Cloud quickly caught up to the line of black-cloaked men. Tifa hustled to keep up, the cold air painful in her lungs. The tension in Cloud seemed to relent when they reached the center of the line. He slowed to their pace. The figures marched with their heads hanging limply. Their gaits were uneven, almost a limp, yet somehow, they marched in unison. Cloud's eyes glazed over and his body swayed to match their strange rhythm.

Tifa alone was a discordant beat in the odd parade. Her heart continued racing, even after they slowed down. Her breathing was erratic. She tried to remember her training and worked to calm her body, counting to make her exhales longer than her inhales. It did not help. She looked to Cloud, trying to ground herself.

Whatever fragmented piece of Cloud that was currently in control was not a Cloud that Tifa recognized. She wanted to grab him, shake him, scream at him. But she knew in that moment that he was beyond hearing her. All she could do was stay by his side.

So she did. Overwhelmed by terror and uncomforted, Tifa focused on the one thing she was able to do in that moment – keep going. Normally she would have been embarrassed by her lack of control, the way her breaths came in audible almost-sobs and her ungraceful skidding on the icy path. But her actions were inconsequential in that moment. She might as well have been alone. The only thing that mattered to Cloud and the black cloaked men was the invisible, inexorable force that drove them forward.

The cliffs loomed ahead. Tifa filled with dread as they approached. How would they climb them? She thought of Holzoff's story, of his friend who died. If professional climbers were unable to scale the cliffs, how could they expect to? They had no experience, nor did they have climbing equipment.

They had veered off the main path some time ago, Tifa realized. She could see far off to her right where the path met the cliff face. Their route was less efficient and approached a section of the cliffs that seemed insurmountable, even if they had climbing equipment with them. Tifa searched the rock looming above her. It was smooth as far as she could see. Even if she had a grappling hook, there would be nowhere to aim.

The first black-cloaked man reached the cliffside. Tifa blinked as he hunched over, then seemed to disappear. As they got closer, she realized there was an opening. A cave, its entrance a hidden crevice along the rock wall.

One by one they entered. Tifa kept close to Cloud. Her heart leapt when, for a moment, she lost sight of him as he squeezed through the entry before her. Tifa held her breath and pressed through the tight space herself. She spared a moment of gratitude for her snowsuit. Without it, the rock would have scraped her skin raw.

It was dark inside, but there was crystalized mako on the cave walls that offered a weak source of light. Tifa quickly pushed forward to Cloud's side. His eyes, glowing in the dark, did not turn toward her.

The cave tunneled into the cliffs, zigzagging upward. As they moved deeper into the cave, and presumably toward the crater, it grew warmer. Tifa began to sweat. She remembered what Holzoff had told them. Apparently, if you get to the crater, it's as warm as Costa del Sol. They must be getting close.

Their path began to narrow. It was barely wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side, but Tifa stuck to Cloud's. The air felt thick. The neck of Tifa's snowsuit was choking her. She pulled at her collar. Sweat dripped down her back.

Tifa was suddenly shoved from behind. She stumbled into the back of the cloaked man in front of her. The man behind her pressed forward, but the man in front of her could not. The path was too narrow. He was pinned against the wall of the tunnel. Tifa found herself trapped between them.

Tifa tried to lash out with elbows and fists, but there was no room. She craned her neck over the heads of the men passing by them. Cloud was still pressing forward.

"Cloud!" Tifa cried out.

More men pressed behind her, caught in the bottle neck that was forming. Tifa saw one man go down, trampled by the others behind her. Her mind was a haze of fear. She could not breathe. She was compressed by the bodies surrounding her, suffocating in the heat of the cave. Blackness pricked her vision.

Don't lose consciousness, she screamed at herself. She fought desperately against the flesh that surrounded her. There was nowhere to go, but up. Her feet left the ground as she managed to squirm above the men's heads, her body still sardined among them. I'm going to die here, she thought desperately. A few men were still managing to squeeze past them, but the progression was slow. Tifa could see the back of Cloud's head.

She was sobbing now. "Cloud, please!"

Her vision blacked out for a moment, then returned. Mako eyes met hers from the path ahead. For a split second, she thought Cloud had turned back. But the eyes were green, not blue. It was Sephiroth. Tifa realized all movement had ceased around her. She wondered if she had fainted after all or if, in her panicked state, she was hallucinating.

Sephiroth smirked. "Your voice can't reach him now."

He had said that to her before.

"Cloud…" she said again.

The bodies around her were pressing too tightly. She could not take in enough air to muster more than a whisper. Sephiroth laughed.

"You're right, though, Tifa," he says. "Cloud should be here for this."

In a blink, he was gone. Movement resumed around her. Tifa was rapidly losing the height she had gained by squirming to the top of the huddled bodies. She could barely see over their heads. The edges of her vision went black as she fought for consciousness.

"Tifa!"

The shout sent a surge of adrenaline through her. Cloud? The shout came again, raw with fear. Cloud! Tifa managed to get an elbow in between two men beside her. It took everything she had to push them apart, only an inch or two. Through the gap she could see Cloud fighting toward her, grabbing men and shoving them down or aside.

Then he was there in front of her. He pulled her into him with one arm, the other forming a protective bubble of space around her. Tifa clung to his shirt. Tifa felt soft flesh under feet as Cloud dragged her forward. Blackness threatened to overtake her again.

Tifa was suddenly aware that she was seated, the cave wall against her back. Hands on her shoulders held up upright. Tifa gasped and pushed away. She needed space. She needed air. Her hands scrambled for the zipper at her neck, clumsy and ineffective. Her feet kicked out, one meeting rock, the other meeting soft flesh.

A grunt of pain.

"Tifa, you're hyperventilating," a frightened voice, but a familiar one. "Stop fighting me. You're safe now, let me help."

Fighting her body's instincts, Tifa relented. There were gentle hands at her throat, working at the stuck zipper. Finally, it yielded, and Tifa gulped in air. Careful hands peeled the snowsuit off her shoulders and Tifa gratefully freed her arms and torso.

Tifa kept her eyes closed as the nausea and dizziness passed. She breathed through her nose and out through her mouth. Her body slowly began to feel normal again. Tifa opened her eyes. She was seated in an alcove that branched off the narrow path of the cave. She might have once it called tight, but now it felt spacious. Cloud was crouched in front of her, his face anxious.

"You alright?"

His voice was tender. His voice was his. Tifa nodded, unable to speak. Cloud's brow puckered as he looked over his shoulder, away from her, back toward the path.

"The others…" he said worriedly.

Tifa swallowed, her throat dry.

"We went ahead, remember?" she said. "They shouldn't be too far behind."

"Right," Cloud replied.

He sounded confused, but then nodded assuredly. It was a pattern Tifa was familiar with. Moments of confusion followed by confidence. Next, they would pretend nothing was wrong. I should push him, Tifa thought. She felt lightheaded and weak. We can't keep doing this. I don't have the strength to pretend.

But then, Cloud turned to her. His eyes were attentive, soft. He reached out and stroked a clump of sweaty hair off Tifa's face. His fingers lingered on her cheek.

"You're sure you want to keep going?"

Tifa's resolve weakened. No, I'm not. She never wanted anything less. Let's stay like this forever, she wanted to beg him. Forget Sephiroth. Forget the planet. Let's just run away. The two of us. They could be together. The longing to grab him and run was overwhelming.

Maybe his memory was not quite right, who cared? All that mattered was the way he was looking at her now and the sparks that jumped between his fingertips and her skin. Could she actually do it? Act like everything was fine when he had sudden headaches or said strange things? Avoid saying Aerith's name for the rest of their lives? How much longer would running away allow her to hold together the fragile, fragmented pieces of Cloud Strife?

"Tifa, what is it?"

He asked it in the same tender voice as before. He looked at her like he only ever did when they were alone and he was his truest self, or who Tifa knew in her heart of hearts to be his truest self. He looked at her like she was something precious. It had been days since he looked at her this way.

Why now? The thought snaps Tifa out of it. She knows why. She recalled Sephiroth's smirk and fury grew inside her. He was playing with them, that much was certain. Though she did not entirely understand the game, she could not let Sephiroth win.

He should be here for this, Sephiroth had said.

He wanted Tifa to know. He was in control of this game. Cloud belonged to him. We can't run from this, Tifa realized. She was afraid to go on. She was afraid of what might happen when they finally confronted Sephiroth. Weeks of worry and speculation had culminated in this moment. Aerith is not here anymore, Tifa thought. She can't help us now. It's just me and Cloud. One way or another, we have to face this together.

Impulsively, Tifa leaned forward into Cloud. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into the crook of his neck. Stunned, Cloud returned the embrace, a hand behind her shoulders and another resting against the back of her head.

"Tifa, maybe I should take you back-"

"No," she said emphatically.

She dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Breathed in his familiar scent. Relished the weight of his arms around her, a rarity, but a rarity that always felt like coming home. She gathered her strength and released him.

"Okay," she told him. "I'm ready."