Cloud awoke to a splitting headache and a vague sense of anxiety. He was lying facedown. He recognized the hatched fabric of Cid and Shera's sofa. He rubbed his face, feeling the bumpy imprint of the pattern on his cheek. Strange, he thought. He usually slept in the guest bedroom. Cloud's eyes felt crusty. He rubbed them blearily, trying to orient himself.

He was fully dressed, other than his shoes and socks. Along with his pounding head, there was a sour taste in his mouth. Blinking, he made eye contact with a small plastic waste bin situated next to his head. An untouched glass of water was on the coffee table behind it.

Cloud groaned as flashes of the previous night came back to him. He saw Cid's laughing face. Recalled, stomach roiling, the burn of liquor hitting his throat. Had he been on the floor at some point? He remembered in bits and pieces himself talking. Talking quite a lot, actually. He groaned again. What exactly had he said?

The details were fuzzy, but one unifying thread stood clear. Cloud rolled to his back, covering his face. Tifa. He had definitely been talking about Tifa.

Tifa!

A jolt of panic cut through the nausea in his stomach. He had gone to bed without calling last night. At least he did not remember calling. And he was supposed to get an early start this morning. What time was it?

Cloud jumped to his feet. He immediately regretted it. The room swam. He nearly grabbed for the waste basket that he had been so relieved to find empty moments prior. Luckily, the moment passed. He patted his pants pockets. No cell phone. Where had he last seen it? He staggered toward the kitchen.

Although the curtains had been tightly drawn in the living room, the kitchen was bright with morning light. Cloud winced, squinting in the doorway. He was greeted with a muffled giggle. Shera was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, hand covering her smile. She was bright-eyed, fully dressed and ready for the day.

Cloud was suddenly aware of his rumpled state. His clothes were a wrinkled mess from sleeping in them. He could barely open his eyes all the way. His hair, he could not begin to imagine. And he was fairly certain he reeked.

He scratched his head awkwardly, stopping when he realized he was likely not improving the state of his hair.

"I uh –" Cloud stuttered.

Shera held up a cellphone, grinning. "Looking for this?"

He nodded stupidly. Shera placed it on the table in front of her, then got up and pulled out a chair. She turned toward the counter and started bustling around.

"Come sit," she directed. "I'll make you some toast and coffee."

Cloud did not especially want to. He wanted to grab his phone and flee. He had a sudden hazy memory, though, of Shera helping him unlace and remove his boots the night before. Shera patting his head and placing a wastebasket next to his face, as if he were an overgrown toddler with a tummy ache. He owed her. Cloud cringed and complied with her request. He resisted the urge to hide his face on the table.

He stared at his cellphone in front of him but made no move to pick it up. He jumped when a glass of water appeared next to it. Shera met his eyes when he looked up and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Drink this one, would you?"

Cloud took a sip. Satisfied, Shera turned her back to him again.

"I talked to Tifa last night," Shera said casually.

Cloud choked on the water. "You did?"

Shera did not turn around, but Cloud felt like she was laughing at him. This time he did rest his face on the table. He moved the glass of water against his forehead. It helped, a little.

"Did I talk to Tifa?"

Typically, it might have hurt his pride to ask, but at the moment, he did not have any left.

"You did not," Shera confirmed.

She was definitely laughing at him.

"I figured it was for the best," she said.

Cloud listened to Shera bustling around for a moment. The bubbling of the coffeemaker. The toaster lever clicking down. The clink of a plate on the counter. She did not elaborate. She was going to make him ask.

"Was she, uh –" Cloud stopped and tried again. "What did you, um. Talk about?"

"Oh, you know," Shera said breezily. "I told her you couldn't come to the phone at the moment. Due to being fall-down drunk and all."

Cloud lifted his head, gaping at her. She continued.

"I told her you were quite busy trying to stay upright in your chair and that I hoped you wouldn't fall out of it again because it was really difficult getting you off the floor the first time."

Shera looked over her shoulder at him. Her smile let him know right away that she was only teasing. Cloud put his head back down on the table. He was used to this level of ribbing from Yuffie. Usually from Barret and Cid as well. But it was unexpected coming from Shera. Cloud supposed he deserved it.

He must have looked especially pathetic, though, because unlike his other friends, Shera took pity on him and relented. She placed his coffee and toast next to his head carefully and patted him on the shoulder. When he looked up, she was sitting across from him with a kind look on her face.

"I only said that you and Cid overdid it a bit," she explained. "And that you would give her a call in the morning."

Cloud nodded and picked up a triangle of toast. He stared at it miserably, wondering if eating would make him feel better or worse.

"She wasn't angry with you," Shera said, voice gentle.

She pushed his plate toward him and nodded encouragingly, motioning for him to eat. He took a tiny nibble of toast. Cloud was reminded, embarrassingly, of Tifa comforting the children after they had broken something they should not have been roughhousing around. It was a common occurrence in their home. Tifa always encouraged them to make colorful cards when they could not find the right words to apologize. Cloud's desk was full of them.

Cloud wondered if Cid and Shera had any crayons. Perhaps he might still be just a little drunk. He took a bigger bite of toast.

"You still might want to sound apologetic when you call her," Shera suggested. "She was worried, I think, when she didn't hear from you last night."

Cloud grimaced. Of course she was. He would have preferred angry to worried. He frowned into his cup of coffee, wanting the caffeine but uncertain if his stomach was ready. He would need the boost before facing Tifa.

"Cid told me to stop apologizing so much," Cloud mumbled.

Shera harrumphed. "Oh he did, did he? And did he say why?"

Despite the holes in his memory, Cloud recalled that Cid had said why. He was not, however, going to repeat it to Shera.

"He said women don't like it," Cloud paraphrased.

"Hmm," Shera said neutrally. "I didn't realize I was married to such an expert on women's likes and dislikes."

Cloud looked up curiously. "You don't agree?"

Shera took a few sips of her tea as she considered the question.

"It depends," she said finally. "On what you did."

She gave Cloud an expectant look. Cloud sighed, shoulders slumping. He took a sip a coffee, feeling emboldened when his stomach did not revolt.

"Cid didn't tell you?" he asked.

Shera shook her head, eyes rolling. "He kept citing 'bro code' to me."

Cloud was not sure what "bro code" covered, but he hoped it applied to him falling out of his chair. And to whatever had poured out of him once Cid got him talking. To Cloud's displeasure, his monologue about Tifa was coming back to him in bits and pieces. He remembered, though, that Shera had also witnessed most of the previous evening. He assumed by her eye roll that she did not adhere to "bro code."

Figuring his status could not sink much lower in Shera's eyes after what she had witnessed, Cloud gave her the shorter version of what he had told Cid. Shera listened attentively, her face neither accusatory nor sympathetic. It was getting easier, Cloud realized, to talk about it.

When he finished, Shera's face was thoughtful. She got up to top off Cloud's coffee and sat back down, hand resting in her chin.

"Well, that's what I did," Cloud finished meekly. "It's not great."

"It's not great," Shera agreed.

"So?" Cloud asked. "You think I should apologize more? Less? Cid suggested gifts. And compliments."

Shera sighed.

"Well, it sounds like you've apologized plenty," she conceded. "And Tifa loves you."

Cloud's head jerked up at her matter-of-fact tone.

"Do not look surprised at that."

Shera gave him a look, stern for the first time that morning.

"She loves you," Shera continued. "And it sounds like she understands and has forgiven you. But, you know, understanding and forgiving doesn't mean she still isn't hurting."

Shera's voice was gentle, but her words were still difficult to hear. Cloud nodded, gripping his coffee mug. He took another sip. Shera kept going.

"Healing isn't linear. Some days are harder than others. Besides, with the whole crying incident, it sounds like she might just need time."

At crying incident Cloud swallowed a gulp of coffee that was far too large. He tried to reign in a coughing fit.

"Cid told you about that?" he managed. "What about the whole 'bro code' thing?"

Shera was smiling again.

"Well, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it, so he asked me what I thought. And besides, Cid gets loose-lipped when he drinks. I'm sure he would have kept your confidence if you two hadn't drank almost that entire bottle."

Loose-lipped. Cloud filed that bit of information away for future reference. Embarrassed but still desperate for advice, he looked at Shera questioningly.

"What do you think then?" he asked.

Shera shrugged and swirled more sugar into her tea with a spoon. Unlike Cloud, she seemed entirely comfortable with the topic of conversation.

"It depends, I suppose," she said. "Does Tifa often cry after sex?"

Cloud was glad she had not caught him mid-sip this time because he might have actually spat out his coffee. Shera blinked at him calmy from behind her glasses. Even when he had seen her in a lab, Shera had never looked quite so much like a scientist as she did in that moment. Cloud tried to match her nonchalance, hoping he was not blushing.

"Well, uh, no she- um. We're um. Usually both pretty happy? After uh. Um, you know."

He sounded like an idiot. Cloud resisted the urge to zip his turtleneck up over his face, which he assumed was quite red. Shera was undeterred.

"I meant does she often get emotional after," she clarified.

Cloud considered the question. More often than not, Tifa smiled. Laughed even. What they had together was joyful. Perhaps she had gotten teary eyed on occasion. But what had gripped Tifa the last time they made love was wrenched up from a deep, dark place. It had scared Cloud. It had hurt Cloud, to see her hurting and not know how to make it stop.

He shook his head. "I've never seen her like that."

"Never?" Shera probed.

"Almost never," Cloud amended.

Shera waited patiently as Cloud gazed into his cup of coffee. He had seen Tifa cry like that maybe twice in his life. Once, after the plate had fallen in Sector Seven and they had lost Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge. And again, after Meteor when the team visited Aerith's resting place. Tifa had cried almost as if –

"She cried like someone had died," he told Shera.

She nodded. Although this felt like a revelation to Cloud, Shera did not seem surprised. She gave Cloud a meaningful look. He returned it with a blank one. Shera sighed.

"You almost died, Cloud!" she said. "From Geostigma? And you were shot?"

Cloud shook his head. "I didn't die, though."

Shera's glasses magnified the disappointed look in her eyes.

"Have you thought about how you would feel?" she asked, pointblank. "If you found out Tifa were hiding an incurable disease from you? That she might have suffered and died – alone."

Cloud turned his face away. He had not thought about it. He could not bear to think of it. Tifa, dying. Hurt. Alone. Him, helpless to stop it or comfort her.

A gentle squeeze to his arm snapped him out of his reverie. The look on Shera's face was all too knowing. She gave him one more pat then released his arm. Shera leaned back in her chair with her teacup, gazing past Cloud. Her own face was contemplative now.

"It wasn't easy for us, either, you know," she said softly.

She held her teacup with one hand, rubbing the back of it with her other. Cloud had forgotten, for a moment, that she had Geostigma as well. For what might have been the thousandth time in the past twenty-four hours, he felt like an idiot.

"You didn't run, though. Neither did Cid."

Shera shrugged.

"You don't have to leave home to run away from something you're afraid to face," she explained.

Cloud nodded. He knew that. Of course he did. He had started running from Tifa and the kids long before he walked out the door. It had terrified him, how happy they made him, but how fragile that happiness was. The thought of them suffering, of him being too weak to prevent it or being the cause of it, was unbearable. So, he pulled away.

"Cid couldn't face it at first," Shera continued. "Seeing me sick. Facing the possibility that I might die."

"I couldn't either," Cloud said. "I can't. I –"

He stopped, words suddenly escaping him. He thought about what Shera had said before, about how he would feel if it had been Tifa in his place. How could such a thing be borne? He would not survive it.

But Tifa had.

When Shera spoke again, her voice was gentle, but firm.

"You could. Or at least, you better figure out how."

Cloud nodded. "I'm trying."

He was. Losing Zack and Aerith had almost destroyed him. He left rather than face the possibility of experiencing that pain again. Aerith had once described life and death as two sides of the same coin. If Cloud wanted to truly cherish life, he had to accept its fragility. He would not always be able to protect Tifa and the children. But he could be there for them. He could love them, even knowing he might someday lose them.

He only wished it were not so terrifying.

"How did you get through it?" he asked Shera. "You and Cid?"

Shera stared off into the kitchen over her teacup, lost in thought.

"It brought us closer in the end, really," she mused. "Talking about it helped."

Cloud hung his head. "Tifa and I aren't so good at that part."

It was true. Cloud had always been awkward with words. Tifa, less so, except when it came to herself. She worried about everyone else's feelings, but she held her own close to her heart. The two of them had gotten better over the years, but Cloud feared the silence growing between them again.

"You can work at it," Shera encouraged. "Cid and I did."

"How?"

"Well, at first, we made a lot of mistakes. Cid was stoic about me being sick. And I tried to keep taking care of him, instead of letting him take care of me. Then he would get angry."

It sounded terrible to Cloud, but Shera was smiling. She kept going.

"But then, he told me one day how scared he was. And that changed everything."

Cloud was dubious. "That's it? That fixed it?"

"Not right away," Shera clarified. "But it helped. I told him I was scared too. It brought us closer, to realize we were both afraid."

She shook her head ruefully.

"We were together, but both of us were holding back how we were feeling to protect the other. I thought I had to be strong for him, and he thought he had to be strong for me. But really, we needed to feel our pain together."

Cloud was still catching up.

"You can just do that?" he asked. "Say what you're feeling?"

"I never said it was easy. But if one person does it, it makes it easier for the other."

Cloud finished the last sip of his coffee. He realized his head felt clear for the first time that morning. It was not just the hangover. He felt, perhaps, that he might be close to understanding what had been going wrong between Tifa and him. He set his mug down.

"So, Cid was right," Cloud said.

"Huh?"

"About apologizing. Tifa doesn't need me to keep apologizing to her," Cloud explained.

"Oh," Shera said. "Yes, Cid was likely right about that."

Cloud nodded and stood up from the table.

"Say what you're feeling," he repeated, shaking his head. "Cid suggested gifts. That would be easier."

Shera laughed. "Well, gifts are nice too."

He nodded again, taking note. Cloud grabbed his phone off the table and offered Shera a rare smile.

"Hey, thanks," he said. "Tell Cid I said thanks too. If he ever wakes up."

Cid's snores from the other room had provided an irregular soundtrack to their conversation. They were almost as impressive as Barret's.

Shera scrambled to your feet. "You're not leaving now?!"

Cloud held up his phone.

"I need to call Tifa back," he said. "And I have a few more jobs before I can head back home."

At this point, he would not make it before the kids went to bed. But he knew Tifa would wait up for him. He had missed her the entire time he had been away. But now being away from her another moment felt intolerable. What pain had she kept locked away, just to be strong for him? Cloud would find out. He was not sure what he would say, but he had a long ride to figure it out.

He turned to leave the kitchen.

"Um."

It was only one syllable, but there was enough judgment in it to stop Cloud in his tracks. He turned back around.

"What is it?"

Shera wrinkled her nose.

"The shower is free," she said delicately. "If you wanted to use it before you go?"

Cloud stopped himself from giving his armpits a whiff. Really, he did not need to sniff test. He knew he had been sweating out last night's misjudgments all morning. But still, he was eager to get back and it seemed a waste of time.

He shrugged. "I really need to get going."

"You smell," Shera said, less delicately this time. "Like the floor of a bar. Or perhaps the floor of a men's room in a bar."

It could not have been that bad, Cloud was certain.

"I get dusty on the road anyways," he protested.

Shera arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you think Tifa wants to kiss the floor of a bar after working in one all day?"

"Seventh Heaven doesn't smell," Cloud mumbled, trying hard not to take offense.

"Oh yes," Shera teased. "I heard all about it last night. Tifa's so good at running Seventh Heaven. And she looks so pretty doing it. Should I tell you what her arms look like when she mixes a drink?"

Cloud started to reach up to scratch his head in embarrassment but rethought lifting his arm. Defeated, he lowered it slowly. Shera had made her point.

Cloud would finish his last deliveries. He would figure out just what to say to get Tifa to open up to him. He would pick up something nice, a gift, for Tifa and the kids. He would go home. He would find a way to repair the rift that had opened between Tifa and him.

But first, a shower.