There is only darkness at first. It is not only an absence of light, it is the absence of everything. An emptiness, a void.

It is not so bad, the nothingness. At least it does not hurt. It is easy to be nobody. There is no painful history, no regrets. No body that hungers and aches and feels. No heart that beats and breaks.

Something, though, reaches Tifa in the dark. It is barely a whisper at first, but then it grows stronger. It is a voice calling her name. She hears it a thousand different ways.

Tifa. It is a child's voice, soft and sweet. It is a teenage boy's voice, tentative and shy. It is a young man's voice that tethers her to herself and keeps her grounded when nothing else can. It is an old man's voice that releases her from herself and tells her it is okay to let go.

Tifa! It is said in an agonized voice, a desperate one. Tifa hears it as she falls from a mountain path. As she swings above a pit of mako, surrounded by gunfire. She hears it, laying barely conscious in a bed of flowers, being lifted into strong arms. Half-sobbed into her hair, begging her to hold on as she is seized with pain on a bathroom floor.

Tifa…She hears it uttered, sighed. It is said in a voice only for her ears. She hears it in the dark. She feels it murmured against her skin. It is a plea, a prayer, spoken into her neck, in the soft crook between her head and shoulder.

Tifa? It is a soft note of concern, one that makes her feel cared for and cherished. The name accompanies an arm, placed cautiously around her shoulders as she comes down from a panic, her breathing leveling out. It comes with a hand, gentle on her face. It is a single word, but it asks a question. It makes a promise. Are you okay? I'm here for you.

Tifa. It calls to her, reminds her who she is. She is Tifa Lockhart, twenty years old. Born in Nibelheim. Brian and Thea are her parents. She survived the destruction of her hometown by Sephiroth. Built a life for herself in Midgar. Joined AVALANCHE. It was there she was reunited with her childhood friend.

She is a survivor. A fighter.

Tifa! Cloud calls out to her. It is Cloud's voice. Of course it is. Tifa would know it anywhere. His voice, her name, pulls at her. Though she is trapped in darkness, Tifa does her best to follow it.

All of a sudden, Tifa felt solid. She was standing. Although she felt strange, the weight of her body also felt right compared to the nothingness of before. Her head was foggy and ached slightly, as it might have after a night of testing out new cocktails in Seventh Heaven with Barret, Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie.

Her mind felt tender. Fragile. There were whispers of images in it she could not quite remember. Of other people's lives as well as her own. When Tifa tried to focus on them, she was struck with a sharp pain in her temple. It discouraged her from trying again.

Instead, she focused on her surroundings.

There was a solid path beneath Tifa's feet, and she was surrounded by a misty haze. Through the haze was a soft, glowing green light. The place was unfamiliar, but the feel of it was not. Tifa felt safe here. Protected.

Paths branched around her.

Before Tifa could begin to wonder where the paths led, a seated figure ahead of her captured her attention entirely. He was crouched on the ground, his head between his hands. His eyes swept back and forth, as if searching for something.

Tifa's feet were racing beneath her before she was even aware of her decision to move.

At her approach, Cloud looked up. His eyes landed on Tifa. Without meaning to, Tifa cried out. It had been ages since Cloud had looked at her, actually looked at her. She fell to her knees next to him, reaching out.

Cloud recoiled from her.

Immediately, Tifa dropped her hands. Cloud lifted his hands protectively between them, partially blocking his face. Tifa realized that although there was an awareness in his eyes she had not seen since his mako poisoning, something was missing. Cloud was still not all the way there.

There was a vulnerable fragility to him. He seemed frightened, almost. Not necessarily of Tifa, but rather uncertain of her presence. His eyes landed on her again and again, before darting away.

Tifa felt just as uncertain of Cloud. She wanted badly to touch him, to confirm that he was truly there, in front of her. But he was skittish. He looked as if he might bolt if she tried.

So, Tifa sat back on her heels. She gripped her hands together. She gave him space. She waited.

Eventually, Cloud's eyes settled on her. He blinked at Tifa doubtfully. She tried to keep her face calm. It was not easy.

"Tifa?" he asked. "You're really here?"

She nodded, keeping her motions careful and slow. "I am."

Cloud took a moment to process her words, head titled. Finally, he seemed to accept them. He nodded but looked strangely sad.

"You died too then?"

The question made Tifa flinch, and Cloud shied away from her sudden movement. Tifa took a deep breath. She waited for Cloud to look at her again.

"We're not dead, Cloud. At least, I don't think we are."

She tried to keep her voice calm and even. Attempted to infuse some confidence in her words. Tifa had been here before, in a place like this. They were not dead. She was almost certain of it. But they also were not alive, exactly. They were stuck. Somewhere in between.

Her words did not convince Cloud.

"How did you die?" he insisted.

Tifa shook her head. "I didn't. We fell into the Lifestream. Have you been here all this time, Cloud?"

He frowned. "Stop calling me that."

"Huh?"

"Cloud. Stop calling me that."

"It's your name," Tifa said softly. "What else would I call you?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't given a number."

His words silenced Tifa. Cloud looked away from her, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth once more. He began muttering to himself.

"Five years ago. That's when Tifa died. Sephiroth killed her. I saw her wound. All the blood."

He stared down at his hands, then jerked. He grabbed his head.

"No, that's not right. It was at the reactor in Gongaga. It was me. I pushed her down into a pool of mako. Or were they stairs?"

Cloud flinched in pain, digging his hands into his hair. He continued talking to himself. Tifa could only stare, confused and stunned. She could barely understand him. He spoke of swords and blood, mako and reactors. It was agonizing to watch.

Cloud made a pained sound. Unable to bear it any longer, Tifa moved toward him. She did what she had longed to since seeing him here, hunched on the ground. She touched him, placing her hands over his.

Instantly, Tifa was flooded with images.

Tifa is at the top of the steps in the Nibelheim reactor. Sephiroth's blade slices her across the torso and blood sprays as she falls backward down the stairs.

A flash.

Tifa is on the edge of a pool of mako in the Gongaga reactor. Cloud's blade just misses her as she falls backwards into the pool.

A flash.

Tifa is falling into a pool of mako.

A flash.

Tifa is falling down the stairs.

A flash.

The blade just misses.

A flash.

The blade slices her and blood sprays.

A flash.

Tifa is on the edge of a pool of mako in the Gongaga reactor. Cloud's blade slices her across the chest and blood sprays as she falls backwards into the pool.

With effort, Tifa pulled her hands off Cloud's. Instantly, the images stopped. She reached for his face, cupping it loosely between her hands. When Cloud met Tifa's eyes, his were wild with confusion. Oh Cloud, Tifa thought sadly.

"That's not what happened," she told him. "Sephiroth is the one who hurt me. Five years ago. Remember, I showed you the scar?"

At the word scar, Cloud shook his head. His eyes became distant, moving rapidly once more. He was trapped again in the images.

Tifa could not bear it. She grabbed one of Cloud's hands and pulled it to her, pressing it to her stomach. As soon as his hand made contact, his eyes focused on her face again, startled.

Carefully, Tifa took his fingers and ran them just below the band of her shirt, over the ridge of scar tissue.

"Sephiroth gave me that scar," Tifa said firmly. "It's old. It didn't kill me. I survived it. It healed a long time ago."

Cloud flattened his hand against Tifa's skin, and she held her hand atop it. They both closed their eyes.

Tifa is at the top of the steps in the Nibelheim reactor. Sephiroth's blade slices her across the torso and blood sprays as she falls backward down the stairs.

Tifa is on the edge of a pool of mako in the Gongaga reactor. Cloud's blade just misses as she falls backwards into the pool.

When Tifa opened her eyes, Cloud was staring at her. His eyes were huge.

"That's right. That's what happened," she whispered.

Neither of them moved. It occurred to Tifa that their position should feel strange. They were crouched close together on the floor. Cloud's hand was pressed against her stomach, fingers just beneath her shirt. But it did not feel strange.

Why should it? Cloud had touched her like this many times before.

Tifa shook her head. What an odd thought.

But suddenly, images flashed behind her eyes.

Tifa's skin is damp with rainwater and Cloud's hands trail over her stomach as he helps her out of her sodden shirt. They are in bed and Cloud's fingers run over her stomach, again and again tracing the bump that is barely there. The sky is aflame with the golden light of a sunset and Cloud's hands are shaking as he touches Tifa's bared skin for the first time, on her stomach and then –

Cloud and Tifa broke apart abruptly. Tifa backed away. Cloud clutched his hand, staring down at it as if he had never seen it before. He looked up and they blinked at one another.

Tifa shook her head. Her thoughts were jumbled. "I thought I saw –"

She stopped. She did not know what she saw. As soon as she tried to pull an image to the forefront of her mind, it slipped away from her. The details of whatever Tifa had seen were lost. All she was left with was a lingering, undefinable feeling as she looked at Cloud.

He gave her a knowing look.

"It's like that sometimes here," he said. "You see things. Feel things. But sometimes you can't hold onto them. If you try to look too closely, they're gone."

Cloud's eyes looked suddenly haunted.

"But some of them won't go away. Sometimes you get stuck. You see the same things over and over. And the things you see don't make any sense."

Your memories, Tifa thought. She thought she was beginning to understand. You're stuck inside your memories.

A memory of Tifa's own came to her. Aerith, speaking to her in their hotel room in the Golden Saucer. Cloud isn't degrading, she had said. More of a…fracturing. Tifa thought of the muddled images she had seen inside Cloud's mind. We could put it back together. If all the pieces were there, that is. We could repair it.

A fracturing. Cloud's memories were fractured. Aerith had been right. All the pieces were there, but they were wrongly situated. He could still be put back together.

"You're trying to find yourself, aren't you?" Tifa asked.

Cloud titled his head at the question, but he did not respond.

Tifa thought of the images she had seen, tangled inside Cloud's mind. They had both been there, of course, when Cloud had attacked her in Gongaga. But Cloud had not been there five years ago when Sephiroth had given Tifa her scar. Yet Cloud's memory of it was vivid, clear. Exactly how Tifa remembered it.

How? The same question she had been asking for weeks. The only person who could answer it sat before Tifa now. She only had to be brave enough to ask. She glanced at him. Cloud was sitting placidly, watching Tifa.

Tifa closed the space that had opened between them. Cloud eyed her warily, skittish once again, but Tifa did not move to touch him. She placed her hands carefully in her lap, peering up into his face.

"Cloud?"

He tensed but did not protest Tifa's use of his name.

"Cloud," she repeated softly. "Five years ago. In Nibelheim. Remember how you told us the story in Kalm?"

His brow furrowed. Tifa looked down, squeezed her hands together.

"That's when I was first certain. That something was wrong."

She held down her doubts for so long. To protect Cloud's fragility. To keep her own fears at bay. But here, Tifa felt safe. No matter how fractured or confused, Cloud's presence surrounded her. With him, Tifa could face this. They would face it together.

Tifa placed her hand, palm up, in between them. Cloud's eyes lowered to it and back up to her face. Tifa watched him calmly, careful not to move.

"My memory of it is different," she confessed, keeping her gaze steady on his. "Would you help me figure out what actually happened?"

The request seemed to startle Cloud. His shoulders had been slumped toward the ground, but now they straightened. He lifted his hand, hovering it over Tifa's. When his eyes met hers, Tifa smiled.

Cloud lowered his hand until their palms touched. Both of them tensed when their hands connected, wary of being inundated with images once more. When nothing happened, Tifa curled her fingers around Cloud's hand loosely. Together they stood.

Tifa looked around, taking in her surroundings. The landscape around her made little sense. But one path, the one directly before them, was clear.

It led to the gates of Nibelheim. Hand in hand, they approached.

Tifa thought about how she felt the last two times she had walked toward these gates. The first time, she had been returning after years away. Cloud by her side had been a balm to her anxieties, even after they discovered that Nibelheim had been rebuilt, a manufactured lie.

The second had been a vision. A true one, to Tifa's memory at least, but one Sephiroth manifested with the sole purpose of breaking Cloud. Despite herself, Tifa squeezed Cloud's hand more tightly.

"Five years ago," Cloud said. "The gates of Nibelheim. Sephiroth was here. That's how it all started."

Tifa nodded, looking around. It was as she remembered. An old, rusted truck just inside the gates, the only one in town. It had been there since Cloud and Tifa were children. It looked exactly the same as it did when Sephiroth showed it to them.

But this felt different, somehow, from the vision Sephiroth had created. This was Cloud's memory of Nibelheim. It felt of home. This is our Nibelheim, Tifa thought. Our memory. They paused together, just inside the gates.

"Five years ago, two SOLDIERs came to Nibelheim," Tifa recounted. "Sephiroth, and one other. A vibrant, young SOLDIER."

Cloud tensed, his hand tightening on Tifa's.

"I know it's not easy," Tifa said to him. "But I'm right here with you. Can you tell me again what happened?"

The scene around them flickered, then a figure appeared at the gates. It was Sephiroth. He was talking to someone that Cloud and Tifa could not see.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

Sephiroth looked just as Tifa remembered him five years ago. Tall, intimidating. Cold. He exuded power. In their small, sleepy village, he had seemed out of place to Tifa. Wrong.

"It's your first time back in your hometown, right? So, how does it feel? I wouldn't know."

Despite the flatness of Sephiroth's voice, there was a note of genuine curiosity in his questions. Cloud watched the scene, transfixed.

Tifa squeezed Cloud's hand and released it. She walked closer to Sephiroth, examining him. He did not frighten her here. He was only a memory.

"I saw Sephiroth for the first time five years ago," Tifa told Cloud. "The whole village was worked up about the visit. I suppose I was too. But then he arrived at the gates."

Tifa shook her head.

"As soon as I saw him, I had a bad feeling."

Sephiroth turned toward Nibelheim. He shook his head, a strange smile on his face.

"What does it matter? Let's go."

He began walking away. Behind him, three figures followed. There were two helmeted infantrymen behind a uniformed SOLIDER. Tifa examined the SOLDIER curiously. It was Cloud. He was younger, though, nearly as tall but his cheeks just a bit rounder than they were now.

Cloud walked over to stand next to his younger self. He turned to Tifa uncertainly. His eyes were imploring. Tifa wished she could reassure him, but she could not. She shook her head, slowly.

"No, Cloud. I'm sorry."

At her words, the three figures flickered and disappeared. Cloud was left standing alone.

"I've been hiding it from you since that night in Kalm. I wanted to tell you, but then we fought, remember?"

She smiled at him wryly, recalling their heated words in Kalm and the clumsy apologies that followed in Junon. After her first failed attempt, Tifa had been cautious of confronting Cloud directly. Instead, she had tried probing Cloud's memory by asking about Emilio. It had gone nearly as poorly.

Tifa would do better this time.

"I was afraid," she confessed. "I thought if I told you the truth, something terrible might happen."

Something terrible had happened anyways. Tifa had held back the truth, only for Sephiroth to throw it in his face in the worst possible way. Now, Tifa had already faced her worst fears. She would help Cloud face his.

Tifa moved closer to him. "I won't hide anything now."

She held her hand out to Cloud, and he took it.

Around them, Nibelheim flickered, then settled. It looked exactly the same, but Tifa could feel that the memories they were seeing were hers.

And just like she remembered, Tifa saw herself. Fifteen years old, wearing her favorite outfit. Tifa had waited inside the gates of Nibelheim, just out of sight, but positioned so that she would be the first to see the soldiers arrive. Cloud titled his head curiously at the sight of her.

Tifa closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the day. How it felt. She had been apprehensive. More excited than nervous. Tifa had not been sure what she would do or how she would feel if Cloud had been among the party sent by Shinra, but she had wished for it all the same.

She opened her eyes to find Cloud watching her. Not the fifteen-year-old memory of Tifa, but Tifa as she was now. He looked puzzled.

"You were here waiting?" he asked. "At the gate?"

They both looked back at Tifa's memory of herself. Teenage Tifa peaked out from her lookout spot. She shook her head and dashed away.

Tifa remembered it all. The anticipation, the waiting. The wave of disappointment that crashed over her when the soldiers arrived, but Cloud was not one of them. The details of that day were blurry to Tifa, but the emotions were vivid to her still. Sharp. More than anything, the feeling of that day made Tifa certain that her recollection was true.

"I waited," she confirmed. "But you never came."

She watched as Cloud closed his eyes. Emotions flickered across his face. Tifa recognized them as her own. The buildup to the visit. The subsequent let down.

They were feelings that she had guarded so carefully. Tifa had been so eager and naïve. Lonely after all the boys had left the village. She had wanted so badly to see Cloud again. Perhaps once she would have been embarrassed for him to know. But here, it felt pointless to hide.

Cloud opened his eyes, and they looked at each other for a moment. His brow was furrowed in concentration. After a moment, his eyes flicked away, distracted by something over Tifa's shoulder.

Tifa turned. Together, they watched what Tifa had seen as she waited at the gates five years ago. Three figures following Sephiroth. Two helmeted infantrymen. And a SOLDIER. Tall with blue eyes and black hair.

"Zack," Cloud said.

Tifa nodded. "That's right."

Cloud dropped Tifa's hand, shaking his head. The figures faded away. Tifa stepped back, trying to give him space to process.

"Zack was here, but I wasn't?"

Again, Tifa nodded. Cloud frowned.

"Cloud never came to Nibelheim five years ago?" he asked.

Tifa shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, Cloud. But I'm sure of it now. After that night at the water tower, I never saw you again, until you showed up in Midgar."

"The water tower…"

Cloud whispered the words, his eyes distant. Once again, his eyes moved back and forth, witnessing memories that Tifa could not see. After a moment, he blinked his eyes hard and shook his head. He turned to Tifa, distressed.

"That night at the well. The promise we made. What if that memory was just a lie?"

It was not. Tifa knew it like she knew her own name. It had been just her and Cloud that night. The sky had been filled with stars. Long after Cloud left, Tifa had clung tightly to the memory. The feel of it. A tender, nervous excitement she had never felt before.

Cloud was watching her, awaiting an answer.

She could give him one, Tifa realized. There were many things that Tifa did not know. Some of Sephiroth's lies were ones Tifa could not dismantle. Tifa had not been there when Aerith died. Only Cloud knew what exactly happened. Neither did Tifa know where Cloud had been in the years between leaving Nibelheim and finding him in Midgar.

But Tifa had been there with Cloud that night at the water tower. Tifa and Cloud had grown up together. The person in front of Tifa was her Cloud, she felt it in her bones. But none of it mattered if Cloud himself did not feel it to be true.

Nothing Tifa said could convince Cloud. She had to help him convince himself. She had to rely on their memories, the ones they shared together.

"Your memory of that night is not a lie, Cloud."

Tifa voice sounded as strong as it ever had. She even attempted a smile. Cloud's eyes were fixed on her. Hopeful, but still not believing.

"Can you tell me what you remember?" she prompted.

Slowly, Cloud shook his head.

"I…can't."

For a moment, Tifa's heart shattered. But then Cloud continued.

"I can't remember it, but they might."

Cloud looked strange, suddenly, to Tifa. The outline of him seemed blurred. Tifa blinked, trying to clear her vision. She rubbed at her eyes. When she pulled her hands away, Cloud looked normal again. But he was not alone.

Two smaller figures were at his side. Both had spiky blond hair, longer than Cloud's was now. Their eyes were light blue and clear as a summer sky, untouched by mako. The one to Cloud's right was taller than the other one, but still small for his age.

He was Cloud, as Tifa had last seen him seven years ago. His eyes flitted toward Tifa and away again, unable to meet her gaze. He stared down at his shoes.

"Cloud, what –"

Teenage Cloud interrupted Tifa. "This way!"

His voice was gentle and eager, just like Tifa remembered. He dashed off, as he had so many years before, when he had asked Tifa to meet him at the water tower. A moment of boldness, followed by an endearingly awkward retreat. Though he disappeared into the village, Tifa knew where he was headed.

Cloud was watching him too. Tifa took a step toward him.

"Well?" she said. "Seems like we should follow him."

Cloud looked between Tifa and the child version of himself at his side. The child nodded solemnly at Cloud, then looked up at Tifa through his lashes. He gave her the smallest smile, shy but sweet.

Tifa was overwhelmed with a sudden tenderness. She looked down at the smaller version of Cloud but saw something different. Longer hair. A bolder smile. Reddish brown eyes. Did you see that, Mom? A brave child, untouched by trauma, loved and protected. She cartwheels and shouts with glee.

"Tifa?"

Cloud's voice snapped Tifa to the present. The child blinked at Tifa, his face perplexed. Tifa felt just as confused. There was a dull ache in her temple. She pushed it away. Focus, Tifa. Both Clouds were watching her, as if waiting to be told what to do.

"Let's go then," Tifa said.

She walked through the gates of Nibelheim, both Clouds close behind her. Though it had just been daytime, the sky rapidly darkened, stars spilling across it. Together, they approached the water tower.