Chapter 5. December εуλ0000 – March εуλ0001
The cold was picking up. The true cold, December cold, barreling down off the mountain itself. Not the tepid breezes that often drifted townwards, winds that carried with them the warmth of the reactor they all depended on.
People said that it had not always been that way - that once it had only been the natural chill of fresh mountain air, carrying the promises of winter cool to come, this early in December merely anticipation. But Tifa had never known any other way.
The reactor had been there as long as she had been alive, after all, bringing electricity and comfort to a town that would otherwise be off the grid altogether. Even the train only came once a week, and that was only BECAUSE of the reactor, it built to bring supplies and employees for maintenance. Yet that event was rare – the reactor had hummed along smoothly as long as it had been standing, and probably always would.
Still early evening, Tifa took no coat, not planning to go far. The winter sun set so soon that the stars were already shining, no moon that night to dull their brightness. She had heard in the city you couldn't see the stars; that in some places you couldn't even see the SKY. How would people LIVE like that? she wondered. She couldn't imagine doing without, and she resolved to never, ever go to such a place.
She was barely stepping outside her door, but she still had a climb upwards, and as she put one foot on the lowest rung of the ladder - heedless of whether or not her dress flared - all she could think about was why she was here and who she was to meet.
The knock on the door took her by surprise. Loud, insistent. She stopped playing her piano, crossing her room to the window and putting her head outside.
Below, she saw a shock of bright blond hair, a spiked mess that could only belong to one person. But she couldn't recall him ever knocking on her door before.
"Cloud!" she called down in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
He took a couple of steps back, looking up to where she was framed by the room's light. "Tifa..." he began awkwardly. "Uh… can you come down to meet me?"
She puzzled, then nodded, surprised and confused. Her father wasn't home– that was probably the only reason he braved coming over in the first place. Brian's hatred had never lessened over the years – he, still protective, after the accident she still couldn't remember.
Some had whispered that he pushed her. Others only said he was the one who encouraged her to go – in their eyes, that was nearly as bad. None of it sounded right to her. What she COULD recall… She remembered her mother dying. She remembered hearing stories about the dead going beyond Mt. Nibel. She remembered making her plan…
…but what CLOUD had to do with that, she still had no idea.
Reaching the front door, she undid the latch, opening it wide and welcome. Regardless of her father's opinion, he meant a lot to her. Cloud had been her next-door neighbor, and therefore THERE, for as long as she could remember – a constant in her life, just like the reactor, just like Nibelheim itself.
Cloud stood there, nervousness evident. Tifa wished she knew what to say or do to make him more comfortable, but she found herself at a loss. "Hi," she began, trying to load as much warmth and welcome as could be reasonably expected out of that one word.
"Hi," Cloud returned. Then he just stood there, blinking, those impossibly blue eyes boring into her, getting under her skin in a way that both confused and delighted her. He was a cute kid, small, shorter than she – she'd hit her growth spurt early, though lately he was starting to catch up. But that wasn't all of it. It wasn't the feelings she sometimes got when she looked at the handsome boys of the village – well, before they all started to leave – it was… was…
SAFE. That was the word she was looking for. Like he would never, ever willingly do her harm.
And that was why she could never believe he HAD.
The silence drew on, leaving it to Tifa to break it. "Was there… something you needed, Cloud?" she asked, timidly polite. You wouldn't be here, otherwise, duh, she berated herself inwardly.
"Tifa…" he began, and she wondered if he was actually planning to string more than two words together tonight. "I was… uh... wondering. Well, I mean… I wanted to tell you something."
"I'm listening," she said gently.
Cloud looked over her shoulder anxiously, but there was no one to be seen – force of habit, she supposed. Most of the guys he used to fight with were no longer in the town. Most of her friends, she reminded herself. "Not here," he finally told her. "Can you… maybe… meetmeatthewatertowertonight?" the last words rushed out.
The water tower. A date spot…. A make-out spot… though she never had there… Cloud couldn't be thinking… could he? She wasn't sure if she wanted… "Um… I guess…" she began, stalling for time.
He sensed her awkwardness. "Just to talk," he offered, feigning barely-there confidence, running a hand through his hair. It only sproinged up further.
Tifa didn't want to crush his little spark of courage. "Sure, then," she replied, faking a certainty she didn't truly feel. "Maybe a while after sundown? You know when the stars come out. The view is always best then," she added, encouraging.
Cloud just kept staring, and Tifa was starting to feel uncomfortable. "Ok," he agreed at last. She left the door open for another long moment, closing it slowly. "I'll see you then," she offered, tone one of determined finality.
As the front door clicked shut behind her, she leaned back on it, realizing there were butterflies in her stomach and her heart was pounding out of her chest.
Atop the water tower, Cloud looked to the west, where the last fading pale blues of sunset slid behind the mountains. This is so stupid. Why would she even come? He was wondering what had even possessed him to ask – hell, this whole IDEA of going to Midgar was stupid. But his mother, despite initial objections, had made arrangements - it was too late to back out now.
As the stars began to wink into existence, he thought of something. Surely the stars are images of love. He'd read or heard that somewhere, but for the life of him couldn't remember where. But true enough, somehow they seemed to reflect what he hid deep within his heart.
A creak of a board behind him, and Cloud whirled around, part excitement and part fear. Tifa's head popped up around the side, her natural grace having let her sneak up the ladder unnoticed. "Sorry I'm late," she said, genuine apology in her voice, and Cloud melted. She didn't flake. She DID want to see me.
Then another thought followed. That means I can't chicken out on what I planned to say to her.
He'd thought about this. A lot. There were a lot of things he WANTED to say to her… and he had thought about it a hundred times by now. He wanted to tell her how much he admired her, respected her. How amazing she was. How beautiful and smart and warm and funny and strong and…
He wanted to tell her…
No, he couldn't. Too much. How could he say he loved her? What did he know of such things?
And even if he did… he wasn't someone SHE could love.
Not yet.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" she asked, walking over to sit near him - just close enough to talk, far enough away to put a little distance between them. Cloud couldn't help but notice, and it made his heart sink a little bit. He hoped that one day he could – WOULD – be someone… No, that's not something I can tell her either.
He cleared his throat. "I've decided… well, come spring, I'm going to Midgar." He paused, pleased with himself that he had at least been able to start. "It's a for-sure thing. My mom paid for the tickets and everything."
Tifa gasped in surprise, feeling her stomach drop. Why should the idea of his loss strike her so deep? "Midgar? What are you going to do there?" Midgar… where they all end up going. "I mean… so many of the boys have left already." My friends… There weren't many girls in town, and those that were, bored her silly with their talk of dolls and sewing and cleaning and the husbands they dreamed of. Tifa didn't know what she was going to do, but… anything but that.
Part of her wished she could go with Cloud.
"I'm not just GOING to Midgar," Cloud told her, and she heard a surge of pride in his voice. "I'm going to join SOLDIER. I'm going to BE someone. Like the Great Sephiroth," he announced. Tifa, I'm going to be someone, and maybe, just maybe, it will be someone you want.
"Oh," Tifa said. Her dull enthusiasm made Cloud's heart sink. A long moment passed, the two of them left with nothing but the quiet of the encroaching night and the stars to keep them company.
SOLDIER, huh, Tifa thought. That was a big deal. Could Cloud really DO it? After all, he's still so tiny… I mean… not that he's weak or anything… but could he really have it in him to go that far?
Then again… she'd always been taught it's what was inside that counts. If he has enough motivation, enough heart… Could she… maybe… give him a little encouragement?
And if he made it... He could be a hero. He really could. As much of a hero as Sephiroth? nagged another voice.
Maybe, she told that voice. Maybe... he could even be MY hero. I've never had a hero… Admirers, always. But someone who would promise HIMSELF, really BE there to protect her, defend her… fill something of the emptiness of her mother's passing.
"So, uh,", - she interrupted Cloud's thoughts – "If you really do… I mean, wouldn't you be, like, famous and stuff? Like, you'll be in the newspapers?"
I sure hope so, Cloud told himself, briefly fantasizing about HIS name, Cloud Strife, SOLDIER, in the papers. A hero. Famous. SOMEONE. "Maybe," was all he could say. He turned to look at Tifa.
She gazed downwards, chin in hands, and sniffled slightly, kicking her legs idly back and forth. Improbably, he found himself looking at her dress. Blue. She likes blue. He wondered about that – he loved the red of her eyes, that color that wasn't red, not really, but was way-too-something-else to deserve to be called brown. Brown was for her hair, but brown was too simple there too, for a color close to night but not-quite-there-yet, too warm for the mysteries of darkness, a rich curtain framing her perfect features, nose slanting down to barley-pink lips just ripe for-
"Hey, let's make a promise. " Tifa's voice, her sweet, calming voice, breaking his memorization of her looks - his trying to freeze this moment, this image of her, forever in his memory. "If you get famous, and…"
Tifa's own fantasy had drifted to thoughts of her hero. Coming to save her… not that she'd ever needed something to be saved FROM, except the endless days inching out ahead of her, days with nothing and no one ever changing. She hoped it wasn't always that way. "If I'm ever in a pinch… you'll come and save me, right?" she said, turning to him. "You'll be my hero… I want that… to experience that at least once." Just like in the story books…
"Huh?" he replied.
"Come on!" she urged, panicked at the thought of being left behind. "Promise me… please?" Her eyes brimmed with the beginnings of tears. Promise me you'll be back. Maybe, really, that was all she wanted from him. To be there.
He looked back, and this time, his eyes were not anxious or sad or angry or frustrated or any of the other emotions that seemed to so often mar his adorable face. "I promise," he said, and she saw a flicker of – something? – that she didn't know what to call, but it cut through the evening chill to warm her, head down to her toes.
It was the easiest answer to give. It was the promise he wanted to make. Cloud saw relief and calm in Tifa's eyes, and knew. He would always keep that promise, if he never did anything else in his life. It would be worth it.
"Look!" Tifa started, whisking her head around and up. Cloud's head followed hers, just in time to see a shooting star – a big one, leaving its luminescent trail across the sky for only a second before leaving nothing but the afterimage against their lids.
She made a wish then. A wish for herself, but it was a wish for him too. Become a hero, Cloud, she whispered softly inside her mind. Become what you want to be, and then come back to me. And save me too.
The silent, starry sky was all that was left; in the distance the murmur of ordinary village life could be heard. Her father would be home soon. She COULD stand up to him, tell him where she had been – but she didn't want to. Not yet. She wasn't ready. Someday, she would, but not tonight.
Tifa had a hundred things she wanted to tell Cloud – no, thousands, more than the stars in the sky – but she couldn't make sense of any of them right now. Nothing important could she find the words to say. "Well, good night," she told him, proper and polite.
"Good night," Cloud replied, and she couldn't help but think he seemed somehow – relieved? But why? Still his gaze never wavered, and somehow, even as she turned her back, she knew those eyes were on her still.
She hoped they always would be. You're my hero now, Cloud. Don't you ever forget it.
Spring came all too quickly, it seemed.
Tifa finally blossomed into a woman, shyly thinking it must show all over her face.
She saw Cloud in passing, wondering about their winter promise, but she barely had a chance to talk to him since. Or more accurately, she was too scared to create a chance. She worried if he remembered, if he wanted to take it back.
She couldn't bear to think that he might.
She chided herself for such thoughts as the days slipped away, knowing it was only a matter of time before he left.
In the meantime, Cloud hadn't forgotten; in fact, it was all he thought about….. but he could hardly admit that to Tifa. What if I'm reading too much into this?
Instead, he busied himself with getting ready for Midgar. His mom gave him a little bit of money and a lot of advice. "I wish you wouldn't go," Claudia repeated, yet another weak echo, both mother and son knowing his path was set.
"I'll come back, Mom," Cloud replied. "And you'll be proud of me when I do."
Claudia allowed herself a now-rare ruffling of his hair. "I've always been proud of you," she said sadly. There were so many other things she couldn't say. It burned her heart, but she knew: When you come back, it won't be for me.
There was only so long she could expect that she, as his mother, would be first in her son's heart. Even if he didn't realize it, SHE knew she was letting go of her son. At some point, the boy had to become a man, and that day, it seemed, had arrived. Cloud had started shooting up fast; it seemed every day he was just a little taller.
She hoped she had done alright, raising her son with only a female parent. Some day, she would tell him the truth about his father, hidden in her heart. She, a carefree, uninhibited girl filled with the same wanderlust that now drove Cloud, letting her understand why he wanted to leave so far away. Finding herself pregnant before even her sixteenth birthday, not knowing WHO the father was.
She'd at least inherited the ownership of this house to come back to, and once her little sunshine of a baby arrived, she couldn't have cared less. Combining last names to make a new one was hardly uncommon, and she'd passively let Cloud believe that's what she had done. But in fact, his name was only his own – she'd considered several possibilities before combining her own name, Strauss, with life. She'd latched onto that tumultuous amalgam of a name that, combined with his unusual first, could be interpreted so many different ways, as many as she had wishes for her darling son's future.
Someday, she'd tell him.
Someday when he'd had a chance to make it on his own, and come back to her with the pride of a man.
In the meantime, she helped him with sorting and packing, relishing their last moments of idle chatter. Cloud was taking few things with him, but they pored through every drawer and closet nevertheless. Mother and son rediscovering objects of the past as they worked, stopping to reminisce about the life they had shared here in Nibelheim, the years Cloud grew under his caring mother's eye.
Cloud found his whiffs of nostalgia threatening to turn into doubts and fears, but he fought them down, reminding himself what he was doing, and why he was doing it. In any case, all these things - and his mother - would always be there waiting for him.
The last thing Cloud did was cut his hair. His mom offered to help him out, but he declined. Time to get rid of this kiddie ponytail, he thought…
"This stuff is like straw," he grumbled. "Pokes out everywhere. Ridiculous." Grabbing a pair of scissors, he hacked it off just above the tie, tail flopping to the ground with one slice. The strands bounced up into an even spikier mess than before. Hopeless.
His mother looked up at him; how long, Cloud suddenly realized, had she been looking not down but up? Had he missed the day when that changed? Her eyes held regret, but she smiled. "Remember, Cloud," she told him wistfully. "I will always be your mother."
He held her and kissed her goodbye on the cheek, savoring her last words, storing him for the comfort he would need in the coming months.
Nerves and butterflies were his companions at to the train station, running through the silence of his head, until…
"Cloud!" he heard her voice, and from around the corner, Tifa Lockhart came running.
She stopped a few feet short of him, panting, as if she had run full speed from her house. Cloud wondered if she had. She stood there, staring, with – something – in her eyes. Worry, concern – affection, even. Something Cloud didn't think he'd seen before.
He was possessed by an almost uncontrollable urge to drop his suitcase, run to her, pull her into his arms – would she let him? there was just enough time –
No, he stopped himself. The first time I kiss her, I want to know I'm the man she deserves.
Instead, he met her eyes across the space, freezing this moment in his mind, memorizing every detail of her beautiful, worried features. But the train whistled then, and Cloud realized he couldn't wait any longer.
Tifa gaped, taking in every inch of the boy who was starting to show the shape of a man. Finally as tall as her, perhaps a hair above, and the rest filling out as well… She wished she would be there to watch what he would become. "Goodbye, Cloud," Tifa called, her voice quavering.
"Goodbye… Tifa…" He held her eyes for that one last precious moment, as he stepped upwards into the compartment.
He settled in his seat, single suitcase behind him, and looked out the window for his last glimpses of her before she was hidden from view. Slumping back, he sighed as the distance opened wide between he and everything he'd ever known. Cinnamon eyes sparkled in his mind.
Tifa, I'll come back…
Author's Note: The quote Cloud is thinking about is a real quote, from Philip James Bailey. I saw it and instantly thought of this scene.