Tifa woke up to a sharp jab to her hip and a chill. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Icicle Inn. As expected, Yuffie had kicked out in her sleep and stolen all the blankets, even with the extra one from downstairs. Tifa shivered and carefully removed Yuffie's foot from where it was now resting on her side. Despite having all the blankets, Yuffie's foot was ice cold. Tifa gently tugged the bottom of the blanket over Yuffie's feet before sitting up and getting out of bed.

It was still dark. Tifa guessed it was still the early hours of the morning, not too long past midnight. She felt far from rested but knew she would not find sleep if she laid back down. She slipped the house shoes onto her feet and grabbed her bowl from earlier, slipping out of the room and closing the door quietly behind her.

The hallway outside was dimly lit and empty, although Tifa could hear Barret's snores from behind one of the closed doors. At least the others are resting, she thought. She resisted the urge to tiptoe down the hall and open the doors one by one, checking in on her friends. Instead, she headed down the stairs.

Nobody was behind the front desk and beyond it, the fireplace had died down to glowing embers. It was still warm enough, though not as stifling as before. Tifa found a door leading to a small kitchen off the common room and placed her bowl in the sink. She hoped that the innkeeper had someone to help her with the dishes. With a pang, Tifa thought of Marlene and Seventh Heaven. Although she had been too little to help, Marlene had often kept Tifa company while she did the dishes, chattering about anything that came to her mind. Tifa wondering if she was doing the same with Elmyra –

Tifa froze in the dark kitchen, her grief flooding through her. Elmyra, she thought. Who will tell her? Guilt warred with grief. Please, Elmyra had said. Bring her back to me. Tifa hung her head. We promised we would help Aerith.

Thinking about Elmyra was too sad to bear. Tifa swallowed her tears and left the kitchen, resolving to find something, anything else to think about. She found herself behind the front desk. The desk was neatly organized with shelves lining the wall behind it. There were stacks of towels folded and toward the bottom, rows of house shoes. None were quite as ugly as the ones she had been given, she noted wryly. The upper shelves had doors hiding their contents. Blankets, Tifa thought. Perhaps there are spare blankets. I could actually get some sleep. Tifa shook her head. Sleep felt even more elusive now. She grabbed a towel instead, hoping there was hot water for showers.

Just as she was grabbing the towel, the front door creaked open, bringing in a surge of cold air. Tifa cringed, quickly exiting from behind the desk, hoping the innkeeper was not about to catch her poking around.

But it was not the innkeeper. It was Cloud.

He stood just inside the doorway, letting the wind slam the door behind him. Caught off guard, Tifa stumbled back a step until her back was against the desk. Where have you been? The words almost rose to her lips. I thought you were sleeping. Why were you out wandering in the cold? All the words that came to her mind felt like accusations and she said none of them, letting the silence fill the space instead.

Neither of them moved. Tifa gripped the folded towel in her arms tightly and dared a glance up at Cloud's face. To her surprise, he met her eyes. His had bluish purple shadows under them and he swayed slightly on his feet as they watched one another. He's exhausted, Tifa thought, heart clenching. To her relief, though, his eyes seemed to be his own.

You've really changed. I suppose it's your eyes, she had said to him, what felt like a lifetime ago in Midgar. They used to be less… Cold, she had been about to say. Cloud had thought she was referring to the mako. Tifa had gotten used to the mako, but she had never gotten used to his eyes when they went cold.

Sometimes, I don't even know who I am…he had confessed to her in Gongaga. It's like there's different people inside of me. And the worst part is, I can't even tell where they end and I begin.

Tifa had seen the different people in Cloud's eyes. The cool, uncaring ex-SOLDIER turned mercenary. The brutal, hardened killer who questioned whether Tifa was real. Neither of those was Cloud. Neither was her Cloud. But there were others. The caring, concerned protector that carefully watched her. The earnest, surprisingly bold man who made silly comments but still made her stomach flip with his heated gaze. And so often, the bewildered boy who looked at her as if he were lost and she was the only person who might tell him where to go.

It was the lost boy who looked back at her now. She took a step closer, carefully, her movements slow. He did not look away. Snow melted in his hair. Tifa held out the towel.

"Here," she offered, keeping her voice low.

Cloud blinked and looked down. Moving as if in a trance, he lifted his arms to accept the towel, keeping his gaze lowered. After a long moment, he jolted.

"What are those?" he asked suddenly.

Startled, Tifa stepped back. He sounded so much like Cloud. Like himself. A second later, she realized he was looking at her fuzzy slippers. Her cheeks warmed. House shoes ugly enough to snap Cloud of out a trance, she thought, wondering if she was about to break into hysterics. Perhaps I'll wear them next time we cross Sephiroth.

"They're slippers, Cloud," Tifa replied. "I can check if they have any in your size if you like them so much?"

Without meaning to, Tifa had adopted the bantering tone her and Cloud so often used with one another. She shifted uncomfortably. They had not spoken lightly to one another in days and it felt off now, like trying to put on an old, favorite shirt that had shrunken slightly in the wash. Tifa swore, though, that the corner of Cloud's mouth had twitched toward the half smirk he sometimes gave her.

"Anyways," Tifa said, nodding to towel. "You should dry off. And take off your shoes. The rest of us have ours drying over by the fire. You should do the same. You'll be glad to have dry shoes and socks in the morning."

He blinked at her a moment, but to her relief, crouched down to undo his laces. Shoes and socks in hand, towel slung over his shoulders, he straightened. His eyes seemed to glaze over as he watched her, and Tifa wondered if the moment of lucidity had been only fleeting.

She was reminded for the second time that night of Marlene. When Marlene was three, she went through a sudden sleepwalking phase. Barret and Tifa had each discovered her wandering after dark on separate occasions and, startled, woke her up. She had been inconsolable. After that, they learned to coax her back to bed with gentle words and touches.

"Cloud," she said softly, relieved when his eyes seemed to focus. "This way."

She walked into the common room and he followed. Tifa stopped in front of the fireplace and turned to face Cloud. She reached her hands out slowly.

"Here, let me."

Tifa grabbed Cloud's boots and socks, placing them on the hearth. She could feel his eyes on her back as tangibly as the heat still coming off the smoldering embers. When she faced him again, he had not moved.

"You should take your sword off for now," Tifa said, nodding to where it was still mounted on his back.

Cloud tensed. Please Cloud, Tifa thought. I'm not your enemy. She fought to hold his gaze, to keep the fear out of hers. Whatever he saw in her face as he looked down at her made him shudder. He reached for his sword. Tifa held her breath as it swung over his head with practiced ease. She stood still. When he placed the sword against the wall, she let her breath out slowly.

Tifa stepped backwards, keeping her eyes on Cloud and sat on the sofa.

"Come sit," she said.

Again, Cloud tensed. This time, though, he looked confused rather than suspicious.

"I can't," he said. "I have to go- I need to-"

He trailed off, shaking his head.

"No, Cloud." Tifa kept her voice calm, reasonable. "There's nowhere you need to be right now. It's late. You don't have to do anything but rest. Just sit for a while. Okay, Cloud?"

The sound of his own name seemed to reach him. He sat next to her. It was not a large sofa. Tifa felt overwhelmed by his sudden closeness. She had curled her legs up next to her and the leg of his pants brushed against her knees, chilled from being outside. Cloud looked vulnerable with his hair hanging damp on his forehead, his bare feet on the rug beneath them. It all felt jarringly intimate.

Whenever they were close like this, Tifa could feel the connection between them. It was as vibrant as the Lifestream, churning with memories and strong emotions. She knew he felt it too. Or at least he once had. The light of the dying fire played across Cloud's face, reminding Tifa of how he looked illuminated by fireworks. She felt a sudden urge to reach out her hand to him and pull him close, as he had to her.

To do so felt impossible. Her desire to be close to him conflicted with an instinct to shrink away. Cloud was the strange, quiet boy she had grown up with. The man who had pulled her into his arms urgently, but then kissed her so carefully. But he was also the man who had nearly killed her in Gongaga. He was the same man who had coldly pushed her away with uncaring words and hands so many times in the past days. Who had looked at her grief head on and turned away, indifferent.

And Tifa could barely look at him without remembering him as the Cloud they had found holding Aerith's bleeding, lifeless body.

Again, the problem of multiple Clouds. It had plagued her for weeks. The others all knew something was off now and had suspected something was off for some time. But Aerith had been the only one who really saw it too. The only one Tifa had confided in. Tifa's mind drifted back to when they had first discussed it, in Kalm.


"This is going to sound crazy," Tifa said. "But as far as I know, Cloud was never in Nibelheim five years ago."

Aerith sat up, wide awake though she had been drowsing moments before.

"What…what do you mean?" she asked. "Are you saying all that Cloud just told us never happened?"

Tifa shook her head, struggling for words. Aerith watched her intently, but patiently. Even if she had lost the knowledge she had before, Aerith's eyes held a comforting wisdom. Tifa met her friend's eyes from across the room and felt reassured that she was voicing her concerns to the right person. Perhaps the only person who would understand and could help.

"It happened…almost exactly like Cloud told it," Tifa confessed slowly. "It's just that…"

How could she say it? It was too strange.

"Cloud wasn't there."

The words hung between them. Aerith shook her head.

"Cloud wasn't there," Aerith repeated.

Tifa lowered her head self-consciously. "I know it doesn't make any sense."

"I'm not saying I don't believe you!" Aerith said quickly. "I'm just trying to understand. How could Cloud know what happened if he wasn't there?"

As Tifa had hoped, Aerith had immediately honed in on the heart of the mystery. How, indeed?

"I don't understand it either," Tifa told her. "I can't even be sure if it's my memories or his that are wrong. It's just that…"

She trailed off.

"Just what?" Aerith prompted, her voice gentle.

After days of pushing her uneasy feelings aside, Tifa let them rise to the surface.

"Something is not right with Cloud," she said.

The emotion in her own voice surprised her. Aerith moved from her bed to the foot of Tifa's, bringing her blanket with her. She put a hand on Tifa's arm and squeezed reassuringly. Her eyes were sympathetic and knowing.

"Tell me," Aerith said.

Tifa did. She told Aerith how Cloud had come back into her life, familiar yet strange. The sudden headaches worried her, but more than that, he seemed to be many people in one. His kindness touched her in one moment and his ruthlessness frightened her in the next. They talked about their past together and their memories were the same…mostly. But Cloud dodged questions about anything that had happened after he left the village. His answers were vague. What he did tell her seemed off, the details not quite right. Multiple times, he mentioned seeing each other five years ago. It had been seven.

And now Cloud's strange retelling of what had happened in Nibelheim.

At this point, Tifa stopped. Aerith had listened to her without interruption, a thoughtful, faraway look on her face. Now she looked at Tifa directly.

"How do you remember it, Tifa?"

Tifa closed her eyes. She recalled the village's anticipation of Sephiroth's visit and her own pride at being the one to guide their expedition. The harrowing fall into the river. The tense aftermath of the trip to the reactor. Waking in the night to chaos, everything she had ever known and loved up in flames. Her father. Dead. Sephiroth's sword. Its weight. Her arms shaking. Feet dangling in the air. A slash. The hard metal of the stairs –

"Tifa."

Aerith's hands clasped both hers. Tifa opened her eyes. She swore she could feel Aerith's strength flowing into her. She squeezed her hands back and took a shaky breath. Aerith nodded and gave her a small smile.

"That's it," she said. "Just start at the beginning."

Tifa let go of Aerith and leaned back against the wall. Aerith hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them.

"We weren't given much notice ahead of time that Sephiroth would be coming," she started. "Everyone in town was worked up about it, some of them excited, others angry. I had been working as a guide through Mount Nibel for a while by then."

She shook her head, smiling despite herself.

"I argued with my father for days about guiding the expedition. I wanted to do it so badly, but he was worried. He didn't trust Shinra and the mountains had been getting more and more dangerous."

Her chest ached, thinking of her father. She continued.

"When it was decided I would be the guide, I was so happy. I had been thinking nonstop about the visit because they told us Sephiroth would be coming with a team, and he'd be bringing another SOLDIER. I thought maybe…"

Tifa stopped trailed off, cheeks warming, aware that she was revealing more of herself than she intended. Aerith noticed and smiled, though her eyes remained serious.

"You thought it might be Cloud?"

"I hoped," Tifa admitted.

"But there wasn't another SOLDIER?" Aerith asked. "Sephiroth came alone?"

Tifa shook her head.

"Sephiroth had a SOLDIER with him, but it wasn't Cloud. A First Class SOLDIER. His name was Zack."

Aerith went still. Her calm, reassuring demeanor was gone.

"Zack…" she whispered.

Tifa looked at her questioningly, taken aback by her reaction. Aerith leaned forward, an intense look on her face.

"What was he like?" Aerith asked, her words coming out in a rush. "Are you sure his name was Zack?"

Tifa told Aerith about Zack. Tall. Black hair. Blue, mako eyes. He was vibrant, energetic, competent. He was not Cloud.

With a mixture of puzzlement and sorrow on her face, Aerith told Tifa about Zack as well. Not everything, although she would tell Tifa more later. But she told Tifa about the SOLDIER named Zack she had known. Who she had loved. She had not heard from him in years. Five years, actually. And then she met Cloud, who reminded her of Zack in ways that intrigued and confused her.

The two women sat together in silence on Tifa's bed. Aerith closed her eyes and breathed deeply. When she opened them, the sadness on her face was replaced with a look of resolve.

"Okay," she said. "We have two different stories, your version and Cloud's. You and I both knew the same Zack. And we both know the same Cloud."

Aerith's voice was optimistic and matter-of-fact.

"Zack isn't here so we can't ask him about it. But Cloud is. We have to talk to Cloud. You and I both. Slowly. Bit by bit, we'll figure out what is going on with him together."

Aerith grinned cheekily and raised her fists, imitating Tifa.

"With us fighting for him, he'll be defenseless!"

Tifa laughed. When Aerith spoke like that, it was hard to doubt.

"Okay. We'll figure this out together," Tifa agreed.

Aerith gave a confident nod, but looked drained all of a sudden. Tifa thought Aerith to be so different from herself, with her heart and thoughts out in the open for everyone to see. Tifa hid behind her own cheerful attitude and strength. She realized in that moment, Aerith was more similar to herself than she thought.

"But not tonight," Tifa said. "We should both sleep."

Aerith moved back to her own bed, yawning.

"Thanks for listening, Aerith."

"Thanks for telling me. Goodnight, Tifa."

Tifa stared at the ceiling for a long time after Aerith fell asleep. She could not stop thinking about how Aerith said that Cloud had reminded her of Zack. Tifa had liked Zack well enough, but could not help but resent him at the time. He was not Cloud. More irksome to Tifa, he was so different from Cloud. He had been loud and boisterous with an easy-going confidence. So different from the shy, earnest boy who could barely meet her eyes but still asked her to meet at the most romantic spot in the village.

Is Cloud like Zack? Tifa pondered the question. When she had met Zack, she had not seen it. Now, perhaps she understood what Aerith was saying. There was something in Cloud's occasional mannerisms. A confidence that bordered on cocky. She could agree there were traces of Zack in Cloud. It was only that all the things that might be Zack-like in Cloud, were things that were not Cloud-like to Tifa.

Regardless, Tifa was glad she had confided in Aerith. She trusted Aerith when it came to Cloud, more so than Barret. Barret had come to accept Cloud, even like him. Still, Cloud could be difficult. If Barret knew something was wrong with Cloud or thought he had been lying to him, he would be angry. Barret wanted to save the planet, with or without Cloud.

But Cloud and Aerith had a connection. Tifa could admit to herself that she was jealous of it at times, even if she understood why Cloud would be drawn to Aerith. Tifa had been too. She had never made a faster friend. And now she understood some of what had drawn Aerith to Cloud. Both Tifa and Aerith saw in Cloud traces of a boy they had once loved – different boys, but still. It went deeper than that, though. They both cared for Cloud as he was now, endearingly awkward and surprisingly sweet.

Whatever was happening with Cloud was fragile. Figuring it out would require care. Tifa could only entrust the situation to someone who would handle it with love.

Tifa tossed and turned, her mind not allowing her rest. Eventually she gave up and tiptoed out of the room. She needed to talk to Cloud.


A sudden weight and warmth on her knee brought Tifa back to the present. Cloud had fallen asleep and his arm had dropped to the side, landing on her legs. His head was angled toward her, cheek against the cushions. He looked younger in his sleep, his hair still boyishly mussed from the snow and his face slack. Peaceful, even. Tifa rested her cheek against the cushion as well, not daring to move more than that.

She thought of Aerith, playfully raising her fists.

"I'm still fighting for you, Cloud," Tifa whispered.

With that, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.


Author's note: That was long, but will probably be the last update for awhile! Will be stuck doing writing of the boring, bill-paying variety. Really hoping to finish this eventually!