Tifa does not remember letting go of Cloud. She had been holding him to her, with all the strength she had. Impossible that she might have lost her grip on him. Regardless, Tifa does not feel him. She does not feel much of anything at all.
Tifa is drowning. The sensation is not so much in her lungs, but rather all around her. Everywhere. Especially in her mind. She is drowning in emotions, voices, memories, images that must have been memories but that did not recall.
When she fell into the Lifestream before, she wondered whether she was dying. This time, she is certain of it. She had been shielded before inside of the Weapon, encased in a protective bubble, like a mother's womb. This time, she is defenseless.
It is painful, excruciating. It is wonderful, euphoric. It is overwhelming. It is more than any human body and mind are built to endure.
Tifa sees things. She sees beautiful things, terrible things, and things that she cannot make sense of. Tifa realizes though, that much of what she is seeing is her own life. The past, present, and future run together until Tifa is not sure which is which.
Some images flash across her eyes, too quickly to even process. Others are immersive, entrapping her entirely. Sometimes she sees herself as if she were watching herself in a film. Other times, she is herself, living out her life once more.
Tifa loses herself to the Lifestream entirely. She forgets that she is twenty years old, forgets everything that she has survived. All she knows are the moments that grip her, like she is caught in an inescapable current. Wave after wave hits her, pulling her in deeper.
Tifa is crouched in the dirt. She is crying. She is sad, so sad.
For days, she watched the bird nesting on her windowsill. When it flew away, there were three perfect eggs inside. Bright blue. Every morning, she woke up and raced to the window. Anticipating baby birds.
This morning the nest was gone. She had found it on the ground outside her house, its perfect, woven edges smashed. Two of the eggs were gone. One was still inside. Tifa could still save it. As carefully as she can, she picks the egg up. It is already cracked open, the teensiest most perfect baby bird curled inside. It is dead.
Wailing, she runs back into her house.
There are arms around her now. She feels warm, surrounded by softness. Safe. Her body is being rocked slowly, back and forth. A gentle hand smooths back her hair. Ah, my little Tifa. Her mother's voice soothes her, like nothing else can. They rock together, back and forth. The chair creaks beneath them. Cry all you need.
Bits and pieces of a lullaby. A soft hum. Life is fragile, and so are baby birds. You won't be able to save them all, sweet girl. A kiss, pressed to the top of her head. But it's okay to try. Tifa cries. They rock and they rock and they rock.
A burst of sunlight! It is a beautiful day, and mountains soar against a backdrop of the bluest sky with clouds that look as soft as cotton.
One, two, three! Tifa squeals with delighted laughter. Her legs kick into the air, swinging up toward the sky. She glides back to the ground, feet kicking up dirt as she lands. Again, again! She tugs at her father's hand in her left, her mother's in her right. Tifa is so happy, she could fly. And she does. Again and again.
Her feet slam to the ground and so does her heart. Tifa is in a darkened room. The room is not just dark because the curtains are drawn. There is also a dark feeling to it, a heavy pain that Tifa has not yet experienced in her young life.
My girl, my sweet girl. A hand on her cheek. It is weak, lifted effortfully from a bed. You have such a tender heart. A kind heart. The hand falls. Stay that way, my love.
The room fades away. Just as well. Tifa cannot bear to see it any longer.
Tifa is sitting up in bed. It is early. Very early, the sun only just rising. She feels strange. Weak. Her head hurts.
A strangled cry comes from the corner of the room. Her dad. He rushes over. Dad? He places his hands on her cheeks, holding her face between them. He is being unusually gentle. Dad, are you crying? Is it because of Mom? He looks like he has not slept in days.
No, pumpkin. He kisses her on the nose. I'm just so happy to see you.
Long after Tifa's parents are gone, there are friends. Friends that become like family.
Gahh! The frustrated sound comes from Barret, standing at the far end of the bar.
Seventh Heaven is quiet and empty. It is early in the morning. There is a clatter as a small hair clip falls and skitters across the ground. Marlene is sitting in front of Barret, swinging her legs as she eats her breakfast.
Tifa retrieves the clip and brings it over to Barret. Can't you just do it, Tifa? She smiles at the question, but shakes her head, giving it back to Barret. You're doing just fine, she reassures him. You just need to practice.
Barret takes the clip with a sigh and looks at Marlene's hair with grim determination. Tifa bought the hair clips for Marlene when it became abundantly clear that, not only was Barret at a loss as to what to do with a little girl's hair, there was a limit to his styling capabilities with only one hand. A ponytail or braid were out of the question, but the clips could be managed singlehandedly.
Aha! Barret's voice is triumphant. Tifa! Whaddya think? Marlene's short hair is now swept away from her face with a clip on either side. A chunk of hair is missing from the left clip and the right clip is a little too high, but they are both securely in place.
Tifa nods, beaming. You did it! Marlene, look! She holds up a serving platter with a reflective surface so Marlene can see. Her brown eyes are round as buttons as she admires herself.
Marlene is distracted from her reflection as the door to Seventh Heaven swings open and three people burst in. Please say we're not too late for breakfast! Wedge is anxious, rubbing his stomach.
Look! Marlene's shout is jubilant. Daddy did my hair!
Jessie gasps in amazement, playing up the moment. Beautiful, she declares. Stunning! Biggs raises an eyebrow. I think it's lopside–
A grunt of pain as Jessie elbows him, hard. Lovely, Biggs said quickly. I was going to say lovely! It was lopsided, but the proud smile on Barret's face as he looks at Marlene and Marlene's joy at having her father do her hair is beautiful and stunning and lovely.
Tifa thinks of her own father. How he had struggled with Tifa's long tangle of hair after her mom had died. The women in the village had shaken their heads and would occasionally pull Tifa aside to help, but not one of them ever thought to show her father how do Tifa's hair himself.
You did great, Barret. Tifa smiles at him. You're a good father. Aren't you lucky, Marlene? Marlene hoots in agreement. Barret waves off the compliment, but Tifa can tell he is pleased. Thanks, Tifa, he says. We're the ones who are lucky – to have you as our friend.
Aerith is there too. She moves through Tifa's life so quickly. Bright and beautiful, like a shooting star streaking across the sky. Even after she is gone, the afterimage of her brilliance lingers. It is a powerful presence that stays with Tifa long after Aerith is gone.
Tifa sees smile after smile, a teasing laughter that never failed to lighten the mood. Shared jokes just between the two of them. Whispered secrets, long after dark. Reassurance and words of encouragement, whenever the other needed it most.
Tifa and Aerith are walking side by side, leaving Cosmo Canyon. Tifa is nervous to go Nibelheim, but the look on Aerith's face distracts Tifa from her own emotions. She looks troubled about something.
You alright, Aerith? Tifa taps her on the arm. It startles Aerith out of her thoughts. She shakes her head as if to clear her mind of them. She shrugs. Just thinking. Tifa raises her eyebrows, waiting her out. It is more like Tifa than Aerith to deflect like this.
Finally, Aerith sighs and elaborates. I was thinking about my mother. Ifalna. Whether she would be proud of me. Tifa nods, thinking about Aerith's speech. It was a heavy burden her friend carried. As the last Cetra? Tifa asked. Aerith shook her head. No, just as me.
Immediately, Tifa takes her hand. How could she not be? Tifa exclaims. Aerith meets Tifa's eyes, and Tifa stares her down until she gets a smile.
Aerith shrugs. I guess it's more that I wonder what she'd think of me. I've always heard her voice, her wisdom guiding me, but I wonder what things would have been like between us if she had just been able to be my mom.
Tifa makes a soft sound of agreement. She understands what Aerith means. Aerith looks at Tifa curiously, tilting her head. What was your mother like, Tifa?
There is a moment of quiet as Tifa considers the question. Heading back to Nibelheim, it was easy to ruminate on the bad memories. But there were good memories too. Tifa's mother was one of them. She searched for the right words to describe her.
She was my whole world when I was little, Tifa says softly. Mom was so kind and loving. She was strong, too. I relied on her for everything. A lot of people did, actually. She always took care of everyone else. She brought out the best in people.
Aerith has a thoughtful look on her face. Tifa looks down. I also wonder what mom would think of me. If she would be proud. She tries not to think about all the things about herself that she, herself, is not proud of. All I ever wanted was to be like her, but I could never live up to it.
Now, Aerith is laughing. The sound of it startles Tifa. I'm sorry, Aerith apologies, her giggles tapering off. Oh Tifa, don't you know that you are exactly like that? Tifa shakes her head. No, she says. I'm not explaining it right. I can't really put into words how she was. I'm nothing like her. Ask Cloud, he might remember. He'll tell you.
The comment quiets Aerith. She is no longer laughing. He might surprise you, she says.
Aerith lets out a heavy, uncharacteristic sigh. Her eyes are suddenly distant and lonely. Let's talk about something else, hmm? A smile accompanies the suggestion, but it seems forced to Tifa. Aerith is sad, but Tifa is not sure why.
She turns to ask her but sees a glass window instead. Tifa is on the bridge of the Highwind. The scene before her defies reality. Burning red light and a white glow inundate the ground beneath her. Meteor. It is falling on Midgar, wreaking unfathomable destruction. Holy is failing to stop it.
But now, green light fills the bridge, covers the landscape below. It is coming from all directions. The Lifestream. In the final moments, it fights for them, for the Planet. Swirling green surround Meteor, until she can no longer see it. Tifa senses that she is witnessing a miracle.
That in itself would be enough for this to be seared into Tifa's mind as the most poignant moment of her life, but there is more. She feels something, sees something. A face she has not seen in weeks but had thought of constantly. Missed terribly.
Although she is gone, Aerith is there with them as tangibly as if she were standing by Tifa's side. Tifa feels warm, protected. Her eyes sting with tears, but she is also happy. Aerith's presence is so real that Tifa looks over, almost expecting to see her smile.
When Tifa turns her head, she no longer sees the Highwind. The Lifestream is still here though, it is all around her. For now, it is quiet. Tifa has a brief moment of conscious awareness. She feels Aerith. She is here. Not in the past, not in the future. In the present.
Aerith is in trouble. Tifa sees darkness, chaos. There is a corruption invading the Lifestream, an unstoppable surge. It is being held back by a brilliant, pure white light. But just barely. Tifa cries out. She is certain that it will not hold.
Tifa hears laughter. She would recognize it anywhere. Sephiroth. He is like a black hole, siphoning all that is good from the world and leaving only emptiness and darkness behind. His presence is wrong. He does not belong here.
Aerith is fighting it. Tifa has to help her. She needs to. Impossible to let her fight alone. Aerith! Tifa cries out the name. She wants to run toward her but does not know how.
Tifa, no! Stop. It is Aerith's voice, but Tifa cannot see her.
You can't stay here, Tifa. The warning is shouted. Desperate. Find Cloud. You have to help each other. I'll take care of things here, but you have to find –
Cloud. Of course, Cloud is also here. He is everywhere.
She sees him now. His face is so clear. He is present throughout almost her entire life, a consistent, golden thread holding it together. But no, it is not just him. The thread is them, what they share together.
Tifa and Cloud are children. They are so small, playing together.
Her feet are splashing and kicking in the chilly water of a river. Tifa giggles and shouts, flinging water up into the air with her hands. She is naked as the day she was born and giddy with the joy of it.
Cloud is seated in the water nearby. A tin bucket is nestled between his legs, pressed against his pale, round toddler belly. His blue eyes are serious as he picks out rocks to place in the bucket, entirely absorbed in his task.
Tifa splashes over to him. Above her, her mother's voice and Cloud's are a cheerful back and forth as they chatter. It is a familiar background music to their play.
The rocks inside Cloud's bucket are shiny, perfect. Tifa wants to see them more closely. She grabs for the edge of the bucket. It is heavy, but Tifa is heavier. Both Tifa and the bucket tip backwards. Cloud's careful collection of rocks tumbles back into the stream.
Tifa was not hurt by the fall, but it startled her all the same. She begins to whimper. Cloud is crying too, his head thrown back, small hands clutching the empty bucket.
The mothers move in quickly. Tifa's mother sighs as she strokes Tifa's damp hair out of her face. Claudia, I'm sorry. She's been such a handful lately. Please, tell me that three is easier than two. I guess I should be glad she didn't bite him this time.
Cloud's mother is scooping rocks back into the bucket with one hand and stroking Cloud's cheek with the other. She waves off the apology. No harm done. See, Cloud? Look at all your rocks. Tifa didn't mean to do it. Still sniffling, but calmer, Cloud reaches into his bucket to touch his mostly recovered collection.
Tifa is still crying. Her mother's hands are trying to soothe her, but Tifa does not want to be soothed. She wants to see the rocks.
Suddenly Cloud's hand in front of her. A rock is in it, but not just any rock. It is the best rock, the one that had been right on top of the bucket. It is round, shiny, smooth. Eyes wide, Tifa takes it. She looks up, smiling.
Cloud quickly retreats to his mother, hiding his face in her lap. Oh Cloud, how sweet. Tifa's mother nudges her. Say thank you, Tifa. Tifa waddles over, but Cloud will not look up. Fanks Cwoud! She runs back to her mother, splashing as she goes.
How did you get such a kind boy, Claudia? Tifa's mother asks as she scoops Tifa up, out of the water. Cloud's mother is lifting him into her arms as well, cradling his head against her. He's always been sensitive, she says. I worry for him. I want a sweet life for my sweet boy, but I'm afraid that the world won't be so kind to him.
If only they could stay little like this forever, Tifa's mother says. Safe. Would you like that, my baby, my girl? Tifa's mother nuzzles her, but she is trying to wiggle out of her arms. She is not a baby. Tifa wants to get back in the water. No! She shouts it. It is her most favorite word.
The mothers laugh. Well perhaps they'll stay close as they grow up, Cloud's mother says. Your Tifa has enough fighting spirit for the both of them, Thea!
Tifa is still outside, but it is another day. She is playing with three boys. Emilio, Lester, Taylor. They are each trying to make her laugh, but Tifa cannot. She will not laugh. It feels as though she has forgotten how.
There is an ache inside her, an emptiness. A part of her is missing. Without it, she is not sure how to be. She traces listless shapes in the dirt in front her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Tifa sees a flash of a white tee shirt and blond hair. Without thinking, she stands. Cloud? Blue eyes look toward her and away quickly. The boys around her mutter uncomfortably, moving in closer.
Emilio tugs Tifa back into the group. Cloud runs off.
Tifa is in front of the General Store. She needs to buy a few things, but something, she is not sure what, slows her feet. Before she reaches the front door, she turns to look behind her. Cloud is there. He blinks, looking startled.
They stare at each other for a moment without speaking. Tifa feels strange. She is not sure if she wants to dash away or move closer. The feeling is so unfamiliar and distracting that Tifa misses whatever Cloud is trying to say to her.
Hmm? Tifa tilts her head toward him and he comes over to her. Cloud has always been smaller than the other boys, but Tifa realizes he has grown taller over the past few months. She has to look up to meet his eyes.
Now that he is closer, though, he seems unable to meet hers. He dips his mouth toward Tifa's ear. Meet me at the water tower tonight? Before Tifa can reply, he is backing away. Her heart it racing. Midnight, he says and then he is running off.
Cloud is in front her, once more running off. He is smaller now. Tifa is following behind more slowly. They are in a park. It looks more like Midgar than Nibelheim. But it is still familiar to Tifa. She has been here many times.
Not so fast! Tifa's voice is patient, mature. She is no longer a child. And, of course, the child before her is not Cloud. The hair is longer than it should be. Less spiky too. Tifa shakes her head. It is not the first time she had been struck by the resemblance.
The child executes a clumsy cartwheel and turns to face her. It is a small girl. She has Tifa's eyes. Did you see that, Mom? Auntie Yuffie taught me how!
Mom. Tifa has never heard or seen anything so beautiful in her life.
Suddenly Tifa is wracked with pain. Her own scream shocks her.
She is sitting on the floor. Cloud is holding her up, he is shouting into a phone. She has never heard his voice like this before. Something is wrong – help, we need help, oh god please hurry. The hand holding the phone is bloody. Tifa realizes there's blood on the tile beneath her and her body feels strange. Her stomach is huge before her.
There are other children.
Cloud is on a sofa between a boy and a girl. As she looks at the boy, at the clear skin on his forehead, she is awash with tenderness for him. The girl – is that Marlene? Yes, older though. The children are fighting, playing really, and Cloud is caught in the crossfire, ineffectively holding his arms up to avoid small, socked feet.
Hey, you two are supposed to be winding down. His words have no bite to them. Tifa's hands are on her hips, and she shakes her head. She adopts a mockingly stern tone. What am I going to do with you three?
Cloud grabs her arm and suddenly she is being tugged on top of them, the delighted, squealing laughter of the children surrounding her. Get her! Tifa's family folds around her.
Tifa sees starry nights together.
She is walking towards Cloud on the water tower, beneath the stars. The sky is filled with them. She is thirteen, wearing her favorite dress. Tifa feels nervous. She wonders what he might say to her. She wonders if, just maybe, she will have her very first kiss.
The night does not quite turn out like that, but it is a special one all the same. A night and a promise that alters the course of the rest of her life.
It is a different night, but the sky is just as filled with stars.
Grass is tickling her, poking through a blanket. Her skin is bare, pressed against Cloud's. His face hovers over her, blocking the magnificent sky. She does care one bit. It is precious to her, beautiful. He leans down to kiss her. They both ignite, burning brighter than the stars above them.
When the stars are gone, he speaks to wake her. Tifa squeezes her eyes shut. If the night is over, she does not care to see. Just a little bit longer, she begs. This day will never come again. So let's just have this moment… Cloud's arms tighten around her and she wishes that time would stop.
Tifa is leaning against Cloud. They are alone for once. It is a rarity. Neither of them speak, but the silence is comfortable. The quiet is a rarity too.
How do you think Grandpa Wallace is holding up? Cloud smirks. Tifa tries to give him a stern look. Yuffie dubbed Barret with the nickname the second she noticed his hair beginning to grey. It stuck when Cloud and Tifa's daughter was born. It did not help that Barret often fell asleep while holding the baby, snoring in his armchair.
I'm sure Uncle Barret is enjoying the extra nap time, Tifa replies. Cloud nods, but Tifa can tell he is only joking to distract from his worry. It is their first time away since the baby was born. He knows what he's doing. Barret has dealt with baby girls before, Tifa says. And Marlene and Denzel are a lot of help.
Cloud nods, but Tifa can tell he is thinking about calling again to check.
A star streaks across the sky, distracting him. Cloud nudges Tifa, making sure she sees. They both look up at the sky together. His eyes are soft. I can't see a sky like this without thinking about you, Cloud says. Our promise at the water tower. And that first night together.
Tifa pulls his face down to kiss him. She shifts back but keeps his face between her hands. And you claim not to be romantic, she teases. Tifa is satisfied that even after all these years, she can still make him blush. He mumbles when he answers her, as bashful as he was as a teenager. I wasn't being romantic, it's just the truth.
Tifa sees hard times too. Fights. Moments of heartbreak and words left unspoken.
She is sitting on a bed in a darkened room. Children's drawings cover the walls. Cloud is dressed strangely, a single sleeve covering his arm. His head is hung low. He cannot look Tifa in the eye. She is furious with him, frustrated. Hurt.
I guess that only works for real families. The words cost Tifa to say. They are words she has buried for so long. Her deepest fear that she kept locked inside. A secret question she asked herself every time Cloud walked out the door and left her. Tears burn her eyes, but she does not allow them to fall.
Tifa…I'm not fit to help anyone. Not my family, not my friends, nobody.
Tifa and Cloud are both standing now. They are in a living room, and it is in disarray. Crumbled dry wall dusts the floor. A shattered picture frame hangs crookedly on the wall. There is a sting of a fresh bruise on Tifa's cheek and her knuckles, wrapped in bandages, ache. She has been fighting.
Cloud is pacing, hand clenching and unclenching. A caged wolf. He is firing questions at her. What happened? How many were there? Accusations. I told you the back door wasn't secure enough. His anger grates at Tifa. She fires some of it back at him.
Tifa is fine, physically. But she is rattled by what happened. An unexpected intrusion into what was, she thought, a peaceful life. She did not need Cloud to fight anyone, to rescue her. What she really needs is for him to hold her, to feel the safety of his arms around her.
But she does not know how to ask for it. They argue instead. Cloud walks out the door.
Cloud is in bed sleeping. Tifa props her arm under her head on the pillow, watching him. His brow furrows in his sleep. He has been distant lately. She is losing him. In the dark, Tifa feels brave enough to whisper the words she is too afraid to ask in waking hours. Do you love me?
It is another day. Tifa is alone. She holds a phone in her hand. It rings and rings. Cloud never picks up. She ends the call. Looks down at her hands. Tries not to cry. A child calls out to her from the other room. His voice is pained. He is very sick.
Cloud and Tifa are together now, sitting on the floor in a dimly lit garage. Boxes surround them. Tifa pulls something out of the box in front of her. A teensy, tiny pair of pajamas, soft to the touch and decorated with yellow stars. Look, Tifa says. I think she only wore these once.
Cloud smiles. Put them in this pile, maybe Cid and Shera will want them. But Tifa hesitates. The pajamas are so small. Nostalgia grips her as she remembers how sweet the top of her daughter's head smelled snuggled against her after nursing. She has not been quite so cuddly ever since she started walking. Are you sure? Tifa asks. Maybe we could use it again someday.
No. The word is an entire sentence. It is not a word Cloud often uses with Tifa and it shatters the light mood. More than that, the tone he says it in is harsh, final. It is a tone from a time that Tifa thought they were long past, when Cloud's fears often burst forth in anger.
Tifa had only been teasing. She is happy with their three. But Cloud's voice triggers old hurts, old patterns of responding. It reminds her of darker days. Despite herself, Tifa opens her mouth to make a retort.
The way Cloud is looking at her stops Tifa in her tracks. His eyes are on her, but Tifa can tell he is somewhere else. Seeing blood on the bathroom floor. Hearing Tifa's screams of pain, the doctor's grim words. He remembers it all better than Tifa does.
Cloud's face crumples and Tifa's anger with it. Rather than starting a fight, Tifa pulls Cloud to her. He clings to her as if he might never let go. The words they say to one another now are ones that once felt impossible to express. I'm sorry. I love you. I can't stand the thought of this life without you.
Amid the pain and conflict, there is happiness. So much of it.
Tifa is caught in a torrential downpour. Lightning flashes in the sky. She is on a motorcycle, holding onto Cloud. She can tell he is anxious. The road is slick from rain and so is the seat beneath her. Tifa is sliding on it. Cloud yells over the storm for her to hold on tighter, but Tifa is not afraid. She is exhilarated.
They are in the middle of nowhere, but they find an old barn, just off the old country road they had been travelling. There are holes in the walls, and it is dusty, but the roof seems mostly intact, and it provides respite from the storm.
Cloud and Tifa are drenched, their clothes sodden. It is much quieter in the barn, but the rain still beats a steady rhythm on its roof. Cloud is apologetic – they never should have gone for a ride, it was a bad call on his part – but Tifa is pulling him toward her, her heart still racing.
She wrings out her hair and reaches up to Cloud's, wiping the water droplets out of his flattened spikes. Then, her lips are on his and they are tasting the rain on each other's skin. Their clothes are awkward and heavy with water, difficult to remove. They help each other, laughing all the while.
So, you had fun then? Cloud breaks away from kissing her to ask the question. Still laughing, Tifa rolls her eyes at him and presses her rain dampened skin against his. I'm still having fun, she says.
The storms last for hours. Cloud and Tifa do not mind.
They are now in a proper, dry bedroom. Moonlight shines through the window. Cloud's hands are on her stomach, beneath her shirt. They are so very gentle, cautiously exploring.
There is the slightest, barely discernible swell just between Tifa's hipbones. Cloud runs his fingers over it, again and again. Tifa laughs at the look on his face, the amazement and wonder in his eyes. He joins her laughter, and the sound is joyful, so joyful.
Tifa is on a sofa. Her body feels foreign to her, huge and uncomfortable. She is achy and irritable. Cloud is on a nearby chair. His feet rest on an ottoman. He wiggles his toes at her. They are clad in fuzzy socks decorated with chocobos.
Cloud is trying to make her laugh. Tifa refuses to let him. Cloud only sinks back into the cushions, his face carefully neutral. Earlier, angry words – her own – come back to her. If you think it's so easy to sit around and do nothing, then why don't you try it!
A girl comes into the room, holding a pillow. She is lovely, with light brown hair and big brown eyes. Not quite yet a teen, but she has a serious look about her that makes her seem a bit older. Can it really be little Marlene?
Would you like a cushion for your feet? She is not talking to Tifa, but Cloud. He nods. Why, yes please, I would. How thoughtful. Marlene solicitously fluffs the pillow, placing it under his feet. Cloud makes an exaggerated, satisfied sound. Much better!
Tifa frowns down at her own swollen, sore feet.
Hey Tifa, would you try this? She is distracted by a teenage boy holding a ladle of food up to her, one hand cupped underneath to catch anything that spills. It never tastes as good as yours when I make it. Maybe you can help? She nods and he carefully lifts the spoon to her mouth so she can taste.
Just a smidge too much garlic, Denzel. Add an acid. We should have some lemons. And I think you forgot to salt. He smiles at her. Thanks, Tifa, you always know what to do. She watches him leave and realizes that she is smiling back. Strange, he has made this dish before and has never needed help with it.
Cloud watches the boy leave too. The look on his face is proud and soft and a little bewildered. Tifa can almost hear him thinking – where does he get it from? Against her will, Tifa's irritation with him fades. He gets it from you, she thinks. He is just like you, Cloud.
Marlene? Tifa's voice is meek, apologetic. Could I please have a pillow for my feet too? Marlene grins, nods, and dashes off. Cloud's turns his face away from Tifa, but she can tell that he is hiding a smile.
Now it is evening. Tifa is on her feet, bustling around. Unlike the quietness of before, Tifa is surrounded by people, their faces familiar and beloved. Their voices fill the space with laughter, old stories, and occasional outbursts of song.
They are in a bar. The space is clean, orderly. Tifa feels a swell of pride at its bottle-lined shelves and smooth, shiny counters.
The same lanky teen – Denzel? – is standing next to Cloud. He listens to the story Cloud is telling, hanging on every word. Barret is nearby, adding details or jokes here and there. Grey peppers the edges of his hair. Marlene is tucked under his arm, her hair tied back with a pink ribbon.
There is a scampering across the floor and Nanaki streaks through. Two children chase behind him. One is a sturdy boy, wearing a pilot's cap and goggles. The other is the blond-haired child with Tifa's eyes, lurching forward on chubby legs. Yuffie walks anxiously behind, her arms stretched out, like she is worried the toddler might fall.
Tifa is making drinks. She has just served one to Vincent, sitting quietly at the end of the bar. He is listening seriously to another man talking. He is dark-haired and has a neat beard.
She hands a glass to Cid who is standing next to her. He toasts her with one hand, his other arm full of a tiny, sleeping infant wearing pajamas covered in stars. Two, he says shaking his head. Shera said if you and Cloud could do three, surely we could handle it.
Tifa only smiles in response. She looks across the bar to where Cloud is standing. The little girl is now at his feet holding her arms up to him. Cloud looks down, utter devotion on his face, and picks her up. He tosses her into the air a single time before settling her against his shoulder.
A sweet life for my sweet girl, Tifa thinks. If only she could stay little like this forever. Safe. The words are familiar, though she is not sure why.
Cloud meets Tifa eyes from across the room. His lips quirk up in the tiniest of smiles. Despite the chaos surrounding them, and the boisterous voices of their friends and family, Tifa feels as though they are the only two people in the room, perhaps on the planet.
This is ours. This life. We made it, fought for it, together. The thought swells Tifa heart. It is so full it could burst. The look in Cloud's eyes tells her that he feels the same.
He looks at her now the same way he did right before he kissed her, the very first time. It is the same look he gave her over the head of their infant daughter – bloody and wet yet beautiful on Tifa's chest – after one of the most harrowing nights of their lives.
And Tifa knows he will look at her just the same when he looks at her the very last time, at the end of their lives together.
As soon as the thought occurs to Tifa, she is there.
Tifa is lying on a bed. She cannot speak, can hardly move. She is not alone. A woman is holding her hand with both of hers, pressing it to her face. Mom, I don't know how to do this without you. But I'll be alright, okay?
Tifa is unable to respond, but her heart aches with a fierce, intense love. She would tear apart the world to prevent anything bad from ever happening to her. Even though the woman has wrinkles of her own and her hair is streaked with silver, Tifa looks at her and sees a tiny, blond baby girl.
You don't have to worry about Dad. Marlene, Denzel, and I will take care of him. And there are always more littles coming to keep him busy. We all love you. So much. The woman gently places Tifa's hand back on the bed and kisses her cheek. Hot tears transfer onto her face. When she leaves, Tifa feels a piece of her heart going with her.
Now there is someone else next to her. Better listen to her. She's smart, that one. Takes after her mother.
Sobs follow the words, wrenching ones. A head falls next to her on the pillow. Thinned spiky hair, now entirely white. Words through the crying. I said I wouldn't. The voice is tremulous with age. Don't tell her that I cried, alright? I promised myself I'd be the strong one for once.
The bed dips. A warm body curls up next to her. Go on ahead, Tifa. It'll be alright. I found you there, once before, remember? Wrinkled fingers stroke her check, then intertwine with hers. Meet me at the water tower, okay? This time, you'll be the one who has to wait for me. I won't take too long. I promise.
The words release her. Tifa lets go.
She feels herself disintegrating, falling apart into pieces. It is peaceful. It is like coming home. It is like going away. Like the first step of a long journey over Mount Nibel. She becomes nothing and everything at all once. She lets go of Tifa, she does not even mind.
But then feels herself coming together bit by bit. Tifa is floating in safety, warmth. All is quiet, except for the steady beat of a heart and one voice. Tifa cannot understand what it is saying, but it seems to be made of love itself.
There is sudden light. Chaos. She is cold. Everything is loud. It is terrible. Tifa screams and screams. She hates it. She wants to go back.
But then she is lying on something warm. She smells a comforting scent, the only scent that is familiar to her. Tifa opens her eyes and sees it for the first time. A face that knows her and that she knows back, though she has never seen it before. A shaking finger touches Tifa's cheek. Hello there, little one. Do you have any idea how much I love you?
The Lifestream washes over Tifa again. Images flash over and over. Beautiful. Joyful. Terrible. Agonizing.
Tifa sees blood. It is spread over the grated floor of a reactor. Dripping on an altar in a strangely lit forest. Pooled beneath her on the tiled floor of a bathroom. She screams for her father. For Aerith. Tifa screams for her daughter, whose name she does not yet know.
She sees flames. Her childhood home, everyone in it, burning. Gone in one, terrible night. Another home, one she had made, survived all on her own. It is being crushed by falling metal and fire and explosions. A word repeats in her head over and over. No. No, no. Please, no.
The smell of mako burns her nose and makes her head spin. The same images of her hometown burning, but this time it is not real. Fear and dread make her sick.
Cloud is watching her with pleading eyes. Cloud is holding a sword above his head, over Tifa who is on cowering the ground. Cloud is staring indolently while Sephiroth laughs. Cloud is walking away. I never lived up to being your Cloud. Tifa…maybe one day, you'll meet him.
Tifa is crumpled on the floor. There is hard rock beneath her knees. No, now it is a wood floor. Her face is buried in Cloud's lap. She is sobbing. It's too cruel…Cloud, please. He is unresponsive. Unreachable.
The pain is insurmountable. Tifa does not want it. She tries to push it away. Anything would be better than these memories, the worst her life has to offer.
In the void of the images that Tifa pushes away, others take their place. These feel unfamiliar. Foreign. There are people she has never met and that somehow, she knows she never will. Places she has never seen. Tifa is seeing memories, futures. But they are not her own.
She is assaulted by a lifetime – an eternity – of images and emotions. The joy is overwhelming. But so is the suffering. Anger and hatred. The vast sea of grief and sorrow drives her to the edge of sanity. It is too much.
Tifa recalls a voice, a shouted command. You can't stay here, Tifa! You have to find Cloud. She wants to obey, but she cannot move
Her head sears with pain. The foreign images and voices crowd it. They push away the beautiful and painful memories of her own life. She forgets them all. There is nothing but the kaleidoscope of memories and futures that encompass the Lifestream.
Tifa knows nothing. Remembers nothing. She struggles to recall herself, her own name. There is no space for it in her mind. It is full to the point of bursting.
It'll be alright. I found you there, once before, remember?
Through the chaos, one voice, one name sticks in her mind. It is woven throughout her entire life, linking together her childhood, adulthood, and death. It is her only constant.
She screams for Cloud.