As Tifa walked out of the hospital wing, escorted by guards, she was almost glad for the weakness in her limbs. A week in bed and Tifa felt as though she had never worked her muscles a day in her life. And the pitiful meal they had given her before leading her away did little to restore her.
But she could, at least, pretend it was the cause of her trembling.
Tifa had faced death many times before. And she had been afraid many times before. But she had never quite experienced what she was feeling now, walking down the sterile halls of the garrison. The florescent lighting buzzed above her. Other than the rhythmic footsteps of the guards surrounding her, it was the only sound.
Besides the pounding of her heart in her ears.
She put one foot in front of the other, trying not to remember that every step led her closer to her own execution. At least, she could not imagine it. Tifa had not been told the method. From what Rufus had told her, perhaps it was better not to know.
In and out. Tifa focused her breathing. Tried to make it even, inaudible. She was not successful. An infantryman to her left glanced at her warily, as if worried she might faint. Tifa clenched her teeth and ignored him.
Shinra wanted to make her an example, use her as a tool to gain favor from the public. The world was ending, and they were still scrambling to hold onto every last scrap of their power. As much as Tifa acknowledged her own crimes, they were nothing compared to Shinra's. Tifa should have felt angry, not afraid.
Tifa had been angry with Shinra for so long, since the moment she knelt next to her father's body five years ago. It had led her to do reckless things. Terrible things. Barret had told her once, when Tifa had been wallowing in guilt, to hold onto her anger. Zangan had once urged her to focus it, to use her anger.
But even now, as Tifa walked toward becoming yet another victim of Shinra's greed, she could not muster any anger toward them. Nor could she follow Aerith's urging to find something more to hold onto. To forgive. To focus on the future. To make things right.
There is no future, Tifa told herself. Nothing waiting at the end of the corridor. There was only the next step. Lift one foot, then the other. She tried not to think about how she wouldnever get a chance to learn how to forgive. How she was out of timeto make peace and amends for all that was done to her and all she had done.
For the first time since her knees had hit the ground in the Northern Crater, Tifa was positive of one thing. She wanted to live. Badly. She was not ready to die.
The thought must have slowed Tifa's feet because the infantrymen on either side of her gripped her arms, hustling her along. Tifa struggled to quicken her pace. The thought of being dragged to her death was intolerable.
They progressed through the garrison. It was cold, metallic. The rough plates of the metal walls reminded Tifa of the underside of the Midgar slums. Although her time there had began and ended with death, her memories there were not entirely bad. She had made a home there, a life of her own, friends.
Tifa thought about Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie. Marle. Even Johnny. Friends she had cared for and laughed with. Once, right before Tifa turned seventeen, Jessie had leveraged her acting training to instruct Tifa on posture.
Shoulders back, she had instructed. If you walked like a scared little mouse, they'll treat you like one. Even if you're afraid, walk like you're brave. Soon enough, you might even feel it!
Although it was difficult with the soldiers gripping her arms, Tifa threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin. She would not let them see her fear. She would stand tall.
Voices were now carrying down the hall. Multiple people shouting questions over one another. A deep voice and booming laughter responded. A higher pitched cackle mixed in. Tifa recognized the voices. Heidegger, Director of Public Security for Shinra. And Scarlett.
As they entered a room at the end of the hall, the chaos became visible. It was a press conference. The sight turned Tifa's stomach. The reporters were eager, cameras and microphones now pointing toward Scarlett, who was reveling in the attention.
"Today in Junon, we bring the people what they have long awaited," she announced, spreading her arms. "Justice, for the victims of Sector Seven. For all of Midgar. We have captured the worst of AVALANCHE's criminal leaders."
A cacophony of chatter and questions followed. One particularly pushy reporter shouted over the others.
"Why a public execution?" he asked. "In this day and age?"
Heidegger cleared his throat. "Ah well, for this level of depravity, we thought the public deserved –"
"Here she is now!" Scarlett pushed him aside, pointing. "Tifa Lockhart. The first to be executed for her crimes."
The reporters turned in their direction, the question forgotten.
Give them nothing, Tifa thought.She made her face blank, empty of emotion. It was not easy. The room was truly too small to hold the reporters and soldiers crowded in. Under the metal walls and ceiling, the lights of the cameras were hot. A trickle of sweat ran between her shoulders.
"Final words? Anything you would like to say to account for your crimes?"
Tifa ignored Scarlett. She lifted her gaze to keep her head from hanging. If she let her eyes go unfocused, she could almost imagine she was in Sector Seven. The paneled metal ceiling really did remind her of its plate. Before it fell, anyways. She tried to filter out the low and high tones of Heidegger and Scarlett's overlapping laughter.
Tifa tried to think, instead, of how Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie sounded laughing together. How when Tifa laughed with them, she felt a wound closing inside her, one that had been seeping, unhealed since the moment she woke up alone on a hospital bed in Midgar.
When Barret yelled at them to stop acting like a bunch of kids, they only laughed harder. Tifa almost always heard Barret's voice like that in her head, when she needed to tell herself to buck up or get her act together. Barret had always been kind to Tifa, but unlike most men she knew, he never treated her like she was weak.
She tried to hear his voice now. He would remind Tifa that she was tough. A fighter.
"Tifa!"
For a moment, Tifa thought she had manifested Barret's voice. But then she saw him, to the side of Scarlett and Heidegger. He was surrounded by soldiers, his arms tightly bound behind him. There were the shiny beginnings of bruises on his face. Of course he would have resisted.
Despite the waving arms, proffered microphones, and hungry faces of the press between them, Tifa and Barret locked eyes. Barret's face was defiant. He did not look defeated. His eyes were trying to communicate something to Tifa, some signal. She could not discern it.
We're not gonna just forget about Cloud either, okay?
Barret's words from earlier came back to her. She prayed she was right. That the others would do what Barret and Tifa could not.
Goodbye Barret, Tifa thought. She drank in the sight of his rebellious face, trying to absorb some of its strength. She needed it. Tifa kept her head turned toward him, even as she was led away, toward a door behind the small, makeshift platform that Heidegger and Scarlett were holding court on.
Tifa reminded herself not to drag her feet. To tuck away her fear.
The sight of the room beyond the door almost robbed her of any bravado. Tifa had seen stark rooms in her life. She had lived in a shipping container when she had first arrived in Midgar. She had seen the inside of Hojo's lab in the Shinra Building.
None quite paralyzed her and filled her with dread the way this one did. It was a small, dark chamber, empty save for a metal chair bolted to its floor. There were restraints built into the arms and legs of the chair. A camera was mounted to the wall, facing the chair.
At the sight of the camera, Tifa felt a jolt of disgust. It was not enough to overpower her fear entirely, but it gave her weakened limbs the strength they needed to carry her forward. The guards turned her around as they approached the chair.
The clack of heels on the metal floor announced Scarlett before Tifa saw her. Just as soon as Tifa noted her presence, Scarlett's hands were shoving against her and Tifa stumbled backward, landing hard on the chair behind her. The back of Tifa's head, still tender from her fall on the airship, collided with the high back of the chair. Stars momentarily burst before her eyes.
When it passed, Tifa's realized her arms had already been secured. The soldiers were standing, having also fastened the restraints around her ankles. They backed out of the room without looking at her. Tifa was alone with Scarlett.
"What is this?" Tifa demanded.
Her voice did not sound like herself, but Tifa was proud that it did not shake.
"A gas chamber," Scarlett answered, gesturing grandly. "Of my own design. It delivers a slow, painful death. Perfect for exterminating slum rats."
Tifa thought again of Sector Seven. Its people. All of those who had been kind to her. Marle, who warned her away from Wall Market and helped her find a job at Seventh Heaven. Jessie, who had recognized how lonely and in trouble Tifa had been. Old Man Monty, the previous owner of Seventh Heaven, who let Barret and Marlene sleep in the basement when they had nowhere else to go.
Slum rats? Scarlett, in her expensive dress and decked with jewels, was not worth a fraction of any of them. Tifa lifted her chin. It was difficult to meet Scarlett's eyes head on when Tifa was seated and she stood in heels before her, but Tifa did her best.
As Tifa looked at Scarlett, she did her best to silently communicate all of her contempt for her. Her unexpressed rage for all the people of Sector Seven who had suffered for years under its plate while Scarlett had enjoyed wasteful extravagances above.
"Stuck up bitch," Scarlett spat.
Tifa's head jerked sharply as Scarlett slapped her across the face. It hurt, but Tifa had endured worse. The slap did not sting as much as its humiliation.
She left. The door closed behind her. A red light blinked on the camera. It was recording. Tifa was alone.
There were strange vents high in the chamber. Tifa tried not to look at them, tried not to think about what they were for. She focused on the feel of the chair beneath her. The rush of air in and out of her lungs. The air was stale, but still precious.
Tifa wondered what Aerith might have felt in the moments before she died. She had been alone too, up until the end. Had she been afraid? Had she seen it coming or had everything ended before she had time to even consider it?
Aerith had spoken of death so bravely just days before her own, trying to comfort them all after they faced their pasts in the Temple the Ancients. Our bodies may disappear when we die, but our spirits still live on. She had described death as just the beginning, a return to the planet, the Lifestream, and in time, to life itself.
She would not have spent her final moments in fear, Tifa was sure of it. She thought of Aerith's smile, the way it could convince Tifa to have hope when she was certain there was none. The way it could ease Barret's grumpiness and drag Cloud into even the most ridiculous endeavors.
Tifa thought about Cloud too. Not the way he had been the last time she saw him. She tried to think of him any way other than that.
She pictured Cloud, not during any special moment, but how he had been when the two of them were together. Just talking. About their favorite foods, their childhoods, anything really. The careful way he listened, head tilted and eyes serious. The slight tilt of his lips as he smiled at what she said.
There was a hissing sound from above as gas released in the chamber.
Tifa considered holding her breath, but she could not manage it. Her breathing came in short bursts instead.
Now she saw her parents. Her father, who called her pumpkin and tried to protect her from the world. And her mother. Tifa's mom had died when she was young and there were days she struggled to remember her face. But she saw her clearly now. Her eyes, that were just like Tifa's. Her soft, loving hands that could soothe away the worst of Tifa's hurts.
When Tifa was a girl, she would have climbed mountains just to see her mother's face again. Perhaps, now, she would. Maybe this time, she would actually make it.
The air felt wrong in Tifa's lungs. It filled them, but it provided nothing to sustain her. The air hurt. It made her cough, which only made her seek it out more desperately. Tifa gasped, sucking in more air that stung and burned.
Her vision blurred and a sharp pain split her head.
Is this really it? Her mind and body rejected the notion. Tifa had thought to die with dignity, to give the camera nothing of substance. But now she struggled in the chair, her limbs jerking against the restraints.
To her surprise, they were loose. In fact, with one sharp kick, her left ankle came free entirely, then the right. At the same time, she managed to slip a hand through the loosely fastened strap and used it to free the other. She stood up.
Tifa's brain was foggy, and the room was swimming. But even here, even now, in the grimmest of circumstances, Tifa felt something unexpected – hope. Aerith had been right. Hope would carry her forward, perhaps even save her.
"Tifa!"
The muffled cry was coming from the door. A loud banging accompanied it.
"Shit, shit, shit."
It was Barret. A rescue! Tifa thought hazily. There was a plan all along. The thought made her feel warm inside. She was not alone. Of course not. Her friends would never let her just die. That was what Barret had been trying to tell her with his eyes.
Tifa lurched toward the door, but her legs would not support her. She fell to her knees, bruising them on the hard metal floor.
"Hold on, Tifa!" Barret shouted. "We're gonna get you outta there! Just hold on!"
His voice seemed to come from far away. Tifa moved forward on hands and knees, toward the door. Her vision was blacking out. When she coughed, she tasted blood. She bent her head to the floor to rest it. For just a moment.
Suddenly, Tifa was waking up.
She was facedown, her cheek pressed against hard cold metal. A terrible piercing, repetitive sound was blaring. A siren. It must have been what had woken her. Red lights flashed intermittently.
Tifa breathed. Her lungs ached, but the air felt clean.
She pushed herself upright. Her head was still spinning, but after several deep breaths, it cleared. The door was in front of her. She had nearly crawled all the way to it before collapsing. Tifa prodded it experimentally.
It opened.
Tifa grabbed at the open door frame, pulling herself to her feet. Nausea and weakness nearly overwhelmed her. She would not allow it to. You're alive, she told herself. Make the most of it. She swallowed the sick feeling.
The area outside the door was dark, other than the flashing red lights. There must have been some sort of power outage or emergency. The room was empty. Evacuated, perhaps? Tifa struggled to make sense of it.
She stumbled out of the chamber. Holding the wall to stay upright, she moved back into the room where the press had been gathered before. Her feet felt clumsy and huge as she made her way to the corridor.
She paused before exiting. What were the odds that the way would be clear? She would not be able to fight her way out in her current state.
And yet, it was clear. Tifa blinked, confounded, at the empty corridor. Where was everyone? The sirens blared again. This time, sharp commands came with it.
Attack imminent! Attack imminent! All soldiers to your stations immediately. I repeat! Attack imminent! All soldiers report for duty!
Something was happening. Her friends? Surely, they would not provoke this level of response. It had to be something big, something important. Perhaps, if Cloud –
No, Tifa told herself. Stop. Even if Cloud had come, his appearance would not have emptied the building like this.
As if to confirm her thoughts, the entire building shook around her. It felt as though something had collided with it. Something of unfathomable size. Tifa remembered, suddenly, what Barret had told her when she had woken up in the hospital wing. The Weapons had been attacking.
The building shook again, this time more violently. Tifa was unable to stay on her feet. She fell to the ground, covering her head protectively. The garrison was solid, hewn together with metal. Even still, it seemed impossible it could endure this.
Finally, the shaking abated. The corridor was silent for a long moment. Tifa lifted her head, breathing shallowly. She pushed to a seated position, resting her back against the wall.
Footsteps were approaching. Several sets of them. It was the sound of approaching soldiers. Perhaps an entire platoon.
Get up! Tifa told herself. She tried to get her feet underneath her body. To push up from the ground. But she could not. Her body was uncoordinated, her limbs weak and shaky. Everything hurt. She had used up her final reserves of strength.
The soldiers were now approaching.
"Oh shit."
They stopped several feet ahead of Tifa.
"Isn't that –"
"She's supposed to be –"
"I'll handle it," one of them said. "Go on ahead. They'll notice if we all take too long."
The troop continued on, just one member staying behind. Tifa stopped trying to get up. She leaned against the wall, looking up at him. At his gun. The soldier took a step toward Tifa. He reached for something in his belt. Ammo?
He bent down, held a hand out to her. He was offering her a potion.
"Why?" Tifa asked.
It was all she could manage.
The soldier shook his head. "Just take it, will you?"
Tifa did. She had been through hell. Her body was damaged, she was exhausted. She needed far more than a potion. But it helped. Tifa's limbs felt more solid. Her lungs still crackled when she inhaled, but the pain was more tolerable.
She looked at the soldier, still crouching before her.
"Why?" she repeated.
He shrugged, looking around the corridor nervously.
"Let's just say Scarlett does not have many friends among the lower ranks," he said. "And you, apparently, have one among the upper executives."
Who? Tifa's immediate response was confusion. But then she realized. Who else could it be, but Cait?
Tifa finished the potion. Placing one hand against the wall to stabilize herself, she stood. Her legs wobbled but held. The soldier stood, backing away from her. He looked ready to bolt, but Tifa stopped him.
"Thank you," she said. "I'll never forget it."
The soldier snorted. "Sure you will, soon enough. Next time you see me I'll probably be shooting at you. Or you'll be watching Cloud Strife cut me down."
Tifa flinched. She could say nothing, though, to counter his point.
"You wouldn't know me from a thousand other grunts," he said wryly.
He was not wrong. With the helmet on, all the lower ranking soldiers looked the same.
The man before her could have been anyone. He could have been one of the members of the Midgar 7th Infantry, who they had marched with in Junon so many days before. In that uniform and helmet, he could have been Cloud himself, and Tifa might never have known.
"Perhaps so," Tifa said softly. "But I'm grateful all the same."
The soldier did not respond. Tifa did not know what else to say.
"I'm Tifa," she offered after a moment. "Tifa Lockhart."
He snorted again. "I know who you are."
But then, he sighed and pulled off his helmet.
At once, Tifa was startled by how young he seemed. Despite his height and the breadth of his shoulders, he looked younger than Yuffie. He had a mop of curls on his head and his lashes were absurdly long, the way young boys' sometimes inexplicably were.
"I'm Danny."
He blushed, then cleared his throat.
"Trooper Daniel Grayson."
Tifa thought Danny suited him better. She smiled at him, but felt suddenly sad. She thought about sweet village boys with stars in their eyes, eager to go to Midgar and prove themselves. To seek a better life. Sent instead to kill and be killed, one of a faceless many.
He put his helmet back on.
Tifa looked up and down the hall uncertainly. "Do you know –"
The shriek of the siren interrupted her. The next attack on the garrison quickly followed. Its force knocked Tifa and Danny to the ground. There was a terrible screech of metal above them. They both cowered on the floor. There was nothing to do but wait for it to pass.
When it was over, they looked up. There was a large gash in the metal ceiling. A slice of blue sky was visible through it. Danny scrambled to his feet.
"You have to get out of here," he told her. "I can boost you through."
He cupped his hands together to make a foothold.
Tifa shook her head. "I don't know where –"
"Does it matter? You can't stay here. You'll figure it out once you're outside."
Tifa was not so sure, but footsteps were again echoing through the halls. Danny gestured urgently at her, and Tifa relented, placing a hand on his shoulder and stepping into hands. He boosted her up to the hole in the ceiling and Tifa grabbed for its edge.
She hoisted herself to the surface above. The light blinded her at first. Tifa blinked, trying to acclimate. By the time she looked back down into the opening below, Danny was gone.
Tifa tried to orient herself. She had climbed onto the curved roof of one of the middle levels of the Shinra stronghold. It was swarming with troops, the controlled chaos of military operations. All weapons were pointed out toward the sea.
There was a platform just below. It was empty of soldiers at least. Tifa carefully slid down onto it. She looked around helplessly. There was nowhere to go. Behind her, there was a door that led back into the garrison. Ahead of her, the nose of a giant cannon stretched toward the water.
She walked toward the water. Could she jump? Swim toward the shore? But before she even reached the edge, she knew it would not be an option. She was up too high, she would never survive the fall.
From below, a loud humming. The sound of an engine.
Tifa watched in amazement as an airship came into view, rising above the cannon. There were distant shouted orders from other, nearby platforms, surprised and unorganized. But Tifa was frozen in disbelief.
The airship itself was a sight to behold. But even more unbelievable, as the lower deck came into view, was the sight of her friends waving frantically at her. Barret, Yuffie, Nanaki, Vincent, and Cait were all there. She had been so sure she would never see them again.
"Run, Tifa!" Barret yelled. "To the end of the cannon!"
Tifa ran.
Just as her feet hit the curved bronze surface of the cannon, a voice sounded from behind her. An odious and grating one.
"Stop right there!"
Tifa should have kept going. But instead, she turned around. Scarlett approached her, a platoon of soldiers at her back. Her usually perfectly coifed hair was frazzled. Rage twisted her face, making it unrecognizable. Ugly.
"Your little escape ends here," she snapped.
Tifa only shrugged. "We'll see."
This time she saw the slap coming. She did nothing to evade it.
"Stuck up until the end!"
Scarlett's voice sounded satisfied. She liked hurting people. More than that, she liked to humiliate them, make them feel small.
Tifa was tired. She was tired of losing people. Of being hurt. Of having to risk everything and crawl on her knees to survive. And in this moment, she was really, really tired of this woman.
Upon exiting the garrison, Tifa had thought she would never see anything sweeter than the open sky or feel anything sweeter than the salt air in her lungs after almost dying. But the look of shock on Scarlett's face and the crack of her cheek against Tifa's open palm was sweeter.
Scarlett fought with fancy weaponry. Tifa's body was her weapon. The strength of her blow, even in Tifa's weakened state, knocked Scarlett down.
"Tifa!"
Her friends' cries were getting more urgent. Gunfire now surrounded them. Tifa turned and ran. She relied entirely on muscle memory, her body's trained balance as she sprinted down the cannon, trying not to overthink it.
She reached the end, launching herself into the open air, reaching for the rope that hung from the lower deck of the airship. Her hands connected with it, her arms jerking in their sockets as the rest of her body swung beneath them. Tifa managed to wrap the rope around her boot, creating a more secure hold.
The rope swung as the airship made a hasty escape, moving them out of range of the weapons. Tifa was hoisted upward. As she reached the deck, hands reached down to help her over.
Tifa's feet never touched the floor of the deck. Immediately she was engulfed in a bear hug, Barret's stubble scratchy on her cheek.
"Goddammit, Tifa! I thought –"
Barret cut off as another body collided with them.
"Tifa! Tifa! You're alright! Urgh."
Yuffie shrieked as Barret threw her off of them.
"Don't puke on the woman," Barret warned. "Tifa's been through enough!"
Tifa laughed weakly. Barret released her from the hug but kept a hand on her shoulder when he felt how unsteady she was on her feet. Nanaki looked up at Tifa, leaning against her legs in the comforting way that he did.
"Tifa, you need rest. Healing," he said worriedly.
Normally Tifa would have brushed off her friends' fussing. This time, she let them coddle her. She leaned on Barret, relying on his strength to steady her. She let Yuffie pat her back comfortingly for once, rather than the other way around. She let Nanaki heal her and did not once insist that he could stop, that she was fine.
And, when her lungs felt whole again, and her head no longer ached, Tifa did not fight the wave of exhaustion that flooded her. She started to nod off right there on the open deck of the airship, surrounded by her friends. Tifa was alive. Tifa was safe. She fell asleep.