Chapter 26. December 11, εуλ0007 (AM)

Hey there, buddy.

Who are you? The voice ignored him.

Don't worry, the flowers are very resilient. A disembodied chuckle. Believe me, I know.

Flowers? What are you talking about?

You'll find out soon enough. Don't be afraid to fall. You'll be alright.

The joint cracked open with a scraping whine, and he tried to send the thought forward to Tifa, but all he could leave her with was a meeting of eyes as he found himself grasping nothing but air…

A sea of white, a strange half-dreamed world with a sense of revisitation…

A nudge, words felt more than heard, bringing him up –

…follow the yellow flowers…

- slowly, slowly, he was held, pushed, encouraged -

"Hellooooo?"

A woman's voice. Mom? Tifa? what other women might worry for him?

He opened his eyes.

Green, mako-green – no, not mako, not that sickly sweet chartreuse that flowed through the pipelines of Midgar's underside. That they pumped into SOLDIERs, Cloud thought, suddenly disgusted. This green – the green of plants, of life, of –

Flowers. He was lying on flowers.

A girl's face, coming into view. Sweet, cherubic. Beautiful.

A voice, now receding as if from a dream, the words fading from his mind, but he felt certain somehow this was someone he was destined to meet. Destined? Was there actually such a thing, or was it simply a way to assign meaning to coincidence?

He wanted to find out which.

But as her bright green eyes – the life-bringing green he'd first seen on awakening - stared down at him, something resonated with an uncharted territory of his soul, a poignant familiarity that made his heart skip a beat.

"You were selling flowers." He sat upright, and with a rush, it all came back to him. The bomb, the burning, the chaos…

She smiled, and it lit her face even further. "You DO remember," she exclaimed. "You know, you were the only one who stopped to help me. Topsiders rushing, pushing every day, and the reactor blowing making everything worse…" She paused, shivering. "I've never seen anything like it. Sirens. Alarms. Fires and people running everywhere. It was terrible to see – I just wanted to get out of there."

Cloud felt a stab of guilt – that he was certain was going to be one of many.

"And then today… another explosion, above. I knew it had to be another reactor."

Reactor. He'd been in reactor 5. Barret.

Tifa…

She had better have made it back safe.

So he must be in Sector 5. But didn't know any more than that. "Where am I?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She put a hand to her mouth as if embarrassed, but her eyes sparkled with an indication she felt nothing of the sort. Teasing. "I forgot we were never introduced. I'm Aerith, and this is my church. Well, not really mine. It's just an old church in the slums. But I sort of take care of it, and my flowers like to grow here, so…"

The slums. Falling… all this way. His eyes drifted upwards, she following his focus to the hole in the roof above.

"You fell through there," she told him lightly. "Quite a surprise."

"I can imagine." He stared, perplexed. "I didn't actually MAKE that hole, did I?"

"No, silly," she laughed. "It was made… before. Really, this whole church is just very old. It has a kind of special power to it. Can't you feel it?"

He… did. Kinda. A sort of peace he hadn't sensed in a whole, only magnified when she put a hand on his head, expression of mirthful concern. "You okay?" she asked him, and suddenly, he felt a little more… clear. More so than he had felt in a while, anyway.

"Never been better," he told her truthfully. He stood up, she watching with hands clasped behind her back, swaying flirtatiously. She musing, as he hopped easily to his feet, looking no worse for wear. As she would have expected.

"I always feel better here," she told him. "More... connected." She reached down and touched a flower petal affectionately.

He breathed in the air, fresh and clean in a way you didn't usually find in Midgar. Then again, it wasn't like you saw a lot of flowers either. He looked around, the atmosphere injecting his soul, bringing him into a sphere of relative peace.

He'd felt so empty and dry. Hollow. Rare moments when he had the luxury of actually FEELING something, anything. This was one of those moments; it drew him to her despite his reservations.

"And yoooouuuuu are?" she prompted.

"Cloud," was his one-word answer. Terse, aloof, but not precisely unfriendly. The same senses that had been piqued when she first met him were now tingling with curiosity, doubled with the coincidence of his strange arrival. Her eyes flashed to the sword, a familiar sight that made her heart cry tears. Coincidences built up and she couldn't dismiss them as aberration so easily. Things that were different, yet the same.

THAT day, she'd been just a simple surprised girl, but she was a very different person now. More jaded, wary. A slightly faded version of herself. She wasn't afraid the way she once had been, forced to grow up and rely on herself. But there was a sense of safety she'd found in HIM that she couldn't help but still crave.

Zack felt so deeply, but he wore his heart on his sleeve. Even in SOLDIER, Zack never lost himself, and that's what she had thought made him so unsuited for the role.

Cloud was a SOLDIER too, but… He cared too, she could tell. But unlike Zack, his kindness was hidden so deeply down inside, it so strong and so much it might destroy him if he let it flow to the surface. He wanting, needing, but his connections disrupted even as he wished for it to be different – trying so hard to play the cool hero, a tough form of sadness. Shrouded, just as his name suggested. A faked manly confidence, a thin veneer over a boy – not quite charming but more – Endearing. That was it. A sort of unintended vulnerability that drew her in. Questions posed at their first meeting now open for discussion.

So what did it all mean?

She'd been so long numbed by hope, feeling stagnant even after the Planet had urged her to move on, she wondering why it had led her down the path of regrets in the first place. Should she have been so blindly trusting? Could she possibly have hear wrong?

Was new love a possibility, or had she already had enough to last a lifetime? Did a new love mean you forgot the old – as if she ever could?

How could she ever forget a love that made a child?

She was uncertain about letting anyone into that hole inside, a scar that would never close – but maybe it could be stitched up a little.

All she had to go on was a translated murmur from the planet, of its own need and affection for the man, and she wondered how much of its feelings were being confused with her own. Melded, even. Part of her simply wanted to want him, making little sense – all she could see now was possibilities, unable to reach a conclusion from imperfect information. And even as she found herself drawn to the safety he exuded, it was strangely comingled with an awareness that he needed her to protect him just as much. She had answers she had that he needed, but she didn't know the questions yet.

How to keep him near until she could figure it out? He'd been drawn back to reunited with her, however it had happened, but that wasn't enough – she needed him to stay longer.

Fortunately, at that moment, a solution presented itself.

A faint creak, too soft for ordinary ears, but they turned to the door as one, Cloud instinctively casing the whole of the church. Here, her sanctuary – they always sought her out here, as if they somehow knew her strength was increased in this place. Today of all days, she'd been anticipating their coming. Trying once again to persuade her to come with them for her own safety.

Tseng did what he did for her supposed own good, but for Aerith there was only one answer. She would NEVER go back to Shinra, no matter how he tried to convince her.

But as Reno barged through the doors, a question occurred – was it for HER or for HIM they had come? She eyed Cloud from the rear, focusing on that giant, oh-so-familiar sword - a SOLDIER, one of their own gone rogue, could that be it?

"They're after me," she whispered behind Cloud. "Get me out of here."

Military discipline kicked in, and he nodded assent, whisking that enormous sword before him like nothing, ready to defend. Suits. Uniforms. TURKS. He could deal with

Reno taunted, doubted, and Cloud flashed back with pride; all she could do was stay back as Cloud fought him away. The sound of blows racketed the church, she cringing every time the violence neared her precious gentle blooms, until finally –

A crumpled Reno, and with a start, Aerith realized Cloud was ready to land the killing blow, but Aerith could only scream to stop him, fearful her ruse had spread too far. Grabbing his arm, she half-led, half dragged him into the higher levels of the church, their pursuers calling to them below as they scrambled upwards to the rafters.

From down below, she could hear the remnants of their conversation as they left. Cloud, a wild card that they may or may not have expected, leaving them unsure what to do with her now. She mused how to steer Cloud onto the path he wanted; she wasn't much accustomed to being a leader. But perhaps now it was her turn to be the guide.

Scrambling out of the hole in the church roof, onto the tops of the abandoned slum houses nearby: pursuit seemed to have given up on them. He'd worried about Aerith following his route at first, but so far, she was keeping up admirably. No spoiled princess; despite the feminine looks that might tempt some to discount her, he watched her wield that staff of hers with a fair amount of skill, and he wondered when she'd had a chance to learn.

But even more than that, there were things he was dying to ask her. About the Turks, first of all. Why did they seem to know her, and what might they want? It led him even further down a line of thought, about who, even what, she might be.

Most of all, what was it about her that felt so… familiar? Right, somehow? A match that… Romantic? His body stirred just a tad, a physical response to a pretty girl that at age twenty-one, he could hardly be expected to fully suppress; but… eh, that wasn't it either. So what the fuck was it?

He kept trying to narrow down the words, to describe the weird amalgamation of feelings she brought up in him, but not like words had ever been his strong suit. It was a strange mishmash of mind and body and confusion; for the moment he was just trying to ignore it. And failing.

He realized he was only running his mind in circles. Not much to do but wait and find out. He marched on, lost in fruitless twists of thought, only realizing how far he'd surged ahead when her voice called behind him.

"Wait, Cloud!" she called. "I can't keep up anymore! Not all of us were in SOLDIER like you!"

Cloud heeled in startled shock. "SOLDIER? How did you know?"

She hopped across the gap to meet him, wobbling slightly as she landed, still breathing hard as she caught up. "The eyes… she trailed off. "I recognized them when we first met. I know what they mean." She paused, waiting to see if he'd ask more; he didn't. "That's why I was hoping you'd get me out of there safe. You know, like a bodyguard or something? That's what SOLDIERs are supposed to do, right? Protect."

It was an odd question; Cloud thought at first the answer was obvious. SOLDIERs were meant to fight. But was it really? Tifa. A promise. He didn't keep that close to his heart only to destroy; there was something else he wanted and hoped to be, but he still wasn't sure yet WHAT. Who am I?

"What's it worth to you?" he asked.

She returned his deadpan glare, with a heightened twinkle in her eyes; he suddenly found himself uncomfortable, discomfited. "Well… how about… one date?" she asked slyly. She looked around. "You know, when it's a little more convenient."

Cloud just hmmphed, covering up his discomfort, unsure how to respond, in the end ignoring the question as if it would go away.

But she seized that strange moment and paused, sweeping in the view around him, forcing him to stop for the moment and look with her. Taking it all at once, it struck him somehow – had he become so immune to his surroundings that he could no longer see what she saw?

"It's beautiful, in its own way," she told him. "Some people hate it, but I don't. How could I?"

Cloud was surprised. "What do you mean?"

"It's about… being where you are, I guess." She breathed deeply. "There's just… so much, around, all the time. Life, people. Hopes and dreams rushing together, life bursting out everywhere no matter what tries to stop it, combining into something exponentially greater. Destinies in bloom. If you'll only allow it in." She swept an arm to indicate the view. "The world just… overwhelms me sometimes. I'm scared to leave the slums. If I can feel this deeply here… what if it's too much?"

And for the briefest of moments, Cloud understood. Looking towards the horizon, it stretching forever... His mind's eye opened up…

Something about Aerith, about how it all fit together. That made him want to be… something. A hero? Was that it? She seemed the sort a man might want to be a hero for…

- and then just as suddenly, it slammed shut, leaving him with his own hollow once again. "Let's just get you home."

Fuck destiny, anyway.

For the moment, he had a job to do, and discipline overcame doubt to keep him focused on his goal. The same parts of Aerith that confused and disturbed him also left him inspired, in a sense – a need to protect that had been laying dormant.

One thing was certain. For whatever reason, Shinra was after her, and protecting her was just one more way to stick it to them. He was almost disappointed when they dropped off the rooftops to no further signs of Shinra trouble, only a few disposable monsters before they crossed the border into Sector 5.

He'd never really considered before how different the sectors were from each other. It immediately struck him how visibly different Sector Five was - if he'd ever been underplate before, he sure couldn't remember, not that he could much remember topside either, except to know he'd been there – so for all intents and purposes, his only exposure to the slums had been the past few weeks in Sector Seven. He noticed the difference straight off – Sector Seven was largely a young-adult crowd, typical of Tifa's clientele and Tifa herself. It made Cloud especially grateful she'd been able to land someplace where she could create a life, a new sort of home for the woman she was now.

In contrast, Sector Five at first impression appeared to lend itself to families. Or children, at least - on second note, he noticed the majority seemed to be running around without parental supervision.

But the most striking difference - one he didn't fully ingest at first - was the patches of green encroaching on the town's innards, increasing as they got further within its bounds, the slums more closely resembling a quaint homey town than the upper plate's scrap. It made him a touch… homesick? He hadn't thought to find himself so – not that there was any sort of home to go back to. Nostalgic, maybe. Perhaps that was it, regret for something gone without true desire to return. Leave and never look back, that's what he had been telling himself. It had worked for him so far.

But sometimes, he couldn't help but think, things came back to you.

Citizens had begun greeting Aerith since the train station, but as they got into the heart of the sector, it was obvious she was not only well-known but well-liked. Initially tempted to dismiss her as frivolous, he grudgingly admitted there was a quirky charm to her as well. This, despite her ragged insistence to ignore his shitty attitude. The sunny retention of greenery clinging to the town's ground and walls seemed a reflection of her demeanor, as if the flowers were some sort of personal tribute.

He soon realized they really were; she was their ultimate source. "We help each other in the slums," she'd explained; after she'd promised an armful of flowers to yet another woman, and he'd wondered how she'd made any money at all. "It's the only way to survive. Besides," she smiled mysteriously, "it's no real loss to me. You'll see soon enough."

He realized the truth of that when they rounded a corner of the winding path they were on, and he suddenly found himself speechless.

He'd grown up around trees and hills, but the banquet of color they came upon simply overwhelmed him. Flowers everywhere the eyes could see, and it felt like homecoming in a way, as if the flowers only existed to welcome him.

Walking towards the house he presumed was hers, his eyes followed the rock walls against which it abutted, greenery climbing up to a waterfall, of all things, cascading into a vibrant blue pool below. Normally, in Midgar, the closest you'd see to this would be Mako-byproduct sewage spilling out of pipes, creating something that might have been serene and beautiful if you didn't know what it really was. This, however, was the real thing, flowers bludgeoning their way forth fed by light and liquid nourishment. The sun seemed brighter here as well, bent through the cracks in the plated but refracted just the right way to focus on the clearing, making him forget about the steel slab above.

Opening the door, Aerith jovially announced their arrival as an older woman turned from the stove to greet them. It was the kitchen itself, surprisingly, that Cloud noticed first, so much larger than Tifa's small setup at Seventh Heaven. It reminded him painfully of his home, he able to picture so clearly his mother leaning over the stove… that last meal at his home, going home alone, so proud to return being able to introduce himself as SOLDIER –

- a shot of pain, his head seized –

He shook it off. What was that? Why again? Why now?

"This is my mother, Elmyra," Aerith was saying; she must take after her father, Cloud thought, seeing little resemblance in their features. Focusing on the older woman, he noticed Elmyra was staring at him with concerned disapproval, even as Aerith gaily explained how he'd accompanied her home.

Those eyes… Her daughter looked at this young man with glowing delight, but for Elmyra, Mako eyes only meant bitter memories.

"Why would they suddenly be after you? The Turks usually look out for you, don't they? Rude stopped in here earlier today. Stayed for coffee and everything." She gestured to two empty cups by the sink.

Aerith looked strangely abashed, looking from her mother to Cloud and back again. And to a mother's eyes, that clinched it. Oh my… this was going to be a bigger problem than she thought. She couldn't' blame Aerith for wanting starry-eyed romance to come again – she was still so young - but she'd already led a woman's life, and should know wishes didn't make themselves come true. Eyeing the young man up and down, Elmyra knew she'd never be able to see past what he was.

Because it wasn't something he could ever leave behind.

Thankfully, Cloud didn't seem to have any particular eyes for her daughter; Aerith would do her best to change it, though, if she wished it so.

"Look, I need to get back to Sector 7. I've got business over there. Urgent." Cloud squirmed slightly where he stood, wondering about Tifa… when he'd left her so literally hanging. Was she safe? Was she worried? He cursed his lack of a cell phone, realizing at the same time he'd never bothered to learn Seventh Heaven's number, now cursing that lack of a line back to her.

"Oh, I'll take you there – " Aerith replied, already impulsively moving towards the door, but Elmyra interrupted. "Aerith. Dinner's almost ready and it'll be getting dark after. You can't go all that way and back tonight," she half-scolded, and the younger woman reluctantly nodded. "Cloud. Please be our guest for the night. It's the least we can do in return. Aerith, will you please make up the spare room?"

While Aerith, full of energy , rushed upstairs, Cloud waited below, left in the kitchen with a woman who appeared to have no love lost for him. "SOLDIER, right?" she asked; Cloud gave a curt, slight, and as it turned out, completely superfluous, nod. "I already recognized it. Neither of you needed to tell me that." She sighed in resignation; Cloud wondered, standing tense and impatient.

Scratch that, Cloud thought. She's hated me on sight.

Elmyra thought back to Zack, all smiles and love, ad look where that had got Aerith in the end. Aerith might rationalize things as she chose, but Elmyra was certain Shinra was behind his disappearance somehow, adding to the resentment against the company that had begun with the death of her husband. No matter what good intentions Cloud had, he could never get out of Shinra's shadow; once in, you were owned.

"I can't condone this," Elmyra said; Cloud was uncomfortably aware of the this that she was suggesting. "You've already made your choice. A normal life for power. You can't take that choice back and make a different promise instead. What can you bring to a woman out of that?"

He didn't deny it, and she continued. "Aerith has been through enough. You won't bring anything good to her life. Please… I have to ask. Will you just leave tonight? No goodbyes. Just walk out of her life and let her be. Trust me, it's better this way.

"You got it." He hadn't made her any promises, after all. Was that entirely true? Cloud kept his expression placid, but suddenly his heart was in his throat. The sword seemed to weigh on his shoulders, as if it wanted to push him forward towards Aerith instead. He'd made to her, perhaps not a full promise, but at least a loose commitment. An obligation to protect. He wasn't sure how, but it was there - he'd only just met her, why did the thought of walking out of her life bother him so much?

Problems for later. For the moment he was a guest, and he'd behave as such. Exploring the house at Elmyra's imitation, he made his way to the top floor, greeted at the top by a sweeping panoramic, the flower garden all the more impressive when viewed in full. At his side on the balcony, small pots of vegetables – some of which were likely to be dinner tonight – tomatoes, carrots, and other ingredients so rare in the slums that Tifa would have practically killed to get her hands on them. Seedlings, also, miniatures of the plants below, waiting there to join their fellows in the tapestry before him.

Despite Elmyra's worry, the sun was only just dipping below the plate. In the distance he could see Aerith, her dark pink jacket stark against the patch of yellow that surrounded her.

Follow the yellow flowers.He didn't know what voice whispered to him now, or if the thought was only his own.

He followed.

He crept down through the garden, Aerith seemingly engrossed; he watched her, confused and fascinated, as she spoke to the flowers, picking up enough words to realize she was talking to them as if they were her friends. Maybe they were.

"What are they saying?" he asked; and as she looked up, he realized she'd known he was there all along.

"It's… difficult to explain," she said. "There's... something we need to learn from them. But we're not ready to hear." She looked sad. "I know, it sounds silly. I'm sure you don't believe me."

"No, I do," he answered, surprising even himself. "I really do."

The breeze was nearly still, but as they stood there, absorbing the quiet, he could almost hear a distant whisper, words in a language he didn't need to know to understand.

And he felt for just the briefest of moments he could hear them too.

Tifa hated to think of herself as soft, but perhaps she was after all.

Worry over Cloud still gnawed in the back of her head, but it was now a dull throbbing knob, worn down by the realization that there was little she could do at the moment. Frosted by the guilt if having put some serious bruises on Barret; despite his size, the man still winced visibly even after the administration of a potion, Cloud having departed with their only Cure.

Besides, they had bigger things to worry about.

The Shinra hoodlum spit out a tooth. "Bastard," he cursed at Barret.

Tifa couldn't fully get behind this approach, but she'd had to admit Barret was right – they really DIDN'T have much of a choice. Wallowing over Cloud had been interrupted when the neighborhood watch had found this guy lurking around her bar, asking questions about a man with a gun for an arm.

"Looks like you found him, asshole." The slum residents, ever attuned to signs of danger to one of their own, tactfully turned away as Barret roughly bundled him inside. Necessary it might be, but eventually the brutality became too much for her to bear; she stepped upstairs, leaving the dirtier work to Barret. She would have loved to have Marlene to keep her company, but naturally, Barret had sent her away with Wedge first thing.

Instead, she busied herself with mindless work behind the bar, trying to ignore now-muffled sounds from downstairs, but she couldn't focus. Grateful when the noise died down, and Barret came back up, a grim look on his face.

"Bad news?" she asked, the question rhetorical. Of course it was bad news. The only question was WHAT.

Barret slumped heavily onto one of her barstools, sighing. The wood creaked ominously under him. "An' here I thought we were being so clever. Sounds like they knew about us from the start. Shit, maybe even before WE knew about us. Shinra's got their fucking eyes everywhere. And it turns out, a lot of those eyes are in Sector Six."

She felt a wave of relief for an anxiety she'd been too afraid to acknowledge. Cloud, what if he had thought it was Cloud… whatever her worries about Cloud, she'd never believe he'd willingly betray them. Not on his life, and after all, she had to trust someone, or life wouldn't be worth living... But Barret had held that suspicion of him from the beginning, and even after what had happened in the reactors…

"Your boy will be alright," Barret said, as if reading her thoughts. "We just gotta take care of our OWN business in the meantime."

"Am I THAT obvious?" she asked him.

He gave her his big teddy-bear grin. "Jus' a little. To me, anyway." Barret slapped his thigh. "Enough. Ugh. I need a fuckin' drink."

Tifa already had Barret's favorite bottle ready; over ice, splash of soda. Nothing fancy, but even as he accepted it wordlessly, he expressed his satisfaction with a long hearty swig and a sigh of contentment before continuing. "They know we're here in Sector Seven. Guy's not with Shinra; he's just a flunkie of Don Corneo's. Don't think he knows much about his boss's business, and he won't take back any intel. I made sure of that." Tifa didn't ask him to elaborate. "They picked someone just smart enough to be trusted, just stupid enough that it wouldn't be a huge waste if he got caught. Sloppy." Barret shook his head.

Don Corneo. Local bigwig, opinions ranging from grudging respect to fear to disgust. Tifa fell in that last category. The women he had working for him… Services so expensive that rarely could anyone but high-level Shinra executives afford them. Naturally, if someone else had the gil, they were entitled to the same… privileges. Given the level of clientele, Corneo could choose to exploit the most beautiful women available.

But that offered her – and AVALNCHE – an opportunity.

It was practically a rule that Barret would favor charging right in – and Tifa would favor caution. This time, she felt her approach was called for. "Don't even think about it Barret," she spoke to his yet-unvoiced thoughts. "You'll never get in. He's too well guarded, Might as well try to storm the Shinra building itself."

Barret looked abashed, confirming his thoughts had already been travelling that route when she headed him off. "There's only one way to get in," she continued.

He gave her a look of absolute horror as comprehension set in. "Tifa, you can't possibly..." he finally began.

"Yes, I CAN," she replied, feigning more confidence than she actually felt. If Cloud was only here… But he wasn't, was he? And she had been on her own for a long time – what had changed in the past few weeks to make her such a coward, afraid of going on without him?

It was a false sense of security in any case, she realized, thinking of the reactor and how easily that could be swept out from under her. He might or might not reappear soon, but it was her responsibility to be her own hero once again.

None of which contradicted the fact that she was frankly terrified.

She'd heard of seduction missions done. Could she even DO something like that… yecch… she couldn't even entertain the possibility, telling herself that it would be just a matter of getting in and wringing the information out of the Don and fighting her way out, right? She hoped she wouldn't need a safety net, because frankly, she couldn't think of one.

Fuck. She seriously didn't want to do this, but there were others to think about. AVALANCHE, now that their cover was blown. The people of the slums, most of whom didn't even realize there was a cell of terrorists in their midst. She'd known the people here for five years, now – they were her neighbors, friends. Home. If she and the others had put them in danger… she owed this to all of them.

Bracing herself, she calmly explained her reasoning to Barret, he struggling to contain his temper. Fortunately, she'd had years of practice chilling him out in Marlene's absence. Some soothing words, a top-off of his drink, and he was slowly coming around to the idea.

"I don't like it, Tifa. Not at all. I don't like you risking yourself like this. I want to say, it ain't worth it, but unfortunately I know you're right."

Tifa nodded. "Still got that asshole spy handy? Find out from him how to get into Don Corneo's."

"For you? I don't think I'll really have to do that at much CONVINCING. He was checking you out anyway when we first dragged him in." Barret grinned evilly. "I oughta give him an extra punch just for that. But that's not important right now."

"I know," Tifa replied, already planning in her head.

The others got the information quickly enough; the captive got on the phone, and Tifa heard a rather graphic description of her, uh, assets - which apparently passed standards as word came through that a chocobo carriage would be by for her soon enough. Well. Now at least she knew what was expected, and she could go from there.

Rumpling through her closet, she found a rather… revealing… blue dress she'd worn for New Year's Eve a few years back. She was surprised to find out she still had not only the dress, but the accessories as well. Belt, earrings. Matching blue shoes, platform pumps, that practically screamed "come fuck me!" Abruptly, she remembered, that night… she'd done exactly that. How long ago now that seemed, that idle memory now feeling like no more than a bit of girlish nostalgia, seeping her up into thoughts of Cloud again. How she wanted him touching her like a woman, sprawls of fantasy spiderwebbing outward from one intimate moment in the tunnel… and while she dressed, she let her mind go free.

Applying rarely-used makeup, she examined her face closely, thinking how if things in her life had been different, maybe this would have been the sort of woman she would have been, finding her value in her attractiveness to men, not in herself. Or if Nibelheim had not happened, would she now be measuring her worth by the man she married? Could that man, in another universe, have been Cloud?

She reminded herself that she'd started to become the woman she was now in part because of him, and it had taken her further than she could have expected – but what was their relationship to each other now? Assuming he was still alive (no, she shushed that thought, revising it to "when they met again") it was still something being established, felt out, and she had only the faintest idea of where she might WANT it to go, as she slowly began to get to know him all over again.

As a last step, she pulled the tie out of her hair, and with one arm, behind her neck, she swept it over her head, brushing her now-bare arms with a tickle she found not unpleasant. She looked at herself in the mirror, and it was the strangest sensation to realize… she was beautiful. It was the sort of thing that was always in the background of her mind, something she just KNEW – part of her living came from it, she couldn't deny that – it just wasn't something she often allowed herself to feel. But now… she took a mental step back to survey herself, appraising. Obviously she was the same woman, but the little touches here and there made all the difference. Even more important than how they looked, combined together it was what the image before her SAID, that this was a woman asking to be looked at.

Was that an invitation Cloud would be willing to accept?

She thought, then, how a look could be so different depending who it came from. She realized she wanted him to look at her, his eyes traveling over her skin, intimate as fingertips. But it was… Cloud. What did that mean?

It brought up confusing questions she wasn't sure she was ready to contemplate, and she was grateful to be interrupted. "Carriage is ready," she heard Biggs' voice call from downstairs, and she tugged nervously on her skirt with a last glance in the mirror. This was on her. Not Cloud. Time to be a different kind of hero.