Author's note: If you like this relationship dynamic, go to therapy lol. Save me a seat. This sequence delves into Cloud and Tifa'a pre-AC relationship struggles and covers some of the issues hinted at in Repairing the Rift. For the title and content, I drew a lot of inspiration from Brandi Carlile's Right on Time. Give it a listen if you haven't, it's beautiful.

CW: But, on a more serious note, this sequence will involve some heavy themes, like trauma and PTSD. Just a reminder to take care of yourself. Don't read things on the internet that might be upsetting to you. Seek support and resources as needed. This almost certainly overkill, but I write some heavy shit sometimes and you never know 3

Cloud executed a risky turn on the poorly maintained road, leaning skillfully on Fenrir. There was a narrow sliver of moon in the sky, offering scant light. He navigated by memory. Maps were almost entirely useless these days, the landscape having changed drastically when the Lifestream burst through the earth to stop Meteor.

It was late, later than Cloud had meant to be out. It was hard to turn down business. The money was good, and they needed it. But more than that, delivery services were in high demand. Cloud had been finding it difficult to say no when people asked for his help.

He was less than an hour from home. He could make it in half an hour if he hurried, though Tifa would be annoyed with him if she saw the risks he was taking on his bike. She worried, especially when he had late nights.

Now that he thought about it, he was surprised Tifa had not called yet. She always did when he made late night deliveries, after putting Marlene to bed. Cloud had come to expect it, looked forward to it whenever he was out on a long delivery route.

They had a routine, a silly one, but Cloud lived for it all the same. Tifa liked to tease Cloud about his poor phone etiquette, the way he just said, "yes?" when he picked up a call, or just, "Tifa?" when he knew it was her. Tifa would respond jokingly with whatever she thought Cloud should actually say to her.

"Hello, Tifa! How was your day?"

Chuckling, Cloud would parrot her, and she would respond, telling him about her day, the customers and Marlene's mischievousness. There were variations on what she would say, depending on her mood.

"Hi there, Tifa! Sorry I'm out so late. Do you want me to pick anything up on the way home?"

That one had him detouring for baked goods at strange hours of the night. It added an hour onto his travel time to find a shop that still had sweet rolls. Tifa's surprised smile when he gave them to her had been worth it though, even sweeter than their frosting. The way she kissed him, inarguably so.

She had surprised him more than once too. One unforgettable time, she had responded to his perfunctory greeting in a slightly breathless tone that had Cloud sweating despite the chilly night.

"Tifa is that you? I've missed you. What are you wearing right now?"

They had both laughed at that one. But Cloud had never made better time getting home.

On cue, his phone chirped. Cloud fumbled for it in his pocket, eager to hear Tifa's voice. He answered the call, steering one-handedly.

"Yes?"

Silence.

"Tifa?"

Another pause. An answer came, but it was not their usual banter that Cloud had come to expect.

"Cloud."

It was only one word, but it was enough for his heart to drop through his stomach. Something was wrong. He could hear it in her voice.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Cloud heard the hesitation, could practically see Tifa biting her lip and twisting her hands together.

"You almost home?"

Why did he take that last delivery? He would be minutes away if he had not. No, he would already be home. This conversation would not be happening. Cloud ignored Tifa's question, just as Tifa had deflected his.

"Tell me what's wrong."

The tires of his bike squeaked as he took a turn too sharply. He could make it home in twenty minutes. He had done it before.

"Marlene and I are both okay."

There was a straight stretch of road ahead and Cloud hit the gas, testing the limits of the motorcycle's modifications. He was done with the partial answers and balking.

"Tifa, just tell me what happened."

There was a tone to his voice that was unrecognizable to Cloud. It was forceful, so different from how he usually spoke to her. But he needed to know, before his mind conjured up worse possibilities.

"Um," Tifa hesitated. "We had another break-in."

Break-ins happened sometimes.

Edge was their home. They had helped build much of their neighborhood, from the ground up using scraps. The people in Edge had very little. At times, Tifa struggled to keep the bar running when weeks went by without anyone giving actual payment for food and drink. But they were a community. They helped each other out.

Seventh Heaven was well-loved and cherished, a favorite. Cloud liked to think his brooding presence scared off the riffraff, but truth be told it was a rare day that either Cloud or Tifa had to intervene and throw out a customer. The regulars took care of it.

But break-ins happened. Times were hard and people got desperate. Usually, it was just someone passing through, taking a chance. Many people had been displaced in the aftermath of Meteor and migrated toward Midgar, hopeful for a job, anything.

Tifa kept her more expensive items padlocked in a cupboard. They had yet to be breached. But the fridge in the bar was unsecured and there were always partially empty bottles out and accessible. For the most part there was little sign of the break-ins other than a broken latch on the front door, empty bottles, a mess left behind.

Cloud got angry at first. He wanted to double the locks on the door, triple them if he had to. He wanted to chase the intruders down. Make sure they knew better than to try it again.

Tifa had calmed him down. People were hungry. Seventh Heaven had food. The three of them, Cloud, Tifa, and Marlene – they were lucky. They had each other, a roof over their heads, food every night. Business was bustling even if their customers could not always pay in cash. An occasional break-in would not set them back.

Besides, Tifa was used to it. It had happened on occasion at the old Seventh Heaven. You wiped the counters, swept the floors, and opened like usual. It was nothing to get worked up about.

In any case, the living area of the building was separated from the bar. If there was a break-in, they usually slept through it and just woke in the morning to a bit of a mess. The only time they woke up, the intruders scattered immediately.

This felt different.

"I'm on my way."

Cloud hung up on Tifa, needing to concentrate on the road. Twenty minutes? He could make it in fifteen.

The private entrance to the house was in an alleyway, through the garage. When Cloud pulled up to it, he knew right away that this was where the break-in had happened. The outer door was bent, its lock breached.

Cloud parked on the street, entering the garage through the mangled door.

Immediately, the smell assaulted Cloud. There was glass on the floor. Broken bottles of Corel wine, some of it spilled and sticky on the ground. But the smell was more than that. Something acrid. It burned Cloud's nose and turned his stomach.

It was urine. The bastards had pissed on the floor.

He pictured Tifa, hair pulled back, carefully sweeping out the garage like she did every weekend. Marlene helpfully holding a dustpan. Tifa was diligent about the cleanliness of Seventh Heaven, cautious to avoid rodents. And besides, it was her pride and joy.

There was a terrible buzzing in Cloud's ears, a hot fury robbing him of rational thought. He needed to see Tifa.

Cloud burst through the door to the house, which was hanging haphazardly on its hinges. It would likely need to be replaced entirely. He moved through the laundry room and into the living area.

Tifa was there, cleaning up something on the floor. There was a dent in the wall at the bottom of the stairs, as if someone had been fallen down them and slammed against it. A fine dust of plaster covered the floor. She turned when she heard him enter, putting a finger to her lips.

"Marlene is sleeping. It took me forever to get her to settle down."

The sight of her stopped him cold.

Her hair was wet, braided away from her face. She must have taken a shower. Her left cheek bone was red, a bruise rising on its curve. Tifa's bottom lip was swollen too, split and crusted with dried blood. A ring of darkened skin circled her upper arm, like someone had grabbed her.

Cloud fumbled with the satchel at his waist. He always kept a potion close to him when he traveled, in case of emergencies. Unexpected ambushes by monsters, accidents on his bike.

"It's not necessary, Cloud. Really," Tifa said, putting a hand out to stop him. "Just scrapes and bruises."

The world was going through a time of scarcity. So unlike the days when they had more potions and supplies than they needed. Once, Yuffie had tried to cure a bug bite with an elixir. Now, they carefully stockpiled their supplies, saving them for when they were most needed.

He knew Tifa was right. She would heal on her own. It was nothing, nothing compared to the battle wounds they used to take regularly. It still filled Cloud with an unfamiliar, helpless rage. Precious as it was, he wanted to chuck the potion against the wall. He put it away instead.

He noticed her hands. Her knuckles were wrapped with white bandages, a hint of blood seeping through.

"Why weren't you wearing your gloves?"

Tifa was exasperated. "Cloud, I hardly sleep wearing–"

"What happened?"

The harshness of his own voice interrupting Tifa jarred him. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, tucking the bandages out of sight.

"I fell asleep with Marlene, in her room," she said quietly. "I meant to wait up for you. But I was reading with her. I only closed my eyes for a second."

She shook her head.

"I didn't hear them break into the garage. I don't know how long they were there. But I woke up when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I knew it wasn't you."

Cloud had seen the supply cabinet in the garage – the men had taken plenty. If they were looking for food or more alcohol, they could have raided the bar. But they had not found what they were looking for there. They had gone into their home. Up the stairs.

"How many were there? Where are they now?"

"Three," Tifa said. "And I'm not sure. They ran."

Cloud's arm was twitching, hand opening and closing. He wanted to feel the heft of his sword in it. The satisfying yield of flesh under its edge.

"You let them go?" he managed.

Tifa gave him a cool look. "What did you expect me to do, Cloud? Commit murder in front of Marlene? Chase them down into the streets, leaving her alone in the house?"

Yes. Yes. He wanted to scream it at her.

"Anyways, one of the neighbors heard the commotion. They sent Gordy over. He rallied the neighborhood watch. They're out looking for them now. He said he would send Junior over to keep watch until morning and help clean up."

There was not much to law enforcement in Edge. Or law, for that matter. As with the construction of Edge, the citizens took things into their own hands, unable to wait for the government to recover and do something. Several reasonably functioning neighborhood watches had formed across Edge.

Gordy headed the neighborhood watch in their area. He was a regular at the bar, a gruff war veteran. Gordy was one of those old men with a solid belly that seemed to be filled with air. Despite his age and stomach, he was strong. He was partial to challenging other patrons at Seventh Heaven to arm wrestle. Cloud had declined to participate.

On principle, Gordy was not especially impressed by Cloud. Cloud tolerated him, though, because he doted on Tifa. If Gordy was sitting at the bar, Cloud knew he did not have to worry about any trouble for her. Tifa would get annoyed at Cloud if he glared too much at customers, but Gordy got away with it because he was a customer himself. No fights were started and no passes were made at Tifa when Gordy was around.

Junior was Gordy's grandson. He was a tall, gangly teen around Yuffie's age. He was named after his grandfather – they were actually Gordon and Gordon, though nobody called them that – but they could not be more different. Junior was thin whereas Gordy was stout and Junior was softspoken in contrast to his grandfather's brashness.

But, like Gordy, he adored Tifa. Her cooking, in particular. Tifa had once said Junior reminded her of Wedge and Cloud had been befuddled by the comparison, given Junior's skinny frame. Then he saw him eat.

Despite his youth and frame, Junior was also part of the neighborhood watch. He could handle himself around a gun.

"Good. I'll join them. As soon as Junior gets here."

Tifa flinched at Cloud's words. Her face was stunned.

"What?" she said. "Just stay here, Cloud."

Impossible. To stay here and do nothing while Tifa stood there, paler than usual, bruised and bloodied. A look in her eyes pleading him to – what? To do something, but he did not know what. The house was so quiet. To stay was impossible. He had to go out. He had to do something. He faintly registered that Tifa was still talking.

"Believe me, I handled it. They were nothing. They could barely fight. There's not much left to do to them."

The anger was rising in Cloud again. So much of it and nowhere for it to go.

"If you had it taken care of, then why'd you even call?"

The words burst out of him. They were harsh, ugly. He was not sure where they came from. Cloud wanted to suck them back into his mouth. He was spiraling, out of control.

He took a deep breath, on the verge of apologizing, when Tifa's eyes went hard.

"Maybe I won't next time," she said.

There was an angry twist to her mouth. Her lip started bleeding again. The sight of it drove Cloud mad. He had to say something, anything to distract himself from it.

"I told you the back door wasn't secure enough."

"So, it's my fault?"

Tifa's tone was astonished.

"How could you be so- so-"

Words sprung to Cloud's head. All of them unlike Tifa. Irresponsible. Careless. Stupid.

He imagined Tifa, night after night, diligently shutting the pantry that held the best of her supplies. Bottles of wine or liquor from before, that were now a rarity. Ingredients Cloud had traveled long, perilous routes to secure for her. In his mind, he saw her padlocking it. Securing it with lock and key.

What was the point of it all when someone could just break in and hurt Tifa and Marlene while they were sleeping? Cloud would smash every bottle. Ground the precious ingredients into the dirt. Anything to exchange their safety for Tifa and Marlene's.

Fury blinded Cloud. His hands opened and closed, reaching for enemies that were not there. He needed to do something. He needed to fight. But nobody was there. Only Tifa. Watching him with a mixture of hurt and anger in her eyes.

"How could I be so what, Cloud?"

Tifa challenged him to finish his earlier sentence. Cloud shook his head. Even as out of control as he felt, Cloud was not enough of an idiot to take the bait.

"I should have just installed the extra locks," he said, ignoring the question.

"You can install all the locks in the world," Tifa replied. "It won't stop bad things from happening."

"It might have stopped this," Cloud snapped.

"Bad things happen, Cloud!"

Tifa's voice broke. Her face was working hard to control its emotions. Was she close to yelling or crying? Cloud could not tell. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked so hurt and vulnerable and beautiful and – why had she insisted all the other break-ins were nothing?

Cloud's muscles were so tense, he felt he might snap in half. His fear from when Tifa had called and his rage from the moment he smelled piss in the garage, all of it grabbed hold of him. Someone had been in their home while Tifa was sleeping. They had hit her. In her face. Grabbed her arm hard enough to bruise it.

I should have been there. It never should have happened. You shouldn't have been hurt!

The words were rising in Cloud's throat like vomit.

What if you hadn't heard them? What if you hadn't woken up?

He had never yelled at Tifa before in his life, never even raised his voice at her. It was unimaginable. But he could feel it coming now, it was going to happen. He would hate himself for it, he would never forgive–

"Um. Knock, knock?"

Cloud whipped around. Junior flinched, his hands held up defensively.

"Um," he said again, shrinking under Cloud's glare. "Gramps sent me over?"

"Where is he?" Cloud demanded.

Junior looked warily over at Tifa, but her head was turned away from both of them, determinedly staring at the dent in the wall as if it required all of her attention.

"He's at home. I mean, uh, headquarters?" Junior stuttered.

Cloud stepped toward Junior. He was shorter by at least two inches, but with Junior's uncertain slouch, they were the same height.

"You have your gun?" Cloud asked.

Junior straightened his shoulders. "Of course."

"Stay in the living room," Cloud directed. "You can keep an eye on both entrances from here. I'm going back out."

Perhaps for the first time since he had known him, Junior looked Cloud in the eyes and nodded seriously. He stood taller than him now.

Tifa cleared her throat.

"It sounds like all the important decisions are taken care of," she said.

Her voice was acerbic. Both men turned to face her. She interlaced her fingers, stretching her arms in their direction and cracking her knuckles. Despite the bandages on them, she did not wince.

"I'm going to bed," Tifa announced. "I wish you both the best of luck warding off and chasing down some drunkards with broken ribs, concussions, and shattered kneecaps."

Tifa flicked her braid over her shoulder and went back upstairs. She did not look back. Despite her clear irritation, her footsteps were quiet, conscious of the sleeping child upstairs.

Cloud watched her go. The relentless tension in his body had not eased. He nodded at Junior without looking away from the stairs, now empty.

"Keep watch," he said shortly.

He left.

The cool night air on the streets of Edge was soothing, but not nearly enough. Cloud rode quickly and recklessly on Fenrir, unbothered by the risk. He did not need to be careful on these streets. He helped build them.

It did not take him long to reach Gordy's building. He parked his bike outside and entered without knocking. The door slammed shut behind him.

Gordy was alone in the sparsely furnished room, sitting at a table crowded with radios, old maps, trash, and half-filled cups. He did not react to Cloud's dramatic entrance, other than to cock an eyebrow. Gordy was slouched in his chair, a transmitter hanging from one relaxed hand.

"What are you doing?"

The question left Cloud in a bark. Gordy's relaxed state was so incongruous to his own tension that he could barely comprehend it.

"What am I doing?" Gordy drawled. "The hell are you doing?"

Cloud shook his retort off. "Where are they? Who were they?"

The look Gordy gave him was strange.

"Who were they?" he repeated. "They were no one. Nobodies. Some low lives who thought they might take advantage of a woman and child home by themselves."

He chuckled darkly.

"Guess they learned their lesson, huh?"

Cloud paced back and forth in the small room, unamused.

"Where are they?" he asked again.

Gordy shrugged. "They're gone."

"Gone?"

"Gone," Gordy confirmed. "They jacked a car, left town. From the looks of it, they won't get far. One of them had to be carried. Your girl really did a number on them."

He laughed again.

"That's our Tifa, huh?"

Cloud was unmoved by Gordy's light tone. It chafed his nerves, stoked his fury.

"So you just let them go then?" he accused.

Gordy gave him a mild look.

"Like I said, they're in bad shape. Where will they go?" He held up the transmitter. "I radioed over to the watch in Kalm and Junon. They'll keep an eye out. If they make it, that is."

Cloud could not stop moving. He continued pacing, fists opening and closing. How could they just be gone? How could there really be nothing left to do? And how could Gordy just sit there unbothered? Had he even seen the state of Seven Heaven? Of Tifa?

He did not look at him, but he felt Gordy's eyes tracking him.

"Surprised to see you here, though. Tifa seemed really shaken up by it all, you know what I'm saying? Never seen her like that."

There was a scolding in Gordy's voice, a note of judgment.

"I offered to stay, but she said she would be fine. That'd you be home soon," Gordy continued. "The hell are you doing here, then?"

The words hit Cloud like a slap across the face.

What exactly was he doing here, standing across from a potbellied old man he did not particularly like? While Tifa was home by herself with Marlene, hurt. Being guarded by a scrawny kid who was out past his bedtime.

It dawned on him that that he had done everything wrong from the moment Tifa called him. There was no danger here. Tifa and Marlene were safe from the second Tifa had opened her eyes and formed a fist. Tifa did not need him to hunt anyone down or rescue her.

But she had been hurt and upset. She had wanted him there. And Cloud had left. Worse, he had been angry with her. He had argued with her, nearly yelled at her.

There is no danger. Cloud repeated it to himself. He knew it.

But his body could not accept it. He saw the bruises on Tifa's cheek and arm. Blood dripping from her lip, seeping through the bandages on her hands.

And there was more blood, so much of it. On his gloved hand as he knelt next to a prone body on a grated metal floor, a cowboy hat discarded nearby. Flung at his face from a silver blade. Staining and pooling beneath a pink dress. Dripping down the face of a friend, into spiky black hair, mixing with the rain. All he saw was blood. And failure.

Cloud was breathing hard. He had stopped his pacing. His body was frozen. He could hear his heart beating in his ears – fast, too fast.

"Whoa, hey."

Gordy's voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

"Easy, son."

There was a strong hand on the back of Cloud's neck and just behind his elbow. He found himself shoved into a chair, his head shoved down between his knees.

"Just breath for a minute, alright?"

Cloud tried to obey the voice. His mind struggled to focus on it, returning instead to the worst things. Tifa hurt, Tifa dying. Aerith. Zack.

"Bite this."

Something hovered near his mouth. He reared his head back, but the hand behind his neck held him firmly.

"Do it, alright? It's just a lemon." Gordy voice was firm, but kinder than it usually was when he addressed Cloud. "A shock to the system can help."

Cloud bit the lemon wedge. He imagined it was from one of the discarded drinks and tried not to think how long it had been there. But it tasted like a lemon should – sour and sharp. It puckered his mouth. For at least a split second, its sourness was all he could think of.

"That's it, son."

He managed to focus on Gordy's voice.

"There's no fight here," he was saying. "You know that, don't you?

Cloud breathed. Though ragged, his breathing began to slow. His skin felt clammy, a sheen of cold sweat on it. As the tension released from his muscles, his limbs trembled. He put his elbows on his knees and lifted his head up, holding it between his hands.

He could feel Gordy watching him, but he did not look up. When Gordy spoke again, his voice was slow and careful.

"We've all been there, you know. You come home, but your mind and body are still at war. Part of you never quite makes it back."

A chair creaked as Gordy's weight settled into it.

"But you gotta work through it," Gordy said. "I couldn't. It destroyed my life, ruined my marriage. Don't make my mistakes."

"Tifa and I aren't married," Cloud mumbled.

"I noticed," Gordy replied dryly.

The usual disappointed tone he used with Cloud had returned.

"My little girl still has a hard time talking to me, after all I put her mother through," Gordy continued. "Named my grandson after me, though. That's gotta mean something, right?"

Cloud did not respond. He sensed that Gordy was just rambling now, trying to distract him. It was working. Cloud managed a full, deep breath. Perhaps his first since he had picked up the phone and heard Tifa's voice. When he released it, he felt tired.

"I should go home," he said.

He stood up. Gordy followed his movements with cagey eyes.

"Don't you go back there unless you're good, you hear me?"

Gordy's voice was hard, a warning. Cloud nodded.

"Fine then," Gordy said. "I'll come by in the morning with some folks to help clean up. Don't let Tifa beat me to it, okay? She shouldn't have to deal with that."

Again, Cloud nodded. He walked out the door.

He rode slower this time, breathing in the cool night air. It dried the sweat from his skin. The sounds and sights of Edge at night were familiar. Cloud let them sooth him. He was beginning to feel almost normal again.

When he arrived back at Seventh Heaven, he parked Fenrir out front. Truly, their neighborhood was safe. Cloud knew that. The precautions they took to safeguard themselves and their belongings were just that – precautions. Most days, he could park his bike on the street, and nobody would even think to bother with it. Tifa could forget to lock all the doors to the bar, and nothing would happen.

What happened tonight had been a blip. To Cloud, it was still an unacceptable one.

Cloud entered through the front entrance, unable to face the garage again. He called out to Junior as he opened the door, mindful that the young man was likely taking his guard duty quite seriously. Cloud had no intention of getting shot in his own home.

As Cloud had rightly guessed, Junior was in the living room, gun in hand. He gave Cloud a business-like nod. For once, Cloud could see Junior's resemblance to Gordy. There was a sturdiness to the kid Cloud had never before noticed.

"You can head home, if you want," Cloud told him.

Junior shook his head. "Nah, I told Gramps I'd stay the night."

His voice sounded deeper, more mature. But then, he looked hopefully toward the bar area.

"Do you think Tifa might make those pancakes in the morning?" he asked. "You know, the savory ones that are kind of crispy?"

Cloud imagined that Tifa would. Tomorrow was Saturday. Tifa loved a slow Saturday morning. She would often get up early, forgoing the opportunity to sleep in, just to prolong the morning. They would all stay in pajamas well past noon.

And Tifa would cook. Eggs. Potatoes. Pancakes. Marlene liked the fluffy ones. But, like Junior, Cloud liked the savory ones. They were his favorite, which meant Tifa would definitely be making them tomorrow.

Cloud tried not to feel resentful at the idea of having to share the morning, and the pancakes, with Junior. He reminded himself that Junior had been keeping watch over his home, over Tifa and Marlene, while Cloud had taken to the streets like a rabid fool.

"Probably," he replied.

He left Junior in the living room and headed upstairs. Cloud avoided the sight of the dented dry wall, the shattered picture frame hanging askew.

Cloud needed to shower and change, to clean up from being on the road. But he needed to see Tifa first. Just see her. He carefully opened the bedroom door.

The bedroom was dark. It smelled like laundry soap and Tifa. If Cloud could bottle the smell, he would. He was still adjusting to the quiet intimacy of sharing a room with Tifa. It shook him every time. The sight of her soft bare skin as she changed for bed. The sleepy way she smiled at him when she woke up in the morning.

Tifa was in bed, her back facing him. Marlene was in bed next to her. Her tiny limbs were splayed, a leg flung across Tifa's torso. Cloud knelt by the bed, next to Tifa. He could tell, even without seeing her face, that she was still awake.

Just so, Tifa turned over in bed towards him. The cautious look in her eyes hit Cloud like a knife to his gut. He lifted a hand to her cheek, skimming his fingers over the bruise. Smoothed stray hairs back into her braid.

The wariness left her eyes. Something else replaced it, a vulnerability that she had been hiding, tucked away from Cloud's anger. Her lower lip trembled. She had been scared too. Just as upset as Cloud had been that the sanctity of their home had been violated.

Cloud kicked off his boots and Tifa shifted for him. He climbed into bed fully clothed, over the covers. Tifa tucked herself into his side and sighed deeply. The feel of her released something in Cloud – a knot of tension and anger and fear that had twisted and pulled in his chest from the moment she said his name in that heart-dropping tone over the phone.

It did not take long for Tifa to drift off, her head nestled in the space between Cloud's neck and shoulder. But Cloud stayed awake for a long time.

He imagined a different world. A world in which he had come home and simply opened his arms. He thought of all the things that he might have said and done differently. I'm so glad you're alright. He might have held her, kissed her knuckles through the bandages.

Cloud was holding Tifa now, but it felt like too little, too late. This night, the way Cloud had reacted, confirmed something to him. Something that he had been fearing.

He was defective. Not meant for this life, undeserving of it. Tifa and Marlene slept so soundly. Trusting in the safety of their home, even despite what had happened. They were soft, exposed. Being there for them required a strength that Cloud was not sure that he had.

Cloud's strength had failed so many times before. He tried not to think about Aerith. She had felt soft in his arms too when he had held her fallen body. When he had failed her in the worst possible way. Bad things happen, Cloud. Tifa's frustrated words from earlier came back to him.

But not to you, he thought. He pressed his lips against Tifa's forehead. She shifted against him in her sleep, settling in closer. Never to you.

In the morning, Cloud would try to do better. He would call Barret for her and fill him in on what happened. Barret was almost guaranteed to start yelling when he got scared. Tifa did not need any more of that.

He would help Junior and the others clean up. The people of Edge were resourceful, efficient. Their home would be back in order before lunchtime.

Cloud would try to get himself in order too. He would make it home before dark for the next few days. He would be especially gentle with Tifa. Perhaps he would even find the right words to say to her. Something beyond I'm sorry.

But he would, inarguably, be installing extra locks on the doors.