As I said last chapter, this is the most important chapter of the story. Yes, more important than Sephiroth's defeat, more important than the Highwind, more important than the Lifestream. Why? I'll have more to say at the bottom.
In honor, I would like to dedicate this one to my friend theClosetPoet7, who introduced me to Discord and therefore to the other fine people who have received dedications, who have contributed in some small way or another to making this story what it is.
This will be the last individual dedication I do… but not the end of the story for some time yet…
Chapter 81. January, εуλ0013
Barret huffed and puffed as the three pushed the heavy load up the stairs and through Seventh Heaven's entrance. Denzel patiently waited at the side, holding the door open. "I can't believe we're doing this, Cloud."
"This ain't fucking anything. You should see all the shit Shera has me lugging around the house. It's enough to make a man want to fly to outer space again, especially with another baby coming," Cid retorted.
"You love her shit," Barret jabbed back. "You just wouldn't feel right without a woman ordering your lazy ass around."
"You've been too long without. Fucking too long without fucking, too."
"Damn, Cid, careful! What if my daughter comes back? She doesn't need to hear stuff like that!" Barret exclaimed.
Left unsaid by tacit agreement was that Barret had begun dating again – though not without trepidation. It had only been the insistence of Marlene that really gave him the push. "Papa, I really think you need a girlfriend to take care of you," she had announced one day out of the blue.
"What, you need another momma? Tifa not doing her job well enough?" had been Barret's reply.
"A girl can never have too many mothers," Marlene had replied coyly, the nearly-ten-year-old fluttering her eyelashes in a way Tifa never did. Making Cloud wonder where, exactly, she had picked up the gesture.
However, the topic was still sensitive, and Cid should remarkable restraint, not prodding further. Barret would tell them when there was something to talk about.
In any case, Cloud was mostly tuning the older men out as they continued to razz each other about what they would and wouldn't do for women. He knew which woman he was doing this for, and why.
"Lucky for you this is for Tifa," Barret said, as if reading his thoughts. "About time you did something grand like this for her. Bad enough she's stuck with you."
"Hmmm." Cloud ignored the comment; the teasing was familiar by now, a strange sort of backwards respect. He focused on the task at hand instead. Weight-wise, he probably could have lifted the thing, but maneuvering the awkward, bulky item required the extra assistance.
Tifa and Marlene had gone shopping for the day. The bar had become well-known enough that they had started the Meteorfall anniversary party this year, more or less out of obligation, while keeping their own role in the event silent out of necessity. It was known that the couple at Seventh Heaven had some sort of role in the fight against Bahamut SIN – but they downplayed it as much as possible.
They finally got the furniture inside, and Cloud heard Denzel's voice from behind it. "I've got the space cleared out." He had just turned twelve, and could almost look Tifa in the eye; Cloud had already made peace with the fact that his son was going to be taller than him. But the boy had not filled out yet into the frame of an adult man, and Cloud had firmly vetoed his participation in the heavy labor.
Nevertheless, Denzel wanted to play a part, so he busied himself with preparing the corner of the bar they had all planned for it. He agreeably pushed tables and chairs to the corner where Marlene, in on the deal, had recommended it be placed, finally helping to right it and push it into its final home. Cid strode behind the bar and popped three beers, pouring a splash into a shot glass so Denzel could play along.
"Are you asure Marlene can keep Tifa away long enough" Cloud asked. He was the only one not sweating once they were finished, but gratefully accepted the beer and took a hearty swig anyway.
"She promised," Denzel replied.
Barret wiped his brow involuntarily with his left hand; he'd permanently given up the gun-arm in favor of a normal hand, this one a super-developed prosthetic from the expanding WRO engineering division. This one hooked to the nerves; it had been a shock to him, almost terrifying, when after all these years he could suddenly feel there once again – but he had to deal with it.
Cid reached up to light a cigarette – a rare, occasional pleasure he still allowed himself when away from the family – before remembering Tifa's strict no-smoking-indoors policy (though she, the conscientious proprietor, had left a standing ashtray outside to avoid littering.) He got up, the other men and Denzel courteously following him out, and Cid lit up, breathing in the acrid smoke with a side of pleasure.
"Sorry you have to go outside," Cloud murmured apologetically.
"Eh, it doesn't matter," Cid replied. "I'm not even sure I even like these things much anymore. When the next baby's born in five months, I might give them up for good."
"You'd really give them up for a woman?" Barret joked, jostling his shoulder. Like they all didn't already know the answer.
"We all do things for our women. Just look at what Cloud's got us doing all day for his lady," Cid shot back with a half laugh.
"That's different," Cloud insisted defensively. "She's your friend too."
"Nah, we totally agree with the gesture. Don't mind us old married men here." Cloud was miffed – he wasn't that much younger – but let it simmer as the talk turned to the discussion of Barret's possible new girlfriends and, very distantly, the idea of marriage.
Tifa had already pried him for details a few days earlier. "Guys don't talk like that," Cloud had insisted, leaving her disappointed.
"That just means there's no one special… yet," Tifa had countered; and Cloud wondered how she could be so sure.
She'd had the same response when she'd pried him for more information about the next Highwind baby. "Uh… it's going?" was all Cloud could come up with.
Tifa had sighed deeply. "Cloud… you are so unromantic," she laughed, right before he proved her wrong with a rather thorough kissing that left her blushing, breathless, and smiling.
He hoped today's surprise would work as well.
Speaking of…
"Right on time," Barret noted.
Tifa had already seen Barret and Cid that morning when they came to help set up for the party, but she was surprised when Denzel stopped her at her own front door and Marlene tugged her insistently back.
"Close your eyes," the children told her.
"O… okay," Tifa mumbled in confusion, but acquiesced when Cloud swung behind her to cover her eyes from behind. He took her gently up the stairs and into the bar, she trusting with every step that he would never let her fall.
He led her across the bar, pulling his hands away and standing back to see her reaction. She gasped, and her eyes grew wider than he'd ever seen them before, as she was rendered absolutely speechless.
She walked to the piano, sat on the bench. Marlene snuggled in beside her, flush against Tifa's right t side. For long moments, Tifa started only reverently at the instrument, fingers stroking the kays with the same languor that in the bedroom she stroked the knobs along Cloud's spine.
Just watching her now, the thought gave him shivers.
"Wow," she finally breathed. "Whose idea was this?"
"Cloud's," Denzel announced. "He was scared it might bring back bad memories, but.. Tifa, it's been a long time, right?"
"A long time," she agreed.
Satisfied, Denzel walked over to the bar to join the older men; Tifa could hear the pleasant rhythm of their joking and laughter, a warm, jovial feeling that brought her back to childhood once again. When her mother was still alive; when she was just the naïve young girl who had once played it. That piano had been consigned to the flames, along with much of her younger idealistic self, leaving only its sham replica in the mocking imitation Shinra had made of her home.
This was a very different instrument – not the small, rustic one of her youth, but a sleek, varnished baby grand. As Marlene plucked the high keys, she wondered if it wasn't unlike herself – different, unique, polished, but still the same at heart.
"Cloud," she breathed, "is this for our anniversary?"
"We have an anniversary?" Cloud asked, blank.
Tifa only raised her eyebrows, just sending him that look that meant he was missing something incredibly obvious. Cloud racked his brain frantically, trying to think what could have possibly happened on this day other than defeating Sephiroth and Meteo -
Oh. OHHH. Right, then.
Tifa indulged herself for several minutes, but eventually the responsibilities of the business called. She set to work on part preparations, delegating to the children and men as needed. Kyrie showed up as promised at 3pm, pitching in; Evan, arriving with his girlfriend and Vits, lingered in the background, offering his aid where he could. Since Kyrie's hiring, he'd formed at least a preliminary friendship with the other man; the couple were barely younger than he and Tifa, and not terribly unlike them, after all.
It was going to be a big night, business=wise. But for Cloud, it felt just like any other day, only better dressed. He went upstairs to change into something a little cleaner, a little more presentable than his usual work attire. A leather jacket, made by the same leatherworker who had made Tifa's vest, and bought at her suggestion. He couldn't deny he liked it – the material was soft; the fit was perfect. A simple gray dress shirt underneath; pants in a near-black denim. Boots that weren't completely scuffed from the road.
Heading back down, he caught Tifa's eye; her flirtatious smile told him she approved of the look. She herself hadn't yet changed; he watched her as she carefully covered the piano, covering it with thick cloth to protect it from spills.
The other men drifted, arriving a little more spruced up, followed by their other friends in short order. Yuffie, in a… dress? of all things, a short black thing that likely had a number of secret hiding places, though Cloud couldn't even fathom where. "Reeve will get here a little later," she explained, before squealing over the piano, sitting down and banging on a few keys before she grew bored and grabbed a drink instead.
Nanaki and Vincent appeared together; the latter hadn't bothered to change at all. Cloud wasn't surprised. It was good to simply have them there, to make the party of friends complete once again.
He touched his arm, the spot where he no longer wore the ribbon. Not since Elmyra had told him it was time to let it go. As much as he still missed her – she and Zack both – he hoped they were there to see this moment.
The doors opened; Kyrie skillfully manned the bar, delegating tables to the newer guy (some friend of hers and Leslie's; so new Cloud hadn't yet learned his name) while the bar slowly filled and he patiently awaited Tifa. She'd gone upstairs some time ago to get ready, and he hadn't seen her since.
When she finally appeared, his jaw positively dropped.
Tifa… his Tifa, the one who had crossed the world with him, who he'd seen in every state of dirtied, tired, undressed - was an absolute picture of elegance. His wasn't the only head in the bar that turned as she descended the stairs. Though the Seventh Heaven clientele was too polite for whistles or calls, Cloud's ears could pick up the appreciative murmurs spreading through the room.
She was wearing a long, flowing dress, the back whisking down the steps as she walked. Her hair was loose, shaken out around her shoulders. And as always, the one pearl earring, her inevitable signature that was so uniquely her.
Cloud wanted to take her in his arms, kiss her to distraction, tell her she was unbelievably beautiful – but now was not the time. The bar had filled even more, and Tifa had a role to fill, this time as hostess rather than barmaid, making her guests feel comfortable, welcome. She chatted with faces old and new, smiling, laughing, as they asked about the upcoming opening of Second Chances, and was she planning more ahead? She was, but there was family too, and it would all happen when it happened, she soothingly replied.
Cloud didn't fail to notice how avidly Tifa watched the new piano, though, as people set their drinks on it and spills inevitably happened. She closely monitored as well the people who wanted to play on it; there was no shortage of amateur musicians, some even quite good, forming the entertainment of the evening as each in turn sat down to play a few notes. Some songs Cloud knew, other unfamiliar; but none the ones he remembered from childhood, when a small boy hung in a tree and imagined a girl was playing just for him.
And only as an adult did he learn… she was.
The night grew long; the guests showed their wear. Reeve had come and gone; his other friends were beginning to retire as well to nearby inns or the Shera as called for. Marlene and Denzel had been sent to bed, amid yawning protests they weren't tired. Barret and Cid were sleeping the drink off in the airship before they returned to business the next day.
Finally, the door was shut and locked behind the last guest… and Cloud and Tifa were left in the bar alone.
Cloud unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt; even without a tie, it felt restraining. He'd only worn out of courtesy for her, and the sophistication of the occasion.
Speaking of.. he finally had his chance to observe how delightfully beautiful she looked tonight. He drank his fill now, as she stood there in that lovely gown. Her hair was curled. CURLED. He'd never seen her do that before. And she had some kind of tiara-lace thingy adorning the top of her shining dark hair, drawing attention to her perfect face.
"Cloud?" she interrupted his thoughts.
He shook his head, snapping himself back to awareness. She just stood there, in all her splendor, looking strangely bashful. In her hands was a bottle and two flute glasses. "I… actually had something for our anniversary as well." She held up the bottle in her hands. "Sparkling wine – kind of expensive. It was a splurge, but…"
He cut her off with a kiss, taking the items from her like a gentleman.
He opened the bottle – one of the things he had learned to do with some sort of grace – and filled first her glass, then his. He gestured to the bench, allowing Tifa to seat herself, setting the glasses carefully up top before he took his seat beside her. As one, they reached for their drinks, clinking glassed with his eyes still riveted on her as they sipped together.
Goddess, he was a lucky man.
He touched the keys pensively. "Play me something," he suggested.
"Like what?" Tifa asked.
"Anything." Cloud appended the thought. "No, make that something from when we were kids… something I would have heard you playing…"
Tifa nodded, and touched long fingers to the keys. She'd thought she'd forgotten… but the motions came back to her as if they were yesterday… and she knew what she wanted to play.
The notes filled the empty room, echoing off the walls and ceiling. Operatic. Haunting. A few notes in, and memory came back to Cloud in a torrent, those beautiful notes emanating from her house, captivating a young boy starting to lose his heart.
And he'd kept on losing it to her ever since.
It made him… homesick, in a way. He thought he'd gotten over that particular affectation, but it seemed something as simple as a few notes, plucked half a world and a lifetime away, could bring him all the way back home.
He reconsidered. Nevermind. Home was right there with him, where she'd always been. Setting down his glass, he slid one arm around her waist; she leaned in, resting a weary head on his shoulder.
"Five years," she told him. "That's how long it's been."
"And to think, once I thought I'd never get a day," he replied softly. She only wiggled closer in response, and for a long moment, he relished just the simple feeling of her, of having the woman he loved in his arms.
"Things change a lot, don't they," she finally breathed.
"Would you trade it?" he asked suddenly.
"For what?" she asked, surprised. "No. None of those days. Not for anything in the world," she finished emphatically. She looked deep into his eyes – maddeningly bright, not mako-lit but glistening with the fire of life and love.
To most, Cloud's expressions might seem flat, but she was used to the subtle nuances that betrayed everything he was thinking. And right now, that was love. Just love.
She leaned further into the crook of his neck, her lips resting near his ear. "I am so happy with you," she whispered. His response was instant, body first going rigid with surprise; then relaxing, melting as he let her words sink in.
Holding her there, sweet and champagne-giddy, his sight drifted down her dress. Eyes hazy, he took it in… it was very pretty. White. Elegant, long, and… white.
Wedding dresses were usually white… right?
Was there something… should he ask?
"Tifa?" he began hesitantly.
"Mmm?" came the satisfied purr from his shoulder.
"This is… kind of a weird question. I have something to say… I mean…" Tifa lifted her head, patiently waiting for the rest. "I guess… I've never really been sure. Should I be asking you to marry me? Is that something you want to do?"
There was a long silence on her end, making Cloud squirm. "This is so dumb. I'm asking you if I should be asking you something."
Tifa was startled out of the fog where she'd been mulling over what he'd just said. "No, Cloud, it's a very good question," she told him. "Especially since my answer is… no."
He looked so stricken, that she rushed to clarify. "No, because you don't need to ask. I don't need something more, because… I've been married to you in my heart all along."
Still, he didn't seem appeased; she thought a moment more. "I don't need that… but I think… that you might. If this is something that you need, then I'll do it for you. But I'm happy with what we have now."
They were now far closer to sunrise than to midnight. The glasses were empty; she would get few more words out of Cloud tonight. So instead, she pulled him to his feet.
"Dance with me," she said, her voice low, enticing.
"I don't know how," Cloud protested.
"It's easy." She drew two fingers under his chin, pressing herself closer against him. "It's just like making love standing up."
Cloud smirked. "That, I know how to do."
"And you always get it right," she whispered, sending electric shocks through his bones.
He pulled her fiercely into his arms. She placed her head on his shoulder, and there they stood in the empty bar, the morning creeping all too near, swaying to remembered music. Tifa closed her eyes in bliss.
I don't need you to be perfect, Cloud. I just need us to be perfect for each other.
At the top of the stairs, hidden from view, sat two small figures who should have long since been in bed.
They might be concealed, but Marlene and Denzel could see clearly down into the bar below.
Cloud and Tifa, holding each other into the early hours of the morning.
Marlene half-attentively twirled the bangle surrounding her wrist. Under Yuffie's dubious tutelage, she'd been cautiously allowed to begin working with materia, about the same time she'd changed the way she wore her hair; the ribbon now gathered half her hair up, the rest streaming down her back. She'd quickly shown a knack for developing unexpected combinations. This one was Sense and Long Range.
Perfect for eavesdropping.
She'd been able to tune it up to a faint whisper, just enough for Denzel to hear as well. It had started out as yet another argument-slash-discussion, with Marlene insisting that Cloud and Tifa didn't need to get married… while Denzel claimed they really should.
"See," Marlene announced triumphantly. "They don't have to. Tifa said it herself."
"Bullshit," Denzel grumbled. "She probably just doesn't want to change her last name."
Marlene gave him a LOOK then, one Denzel was becoming all too familiar with. "That's not a RULE or anything, you know," she told him crossly. "I mean, you can choose your OWN name."
"Really?" asked Denzel, surprised. It was a possibility he hadn't considered before.
"Really," his sister imitated him. "That's part of the fun of being adopted. It's how I ended up with Papa's last name. Now Papa is Papa, and he tried to get me to call Tifa mama, but Tifa's more like his little sister so she was really more like an aunt instead. But she was also like a mom to me but "Tifa" was just as short and so I called her that, and since Tifa is Tifa, that means Cloud is Cloud, not dad, except Barret is still Papa so Cloud is kind of an uncle too. And Elmyra is both of our grandmother, except she isn't anyone's mom right now so I guess she could be Tifa's mom or Cloud's mom or both." She sighed dramatically. "Denzel. Please try to keep up."
Frankly, Denzel thought all that made no sense at all. "So you'll sure they'll stay together then?" he changed the subject. He didn't want to admit how terrified he was of losing a second family.
But something must have showed in his eyes, because Marlene immediately softened. "They will. They need each other," she told him. "Tifa… hurts. A lot. She needs Cloud as much as Cloud needs her. She just hides it better."
"How can you be so sure?" Denzel asked.
"I guess I just feel it," she answered. "Cloud can hurt her – "
"He's hurt us all," Denzel pointed out –
"- but he helps her too and he never stops trying to make it better. He doesn't even realize how much Tifa needs him. That we all do. And that, Denzel –" she pointed a finger up for emphasis – "is why they belong together."
Denzel reflected. He'd never really realized that about Tifa; he'd only really started to attach to her when Cloud had left. He'd learned something more tonight… though part of him had always felt like the outsider in the family… now maybe he understood a little better. All of them were like that.
Cloud and Tifa weren't his parents, but they were their own people. Not better or worse – just different. And they loved each other.
And the seeds of an idea began to form…
The next few days passed, and Cloud thought about what Tifa had said.
In fact, it was the only thing he was thinking about – alone on rides, with the kids, just the two of the Malone. Made him revisit everything they'd been through, all that he'd wanted and needed and hoped all the way to when he'd been a boy.
He knew he was sure about her. That had never been in doubt. He couldn't remember when he had fallen in love with her… because he couldn't remember a time when he wasn't.
And he knew she needed love… but how long had it taken him to truly understand that it was his love she wanted? Their experiences had tied them together with bonds stronger than marriage ever could be.
He and Tifa were happily, peacefully, together; their relationship was solidly established. His life now meant Tifa in it. They had economic security. A loving family. Their sex life was amazing, beyond all expectations.
So why did he feel so restless?
The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Tifa was right. He did want marriage. He wanted that sense of normalcy that had so long eluded him. It was the permanence, the nature of it that he craved..
He wanted to ask, to offer himself, to ask her to do the same thing in return. To be both accepted by the other, with all their weaknesses and foibles. He wanted to belong to something that wasn't hate and hurt and pain; he wanted to throw himself into where there was no going back.
He wanted to hear her say yes.
Yes, that they were joined for good; yes, that it was not just him she wanted, but only him; yes, that even with all he'd put her through, she was still willing to give him a chance to make her happy.
And a plan began to form…
"I'd like to take you out for a ride tonight," Cloud told her. No deliveries were scheduled; the bar remained dark. It was one of the "family" days they were increasingly able to indulge in, a luxury becoming the norm; but now dinner was over, the sun was settling into night, and the day was drawing to a close.
"But what will we do with the kids?" Tifa fretted, holding a half-soaped plate above the sink. Next to her, Cloud was neatly putting away the leftovers into their newly upgraded fridge, a Meteorfall gift from Cid and Shera.
("Man's fucking gotta eat," Cid had grumbled, "even if he can't cook worth shit." A glowing Shera only smiled.)
"Marlene's nine. Denel just turned twelve, Tifa," Cloud soothed. "They'll be okay on their own. Time to give them a chance."
Tifa still looked worried; he reached out a soothing hand. "I promise," he said – and those were the magic words that finally set her mind at ease.
The sky was full dark by the time they left; the bare beginner crescent of the moon invisible until he drove her out of the city and into the sea of stars beyond. They drove for an hour, maybe two, in pleasurable silence; she held him, leaning her head against his back, secure in the knowledge that she was safe with him at the wheel. Finally, he turned, and with a sigh of disappointment Tifa realized they were heading back home. She closed her eyes, allowing absolute trust of Cloud in control, not opening them again until she felt Fenrir slow to a stop. But as she felt the shift of Cloud preparing to dismount, she raised her head to find they weren't back at Seventh Heaven after all.
The church luminesced blue in the delicate moonlight. She looked at him in surprise; he only offered a small smile, and his hand. Placing her hand in his, she let him lead her inside.
It had been so long since she'd last been here; not since the episode of the Remnants, and the fight that had defeated Sephiroth, this time forever. Since an endless night she'd held her children close, not knowing if the man she loved had lived or died.
But he had lived – oh, he had lived! – and he'd returned, and he was here with her now.
The pool of water still remained; the Buster Sword shone its silent vigil within. The pews were still shattered; stone still crumbled from the columns. Remnants of her fight with Loz, Cloud's with Kadaj. The rasters above were destroyed even further, some collapsed by the simplicity of time taking its toll.
"It's kind of falling apart," she told him.
"Not really," he said. "Look closer."
She did.
Flowers now grew around the pool's edge, pushing their lives resolutely through rotting floorboards in this place where the barest hints of sunlight once brought them out. Against all odds, drowned and destroyed, they had emerged to bring their promise once again. She should have listened more closely when Marlene brought those flowers home.
He pointed at the pool itself; her eyes followed. "It's glittering," she noted.
"That's the thing I wanted to show you," he replied.
He lowered himself to sitting at the edge of the pool, raising a hand for her to follow. She took it, letting him pull her down beside him, easing them both back to lie together on the weathered boards.
He crooked his arm to lean his head on his hand; she laid her head against his elbow. Following his eyes upward to the broken roof, she saw what he was seeing – and she understood.
Stars.
The widest sky she'd seen in Edge; a twinkling landscape of the night. She'd had no idea the church bore this secret; she'd only seen it during the day, felt its power in the sunlight, but this added just a little more to the church's magic.
She bent her arm upward, caressing the soft fabric of his shirt, feeling his heartbeat reverberate through his chest; turning her head to his, she wondered what he would say, waited for him to speak first. For his part, he kept staring at the sky above; she thought she knew a bit of what he was feeling.
Stars had always meant promises to them both.
At long last, he spoke. "I was a little nervous about bringing you here," he admitted. "The last time I found you here, you'd been… Uh…"
Beaten to within an inch of my life. Tifa filled in the unspoken. He didn't need to say it, nor did he need to tell her the fear that he had felt. She already knew.
"The last time I found you here," she reminded him, "I saw the man I love healing our son."
Cloud visibly relaxed. "I was worried that it might be bad memories." He'd only thought as far as taking her to the church, pondering all the things the place had meant to him. Meeting Aerith, starting him on his path; hiding here to die, only to return to be healed, leading him back to Tifa, and now to – this. "So would you say good memories, then?"
"Very good," she answered.
She inched closer to him; his arm circled back, and as she reached up, he intertwined his fingers with hers. "That's good. I wanted to make sure this was the right place."
"Do you come here often?" she asked.
"Sometimes I stop to look at the water for a while. It helps me think." Long ago, he'd come here to ask Aerith for advice; she no longer answered. Now, it was as if the flowers themselves spoke to him. "Whenever I have questions. The water is its own answer - that we should live on."
He cast a gaze at the Buster Sword and its peaceful reflection. "And… it always tells me to go home. So today, I brought home with me."
He trailed off, leaving Tifa barely daring to breathe, much less speak; waiting, cautiously anticipating, what Cloud would say next.
"I've been thinking," he spoke to the stars above, "about what we talked about the other night. What you said. I thought… maybe we could talk about it somewhere less pressured. More personal." He swallowed. "We made a promise once. Just us. I thought… Maybe this could be something we could say just between the two of us." He turned his head to her; she could only nod. "The old promise has carried us in so many ways. Carried me through life. I'm who I am because of you. But I need promises from you, too." He paused. "I feel a little bad, because you do so many things for me unasked. But… I need the other half, too. To know I'm needed."
"Of course you are –" she tried to defuse, the way she always did, always trying to prop him up – but he cut her off; half angry, mostly pleading.
"Please, Tifa!" She was so startled by the exclamation that she clamped her mouth shut immediately. He took a deep breath. "I just… let me say it my own way this time."
She nodded again and forced her lips shut; determined not to interrupt, to let him take as long as he needed to find the words he was looking for.
Sometimes, the best thing to say was nothing.
Cloud took yet another, deeper breath, composing himself for the next part. She always gave him unconditional acceptance, but it was more than that he needed; it was commitment he wanted to make him whole. How could he find words enough to explain?
These were some of the most important words he would say in his life, and they wouldn't be enough.
They never would be.
He knew that now.
But maybe, just maybe, he could say what was in his heart…
"I know that," he continued, calmer. "I know you always try to make feel right just the way I am. So maybe this is selfish of me, but I need… something. More than just your belief in me. I'm not always going to get things right, but I need to know you'll still be there." She squeezed his hand, encouraging him to go on. "And if I'm not doing things right, I need you to tell me when I'm not. I need your harsh words."
- and Tifa was taken back to a bedroom three years before, yelling at him, stoprunning – and he had. Had she, too, maybe been selfish, helping him along every step of the way? Instead of giving him the chance to fail and grow?
"Because sometimes," Cloud continued, an answer to her thoughts, "your anger can mean as much as kindness. Because the day you no longer care enough to get angry, is the day I know you've given up on me."
She flashed back to the evening of the same day, she watching high in the air, a building exploding after she'd stepped aside to let him fight – but he'd come back after all, hadn't he?
Because, of course, he'd promised.
Tifa remained quiet, letting that all sink in. Sometimes standing back was hard… sometimes it was the only thing to do.
"I'm stronger now. I can take it," he continued. "Because I still need to be your hero. Just in different ways. To earn you, to be a man – your man. It's something I'm still learning to do, but the difference is now, I know I CAN. So it's a different promise I need now, another kind on the other side of all our trials."
He swallowed nervously. The next part was going to be harder.
"I've hurt you," he began, "in ways that I can't take back. I know that now. And you know what, Tifa – you're going to hurt me too. But I'll forgive you. The same way you've forgiven me. And we'll be able to move on forward. Together."
He stared back up to the sky. "I'm only now beginning to understand that I do have a future. That it's not too late to have the life I always wanted. And I can't see that future without you in it."
Tifa hardly dared to breathe.
"Because I have to believe that there's magic between us. I want to belong to you. To be MORE than just a hero to you. And I want you to belong to me, too. To be by my side, whatever might happen. I want to wake up with you every morning, and fall asleep with you every night. I want today, and tomorrow, and all the days after. I want always."
He finally broke his gaze from the stars, wanting only to see her face. "I love you. I just do."
It's time.
A whisper that came not as words but as meaning, a wisp in the air, as the tips of his fingers trailed over her face.
"And I'm ready," he went on.
Say it.
A few simple words that meant nothing really, except everything.
Say it NOW.
"I'm ready to give my whole life to you."
He looked deep into her eyes, saving and savoring the moment for forever. "Marry me, Tifa. Here and now."
A choked sob came from her throat, the first sound in minutes, as she realized this is it, this is IT, what she'd felt coming since the moment he'd laid her back to see the stars.
And in the soft velvet darkness of a long-lost church, beneath the stars that had always meant love; in the silence of a dream only two could hear, a peace where the Lifestream could almost be touched – he found himself whispering the words he never thought he'd have a chance to say.
"Tifa Lockhart, will you be my wife?"
It was the gentlest of sentences. A quiet proposal from a quiet man. Soft, glistening words that passed over breath between the only two to which they really mattered. And the first word to break her silence was the word that had been on her lips since he'd started speaking.
The only word it could be.
"Yes."
And it was the easiest word she had ever said.
She hadn't realized she'd been trembling until he gripped her hands, not letting her go; and suddenly she was afraid. Because she had her part to do, too.
That was what was had changed, she realized. He'd always given so freely, until he'd thought he had nothing left to give. He'd never asked for anything in return, but now – it was time. Time to meet him halfway; to give the same offering that he was giving her.
She had given him her heart, but had she ever truly given him herself?
She took a deep breath, and looked back into his baby-soft blue; and she found her voice to finish what he'd started.
"Cloud Strife," she began, the words coming easier now. He gripped her just a little tighter; it gave her the strength to move on. "Will you be my husband?"
"Yes," he exhaled, shutting his eyes with a long, slow sigh. "Thank you," he whispered.
Tifa blinked in sudden shock. She could have sworn she saw something… dark… sliding away from him.
And somehow, she knew that it wouldn't be back.
In its place… for perhaps the first time, Tifa looked at him. Really looked at him. Not just saw.
My husband, she thought with surprise. Many girls in Nibelheim had pictured their husbands, but she hadn't been one of them – and now here he was, a man whose love for her was so pure and gentle and complete. The spirit of the boy he'd once had been, and the promise of the man he was to become. The dreamer who was teaching her to dream once again. The love that had been there all along.
He's there! Holy, he's still there!
And with that, she realized – Cloud had been right. It did make a difference.
"You always were so sure," she breathed. "Why did it take me so long to realize that you were the one?"
His eyes looked at her, clear, innocent. "Maybe that's exactly the way I wanted it," he replied.
Cloud's hands reached to caress the side of her face. "My wife," he whispered, laying a soft kiss on her forehead. "My wife," he said again, softer still, lips to her fluttering eyelids. They traveled further, not yet brushing hers, but poised for the kisses that soon would come.
Tifa Lockhart is my wife…
He had a feeling of things coming full circle. It was a promise of a different kind. Each promise they'd made to each other laid on the last, stronger and stronger bonds.
This was a promise to protect her as well… but this time, to protect her heart.
All he'd ever wanted to do.
He tugged her closer to him, gently nestling her curves against his. "Seal the deal with me?"
A caress down her body gave her shivers, leaving her no doubt what he meant. Briefly, she wondered if they'd be desecrating Aerith's memory by making love here, but before she could answer the question herself, it was as if the church answered for her.
No. It would honor it.
By making love, celebrating life… they, the survivors, lived on the legacy of Aerith and Zack. Lived out the love those two had also shared. There was no need for guilt or shame.
With one powerful arm around her waist, he pulled them both to seated. "The flowers aren't strong enough yet to hold us, so we'll have to go about this another way. The floor is pretty hard. I can handle it better than you can." He pulled her leg to straddle his lap as he began to kiss her, long and slow and deep. "I want to be able to look into your eyes."
They hadn't made love this way many times before; but as Tifa saw the admiring way he gazed up at her, she thought that was something they were going to have to change. They moved in harmony, practiced ease discarding clothing that slipped through their fingers; her body hungry for his touch, his feeling, long before she felt him join their bodies together, another yes of the flesh.
She knew her own voice murmured his name, but all she could hear was him crying Tifa, Tifa, TIFA to the rafters above, as if it was the only word he had ever needed.
Author's Note: So, why did I say this is the most important chapter?
Simple: it's the turning point.
In OG, we all know Cloud was crashing and burning, ending with the Northern Crater and Tifa finding him in Mideel. The Lifestream began to turn his path back towards what it was meant to be, but it wasn't Cloud's entire journey. It's a hard road that he's had to follow, slowly turning back through the Highwind, OG end, the novellas and ACC, the postcanon chapters, until now.
This is the moment where Cloud finally is facing squarely back on the path he was meant to lead – a point of inflection, if you will – and the first time he really knows he can do it now. This is his way of telling Tifa he's ready to man up and take the reins of the relationship; in essence, he's saying, "It's okay. I've got it from here."
So, there's also sources I used for this chapter as well. The first one is a lovely picture by Nightyswolf, one of my favorite Cloti artists, called "Serenity" (deviant art ID 416659930) that shows them lying together at night by the pool in the church. As soon as I saw it, I was like, "That's EXACTLY how Cloud would propose."
My "soundtrack" to this chapter was Chronos "One Touch and Whole Life", which follows exactly the mood I was striving for from when Cloud begins the proposal. Also – you can't make this up – while I was writing, TD "Cloud Walking" (Andy King remix) came on my Internet radio. Appropriate.
Tifa's "wedding" dress is from a YD video called "By Now (Cloud and Tifa)", posted by minaflower71. Cloud's dressy-ish outfit is kinda like Squall's without that fur collar, only I gave him a dress shirt over a T-shirt mostly so he could be pissy about wearing it.
See you next chapter for some post-marital bliss!