Author's Note: Obviously spoilers for Rebirth and all of the FFVII compilation. I have not written creatively in ages, but I was obsessed with FFVII as a kid and again as a teen. The Remake and Rebirth are like Christmas morning for a longtime fan. I would have DIED for this content ~10 years ago (but either way, I'm dying over it now). Rough to have to wait a likely 3ish years for the last part, so here I am writing how I think it will progress. The story will focus on Cloud/Tifa's relationship (cloti, but angsty), Tifa/Aerith's friendship, and how Tifa navigates Cloud's declining state and its effect on the team. Hoping to have the time to take this through Mideel/the events in the Lifestream without abandoning it!

Tifa did not remember much from the weeks after she was injured in Nibelheim five years ago. When she woke up in Midgar, her memories following the attack in the reactor were muddled. Sometimes she could recall Zangan's voice urging her to hold on, to keep fighting. There was a sense of movement and being carried. Doctors and nurses hovered over her, their faces a blur. Making sense of the events unfolding around her was as slippery as trying to follow the logic of a dream.

What she did remember was the pain.

Tifa had never been good with words. She struggled to express herself, to assert herself to others. To say the wrong thing and hurt someone with her words was one of her greatest anxieties. Neither could she speak the truth of her own heart and risk rejection.

Martial arts had changed everything for her. When her words lacked strength, the force behind her fists did not. She felt balanced and at home in her body. When she fought, she felt in control and certain. There was nothing tentative in her movements. She felt a confidence growing inside her that she felt, perhaps one day, would be apparent in her words as well.

The pain took all of that away. She was fifteen years old, athletic, and healthy. She had no idea of the depths to which one's body could betray you. The strength in her body was gone in one cruel swipe of a blade. In its place was an opponent that she could neither fight nor run from. All she could do was sleep.

But eventually she woke. By then, the pain had dulled to something she could just barely tolerate in a conscious state. It still took her breath away. The injury had cut her skin, slicing through the muscles of her chest and stomach. Her sternum had been shattered. The doctor explained to her that she had undergone reconstructive surgery to reinforce her chest with steel, her skin knit back together with grafts. Her recovery was a near miracle.

She did not feel miraculous. More often than not, she felt that her chest was still open and bleeding. Worse than the pain, was the feeling of wrongness in her body. Its fragility was frightening and foreign. The nurses gave her pillows to hug when she coughed, and urged her to move carefully, slowly. So, she tried not to think of her father or the village. She resisted the urge to sob, to scream, to punch and kick and rage.

Tifa felt unstable, certain her heart would fall out on the floor if she made too sudden a movement. That she would fall apart entirely.

Tifa was reminded of those feelings in the days following Aerith's death. This time, there was no physical wound, but the hurt felt familiar. Her chest ached. The pain was staggering, but as before, the instability was worse. She had a sense that the tenuous ties that held their group together were beginning to fray. The situation was fragile. One careless, poorly timed word and they would all unravel.

So Tifa moved carefully. She spoke softly, if at all, to her comrades. They were quiet too, but their glances were heavy and full of meaning. Tifa avoided their eyes. After that first afternoon outside the Tiny Bronco, she did not cry.

Tifa did not try to talk to Cloud.

They were walking now, moving north. Cid had flown them as far as he dared, following Cloud's instructions, delivered confidently yet tonelessly. Nobody questioned him. They had traveled in silence, gazing out the window, until the glass glazed over with ice crystals. Finally, Cid shook his head and landed. They would have to continue on foot.

Tifa was glad for the physical exertion. Mountains loomed ahead. They were gaining elevation slowly but surely, the air thinning and the temperature dropping. Tifa could feel her lungs working harder than usual and she pushed ahead, lengthening her stride to keep up with Cloud's relentless pace. He did not look back, even once, to see if the others were following.

It began to snow. Tifa focused on the burning in her legs and her lungs. Eventually enough snow covered the ground that the crunch of her boots on the ground made a satisfying rhythm that drowned out her thoughts. She looked down, following the imprint of Cloud's footsteps. It was easier than watching his indifferent back.

At some point, the rhythm of another's feet joined her own. Four feet. No, paws.

She looked glanced up and around. Cloud continued forward, but the others were no longer behind them. Perhaps hidden behind the most recent bend in the trail. Nanaki pulled alongside her, and she slowed her pace.

"There's a village back that way," he said, nodding his head behind them. "You and Cloud passed by its entrance. Didn't you notice?"

Tifa shook her head.

"I was trying to keep up."

They continued following Cloud, Tifa's eyes on the boot tracks below them. Nanaki glanced ahead warily at Cloud's back and then back to Tifa.

"The others sent me ahead. They're tired and cold," Nanaki continued, shaking his fur and sending snow flying. "It doesn't bother me, but Yuffie has been complaining the entire last mile and now Barret is complaining about her complaining."

Tifa felt her lips twitch. Nanaki continued on, encouraged.

"We should stop, don't you think?" he asked.

The smile died on Tifa's lips before it could fully form. She looked down to look at her friend and found him watching her, eyes worried. Now that they were moving more slowly, she felt the cold and weariness herself. She realized the sun had begun to set. He was right. Almost in unison, they turned their eyes forward to Cloud.

"You're right," Tifa replied, bracing herself. "I'll let Cloud know and we'll meet back up with you all at the village, yeah?"

"I'll stay with you!" Nanaki said quickly.

Tifa shook her head. "No, it's fine. Go back and tell the others so you can find somewhere for us to stay. There's no need to keep everyone out in the cold longer than necessary."

"Tifa…"

The hesitation in his voice had Tifa looking away quickly. She felt the brittle fragility in her chest. The unraveling of their tightly knit group. It had started with Aerith's death but the growing mistrust in Cloud would finish it. She reminded herself that her chest was reinforced with steel. She turned back to Nanaki, arranging her face in something that hopefully closely resembled a smile.

"See you in bit!"

She reached down to touch his shoulder reassuringly and ran after Cloud. Tifa did not look behind her to see if he was following. Nanaki could easily outpace her, though, and when he did not appear at her side, Tifa was relieved.

"Cloud!" she called out.

No response. Tifa slowed to a walk as she reached him. His gaze was focused ahead, determined. Now let's go get Sephiroth. He's hiding up north, he had said before. SOLDIER's intuition.

Is that all it is, Cloud? Tifa wondered, watching him. She was afraid to ask. She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, but changed her mind, lowering it.

"Cloud," she said again.

This time he acknowledged her. He snapped his eyes away from the trail ahead and turned to her briefly. He did not stop walking.

"What is it?" he asked, sounding irritated, as if he had been in the middle of reading something immersive and she broke his concentration.

"Um," Tifa responded. "The others are still back that way, before the turnoff. Don't you think we should stop for the night?"

Cloud frowned. He shrugged with one shoulder.

"We're making good time. Why stop now?"

He picked up the pace, finished with the conversation before it had even started. Tifa stayed behind for a moment, trying to get her emotions in check. Why stop now? She wanted to shout it at him. We're cold and tired and sad. We lost Aerith. Turn around and look at me. Tell me you feel this loss too. Tifa bit her lip hard and took a painful, deep breath of icy air. She jogged ahead of Cloud, blocking his path.

For a second, she thought he would swat her to the side. Like a spider web stretching across the trail. Not something to be angry at, but rather a minor inconvenience to brush away. But then he lowered his arm slowly. Cloud tilted his head and blinked at her. Something like confusion passed over his face. Tifa let her words out in a rush, determined not to let the moment pass.

"We passed by a village. They'll have an inn and somewhere we can stock up on supplies. It'll be dark soon and who knows how bad the weather will get."

Tifa paused and clasped her hands hard to stop their shaking. Cold or nerves, she couldn't tell.

"None of us are dressed for this cold. We need coats, boots. Climbing equipment, likely. Perhaps a map just in ca–"

"Fine," Cloud cut her off.

He turned around so quickly that Tifa did not realize what had happened until Cloud was several feet ahead of her, walking back in the direction they had come with the same mindless determination as before. Tifa sighed, relief competing with hurt inside her. She followed behind, not bothering to try to keep up with him.

The snow was now picking up, the wind whipping it into a white haze that blurred Tifa's vision. She hugged her arms tightly to her torso and kept moving, trying to warm her body and distract her mind with the physical exertion as before. But she was too tired and too dispirited. By the time she turned the corner where they had lost the party before, Tifa's teeth were chattering and she was stumbling, her feet dragging through the accumulating snow.

An outraged shout just ahead. Barret. Tifa ran.

As Tifa came into view around the bend, Barret's shouts died on his lips. He had stayed behind to wait for them by the signpost that pointed toward the village. Cloud had just reached the turnoff moments before, seemingly alone. He now brushed past Barret, shaking his head.

"Tifa!" Barret called, moving toward her.

Barret shook his head in disgust as he reached her.

"Look at the state of you. The hell were you thinking?" he asked before turning back toward Cloud and raising his voice. "And what the hell were you –"

Tifa grabbed his arm. She shook her head sharply. Please leave it alone, Barret, she pleaded silently with her eyes. I'll figure this out, I just need more time. Barret sighed and let his shoulders sag, the fight leaving him. He placed an arm around Tifa's shoulders, and she leaned in, glad for the warmth.

"We'll talk later," Barret grumbled.

Tifa did not reply. They walked toward the village following in Cloud's wake, the fragile stability of the group maintained for another moment longer.