zack's fate, she couldn't help worry a bit too. Besides, for Marlene's sake, she'd had such high hopes for Cloud and Tifa…

"I know," Tifa replied. "I worry how he's doing too, but what else can I do?" Elmyra had no answer.

Dusting the office yet again, Tifa picked up the family photo. Now, she knew it told the truth. Cloud really DIDN'T consider himself part of the family.

Denzel coughed, letting Tifa know he was at the door; She jumped, startled and concerned. Denel had been having geostigma attacks more and more, evidently depressed with Cloud gone, and Tifa angrily wondered if cloud had considered THAT when he left.

"Are you okay, Denzel?" she fussed, running over to him. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm okay," Denzel said, subdued. "But I was wondering – that picture –" and Tifa realized she still had the frame in hand – "Could I, uh, have it in my room?"

Tifa looked down at it again; if the reminder might help him… She could hope. "Of course, Denzel," she told him, and placing one hand on his back, gently steered him back to bed.

Denzel wiggled back under the covers; she knew the signs, he wasn't feeling good today. She set the photo on the nightstand, side by side with the photo of Denzel's parents, and straightened them neatly so Denzel could see them where he lay.

Slowly, she wondered how she would shape life without Cloud. She'd already nearly lost him so many times, she should be used to it – but all the same, she knew she would always be influenced him, even when he wasn't there. She could hardly bear the thought, but she could make it without him; but this was hurting the kids, too.

She tried calling everyone but Vincent and Nanaki; they'd been leaving unreturned voicemails as well.

Yuffie was all set to try looking for him; Tifa told her not to bother. If the man didn't want to be found… She pushed away a jealous feeling, that she might know where to find him. It wasn't a place she was willing to venture; not ready to face the implications if she was right.

She'd expected Barret to have a few choice words about Cloud, but he was surprisingly diffident about the whole matter. "You're strong, Tifa. You can make it on your own. If you start to doubt, I'll be there to remind you."

Cloud was supposed to be there to remind me, thought Tifa.

She got off the phone with Barret, slumping to the chair and burying her face in her hands, she wasn't sure if she was going to cry yet again. She'd thought she was through with that, on her way to acceptance, but it seemed she was not.

And then Marlene was there, Marlene with her unrelenting cheerfulness, even she struggling to maintain the façade. "Don't worry, Tifa" she said, throwing her arms around the only mother she'd ever know. "You don't have to be everything."

How do you tolerate aloneness, Aerith had once asked her. The last conversation they'd ever had, before Aerith had left to meet her destiny. Not very well at all, Tifa had responded. But Zangan said loneliness was one of his lessons to me.

She could do this; she could survive. "You don't have to be lonely," Marlene said, echoing her thoughts. "You have us."

That I do, thought Tifa.

She was putting Denzel to bed especially early one night, when he surprised her with a request. "Tifa," he began, "will you read me a story?"

"Well, sure, Denzel," she told him, "but I thought you didn't like that. I thought you said you were too old for it."

Denzel blushed. "Well, it's just that, Cloud would sometimes read out loud to Marlene. When she didn't want to do it herself," he told Tifa. "I thought… it would be kind of like that."

Oh. That made sense. Tifa picked a book at random – a Stamp one, still a favorite of bot h children – and stretched out on the bed, Denzel cuddling up next to her.

Denzel was halfway to sleep when she finished up the story. It was time to find Marlene and put her to bed too, then start her evening at the bar. But as she made to leave, Denzel grabbed her by the hand; as his small fingers touched her ring, she was reminded it was there.

"Tifa," he asked urgently, "are you mad that Cloud left you alone?"

Tifa paused, stopping to look straight into his eyes. "No," she told him, mostly truthfully. "Because he gave me you."

But as she left the room, she wondered. She valued her remaining family all that much more – how could Cloud have let it go so easily? She fingered the ring she'd been wearing for so long, she 'd forgotten it was there. She remembered so well the day he had given it to her, his heart literally in his hands. The lone wolf dies, he had told her. So what would become of him?

Cloud, are you well? Are you thinking of me? Are you even alive?

The pain was spilling over, threatening to overwhelm Aerith as well, and it hurt Zack to watch.

She'd changed her clothes again; Zack unoriginally kept his garments black, but Aerith's were becoming ever more elaborate. This time it was a diaphanous gown, layers of different shades of pink; gold thread covered its edges in scrollwork reminiscent of vines, matching the tiny gold flower clips scattered throughout her loosened hair.

He'd had the pleasure of taking off that dress, choosing the tactile sensation in lieu of just thinking it off her – as such things worked here (Aerith had been alternatively amused and exasperated that had been one of the first things he'd learned how to do). Making love to her slowly, making her feel better for just a little while; but after, everything just rushed right back in.

Besides, Zack couldn't help btu feel frightened himself – once he heard the one word Sephiroth coming out of her mouth

Aerith had been doing all she could to keep the negative energy from flowing in, contaminating the Lifestream, trying to keep those geostigma-affected souls from being trapped within the blackness. But it had become too much; she needed Cloud, still alive, to help her.

He'd help her… but oh, how she feared he'd end up suffering more for it…

Now, it was a race between her and Sephiroth to reach Cloud first, and so far she was losing – Sephiroth was blocking her from reaching Cloud, just as he'd once blocked her from reaching Holy.

But Cloud defeating Sephiroth – defeating himself, in a sense – had been what finally set Holy free. What would happen now, with Sephiroth going straight for him?

Cloud, I am so sorry... I'm trying as hard as I can to help you. But he couldn't hear her words. Not yet. Instead, she could follow the trail of guilt and shame along the river of feelings that was the Lifestream, and grabbing that string, tried to coax him to a place where he could hear more clearly.

It wasn't just Sephiroth, though. Even if he didn't realize it, Cloud was fighting her too; the part of him that tried to separate himself from Tifa, was shutting her out as well.

And she wasn't Tifa. She didn't have the power to open his heart.

Tifa. She worried for her friend, too. It was objectively harder to reach Tifa – but offset by the fact that Tifa was more willing to be reached. Whereas Cloud hid his feelings, Tifa's were obvious for all to see. And the hurt she felt radiating off the whole family – Tifa, Marlene, Denzel – different in character, but the same in degree.

Tifa, please, I'll do what I can, but you've got to hold it together. Aerith was certain that Tifa could. I'll keep trying to reach Cloud.

Zack couldn't do it. It had to be her. She'd considered using others, the way Sephiroth had – but it just didn't feel right. I want Cloud to see me as I really am.

Normally, the deadly silence of the Forgotten City was a relief, but Vincent knew right away that something had changed. Even before he found the Remnants, manifestations of what once Sephiroth had been; he knew something was subtly different in the energy of the forest.

It was the lake. Vincent had watched from the shadows as Cloud had sat there for hours, witnessing the loneliness it brough the other man sensing from another the need for solitude and silence. But for Vincent, Aerith's grave had always brought him a sense of peace – a unity of life and death that suited his perspective. A positive counterpart to the black moods that afflicted him.

He'd planned to leave Kadaj and the others alone too, thought not for the same reason – watching, waiting, until he had a better understanding. But that was before he saw the prisoners they had brought with them.

Tseng. Elena. He hadn't seen them since they'd worked together at Meteorfall; they hadn't even bothered with goodbyes. But as a former Turk, he was bound by honor to help.

They'd been beaten, tortured. Bones looked to be broken; they'd be permanently damaged if they weren't set properly soon. It looked like Kadaj had healed them, only to sadistically hurt them some more. They were already half-dead, breathing shallowly, when Vincent dared creep inside the camp to release them; carefully waking Tseng with a hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming before recognition could flicker in the head Turk's eyes.

Vincent removed his hand, and Tseng's first word was, "Elena?" Vincent cocked his head to where he'd carefully arranged her still-unconscious form; the gang had been no less rough with her because she was a woman. Tseng's face showed instant relief, a remarkable break with composure for the man, and Vincent saw what Tseng had realized - the relatively intact nature of her Turk suit revealed, she at least hadn't been treated any worse for being female.

Sephiroth meant cruelty. Vincent wouldn't have been surprised if the Remnants had just a little extra fun with Elena. Maybe they'd planned to later…

"What's she to you, anyways?" Vincent wondered aloud. Quietly aloud.

"She's someone I asked to dinner once," Tseng replied; that was all Vincent needed to hear. He knew the face of a man hopelessly besotted by love.

After all, he'd once seen that face in the mirror.

"I'll get her up and then I'm taking the two of you out of here," Vincent assured him. But before he could attend to Tseng's sweetheart, the Turk whispered, "Wait."

Vincent turned back.

"There's some things you need to know. Before anything else. In case we don't make it out of here." Vincent had to admit that was still a possibility. "Geostigma. People think it's the Planet fighting back against humans. I heard Kadaj and the two others talking. They're partly right."

Vincent listened.

"They're… infected with Jenova. Geostigma is their bodies fighting back." Vincent considered – it made sense. The current of life itself inside the body, connected to the Lifestream of the Planet itself, fighting to eliminate that which it most feared. "They're trying to gather those with Geostigma. With Jenova." Tseng coughed, wincing visibly. "To reunite Sephiroth. We were looking for the cause of the disease…"

"You found Jenova's head," Vincent said flatly. "It should have been left inside the Northern Crater." And to think Cloud had thought it buried deep enough…

"We're paying for that mistake," Tseng countered.

A rustle was heard in the forest; they had no more time to waste. "Enough talk. Don't be startled." Tseng nodded, no flicker of surprise as Vincent let Chaos overtake his body, and winged to the skies gripping the Turks in each claw.

He rose over the forest, winging it towards Midgar, grateful for Chaos's devilish speed. First, he'd get Tseng and Elena to safety - he couldn't do any more for them here.

And then, he'd come back to watch.

He wasn't well.

The geostigma attacks came closer and closer together now. Every time Cloud thought of his family, in fact. If they'd be okay once he was gone; if he'd done enough to make sure. Wished he could hear their voices once again, but the only sound in the church was the sound of his own heart breaking.

He had her voicemails, at least. And he listened to them. Incessantly. Her sweet voice cheered him awake and was like a lullaby goodnight. For a while at least, he'd considered picking them up; but as the time apart grew longer, that idea seemed more and more cowardly. He'd only be hurting her further, just to indulge a personal whim.

He should have felt better when the calls started to thin out. He'd hoped she'd hate him and move on – as much as he hated the thought of her being with another man. Jealously, he wondered if she already had; he doubted it, but if she had, it would be all for the best. Marlene had Barret anyway, and Denzel… Well, he was glad Denzel wouldn't need to know how he had failed him, didn't want to cost the kid any more hope.

Death looked to be coming for him soon enough. His out.

Appropriate, somehow.

Cloud had never had a thought to take his own life – he had the people he loved to live for. But if death was thrust upon him –

He hadn't planned at first to come here; he'd wandered aimlessly the first few days, wherever jobs took him, sleeping whenever and where ever he felt the need. But he felt a tug growing into a stronger pull, and he realized where he needed to go.

A place of penance.

A place to die.

There was an old flower wagon in the corner, broken pieces of a wheel lying rotting next to it. Still, he could see despite the peeling paint that it had been once bright and cheerful. Had it been Aerith's? But in reminding him of her, it only made the church feel that much more lonely. It wasn't the same unless she was actually here.

He lay down, using his bag as a pillow; an uncomfortable one, but it suited him. He'd made his bed some distance from the flowers – Aerith wouldn't like him ruining them with his taint.

Aerith. His biggest sin of all.

Aerith, I'm sorry. How many times had those words run through his head – never voiced because she wasn't there to hear? He wanted to believe she could – though it was unlikely forgiveness would be forthcoming.

Here in the church, he could practically taste her presence, laced with the bitter tang of guilt and shame. Could have sworn he'd heard the flowers whispering in the night. How many things might be different if she'd lived, he wondered – if she could've been part of the happiness he and Tifa shared?

Looked like he'd be joining her soon enough. Aerith, maybe I would get to see you again. But I can't help it. I want HER. I want the life she's been making for us…

…But perhaps I was never meant to live at all.

A sacrifice, that made him. Sounded about right. My nine lives and then some must be used up. Leave and never look back, he'd once thought. How stupid he'd been to think that way when he still had a choice.

He wanted so much more – a family with the woman he loved; he wanted marriage and babies and growing old together, but he couldn't tell her that. Not now. It would mean offering her a promise he no longer had any way to keep. He'd been wondering how to give her the everything he wanted, but now he knew – he couldn't Wanted to love her until the day he died – looked like it was working out that way. How could he tell her he was dying when she'd risked her life so many times for him?

Cloud wrapped his bedroll tighter, shivering inside despite the warmth that always hung in the church. Unable to sleep, unused to doing so without Tifa at his side; he craved her warm embrace, the feel and presence of her body at his side. And when sleep finally came, it was full of nightmares and the screams of those he couldn't help.