Exponential

by Meeerf aka AllumaNoir

"No story is not worth telling." - Angeal Hewley. I wanted to figure out the Love Triangle Debate for myself and ended up writing this monstrosity. Looks like a retelling, but actually something more. A story of love in supracanon timeline - starts at really the VERY beginning and goes all the way until... Cloti, Zerith, more info first chapter. LATEST: WARK! WE ARE STILL GOING

93. Chapter 92 0017 (cont-continued)

Chapter 92, εуλ0017 (continuation continued)

"LOVELESS, huh," Zack mused as they walked.

Marlene and Zack always walked, as if Zack had some underlying need to keep in motion. Aerith was usually content to just sit and chat with her daughter, maybe taking a moment to share tea in an endless field of flowers; but Marlene and her father would traverse landscapes of their imagination, the path they were walking irrelevant to the fact that they were simply traveling it.

Today, they'd chosen to traverse wide grassy fields, and unidentifiable landscape that could have been nearly anywhere on the Planet. "It was a sky I'd seen with Cloud on the way to… uh…" Zack had concluded awkwardly. Nibelheim. "I wanted to show it to Aerith. She'd been so afraid of the sky, you see…"

Aerith had been afraid of the sky… but Marlene was not. She giggled joyfully as the two of them changed their surroundings on a whim. Zack created a patch of flowers by a clear blue river for his daughter, a spray of colors and kinds; but the result was only a blurred imitation of what he was trying to achieve. Marlene smiled, fixing it with a thought; she beamed in satisafaction as she bundled them in her arms, only to regretfully let them disappear once again.

Marlene smiled wistfully. "It's hard," she told Zack, "but sometimes you need to know the right way to let something go."

She'd actually gotten to know her father fairly well over the years. It wasn't quite the same as if she'd gotten to know him in life; it wasn't the same relationship she had with Barret, or even Cloud, for that matter. They all occupied different and unique places in her heart, and no matter how much she might regret the circumstances, she wouldn't trade any one for another.

It wasn't quite the same… but it would do.

Zack had just finished telling her how he'd first learned the story, through its endless quotation from Genesis. Genesis, a man she had never met, and likely never would – his fate unknown, possibly gone the way of Sephiroth. And Angeal – Zack had told her he'd only encountered his mentor the one time, to welcome him to the Lifestream, never to be seen again. As with Ifalna, the biological grandmother Marlene had never met; even Aerith's memories of her were thin.

It was the price to be paid in the Lifestream – but as a compensation of sorts, along came a sort of forgetfulness, an inability to regret. Zack had tried to explain it, but admitted it felt like trying to explain color to someone who could not see, or music to someone who had never heard. It was something that came only with crossing the mountain to the other side, an acceptance of everything that had been or would be, and a feeling that all was right.

Aerith had struggled to describe it to Zack, in that strangely mystic, all-seeing way she'd had about her recently. Although Zack was advancing further, there was no way around the fact that Aerith's skill was so much further ahead that it left him in the dust. And somehow that was okay, too.

"Genesis always assumed it referred to him, Angeal, and Sephiroth," Zack mused. "But now I think that wasn't it at all. I don't really think it means any one thing."

There are several stories happening at once, Aerith had suggested; and it made Zack wonder if LOVELESS was a metaphor for his own personal journey. The one that had led to his final confrontation with Genesis, and a Goddess never seen before or since. Or was that simply self-absorption? From what Aerith was saying, it could be either, both, or a number of other things. Zack couldn't be sure.

Maybe the true end to the story was not yet written.

He said as much to Marlene; she paused to consider. "I wonder," she told him. "I guess it depends on what you think makes an ending."

Marlene didn't want to tell anyone, not even her father, but she was fairly sure she knew what the ending would be. But she didn't really need to say anything; it would all be revealed soon enough. It wasn't that far away. But as in LOVELESS itself, the acts had to play out, to set the stage for the ultimate conclusion.

"I wish I could offer you some words of wisdom," Zack said. "You know, one of those things dads are supposed to do." He wasn't blind to the way Marlene had become more reserved, more pensive. It wasn't that she'd lost that cheerful, resilient persona she'd had as a child, but as she grew closer to the age where her parents had left life, it couldn't help but leave a mark. The burden of forging through uncharted territory. A mirror of what Aerith suffered on this side, as she struggled to handle the implications of her own increasing power; and Zack found himself at a loss either way, wanting so badly to be there for both his girls.

He still wanted to be her hero. But there was nothing here he could face; nothing more he could fight. All he could do was be a shoulder to lean on, and when Aerith let him wrap her tight in his arms, she'd sigh and murmur that the solidity of his form made her feel hopeful, and safe.

But then again, wasn't that another way of being a hero? A smaller, quieter way, but no less important? It had been Cloud who had taught him that, that a hero carried more than dreams and honor, it was protection and love.

And as he looked at Marlene, the product of his love for Aerith… he started to understand how it all fit together. As she grew up with Cloud and Tifa, it was as if Zack was contributing to their love and happiness as well.

Death had been the price of his freedom.

This was its reward.

Both he and Aerith had a complicated relationship to freedom. They'd achieved theirs at a cost that Marlene would largely be spared. But once he'd learned that it wasn't all loss, only transition, he'd become more capable of making peace with his destiny, and the reasons it had to be.

Cloud… and Marlene. The truest heroes of the story. One day, he'd get a chance to thank his friend.

Zack smiled.

"You're starting to sound like Cloud," Marlene teased, a strange echo interrupting his thoughts – and for a moment, Zack Fair wondered if he had spoken aloud.

"Am I being that bad?" he laughed in return, knowing he was anything but.

His own story had been one of disillusionment. Cloud's had been one of discovery. He and Aerith had moments, memories; Cloud and Tifa had promises, the future. A future he and Aerith had been denied, but Marlene gave him some of that future back – his daughter before him, growing and thriving in a world where she was free.

"I'm proud of you," he told her, the truest sincerity he could find in his heart. "You can be anything you want."

Marlene frowned slightly. "Tifa keeps asking me what I want to be when I grow up, especially now that Denzel is going away to school," she told him. "But I don't have an answer for her."

"What did your mother say?" asked Zack.

"She said…" Marlene pouted, and for an instant, she was an exact image of Aerith. "Actually, she didn't say too much about it, but then she started talking about the White Materia."

"Isn't that kind of gone? Or at the very least, used up?" Zack asked, perplexed.

"I guess?" Marlene waved a hand noncommittally. "But after talking to Mom, I kind of want to go find it. I mean, at the very least, it's part of my heritage, you know?" She paused, and maturity seeped into her expression. Zack wondered what she was thinking. "Mom let me hold it the one time, when we were escaping the plate fall. You know, the only time I met her – "

"In life," Zac finished for her sadly. "I know."

"Well," Marlene proceeded, uncharacteristically flustered. "Mom gave it to me to feel safe. But… It talked to me too. I can't explain it. I guess kind of the same thing Mom did. Told me things I wasn't ready to understand then, but would over time." She swallowed. "I need to tell Mom. It's almost complete. I understand nearly everything now."

Zack brushed her cheek with one hand. How beautiful she had grown up to be. "She'll be glad to hear it," Zack told her. "She held it when you were born."

Marlene grew quietly serious. "I didn't know that," she said.

"She did," Zack confirmed. "The White Materia was with you from the start."

Marlene contemplated. The story of her birth was one that, so far, both Aerith and Elmyra had been reluctant to tell her; it was clear to Marlene that it was simply too wrought with pain. But one day, she'd have to ask, whether they were ready to tell her or not, regretting that she'd have to ask her mother to relive the day she was asked to give up her child.

Zack didn't have the words to tell Marlene how much he truly loved her. She had an inner strength, one that came from both he and Aerith; more importantly, from he and Aerith together. They'd already discussed Marlene's developing powers at great length; Aerith had a working theory that fathering by a SOLDIER might have actually put back some of the powers diluted by her too-human parentage.

Zack thought Aerith might very well be right. At least something good had come out of his time in SOLDIER.

He looked down at Marlene; she was far taller than Aerith, but he still towered over her. "The White Materia is still in the bottom of the Forgotten City," he reminded her. "But if anyone could get it back, it would probably be you, huh?"

Marlene smiled at the compliment before growing serious once again. "Did Mom expect to leave the city alive?" she asked carefully. "I've never been sure." She'd asked Vincent the same question once, after Vincent had confessed to watching Aerith leave, and how he still wondered if he should have let her. He'd admitted that he hadn't known what Aerith had expected to happen – not then, not now.

Vincent hadn't known what to say – and now neither did Zack. "Honestly, I don't think Aerith is sure herself." Talking about their deaths was something still difficult for them both – the pain of being riddled with bullets, of being run through with the sharpest of blades. Memories still regretfully vivid. "I feel like maybe she hoped for the best but expected the worst, you know?"

Marlene paused, utterly motionless; the road before them suddenly squiggled and shuddered. She brushed the folds of her sundress, an unusual green color, but embroidered at the hem with small yellow flowers. Her contemplative older self once again washed over the spirited girl still there underneath, then simply nodded – a quiet understanding, a willing acceptance.

"But why are you stressing about this?" Zack asked. "Your mother and I are pretty optimistic you'll have a brighter future than us."

Marlene was startled out of the depths of her thoughts; despite her father's hopes, she often felt overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the task before her. "I'll try," she carefully assured Zack. "I mean I want to make you guys proud."

"You already do," Zack said simply.

Don't we all have to face our pain? Marlene thought. Isn't that the point to everything that is happening here? Of destiny? That we will all turn to face our pasts, and by doing so take away the hold they have over us, and face our futures with courage?

She was tempted to gaze into her father's comforting eyes. Blue, she thought, but not mako. Different.

A blue of the Lifestream itself.

The futures we know… and those still unwritten.

"The Lifestream can travel through time," she said. A statement, not a question.

Zack nodded glumly. "I don't know if I like it, but it's true.: A singularity, Aerith had called it. Beyond the laws of time and space. "That's why we can appear, disappear, when we want to, why we don't really miss things the same way. Am I even making any sense?" she had giggled.

But she'd been right; Zack had finally realized that the pain of loss only came because he wanted it, wanted to feel those emotions, whether they were "real" or not. Then again, did "real" even make any sense anymore? Was HE real? Did it even matter?

The line of thought had become so absurd that he couldn't help but laugh out loud. "We're getting philosophical now," he told Marlene. "It's not much like me. All along, I just wanted to help my friends."

Marlene smiled; she placed a hand on Zack's shoulder. "That's why you really are a hero," she told him. "And I'm glad you're my father."

It shot Zack through the heart. Do you think I became a hero? His last organic thought, before the Lifestream had taken him in full – leaving behind a bullet-ridden body on a blood-strewn cliff, watched over by a friend with a shattered heart and soul.

Marlene's hand traveled to his face. "So why do you still keep the scar?"

Zack had no real answer. "It's a memento," he suggested awkwardly. "You still wear the ribbon." He reached out to finger her pinky-thin braid, traveling down to the thin pink and red ribbons intertwined at its base.

"You know why I wear the ribbon," she told him. "But everyone else has stopped wearing theirs." Her two fingers pressed more firmly on the cross marked on his face. "It's time to let this go, too."

Zack could have done it himself anytime. But he hadn't somehow; it felt more right to let his daughter do the honors. He nodded, and felt a familiar tingle; without even looking, he knew it was gone.

Marlene stepped back, admiring her work. Zack automatically reached to his jawline, even knowing there was nothing there to feel. "Better," she nodded.

"What did you do exactly?" Zack wondered. "It felt like regular healing. But that doesn't make any sense here."

"It's similar," Marlene confirmed. "I guess you could call it healing of the soul."

"That reminds me of something," Zack realized. "When I was lugging around Cloud's mako-poisoned ass, one of the ideas that kept me going was the idea that maybe if I got him to the church, Aerith could have helped him. But she doesn't think so."

"She's right. She wasn't strong enough at the time," Marlene replied.

"Is it something YOU can do?" Zack wondered. "I mean, he's not mako-poisoned anymore, but he still hurts. Aerith says he gets better all the time, but even so…" He left the sentence hanging, unsure what he was even asking for.

Marlene dipped her head. "I think I can," she told her father. "But, really, the question is, should I? Would I really be doing him any favors? I have to be really careful about it. I just… kind of try to give him a little push. Teach him how to do it himself."

"You're saying it's a power that has to be used wisely," he told her. "I guess that makes sense. I don't have that kind of power."

Marlene cocked her head, lifting her eyes. "Maybe not yet, but you have more power than you did before, right?"

Zack thought for a moment. "That's true," he told her. "I get a little better all the time. I can still easily use the sword; seeing the church is no problem. I've learned Aerith's trick of using the flowers. She doesn't need them herself anymore. Sometimes in spots near the barrier, it's easier to get through. I can sometimes see through your garden at home – see Cloud, see what he's up too. Tifa is harder to reach. Aerith can do more, but she's still working at a distance… and you're right there."

He kinda of gulped; the next part was new, and not unfrightening. "I can see Denzel – he and Cloud sometimes visit my, uh, grave. But other times, too. His girlfriend. The others who have had Geostigma."

"The Advent Children," Marlene told him. "That's who they are."

"What does that mean?" asked Zack.

Marlene smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I can't really answer that yet. Not until I figure out a few more things myself. That's okay, isn't it?" she asked, with a sudden wide-eyed concertation.

Zack spontaneously embraced his daughter. His daughter – his delightful, wonderful daughter. "Of course it is," he told her. "Whenever you're ready."

Marlene suddenly gripped him tighter. Shocked, he could only stand there, offering her the safety she so desperately needed. She began to sob, and he stroked her hair, offering a father's comfort. Despite it all, she was still abrely more than a child – a child with a future spread wide before her, one that she might not be entirely ready to face, but he knew she would do so with courage and love. It was her birthright, and that, more than anything, was what he and Aerith could give her.

The gift of the Goddess… Genesis had said that figuring out the mystery was itself a gift. Tell Angeal… the dream became real.

Who cares? Marlene was the only gift he needed.

"The letters," he finally reminded her, once her shoulders had stopped quaking. She raised her head – her eyes were red-rimmed, tear streaks dried, but she disappeared them with a thought.

Tseng, thought Zack. Tseng had done many things wrong… but he had trusted Aerith to the man; and however that had ended, Tseng had ensured Marlene's safety. Which, in Zack's mind, was the most important of all.

"I'll get them," Marlene assured him.

Despite his misgivings, Zack was in awe of his offspring. Intelligence. Initiative. Determination. When had this girl become a woman? Of course, she had told him and Aerith when that particular milestone had occurred, but it wasn't the same as seeing her grow and change before his eyes.

A bittersweet happiness that all parents felt for children that could no longer be shielded and protected.

She smiled, and Zack paused to reflect on how much he could see of himself in her as well. She'd inherited some of his ideas of honor, but even now, even with all the burdens placed on her, she had a loving core that had never been touched.

Not unlike Cloud…

The Lifestream flows on rivers of memories, and the feelings that come along with them. Not even something he'd learned from Aerith, it was from basic SOLDIER training, a side note to learning about materia and mako facilitating connections... but in Nibelheim, it had become more clear. Materia was about calling on the power of all who had ever lived. A Cetra could just do it easier than most.

A blurred line, between Cetra and human, one Marlene toed every day.

"This is not your Promised Land," he told her spontaneously. "Not yet. Not for a long while, I hope." He paused. "I want you to find everything you want. Life, love even… Find your hero, too."

"It's difficult," Marlene mumbled. "You know it can't be just anyone."

"Let your heart be your guide," he told her. "It's what's inside that counts. And when you find the one that matters… well, I look forward to meeting the man worthy of you."

Marlene looked up, and finally, finally, the smile stretched full across her face.

Father and daughter, standing side by side, sharing a moment beyond the reaches of time and space.

It was time to go; the scenery around them was fading. Marlene had allowed Zack to hold them here this time, saying he needed the practice. But Zack had reached his limit. The grass and the sky before them had begun to shimmer and fade, flashing for an instant into the luminescent river of green that made up the Lifestream itself. Something akin to a chill fluttered through the air.

"I'll see you soon," Marlene said by way of goodbye.

"I'll be here," Zack said in return.

She turned and walked away, and even as all around them dissolved into fluorescing mist, Zack watched her go for no other reason than the illusion of normalcy it gave him.

It was enough.

---

Sex had… changed… over the years. The urgency of lust was replaced by the pleasant security of simple connection, safe in the knowledge that there would be another time, and another after that, and another further still.

Still, that didn't mean they didn't look for ways to bring the excitement back.

Cloud suspected something was up when Tifa gently rebuffed his advances for one, two, three days in a row. His first, residual instinct was to wonder if it was something he had done, but it quickly withered, the intervening years having done much to crowd out his insecurities about his capabilities as a husband.

Besides, as the week went on and she teased him more heavily before inevitably pulling away, he finally realized – she was doing it on purpose.

As first, unaccustomed to going more than a day or two without, he'd begun pushing her more and more aggressively, wondering how she could continue to resist touches that had been guaranteed before to turn her on. But one day, shortly before the staff had arrived to open the bar, he'd been kissing her quite thoroughly and wondering if his frantic, pent-up self could simply bend her over the bar for a quick release – she ground her pelvis quite firmly against his swollen groin before, mock-offended, pushing him away – and as he watched her turn and leave the room, he realized two could play at that game.

Tifa reacted with confusion, and more than a little hurt, when he abruptly stopped his advances, confining himself to relatively chaste kisses for hello and good night. Cloud hated to see that little crease of worry on her brow, but as he reminded himself, he needed to focus on his eventual goal.

He was going to make her beg.

Cloud had made it a week. She didn't last three days. She'd been grinding her rear against his patently obvious erection, burying it in the crevice between her cheeks, while he stood there without moving a muscle.

She straightened and wheeled with disbelieving eyes, and he knew he had broken her.

So he wasn't surprised when he was undressing for bed and out of nowhere she tackled him, pushing him back to the bed with voracious abandon. He limited himself to the least of responses, embracing her lightly and letting her lead as she writhed her naked body over him, tearing off his remaining articles of clothing to have him in his skin as well. She paused, waiting, expectant, but all he did was lean back on the pillows, crossing his arms and smirking with satisfaction.

The anguish that crossed her face was completely worth it.

She slid down the bed, clamping her mouth down around his cock, and it was all he could do not to let go and take her right there. Instead, he lay back, watching her suck him voraciously, the exquisite sight of her lips clamped around him while her warm wetness caressed him.

It was so exciting when she was like this; hot, wanting, frenzied. He loved it when he could just be hard for her and let her put her hands all over him, using him for her own satisfaction.

But truthfully, he thought he might like it better when she submitted to him offering herself, her vulnerability an expression of absolute trust. Open before him, spreading her legs in welcome, and it was just for him; driving himself in to the hilt, he the one in control, hearing her high-pitched cries underneath him and when he was close to coming all he could think was you are MINE, dammit, only mine, and he wanted her to feel that possession, rough and sore on the inside…

She lifted her head, lips shining with her saliva. "Is that enough?" she asked, desperate lust shining in her eyes.

"I don't know," he mock-sighed. "You're the one who's going to be riding it. Is it hard enough yet?"

She gave him a pained look before practically attacking his cock once again, and Cloud couldn't suppress a groan. Afraid even the restraint he'd learned through the years was about to collapse, he was relieved when she pulled away, climbing on top of him to impale herself with a low moan.

He wanted to grab her hips to guide her, rise up to meet her, but instead he forced himself to relax for once and just let go. "Work for it, baby," he encouraged, voice low and raw. "Make yourself come."

She complied, bouncing up and down his length, her hand reaching down to give her clit the extra attention it needed. Restrained for days, it didn't take her long to reach her peak; and as her cries spiked, he finally relented and let go with a yell as he let himself join her in their shared orgasm.

As she slumped forward, he caught her in his arms, gave over, unabashedly covering her with kisses. Their eyes met with a rueful smile, acknowledgement that, little game or no, the gratification at the end had been worth it.

---

The sun was just setting over the mountains towering over the canyon, giving it the same reddish aura that Barret remembered from his first trip so many years before. Red cliffs were visible for miles beyond, catching the light, looking like all the magic they were said to contain. A cool breeze ambled through the canyons, relieving the intense heat of the late summer. He stepped off the Shera and took a deep breath of air, relishing the slightly dusty cover over a crisp clarity; free of the pollution engendered by mako use and, to a lesser degree, the oil and coal that came after.

M came up behind him, visibly entranced. For all her worldly bearing, he'd eventually learned that she'd never actually been out of Midgar before Meteorfall. It was a pleasure to take her across the world, to places she had never seen and barely even heard of, throwing a wrench into the carefully constructed view of the world she had maintained for so long. M's intoxicating combination of composure and volatility broke down before him,, both sides having trouble being heard as she gaped in visible astonishment.

Not that he wanted her to change. He liked – hell, he loved, - what a little firecracker she was, always keeping him on his toes, wondering what she might do or say next. He loved her, though he rarely said the words; it seemed to leave her downright embarrassed and forcing out the sentiment with even more difficulty than him. But the feeling was there, and as much as he loved Marlene, it hadn't been until M became a part of his life that he really started to feel the hole left by Myrna. Felt like more of a man. Complete.

As it turned out, celibacy hadn't much suited him either. He had a much harder time getting angry nowadays. He squeezed his prosthetic hand; he had to actively remember now that it wasn't actually real. Reeve had tried to explain how it worked, computer bits fooling their brain; Shinra simulation technology making him think he could feel what he was touching when he actually could not.

Barret hadn't understood the explanation, and truthfully, he hadn't given much of a shit. What mattered to him is it had given him part of his life back,. A part he'd thought he'd made peace with being deprived of. The chance to fully experience the world again; to hold his daughter in his arms, those last few chances to do so when she was still a child. To love a woman and feel the rewards of her response, as he felt the softness of her skin beneath his artificial fingers.

He looked down at M, his eyes soft as he slid an arm around her waist to draw her closer. Her own eyes widened in surprise, as they often did when Barret proved himself capable of just as much romanticism as any other man.

Before either could say a word, Barret heard a familiar pattering of four feet approaching. He and M turned as one from the tableau they were viewing, reluctantly releasing the peaceful view. The light of Nanaki's tail was visible at a distance, long before the rest of him took shape. He loped across the gap between them, gliding to a stop before them, resting back on his haunches as he politely nodded his greeting.

"Welcome to Cosmo Canyon, Madam M. Barret has told me much about you," Nanaki began in his disquietingly polished tone. M gulped, even though she'd been told about Nanaki and his kind. She'd wondered on the airship how she was supposed to greet him; Barret had hastily assured her that nothing in particular was expected of her, and no, she should definitely not try to pet him.

(Marlene seemed to be the sole exception to the no-petting rule, and Barret had never been able to figure out why. Not even Denzel was allowed the privilege. In the end, he'd concluded that it was just that his daughter had that effect on people – and non-people, as the case might be.)

As Nanaki welcomed them further to his home, Barret noticed that those simple pleasantries ultimately soothed M's shock; Barret felt it in the relaxing of her grip on his arm. There was no rush; he allowed a few minutes for casual conversation, to let his lover meet his old friend. But after a number of exchanges of words, there was nothing much left to discuss – at least for the moment; the long stories could wait for the evening, when the skies above Cosmo Canyon were dark above them, and not when the daylight to lead them there was rapidly waning. Nanaki turned with a spin of his tail, ready to escort them across the plain and through the gates of his home.

The walk was not long, only a few minutes; Barret and M chose to linger slightly behind. "I haven't actually been back here since Meteorfall," he finally told her. Since Sephiroth, he'd wanted to say. But he'd always been a little hesitant to tell her the full story of their journey around the world. That there were bigger monsters out there than they'd seen.

That those monsters might be closer than they knew.

"Little has changed here," Nanaki added, looking over his shoulder at Barret. The thick hairs of his mane barely rustled in the breeze. "Even as the world around us does otherwise. An oasis of serenity, if you will."

That was part of the reason Barret had come here this day; he'd come to learn more about the alternative forms of energy Cosmo Canyon used. But it was business with a side of pleasure. The chance to leave M this dumbstruck was worth bringing her to the other side of the Planet.

There was yet another reason beyond that. The Cetra. A strange grassroots movement that had arisen in Wutai, of all places; Yuffie had been the first to report its appearance. People developing a renewed interest in the race and its history as more than just a legend; small remnants of knowledge unearthed and shared. It was inevitable, really; left bereft after Meteorfall and its aftermath, many were searching for a new way to look at the world.

He said as much to Nanaki; it was a conversation they'd been having for several weeks. "Indeed," Nanaki replied. "We learn more about the Cetra every day. I must admit, I am surprised there was so much information to be found."

"Has Aerith's name turned up anywhere yet?" Barret wondered.

Nanaki paused, looking at his old friend, allowing his expression to betray little. "Not yet," he said. "But I am sure it is only a matter of time." Of that, Nanaki was certain. Aerith would be known and respected as she deserved. But until then… It meant a new role for Cosmo Canyon as well, as the best storehouse of ancient knowledge still in existence. Nanaki had been stockpiling information as it came his way, referring it to the elders for further scrutiny.

As Nanaki explained Cosmo's widening study of the Cetra, Barret was drawn back poignantly to memories of Aerith. She'd still been with them when he'd last been here. Everyone can hear the Planet, she'd told him then; maybe even you, Barret. If you're willing to listen. And in the intervening years, Goddess knew he'd been trying, hoping it would tell him what he could do to help.

His goals weren't the same as they once had been; he was only starting to understand what the elders had been trying to tell him. Gast. Aerith's father – a man who had tried to move on from the corruption, the pollution… Barret hoped his own story would turn out better than that man's had. When he'd left Edge, years before, he'd started on a journey to find himself, meaning to be a better father to Marlene, a better citizen of the Planet. And though he still didn't feel like he was making his way back home, maybe he was getting a little closer.

Impulsively, he reached down to take M's hand; she flinched, looking at him in confusion, before letting him enclose her smaller palm.

Despite many regrets, he'd learned a lot along the way – about himself, about the world. Give, not just take, he'd advised Tifa; he was learning to do the same thing himself. Biofuels were a start – he worked almost exclusively with them nowadays, and at times he could have sworn the Planet was nodding its approval. More importantly, Marlene had said it made her proud of him.

He still wondered if he'd been selfish, if he should have stayed with Marlene after all. Either decision came with a cost. He'd made the best choice he thought he could, to continue on the path that he was travelling – trying to create a better world not just for Marlene but ALL the children now being born.

One day, he'd have a chance to tell Marlene how much she'd shaped his life.

He looked down at M; she returned her trademark secretive smile. Her look was not as structured as it once had been; casual traveling clothes in the form of a cotton tunic and billowing beige pants, hair flowing down her back, but a decorated comb still adorned the top and a fan was in her pocket. (A fan she might very well need tomorrow, if Cosmo's summer heat started to get to her.) The city never left her completely; it was who she was. Intelligent, sexy, a savvy business owner. He knew the nature of said business, but she'd asked him not to ask too much for the privacy of her girls.

They'd never discussed having a child – or even marriage, for that matter. Barret wasn't sure he DID want a natural child; he felt like Marlene might be enough. Never mind that Cid and Shera were about to have their fifth – FIFTH! – but then again, hadn't Cid turned out to be a natural for a large family? And Barret knew Cid valued that family so much more for having come so close to losing Shera. More than once.

"Vincent visits here most often," Nanaki finally said.

"Really?" Barret asked, surprised. "We don't really see that much of him ourselves. He seems to visit Cloud and Tifa a lot, though."

"How is Cloud?" Nanaki inquired.

"You're not worried about Tifa?" Barret asked.

"Tifa can take care of herself," Nanaki replied. "It is typically Cloud that I find more concerning."

Barret snorted. "That's a good point."

Silence set over the group once again as they finally crossed over into the village proper. The inhabitants barely gave them a glance; Barret could see other, clearly foreign visitors, so he was not as much of a novelty as he once might have been. It helped he wasn't sporting an enormous gun-arm through peaceful Cosmo Canyon. In any case, the people around them ambled nonchalantly, minding their own business except for an occasional bow of respect to Nanaki.

They had finally reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the observatory when Nanaki stopped, tilting back to a seated position. "I must leave you here," he told the couple. "Duty calls. With Grandfather gone, many more responsibilities fall on my shoulders. I shall have to hear more about your doings later."

"Later. Maybe we'll have a chance to meet this mate you told us about?" he agreed, unconsciously slipping one large arm around M's waist, relishing her warmth against him.

"Deneh often keeps to herself, but it is possible," Nanaki offered, his shoulders giving a suggestion of a shrug. "In the meantime, perhaps you would like to visit the observatory? It is now open to all. Do you still remember the way?" he asked, cocking his head in an upward direction.

Barret nodded, bidding him goodbye and releasing his hand to M's back as he turned her towards the stairs. Nanaki paused to watch him leave with some regret in his heart. He didn't know how to tell Barret it might be a long while yet before he and Deneh would have their cubs – they had only barely started their journey together as mates. It was so easy for Barret and the others to forget, but they were, relatively speaking, barely older than Denzel and Mina – another young couple just now finding their way.

In fact, Nanaki suspected there would be no offspring before his friends had joined the Lifestream. Some might have a little more time than others – Marlene, through her heritage. Vincent, though thankfully no longer immortal, through the murky powers of his own. It would break Deneh's heart to meet his friends, only to lose them so soon; she, even more than he, was sensitive to the pain of loss they knew would inevitably come.

Marlene. He'd recognized her by scent, by her mannerisms. It took very little deduction; it had been obvious since the first time he'd met her, immediately after the episode of the Remnants. He still needed to tell her what he knew of her grandfather Gast, the kind scientist who had once visited Cosmo Canyon with an open mind and heart. The man who had passed on his green eyes to Aerith; though the heritage itself might be only faintly visible, when combined with the opening of the senses that Aerith and Marlene had facilitated, Nanaki could see the signs of the man in the later generations he had sired.

He wished Aerith'd had a chance to visit again. He hoped Marlene would have the opportunity as well. "Guardian of the Planet," Aerith had called him; but it was Marlene who was helping him explore what that really meant. A oneness with the Planet that left loneliness behind.

Marlene had an amazing future ahead of her.

Nanaki wanted to be part of that.

Thoughts that only impressed upon him further the weight of his obligations. Drooping slightly, he loped away to see to the business of Cosmo Canyon.

Meanwhile, as Barret led M up the rough-hewn steps, through remembered passages carved in rock, his mind involuntarily wandered. Burdened by remembrance and nostalgia he could not shake. The hush of the canyon had settled into his soul; a feeling not unlike when he'd had taken Marlene to Aerith's church, another place mysteriously preserved in time. There, he'd attributed it to Aerith's legacy, whereas here it seemed to be infused into the stone itself. Then again, considering what he'd learned about the Lifestream over the years… maybe that wasn't so far from the truth.

He wanted to bring Marlene here, too. Even though he knew he was doing the best for her and her future, he still missed her terribly. It had hurt when she'd made her own choice to stay with Tifa and Cloud, even though he knew himself it was the best place she could be. But his little girl – not girl, she was a woman now, how had that happened so fast? What would she do with her life? Who would she marry?

He'd made her the centerpiece of his own life… so she'd be free to choose her own.

Well, not completely. Not anymore, he thought, looking down at M. He thought back to Myrna, the love he had lost. He'd wanted to share a long life with her. But second chances came – and third, and fourth, and beyond. There was still love in his future after all.

Heavy thoughts, and before they overwhelmed him, he found himself rambling to distract himself. Launching into a diatribe about the start of AVALANCHE, its evolution and goals, his curiosity if it was they who had begun the study of the Cetra today; and inevitably his train of thought turned back on itself.

"Thing is, I was so convinced I was right," he prattled on. "Black and white. That was what the world was. But then I saw the consequences and started to think things over, you know? Why was I so demanding that there had to be a sacrifice, once I saw what it meant to give things up?"

Jessie, Biggs, gone for good. Wedge, his whereabouts unknown – maybe he and his cats had been able to make a new start. He might never know.

Aerith…

M said nothing. She could be capricious; on any given day, she might or might not be responsive to personal disclosures. But now, a subtle arch of her well-groomed eyebrows told Barret she was listening, and understood.

Barret was startled to realize they'd reached the door of the observatory; he hadn't realized how submerged he'd been in his own thoughts. He put his hand on the handle – left hand first, by instinct, then for reasons unknown switched to the right hand instead – pausing to look at M. ¶

"You know, in the end I realized THIS is what it's all about," he told her. "That's why I really wanted to show you – Well. You'll see."

He threw the door open, motioning her forward and closing it behind the two of them. The Huge Materia still glistened, hanging in the air, providing a modicum of light as the room darkened above them as the platform automatically began to rise.

Barret heard a gasp from M as the stars opened up above them. As Bugenhagen's presentation unfolded – his legacy still here even though the man himself was gone – Barret tried to narrate as the old man once would have done. The words arose from his memory as if the intervening years had been nothing; they had touched his heart deeper than he had realized.

Over the years, he'd come around to the sadness Tifa had felt, the pallor that had come over a woman who was practically a second daughter, when the plate fall had taken the last shreds of her innocence away. An innocence that Cloud, with his shy awkward ways, was bringing back to her as they lived out their lives now as husband and wife. She had been right all along; anger was not the answer. It would only carry you so far, and sometimes that was what you needed - but it would fizzle out, the fire unable to sustain itself.

It seemed an eternity before the stars faded away, and the light returned to the room. The Huge Materia still floated, adding their colored light, glistening as if they themselves were a reflection of Aerith.

Barret hadn't even realized he'd started to cry until M reached up one slender finger to wipe away a tear. He gazed down at her; she was still staring wide-eyed at the ceiling above. "I've never seen anything like that," she finally said. "Thank you for showing it to me."

"You're welcome," he replied automatically, though there was in reality so much more to say. He didn't have the words. Instead, he took her in his arms, and they suddenly found themselves kissing frantically under the silvery dome that had shown them the universe, and beyond.

He put his arms around her, relishing in the comfort of the woman with which he was moving forward. Later on he'd tell her more about how he'd learned that the way he was going was wrong, how it had steered him towards a different future; that he, among others, still felt the need to atone.

Destiny. What does it mean? Where do we find it?

Bugenhagen told us to look with our hearts and minds and see if we had found what we were looking for. Cloud had said much the same, the night before their final battle; the night Cloud and Tifa had discovered that for themselves. It had taken him a little longer, but he thought he might be getting there after all. Someone who could take his tantrums with a grain of salt; someone who could respond in kind. Someone with her own faults that he loved nevertheless, because they were HER. Someone who loved him for who he was.

Between daughter and lover… it seemed to be enough.

Later, he would take her to the inn, share dinner and wine, wind down from the intensity of the day. He'd show her the Cosmo Candle; take a walk along the darkened trails through the rocky walls.

And maybe, if she was willing, he'd make love to her out there in the dark; her tiny body underneath or above, brave and willing and eager to take him on even though he sometimes feared he'd snap her in half. Touching, kissing, loving, celebrating the connection that had been created, underneath the eternal stars.

---

"So you're finally done?" Tifa asked Shera.

"Yes," Shera replied, without tearing her eyes from the baby in her arms. "Four boys are plenty. But Cid and I are happy that we finally have a little girl, too."

And although Tifa was happy for them, she couldn't help but feel a selfish bit of jealousy. Shera had suffered Geostigma, but now bore children without any apparent ill effect. So Cloud must be able to have children too. She'd thought she'd made peace with her inability to conceive, but now seeing Shera with yet another tiny baby in her arms, she realized how badly she still wanted that experience.

Stella, they'd named her. A name Tifa had once considered for a daughter of her own. But if she couldn't use it, someone else might as well, right? She'd just have to console herself with her position as aunt to Stella and the other members of the Highwind brood.

"Do you want to hold her?" Shera asked Cloud, placing the baby in his arms without waiting for a response; Cloud accepted Stella awkwardly, as if she was a ticking bomb. Maybe even more so; she'd seen Cloud handle actual bombs without blinking an eye, but now he looked absolutely terrified.

Cid finally took pity on the other man and took his daughter back. He was obviously besotted with his latest offspring, making a shameless fool of himself as he cooed over the baby, scrunching his face into silly expressions to make her laugh without a care in the world for what anyone would think of him.

In retrospect, Tifa realized Cid was a natural for a large family. The gaggle of small Highwinds he had sired helped to stave off his gruffness, allowing a surprising sensitive side to show through the tough-talking façade he had presented all these years. In short, his children made Cid seem like… more of a man.

She and Shera had become close over the years, even if it wasn't that often they saw each other in person; Tifa relished the chance to have more women to talk to. Yuffie. Elmyra. Even Kyrie, sometimes, now that she'd grown up some. But no one would ever take the place of Jessie… or Aerith.

It was something she just had to accept, that though those holes would never be filled, there were still other doors to open. At the same time… there were things she couldn't bring herself to confess to the deliriously happy mother before her.

Tifa's eyes whipped to her own beloved man, now visibly relieved with the baby out of his arms; her cloudy wolf, tamed some over the years, but never completely. Nor would she want him too. Rather, other the years, he'd evolved, the best parts of him simply becoming… more so.

Shera looked at Tifa, the unvoiced question in her eyes. So when are you and Cloud going to have children, she'd asked a few times before, leaving Tifa to deflect with such increasing obviousness that Shera no longer mentioned a word. And even as close friends as they'd become, Tifa never volunteered more. Somehow, faced with Shera's happiness, she couldn't serve up her own heartache. But she sensed Shera had figured it out after all.

The secret hung like a fog between them.

Eventually, the ladies went inside, carrying the baby and with a trail of small Highwind ducklings following, leaving the men to their own devices. Cid and Cloud stood with hands in their pockets making casual conversation, no real need to say anything, just a low-grade need to fill the space. It had been years now since Cid had quit smoking, but Cloud wondered if the older man realized how often his fingers occasionally twitched for a cigarette. Cloud said little, content to let Cid prattle on about the nuances of his family life. It reinforced how grateful he was for what he and Tifa had built together, even as Marlene and Denzel grew older and closer to leaving the two of them alone again.

Cid paused, dropping the nonexistent cigarette. "You know... it just made me realize. Gonna fuckin' say this seriously, Cloud. We men are not meant to be alone. Took a long damned time to understand that."

You hate being alone, Tifa had shouted at him so long ago, so let people in. As always, she'd been right. It had been a clarion call to action, one that had sent him hurtling towards the Forgotten City; but even more crucially, towards the path he had been traveling ever since.

There were so many ways they'd changed together in the intervening years. Though he sometimes wished for the adventurous life he'd once led, they had family, friends, respectable careers – his primarily at the WRO, seeing to the business of a better world; hers, an expanding circle of businesses that helped bring the community together. The joy of seeing their children growing closer to the ages where he and Tifa had struggled and suffered, only to be free to create their own identities, their own lives.

What might Denzel and Marlene become? There were no limits.

For the longest time, it had been Tifa who had looked to the future, while Cloud had been mired in the past; but over time, those roles had reversed. To the point where he'd become the dreamer for them both. Taking the reins of their love, leading them into all the years ahead, as they grew older by each other's sides.

He liked to think he'd done Tifa proud.

Cid looked sharply at him. "You're lucky Tifa puts up with your ass."

"I know," Cloud deadpanned; but Cid wasn't wrong.

The older man snorted. "Let's go back inside. Tifa used to make me stand out in the cold here every time I wanted a damn cigarette here. I don't have to keep freezing my balls off anymore."

Cloud crept back into his thoughts as they headed inside. Cid offered him some of what he hoped to become. He'd never had a father; his mother had always told him later, another time, and eventually he'd come to realize – maybe she didn't know. It was a possibility that had occurred to him far too late to ask, only deduced from the vague hints that she'd been wild as a teenager.

It did handicap him some as he tried to be a father to his own adopted son, to guide Denzel through the same rites of manhood that he'd belatedly struggled through on his own. But even without a father, he at least had mentors of a sort, in the form of Cid, Vincent, even Barret. Older-brothers-slash-uncles – he learned from them in bits and pieces, trying to do his best for his family and the woman he called his own.

The evening drew on with laughter and drinks for the older adults, while Marlene, Denzel, and Mina alternately watched over the younger children. A few drinks in, and Shera was laughing and tossing loose curly hair she still kept red; Cid made a few colorful remarks about how it was even sexier when she wore her glasses, causing his tiny wife to blush. Not so shy though that Shera didn't end up throwing her arms around Cid's solid shoulders, kissing him with a passion that surprised Cloud and Tifa both, the love between the two shining apparent.

At some point, the conversation turned to their launch into space; while Cid and Cloud mulled over the possible WRO re-launch of the space program, Tifa and Shera pulled into a quiet corner to discuss it between the two of them. "It's amazing how far we've come," Tifa began. "I mean, we went up into space, but it kinda seems like we haven't been that far at all, compared to…" She trailed off, turning towards Cloud without even realizing it.

"Yeah," Shera replied, following her line of sight. Cid was now pouring shots; Cloud was discreetly trying to pace himself. (He liked the hard stuff, but not to excess, saying he hated the lack of control.) "You know. Maybe it was something else. I think it wasn't even going into space, as fascinating as it was for both me and Cid, you know?" Shera paused. "I still called him 'Captain' then. I was so intimidated…"

Tifa reached out a sympathetic hand. Shera swallowed.

"Well," she continued. "I feel like I found something out there, but it wasn't what I expected. How far do you have to go… to realize someone is the one?"

Tifa didn't answer. Yes, space had been a turning point for both couples; but hers was more potent, a swim in the Lifestream where she had discovered the truth of Cloud's soul. And after, a night at the end of the world, where along with their bodies, they'd given each other their hearts and souls. And despite some stumbles along the way, they had never truly looked back.

Every step of the way, stars had been their witness.

As the littlest ones started to get tired – from eight-year-old Cid Jr, to Stella, who had long since fallen asleep in her carrier – responsibilities encroached on their festivities. With Cid and Shera's family exceeding the capacity of Seventh Heaven's guest accommodations (leaving Tifa wondering if they should add on yet again) the parents said their goodbyes, gathering sleepy children and leaving for the quarters of Shera's namesake airship.

With the excitement of the evening over, Tifa and Cloud flopped into bed as well, even as downstairs they could hear their teenagers still bright and awake. This was a day Seventh Heaven was closed; they'd invited their neighborhood friends as well - and Tifa had no doubt they were taking advantage of the limited beer and wine selection she allowed them. She envied them their energy, though she was perfectly content to find herself in bed snuggled close against Cloud's warm body.

"How was your talk with Cid?" she began casually. She'd once had to force it, but now Cloud was entirely at ease holding these intimate conversations about their respective days. It was yet another marker of his progress.

"It was pretty interesting," Cloud told her. "We talked some about space…"

"Yeah, we did too," Tifa said. "But did you guys talk about the same things?"

Cloud looked at her, puzzled. "I'm not sure what you mean," he told her.

"I guess… Shera and I were talking about how it felt to be up there together. He and her. You and I."

Cloud contemplated. "Sort of," he told her. "We talked a little about how it made us feel so small in the grand scheme of things." He chuckled. "You know, like the Lifestream and stuff didn't do that enough."

Tifa said nothing, only snuggled closer. Cloud wrapped his arms close around her. He wondered what she was thinking, if she was wondering about having a family of their own… not that they didn't, they certainly did… but at the same time… There were things that to this day he could not bring himself to tell her. He'd pull out that damn magenta globe every few months, bounce it on the palm of his hand as he considered, before, terrified, he'd activate it and throw it into a drawer once again.

He knew this was something they should talk about… but he kept putting it off. A week, a month, a year. And then something like today, the Highwinds showing up with five small children, would happen and slap him in the face.

Maybe it's Denzel leaving that is making me worry about this more than ever. His son – a title uncertain at first, but Cloud felt he'd earned it over the years. Nearly a decade with them, and though the boy was becoming a man, it tasted so bittersweet in Cloud's mouth.

"It's so weird to think of Denzel leaving," was what finally left his mouth.

"Yeah," Tifa answered, a little sadly. "But he seems to know what he wants. Marlene hasn't told me anything one way or another."

"It's okay," Cloud soothed. "They don't need to be rushed into growing up."

Tifa put her thumb to her lip. "You're right," she conceded.

Tifa might have wanted to talk more, but she was frankly exhausted, and Cloud was showing it too. They exchanged a look, it's time to sleep, and unceremoniously, Cloud gave her a kiss before flopping and closed his eyes.

Tifa mock-punched him. Cloud snapped open his eyes. "Cloud," she softly berated. "You forgot to tuck me in."

"Huh?" was his answer.

"You always pull the blankets over us before we sleep," she told him. "I don't feel comfortable without it."

Cloud looked at her in astonishment. He hadn't even realized that was something he'd been doing… nor that it was so important to her. It was a reminder how every day there were still ways to learn how to be a better husband to her. That the small things mattered; that tiny victories could be had.

How every day was another chance to keep a promise.

Wordlessly, he gripped the edge of the comforter, tossing it over them both as he'd had countless times before. Tifa let her body relax against his, as his hand settled on her waist; she'd noticed he seemed unable to sleep without touching some part of her. It was almost upon contact with her skin that his body relaxed, his breathing slowed. Small things mattered to him too, even if he wasn't always aware of them.

Maybe, there were still roads they would have to travel. But Tifa knew they'd be traveling them together. She fell into a deep, satisfying sleep, reminiscing about the life they had lived, dreaming of the one that was to come.

---

Tseng rarely hurried unless the situation required it. He prided himself on remaining calm and unruffled, whatever the situation; but the volatile nature of the package under his arms lent an urgency to his step that might otherwise not have been there hustling him forward through the streets towards Seventh Heaven.

The last time he'd been there – to proudly announce his engagement to an unsurprised Tifa and Cloud – he had been ready to leave, almost out the door, when Marlene had materialized out of nowhere to pull him aside. "It's time to give me the letters," she'd intoned, soft and serious; leaving him wondering, as he had so many times before, how much Aerith's daughter really knew.

But he'd likely have brought them anyway in the not-too-distant future; as much as he'd been dreading this errand, he needed to have it off his conscience, for whatever sort of a clean slate he could to begin his life as a married man.

It hadn't been easy to make it to this milestone – he'd both feared and wanted it in equal measure. But after years of living with Elena, it was the only logical next step.

At first, he'd made what he'd thought was a very practical proposal, one Turk to another – outlining the probable advantages and disadvantages of such a union – and to his great surprise, she'd turned him down flat. With no real explanation, and just a LOOK to let him know he'd somehow fucked up. So he'd cautiously fished for information from those more familiar with the opposite sex – Rude, some of Tifa's employees, and though he'd considered asking Tifa directly he'd ultimately chickened out – and finally came up with an alternative plan.

Which is how he'd found himself on a very expensive date at Tifa's Third Eye. As it turned out, it was as good as he had heard. Opulent burgundy-draped surroundings; cuisine featuring the ingredients most recently available in Edge, impeccable service. Comparable to what he'd experienced when Shinra was on top of the world. His intended, before him, a slip of a silver dress and matching heels preventing him from taking his eyes off her. She's let her hair grow to a little past shoulder-length, a style that left her no less… simply adorable. He had thoroughly enjoyed dinner, though anxious for what came next; but seeing the glow in Elena's eyes, as she rapturously spooned into dessert – a chocolate-raspberry-ginger something that Tseng couldn't even begin to make sense of – he knew he had made the right choice.

And he wasn't just thinking of the restaurant.

When the bill came, he was surprised to find himself noted as a VIP of the establishment. Curiosity must have shown on his face, as Elena leaned over his shoulder to peer at the receipt.

"Did you drop Tifa's name?" she asked.

"No," he insisted. "I had absolutely no idea."

His sources had suggested flowers as well as dinner; but he was pleased to tell her that their next destination was an idea all his own. Elena looked pleasantly intrigued as he drove them to a familiar heliport; they boarded the copter, already whirring and waiting for them, and rose into the sky.

Tseng flew over the wreckage of Midgar, the plate collapsed into the slums below. The world in which they had once all lived, both top and bottom. Over the endlessly rising towers of Edge, the phoenix that had arisen to take its place. Even beyond, to the borders of the wastes, the parched landscape thirsting for resurrection – and at just the right moment, he flipped a switch.

Elena gasped as the landscape below them became flooded with rainbow light. "It's a WRO instrument to detect vegetation," he told her. "Red is the lowest concentration, followed upwards through orange, yellow, green, and so on."

"There's green," she breathed. "Blue. Even small bits of purple…"

"It's slowly coming back," Tseng explained. "Even after all we've done, it's coming back." Aerith, he thought. You would have been so proud. He'd once thought he'd loved her… but now he understood, it was protection, it was respect, it was many things that still weren't the love that he had discovered with the woman by his side.

"I had no idea anything like this even existed," Elena said softly; her eyes wide and rapturous, enthralled. The same look he'd seen so many times as they'd made love, when he'd cautiously let himself go, wanting to share those instants of vulnerability that reflected in her as she squirmed and cried underneath him.

Tseng looked over to Elena, to the smile upon her face, and all at once it hit him how badly he wanted this. HER. The perfection of sharing a life with a woman who could accept the things he had done; the man that he had been in times past, when he had thought he had known what a man really was.

So many sins. Vincent hadn't been wrong. The plate drop – the one he'd justified to himself as payback to the Planet, and maybe that had been the only answer he'd ever gotten right. The day he'd helped Ifalna escape. The day he'd done the same for Aerith, entrusting her to Cloud's care, no matter how that had turned out. Every day she remained free was a small victory, and now it was Marlene's turn to live that out – that, and walking away at Nibelheim, might have been the most honest things he'd ever done.

And now, would he ever have a chance to atone for it all? Was it enough? Was today the start of that?

Who knew, but maybe the Goddess – or Aerith – herself?

"Instead of bringing you a handful of flowers," he told her with rare gentleness, "I wanted to bring you all of them."

Elena's eyes grew even wider, then settled into a more secretive smile as she realized what was to happen next. "Put your hands back on the controls where they're supposed to be, Tseng –" and he realized his hands, in fact, weren't – "and set this thing down, so I can kiss you when I say yes.:

Tseng had been so absorbed in the remembrance that he'd hardly noticed he'd reached the Seventh Heaven entrance. Had he truly become so unobservant? Were his instincts in decline? Was it going to get even worse once he became a married man?

He violently shoved the thought down as, tightening his grip on the precious package, he entered a bustling dinnertime at Seventh Heaven. Grabbing a seat at the end of the bar, he ordered his usual from a bartender he didn't recognize, and waited.

Tifa was there, but not working; she was seated at a table, laughing and talking with people Tseng recognized as regular guests. Cloud popped up here and there, giving Tseng a curt nod for greeting; but when he stopped at Tifa's table, he visibly softened, never failing to give her a word or a touch whenever he was near.

Cloud Strife. He never would have thought – or maybe he should have; after all, he'd known Cloud as the young man he'd been, before Nibelheim took it all away. The man Tifa had known as a child, and seeing him now… Well. He'd once wondered what had captured Tifa's heart, but it was clear it had been there all along.

Cloud Strife, a man tamed somewhat by marriage, but never completely. And if Cloud could do it, Tseng supposed he could learn how to make a life as a married man as well. Maybe even a family – what Zack Fair had so cruelly been denied.

Abruptly, he remembered a discussion he'd had with Zack – in the foothills over Banora before its destruction. (Yet another sin, Tseng told himself.) SOLDIERs can't be the same as monsters. It's what's inside that counts. SOLDIERs and monsters, heroes and angels. Zack had wanted to be a hero. But he'd died on the edge of a cliff outside Midgar; to this day, it still burned as his greatest failing. Would everything have been different?

Would Zack have been the hero of the story?

But it hadn't been Zack. It had been Cloud who had risen to defeat Sephiroth, yet here he was, never a SOLDIER. And never a monster.

Not a SOLDIER – but a knight. That was what Cloud was – a knight of lived the truth of Zack's words. An enigma still of interest to Rufus, wondering what lay hidden underneath.

Cloud had been a hero, yes, more than once – but in the end, wasn't it the quieter part of the man that was still here, living a simple life?

If only Aerith'd had that chance. But was that ever an option, while Shinra desired her? As much as Tseng had tried – could she have ever found peace?

But she had fallen in love with Zack Fair – the evidence of which was in his hands. In Marlene's existence. And though he was no SOLDIER, perhaps he could be a sort of guardian as well – to the girl whose parentage he'd kept secret all these years.

As if his very thoughts had summoned her, Marlene sidled onto the stool next to him. He hadn't even noticed her come in – he really was losing his touch. As always when he saw her lately, he was startled by her ever-increasing resemblance to Aerith. It showed in her face, yes; but also in her personality, her bearing, that little bit of sparkle that Aerith had never truly lost.

She wore white today, a slim summer dress, a near-twin to a dress he'd once seen Aerith wear. "Elmyra gave me some clothes," she explained. "They're, uh, a little short." She wasn't kidding; Marlene at nearly age fifteen was almost as tall as Tseng, and the dress barely hit mid-thigh. "But otherwise, they fit great."

It seemed appropriate that she was wearing that particular dress, considering the errand he was on. Eyes sliding down, he noticed she finished the outfit with a pair of purple sneakers rather than the slides young Aerith had preferred – Tifa's influence, most likely. Wordlessly, he lifted the package to her, btu not before making sure Tifa wasn't looking; she reached to receive it, gracefully rearranging her clothing. Tifa hadn't turned his way since offering a small wave on entry, still engrossed in the conversation at her table.

No words were needed as she unwrapped the tape and brown paper as if it was silk, caressing the eighty-eight envelopes with reverence. A faint whiff of perfume rose into the air as Marlene carefully picked up the first letter.

At age ten, Tseng had already seen the Lifestream in Aerith's eyes; and in Marlene it shone further, beautiful and bountiful. How I interpret my orders is up to me. He'd once told Cissnei that, by way of explanation, as he struggled under the weight of conflicting responsibilities. He'd failed in many ways, but seeing Marlene before him, tenderly thumbing through the bundle of envelopes, he thought maybe the best result had been achieved after all.

Zack and Aerith might never have been safe… but he'd helped to make sure their daughter could be.

Marlene returned to the first letter she'd plucked; as she held it in both hands, Tseng wondered what was going through her mind. With a secretive smile, she rose to leave; as she glided out of the room, Tseng could see not only Zack and Aerith in her, but a grace she carried that was all her own.

Watching her leave, Tseng had one last, lingering thought.

Marlene, I'll see you again…

---

Tifa hadn't been back here since… that day.

The day she and Cloud had tied their lives together under the stars, those same stars that had begun to peek out from the fiery orange of the setting sunlight – unchanging, eternal.

Years back the church had been crumbling to dust, damaged further during the episode of the Remnants. She shuddered to recall the fight that had left her half-dead, rejoiced to recognize the tranquil pool that had saved the lives of so many was still there – bordered by a profusion of flowers flush with life, a much larger patch than had been her before.

The rest of the church seemed revitalized as well. Was it the citizens of Edge maintaining the landmark in their midst? Maybe the WRO on yet another improvement project?

Was it Aerith herself?

It wasn't impossible. Nanaki had explained that the church was one of the places closest to the Lifestream. An intersection of space and time where the barrier between the worlds was thin. Mideel, for one, where it had breached the surface and swept she and Cloud inside. Midgar, the place Shinra had made the source of its power.

The Forgotten City, where Aerith had crossed at last.

Here, it was so potent that even Tifa could feel it. This is a special place, Aerith had said. Tifa herself had little sense of the Lifestream, that river of spirit energy – she could use materia, but then again, most people could. She'd gotten used to being the only one in her small family with no such sense – Marlene, Denzel, even Cloud seemed to have it to some degree. How, she wasn't exactly sure, but after all she had seen, she no longer questioned when faced with wonder.

Cloud. She looked to the man he was staring towards the roof just as she had done herself, his face bearing a blankness that some might have taken for vacancy or lack of attention. But Tifa knew better. It meant Cloud had receded deep into his thoughts, and Tifa wondered what he had found there that had left him ruminating so deeply.

She took a moment to study him unobserved; a face she saw every day but how often did she truly look? His eyes, so bright, so blue. Softer than the piercing gleam they'd had the day he and she had met once again, reunited at a train station far from home.

Their lives had been a series of reunions.

Over ten years since that day. One of the happier anniversaries they celebrated. She'd turned thirty this year; still young, but the time still seeped into her bones, a reminder that she could not stay the same together. There had been those early, difficult year post-Meteorfall – first the struggle for survival, then security, but between starting businesses and raising children, they'd made it through and moved on.

But life changed, and moved forward. There were a number of reasons she'd asked Cloud to bring her here this day, from their trip to the ocean to standing at Zack's grave to reminiscing with Cid and Shera about their time in space – but most of all, it was Denzel leaving for school that had made Tifa painfully aware of the passage of time.

Her boy. He'd just turned seventeen. Their boy, yes, but Denzel had always been the more complicated child – moody, insecure, a mirror of the man whom with Tifa had raised him. And the fact that he had made it this far gave Tifa a burst of maternal pride she hadn't expected, but held dear to her heart.

Cloud took a few hesitant steps forward, bending down to straighten a wilted petal here, a crooked stem there. It was an unexpected gentleness – or maybe not, Tifa corrected herself, thinking of the warmth of his touch when he held her in their marriage bed at night. The whispers of his fingertips, the velvet of his lips, the tenderness with which he'd fill her to join them together as one.

She'd once craved a hero, but over the years, replaced that ideal with respect for a softer strength; presence, constancy. And he'd risen to the occasion, leaving her pleased and delighted to watch him evolve.

To become a man the way he'd never had a chance to before.

"Do you remember the first time we made love?" she asked, startling him back to attention. She closed the short distance between them to stroke his shoulder down the length of his arm, remembering how many times they had done so since. Every time a new chance to enjoy and expand their closeness with bodies intertwined, wanting to be as near to each other as they possibly could.

With a smile in his eyes he let her slide her hand into his. "How could I forget?"

Lovemaking had always been a way for Cloud to communicate. The ways he'd approach her, her recognition of his need; her willingness to relax into his embrace, allow him to work her into a frenzy, and let him tell her with his body what he needed most for her to know. Even when she turned him down, she always made sure to do so gently; to make sure he knew the rejection wasn't personal. That she wasn't pushing away the man as a whole.

And of course there were the times when she was the aggressor, wanting, needing, desperate to feel and be filled by the man she loved. She could be as delirious in her enjoyment as he, wanting so badly to be with him and only him, the only man who would ever touch her again.

But Cloud had be come more subtle as well. More attuned. He said I love you at least once each day, sometimes the first words to her in the morning or surprising her as he helped with breakfast or walked through the door. And if none of the above, it would be the last words he whispered into her ear before they drifted off to sleep.

She wondered if she was truly responding in kind. Cloud still sometimes seemed bewildered when the words came out of her mouth, as if he still couldn't believe she loved him just as fiercely as he did her. Maybe even more in some ways, for the subtle surprise with which the emotions had come upon her. A love she hadn't realized, not really, until one day he was gone.

She stepped even closer, brushing her chest softly against his; taking the hint, he pulled her into his embrace.

She'd tried another life. Other lovers. And she'd begun to enjoy that life, forging a new path out of adversity; a business, friends, even a makeshift family once Marlene had entered her life. She'd become an integral part of the community of Sector Seven, and might very well have lived out her life happily, continuing down that road.

And then it came crashing into her life. The second chance.

Maybe the fourth or seventh by now.

She wanted, make that needed, to be a good wife to him too. To learn all the ways to respect him, trust him, love him – it was the only way she could respect herself as a partner within the marriage. To give back to him in return for the many things he had given to her.

And she needed forgiveness. To be loved despite her imperfections, and she had many, no matter how many times Cloud would look at her and tell her with absolute sincerity that she was perfect. She needed to NOT be – and he was learning to love a flawed, imperfect Tifa as well.

He'd argue with her now. Sometimes even raise his voice. Never a shout, but sometimes heated words would be exchanged; yet somehow they'd always end up kissing and laughing, their bond even stronger than before – knowing they could relax and be themselves, faults and all, and still be loved.

And for that, she was glad she'd given her vow.

But with every step taken forward, they were still accompanied by the specter of what – and who – they had left behind. Their ghosts. Not just the people they'd lost – though as she looked around in the church Tifa found comfort in the idea that Aerith and Zack were watching over them as Cloud had sworn they were – but the specters of lives unlived. Shadow remembrances of what might have been.

Those ghosts were reminders of the road not taken, shadow realities never to occur outside of imagination. The unavoidable sacrifices. As much as she hated it, it was something Barret had been right about. She still didn't know what definition of destiny she believed in – or if she believed in destiny at all. A way of assigning meaning to coincidence? A narrowing of possibilities? The will of the Planet itself?

Destiny is fluid, Nanaki had once said. Tifa's own thoughts were that it might be that things we did, once we looked back, seemed like they were inevitable. Like she and Cloud – knowing what she knew now, could it have worked out any other way?

She turned those ideas over and over in her mind, as she and Cloud turned together to look at the pool, the flowers, the Buster Sword. Did our losses remind us how much more we might have to lose?

A bittersweet lesson to take away from it all.

Aerith. She shivered a little; Cloud's hand stroked her back, her hair. How deeply she had touched both their lives, set their path. She still occasionally had those moments of would Aerith have been better for him – but they were few and far between. Aerith had loved Cloud, too – and she knew, a small part of Cloud loved her back, whether he realized it or not. But Aerith had chosen to step back – and Tifa was grateful, for all Aerith had done to help push her and Cloud together.

Aerith, I'm still keeping my promise to love him for us both.

The story Elmyra had told. Those tapes in Icicle Inn. The life Aerith never got to live, memories she never had a chance to make. Never able to have a family the way Tifa did now. Aerith, are you with Zack now? Did you find your Promised Land? Are you still here with us somehow?

The thought gave her comfort… and that, more than anything else, was the real reason she asked Cloud to bring her here today – to see if she could feel some of the same magic.

Staring across the water to the Buster Sword, she shuddered to think of another sword, Sephiroth's sword – the one that had ended Aerith's life, and nearly her own as well. She ran a finger down her chest to where the slash had been. Scars invisibly etched on Cloud's soul and her own. Invisible reminders of how many times they had nearly lost each other. But here they were, together, alive, and Sephiroth never to return.

Her mother, she recalled with a twinge of guilt. How long had it been since she had thought of Thea Lockhart? Or her father, either, but she had been so small and so devastated when Thea had been taken – not by violence, but by an illness, the nature of which had never been determined.

But it had been what sent her up Mt. Nibel, a winding path both literally and figuratively that ultimately brought her to this day.

"Cloud," she said softly; he turned his head at her voice – "do you remember the day my mother died?"

"Yeah." The question was rhetorical; it needed no response, just acknowledgement.

"It was actually your mom who gave me the idea. Talking about going up the mountain." Tifa gulped. "I was, uh, eavesdropping. You and your mom were talking over dinner."

"I… sort of remember," Cloud conceded.

"We've never actually talked about that day," Tifa continued.

Cloud paused and pondered; she could practically see the gears turning over in his mind. She wondered what he was thinking; did he still feel guilty for that day? A slight scrape, left to fester? "That's true," he finally said. "Do you remember anything about it?"

"Not any more than before," Tifa admitted. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

"Are you sure you're ready?" Cloud asked, brow furrowing slightly.:

"It was a long time ago," she assured him. "Besides, I want to hear it from you. Not just what happened, but how you felt."

"Where should I start?" he asked.

She considered. "I remember hearing your mom, but not how I connected it to my mom's ghost," she told him. Her first ghost. Was that what had made her so afraid of all the ones to follow? "The last thing I remember clearly was crying in my bedroom. You know… when you saw me."

"I remember why I was looking in the first place," he told her. "I was so used to you playing piano.. and on that day, I didn't hear it."

Tifa stepped closer again. "Tell me more," she urged. "Please…"

His tension softened visibly, and he resumed talking; the words flowed uncharacteristically out of the man. How her father had come raging over to his house the next day, and that's how he had known where she had gone. "'We should never cross the mountain alone', my mother had said"; and he'd been so worried she would that he'd gone running after her to make sure there was someone else with her. How he'd passed by her other friends, who had let her go on ahead, too scared to continue on themselves; and though he was frightened too, he still kept going until he finally caught up to her at the bridge; and for an instant she could see the face of the panicked little boy he had been. And though he'd tried to get her to turn back, she wouldn't, so he'd followed onto the bridge behind her –

"The bridge breaking," she interrupted. "That was the one detail in the story you told at Kalm that didn't fit. It was that other grunt that fell, not us. That was the part that made me realize something was wrong." She looked at her beloved, soft and melting.

"I remembered all I could do was try to hold on…" Cloud trailed off.

"You came for me. You were there," she quickly assured him. "That's what mattered most. You know that now, right, Cloud?"

"I think so," he replied. "At least, it's easier to believe it."

They just stood there, simply looking at each other, as the soft salmon of fading light finally gave way completely, brightening the stars above; and Tifa was reminded all over again how deep the roots of his love extended. His endless need to protect her warring with his need to have her by his side, and it had all started on that day.

"I hope the 'new' Nibelheim has learned to build bridges better," he suddenly wisecracked, and despite herself, Tifa burst out laughing.

She pushed him onward, glossing over the years he'd been an outcast – if she hadn't been so oblivious! – and neatly stepping over the two years after Cloud had left Midgar to go join SOLDIER. Those were for another day, as was her own history for those seven years they'd been apart; there might have even been happy moments among them. Instead, she asked, with trepidation and a substantial dose of reluctance – if he would tell her about his escape with Zack; and she could see the emotional toll it took on him to begin.

But he did.

Not that there was much he could say for certain. Fragments, images, less action than the feelings that rode along with them; memories forever lost, and she couldn't help but mourn for them both.

"First thing I remember clearly," he finally concluded, "was waking up on that hill, then there's a blur again. Wasteland around me, a heavy sword across my back, and nothing but a need to keep pushing forward. The next thing after that… was your face…"

"The train station," she said, hushed, overwhelmed by the weight of his revelation. "Our reunion…"

Cloud looked back at the woman who carried his heart; wondering what she was thinking, wishing he could find the words for everything he wanted to say. Memories don't have to be toxic. Even a journey into the Lifestream hadn't been enough… it had taken him even longer than that to learn.

"I don't miss those memories that much," he told her. "I've had memories that held me back… and those that set me free."

And it was you, Tifa, who showed me the difference. The choices to make.

A memory or us, Tifa had once told him, not an ultimatum, but a choice… a choice to live. He reached out to caress a hand across her cheek; she quivered as he pulled it back.

Tifa cocked her head carefully. "you're right," she told him. "I've never really thought it through like that before." It really took her aback her sometimes, the things he'd come up with – just when she thought he wasn't paying attention, he'd come up with something so intuitive and so true. This man still managed to surprise her, even as she'd known him for as long as she could remember, leaving her wondering what else might be in store for a long life together.

"Still," Tifa continued, "I can't help having regrets." Vincent, in Icicle Inn, talking about how things you HADN'T done could be as much failures as those you had. A man who spoke from tragic experience. The chances lost, the uncertainty of maybe-could-have-been. And Vincent was right, you never knew if the other way might have been better…

Cloud could see his own regrets reflected in his beautiful wife's eyes. But he couldn't bring himself to give up… couldn't stop moving forward.

Instinctively, he reached over his shoulder to the sword that was truly his own. The Fusion Sword. Three swords he'd killed Sephiroth with, and this one was the last.

Long ago, in Cosmo Canyon, he'd wondered if he'd ever be able to let the sword go. He no longer wanted or needed to. He'd simply learned the way it should be used.

The one he'd created – the sword to protect.. The sword that had accompanied him to a new life and new memories, at he moved from hero to family man and back outwards to the world once again. A slow journey to an understanding of what a man was supposed to be.

And along the way, endless new ways to keep the promise. He'd come to realize – it wasn't a one-time thing, it was a way of life. It had become a mantra to guide him through every day. The same that had led him to slowly develop his work at the WRO, from military to supply lines, and then into economy, infrastructure – health, education. All the things he wanted to create a better world for his children. And though he felt privileged to have carried the Buster Sword, he was glad to bequeath it to Zack once again.

Honor, dreams – and hope. Both privilege and burden, together making up the price he paid for freedom. Like the chains of Fenrir, a wanted chain, one of his own choosing, one that meant everything.

Zack, you're back with Aerith now, aren't you? He sent his thought across the water. Shame I didn't realize she was the one you loved until it was too late… Zack. Tifa. The bookends of his life, and along the way, Aerith had touched them all.

"Would Zack have been proud of me?" Cloud suddenly asked.

Her eyes positively glowed with sincerity. "He'd call you his hero. I'm sure of it."

Aerith had left a hole in her soul the way Zack had in Cloud's. They'd once discussed freedom together… and decided it depended what you wanted to get free of, she thought, looking at Cloud. Could Aerith have ever been free? Did her heritage doom her from the start?

A shift in Tifa's motion; a flash of light from the ring she still wore. Cloud wondered - did it maybe mean to Tifa what the sword meant to him? The Buster Sword. The ring. Promises they both knew to keep. If Claudia was still in the Lifestream, could she see how closely he still followed the lessons she'd instilled? But it was Tifa, Tifa most of all to which his promises were tied, and he'd been building them one atop another, only able to offer the promise of marriage once he really understood what it meant.

So much of his anger had disappeared; the little that was left was for Tifa's pain, what she'd suffered at Shinra's, at Sephiroth's hands, things he could not control – but he'd learned new ways to fight. A discovery from an embrace in a darkened garden, with Tifa crying out the loss of Sector Seven into his chest; and finding himself with nothing to offer but the solidity of his own presence flush against him, he first began to understand – she needed him too.

He had the life of his dreams… but still needed to give more.

Zack, I am still your living legacy. I'm just learning better what that means.

He held her tighter. His guiding star. This woman had brought him to happiness and beyond. She'd been with them when they'd flown to the stars that still looked down on them with promises of more to come.

Tifa's tears suddenly dried, as quickly as they had started; and as she pulled away from him, Cloud looked at her in confusion. "I have to ask you something more," she told him, eyes apologetic. "About the time you stayed here with Geostigma."

Cloud sighed a puff of reluctance; he should have known this was coming. Expected it, even, bringing Tifa here. But that didn't' make it any less difficult. "I thought of you every day, Tifa," he told her. "I heard all the messages you left…" and as he resurrected them, the words he had committed to memory and listed to over and over in the silence of his solitude, she began to cry all over again.

He nearly stopped then; he'd never truly understood how deeply he had hurt her. He HAD known – but that wasn't the same as feeling the salty tears seeping into his collar. He nearly stopped – but through her drenched, reddened eyes, she urged him on, forcing him to tell her from start to finish – how he didn't want her to see him die, how he'd come to understand how wrong he had been, murmuring into shoulders shaking hard as she clung to him as if he would disappear at any moment.

He murmured sweet words of consolation, but Tifa could not be soother. Finally, red-faced, she shushed him. "No more," she coughed out. "Cloud, just let me go ahead and feel the pain." To his credit, he shushed, only pulling her closer; and through the tears, Tifa's hazy thoughts were grateful that he hadn't tried to apologize. He'd done that before; but that was long gone. This Cloud did not dwell on mistakes the same way, content to move on to the present and beyond. This Cloud did not think he had done the right thing, leaving his family behind to spare them suffering; this Cloud knew that he had value. That he was a part of the family too.

"I worried so much… you'd just give in. Give up," Tifa told him. "Go over… to the other side."

Cloud smiled, stroking her hair in reassurance. "Zack and Aerith wouldn't let me," he told her. "Told me I didn't belong there and pushed me right back."

In the end, he'd chosen life, with all the pain that came along with it – and before him, the consequences. The visceral experience of a very alive Tifa, not just the village idol he'd fallen for, but the grown woman before him, brave and compassionate and complicated and above all a person, another soul with which he was forever intertwined.

He even found himself a little envious of the ease with which Tifa could let go and express the truest feelings of her heart. It was something he himself had been most able to do only when they made love. He thought back to their wedding back, when they'd done exactly that in this very space, shedding clothes and fear to share themselves more fully than ever before; and as much as he'd have liked to repeat the experience, now was not the time.

Later, if she was willing, he'd carry her to the bed they shared and show her what she meant to him, as many times and in as many ways as she wanted. Kisses, touches, whisper-soft love like rain pattering on a windowpane; or rough, hard strokes until she screamed his name, unable to take it anymore, drowning in pleasure and release. Whatever she wanted – he was ready to give.

"But Cloud… how you even got Geostigma. It started with the trip to the Forgotten City… to take the bouquet for Aerith, didn't it?" Tifa began hesitantly; Cloud did not argue. Yes, there had been Denzel, there had been Cloud's own Geostigma… but that had been the beginning. He never touched the black water. Or did he? "Do you still take it?" she asked carefully.

Cloud exhaled. "Not recently. Since Elmyra told us to remove the ribbons, she's left it up to me." He swallowed. "I meant to keep up the tradition. I really did…"

"Aerith's birthday is coming up soon," she soothed. "Maybe we should go together."

She would have been thirty-two. The unmentioned anniversaries, the sad ones. The ones where they'd suffer with the memories… but maybe there was a way they could make them better. To honor their friends the way she wanted. Cloud seems to be able to see you. Is there a way I could, too?

Cloud didn't say anything; she got worried. "Unless it's a private thing?" she prodded.

"Not exactly," Cloud told her. "I just didn't really think you wanted to go too."

"Well, I visited Zack's grave," Tifa explained. "So I guess this would be kind of like coming full circle."

"Makes sense," he agreed. A long moment of silence. "I'm glad the flowers are growing at Zack's grave. So Aerith can see the view he looked over."

"Did the flowers help?" Tifa suddenly wondered. "Did they maybe help you survive Geostigma?"

He tangled fingers in near-midnight hair to run fingertips along her scalp; he noticed how long it had grown again. Just about the time that Tifa would cut it halfway and start the cycle all over again. "Even before Geostigma," he whispered to her," when I'd come here for answers, the flowers always told me to go home."

Tifa paused and raised her head; he could see her lovely smile returning. "Are you saying you're ready to go home?"

Cloud looked deep into her eyes, seeing all the love he felt reflected back at him. "Why would I, when home is right here?"

Her smile burst into a ray of sunshine. Yes, she was the harder path to follow; the one who knew him deep inside, failures and successes all. But then again, he knew hers.

In the end, she was Tifa.

That was all Cloud needed her to be.

The church had meant so many different things to Cloud, so much remembrance. So many meanings to them both. But today, it was a reminder of life, and that they were survivors. Maybe they hadn't yet found their Promised Land; maybe they two were still on the journey.

The story would continue.

Because this story was theirs; it belonged to the two of them, together. And as full darkness set in and lips met in the silence of an abandoned church, they could not remember who whispered I love you first.

---

The soft silence of night had settled over the city; the sweet daylight of the morning was still hours away. She stared at the moon, the stars, through the room's small window, before turning back to the man beside her.

He was still awake as well, drowsily half-lidded, but his eyes never breaking away from her. Blue meeting brown, but a subtle glow shared between them both. The mark of an unbreakable bond… and as if she hadn't already known, it reassured her he was the one.

"Denzel," Mina whispered, "I'm ready."

---

At first, Cloud had been enormously hesitant to join the WRO. But over time, he had to admit he'd come to value this particular part of his life, as he started to really understand Reeve's dedication and the opportunities to help the Planet. He'd started to feel he belonged to a community of sorts, seeing the same people day in and day out and getting to know them to some degree, making the WRO headquarters feel like a second home.

Not bad, for a boy who'd had no friends as a child.

He had the liberty to create his own projects; he'd started out working with supply lines for the military, using what he'd learned running Strife Delivery Service. But over time, as the need for military strength lessened in tandem with his desire to lead it, he'd begun adapting the routes for more peaceful purposes. Food, medicine. Aerith's water was thankfully no longer needed – Geostigma seemed to be gone for good – but for mundane, everyday illnesses, the kind that weren't worth wasting materia on, even as Reeve reported making progress on cleaner, synthetic sorts.

Tifa had seen the possibilities for her educational interests as well; on the days she came to the WRO, they'd often work the mornings together and spill over into lunch, lugging their collective scrambled plans to the latest restaurant he wanted to introduce her to. (Asgar, the city had finally been named, as "the WRO city" had become too unwieldy. It was developing and thriving, and every day Cloud noted the contrast of its central planning to the grassroots expansion of the equally-expanding Edge.) He loved to just look at her on these impromptu dates, as she squealed in delight both over the enjoyment of the meal and the excitement of the future they were helping unfurl.

He and Tifa had done their best to remain anonymous through the years, craving a regular life. It seemed they'd succeeded rather well. Naturally, there were rumors about why he'd been given such a high position, but "former SOLDIER" seemed good enough for most. And for those who weren't convinced, well, that just motivated Cloud that much more to prove he was worthy of the job.

He'd been ambling through the corridors, murmuring absent-minded pleasantries from the depths of his thoughts, when an unfamiliar face grabbed his attention. Or maybe not so unfamiliar. He'd occasionally seen Turk uniforms around the building, usually on errands for Rufus (who still contributed the bulk of the WRO's funding, though Cloud didn't know why, having not seen the man in years) – even Reno and Rude appeared from time to time, but that tiny woman with a shock of curly auburn hair…

"CISSNEI?" he asked, floored.

Cissnei blushed slightly; but even so, unlike himself, she didn't seem taken aback to see him. "Hi, Cloud," she began with slight reserve. "I'd heard you worked here now. I figured our paths would cross sooner or later."

"Whatever happened to you?" Cloud asked. "I haven't seen you since…" He trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence.

"Yeah," Cissnei said. "I know." She felt no need to tell him she'd seen him after Nibelheim, a pitiful wreck being carried around by the fatally loyal Zack; according to Tseng, while Cloud remembered bits and pieces from that time, he'd shown no inclination to know more. "I was in Gongaga for a while."

"What were you doing there?" Cloud responded automatically, though both knew that he could guess.

Cissnei shrugged. "Keeping a promise," she told him, and Cloud said nothing; it was the only answer needed. She looked Cloud up and down appraisingly, as a not-uncomfortable silence stretched out. Trying to figure out what was going on behind Cloud's endlessly unreadable face. Not entirely unreadable, she corrected herself; there was the softness-yet-determination she'd seen in his eyes the first time they'd met. Was he happy to see her? Angry? Was he even all that surprised?

Maybe all of the above.

She herself had been prepared for this moment, at least as much as it was possible to be. She'd known their paths would cross sooner or later, but it had been so many years, and reading the briefs in his dossier was not at all the same as seeing the man in person. And although she still felt much like herself - older, maybe more world-weary, but more or less the same – she could see the changes years and experience had drawn on Cloud. Or to be more accurate, the Cloud Strife she'd seen as a young man, finally brought to fruition.

Future SOLDIER Cloud… but maybe he'd never been meant to be a SOLDIER after all. Maybe he'd always been meant for something far more real.

"I got married," Cloud finally told her. It had become too awkward to simply stand there while crowds of employees flowed past. "To Tifa," he clarified, just in case Cissnei had any doubt.

"I'm glad to hear it," Cissnei replied. "Congratulations."

He shrugged. But the way he stood up a little straighter gave away his pride. "I'd tell you all about it, but I'm sure the Turks already know," he deadpanned. Cissnei giggled at that, a sound wholly uncharacteristic, but not unpleasant to hear.

"We know a few things," she responded mysteriously." She had yet to encounter Marlene's grown self – fourteen, she was now? But according to reports, Cloud and Tifa had no idea about the truth of the girl they were raising in their own home.

And Tseng was adamant about keeping it that way. "It's Marlene's choice," he'd said in a voice that clearly made it an order. "Hers and no one else's." But even had Tseng not been so insistent, Cissnei still would have agreed. She and Tseng had the same guilt… and the same burdens. Their shared obligations to the girl orphaned by the masters they had served.

A moonlight beach, so long ago. A set of keys and the words get away safely.

Had they really done all that they could?

"Are you working for the WRO now?" Cloud asked, looking her over rather less thoroughly than she had him. "I mean, you're still wearing the Turk suit."

"Yes and no. I mostly work with Yuffie, but I don't really have an official capacity," Cissnei explained. "I act primarily as a liaison. Other than the four Turks who work closely with Rufus, we have members all over the Planet, on missions with or without the WRO. It's a network Yuffie wants to get in on."

"That makes sense," Cloud agreed.

But even as they talked, they both found themselves cautiously dancing around the topic of Zack Fair. Neither wanted to mention that loaded name; Cissnei bemoaned the fact that she'd never have the chance to ask for forgiveness. Her guilt had only been partly assuaged by telling Zack's parents the truth of his fate.

(Mrs. Fair, sobbing uncontrollably, asking if Cissnei had been the girlfriend Zack had mentioned; and though Cissnei had truthfully told her no, she couldn't bring herself to crush Zack's mother with the rest of the story. And though Mr. Fair had been stone-faced at first, as he took his devastated wife into his arms, Cissnei could see the tears beginning to roll off his face as well.)

Wings represent freedom, she'd once thought.

Zack, did you find your wings in the end?

She let those thoughts themselves fly away as she and Cloud made small talk; as he told her about his home, his family, she noticed his reserve starting to slip away. He'd failed the mental exam for SOLDIER, she recalled; a fact that she was frankly grateful for now. As Cloud spoke on, an involuntarily smile beginning to light up his face, it occurred to her –

"Do you feel more connected now?" she interrupted suddenly.

Cloud looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Cissnei supposed it was a bit of a strange question. "To people. Places." She waved a hand nonchalantly. "Everything, I guess. Life."

Cloud didn't speak for a long moment. "Yeah," he finally said. "I guess I do."

Cissnei smiled carefully, an expression of one with more than a few secrets. "I'm glad. You know – I saw your potential, way back when. At our first meeting."

"Dr. Rayleigh," Cloud replied.

"You do remember." She smiled a little wider, a little more open.

Cloud shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, a reminder that they both had work to attend to. Not to mention, she'd had a longer conversation with Cloud than she'd ever thought possible. Another marker of his evolution.

What would Cloud become next?

They bid each other goodbyes, and Cissnei noted a visible difference as Cloud retreated into his terse former self. But as he walked away, Cissnei found herself staring at his receding form, and thinking.

Future SOLDIER, indeed… but no, he'd never been in SOLDIER. He was more than that. Was he still fighting his demons? Even after Zack's fate, after Hojo, after Sephiroth, after Aerith, after anything and everything he'd endured… he still made it through to carry on.

She wondered if there was anything she could do to help. To atone for never having told him the truth she knew, not in time to make a difference – and for that, she owed a debt she could never fully repay. But even so, in the end, Cloud had become exactly the hero she'd hoped he would be.

No, she corrected himself. More than a hero. A survivor. And beyond, a protector, a savior.

A guardian angel.

We never lose our demons altogether, but the darkness fades and is eclipsed by light.

Cloud, don't stop fighting…