Chapter 95, εуλ0018 (continuation continued)
At first, Cloud was uncertain when Tifa suggested they started making dates for sex.
But he started to come around to the idea as the days when they made love began to grow further and further apart.
Tifa was barreling forward with her plans for Fifth Act. "The biggest decision is what version of LOVELESS to use for the opening," she told Cloud. As interest in Cetra history surged, so had the interest in LOVELESS, but with a new twist – many aspiring authors had taken it upon themselves to write the missing fifth act, flooding the market with all sorts of inspired endings to the famous epic.
Cloud was also finding himself very busy at the WRO, though so far he'd managed to avoid overnight trips – even as he was starting to feel restless to scream Fenrir across the landscape, wind whipping through his hair. The downside was that he was packing those trips into single days instead, traveling half a continent away sometimes and arriving late back at Seventh Heaven to find the last guests leaving and Tifa already asleep in bed.
So when nearly a week went by, leaving Cloud absolutely burning for the taste and feel of Tifa, he agreed to give her suggestion a try.
As it turned out, Tifa had been right about this, as she was about so many other things. Cloud's excitement was only heightened, knowing what was to happen in just a few days; every day he had to wait frustrated him in a very enjoyable way. And if he happened to forget… she'd give him a wink, or a sway of her hips, and Cloud would grit his teeth and force himself to go to work instead of taking her right then and there.
They'd started going on more traditional dates as well, the kind they hadn't been able to do when they were younger; neither their income nor the state of the world had allowed it. Increased wealth in Edge had spawned a variety of leisure pastimes. Denzel liked to go see live music; Marlene preferred art shows, but would generally go anywhere she could dance. The whole family enjoyed sports events and movies together. But for Cloud and Tifa alone, they usually went for a long, luxurious dinner, followed by visiting a part of the city they had never been to before (or one that had changed so much that they might has well have not), kisses under the moon and stars, followed by a slow, savored lovemaking when they finally got back home.
Tonight, she had a different suggestion. She'd told him to eat dinner in Asgar so they wouldn't have to waste time, and then to be back at 8 p.m. for a surprise. Cloud went to one of the pubs near the WRO building, trying not to inhale his burger, and poking at the fries to kill time until he could return home. Finally, at seven-twenty, he decided he'd wait as long as he could; chugging the last of the single beer he had allowed himself (mako-enhanced or not, driving dunk was still a terrible idea) and cashed out his check. Kicking the bike into gear, he tore down the highway towards Edge.
He drove Fenrir into the garage, exiting back to the street to re-enter through the house's back door. He just wasn't in the mood tonight to traverse the bad and have to greet people, too eager to find out what Tifa had waiting for him. Practically bounding up the stairs in anticipation, he saw the door to the bedroom cracked slightly.
His already-painful erection became throbbing. Never mind. He expected to be using that erection soon enough.
She was wearing white lingerie. WHITE. A color she rarely chose; one that looked so cherubic and innocent that it was spinning his head in circles. A sheer lace bustier, some minimal embroidery over her breasts; delicate stockings and garters that matched. Leaning back on the bed with a coy smile on her face. While he stood there gawking, all thought gone from his brain, she shimmied off her panties, throwing them to the floor, she opened her legs very slowly in invitation.
That little vixen. She KNEW what that particular move did to him – a welcome that was extended to him and no other. He took a moment to admire her gorgeous pussy, the pretty pink folds made sharply visible due to their lack of hair. She'd been shaving much more often since she learned how much he liked it. And he'd started doing the same for her; she'd made the suggestion, and once he did, the eagerness with which she dropped to her knees and eagerly gulped his cock was enough to get him to maintain the habit.
He'd been looking forward to eating her out, but with her so temptingly before him, he found he just couldn't wait. He dropped his pants far too impatient to undress completely, and crawled towards her on the bed; she enthusiastically wrapped her arms around his back, urging him closer, as he braced himself and plunged into her with a grateful sigh.
It has been long. Too long. He was infinitely grateful to her for the foresight and planning, only now aware how desperately he had missed her, missed this. The need to renew their intimacy, remind himself in this most special way that she was the one.
"You're soaking wet," he growled. "Were you playing with yourself before I got home?"
She blushed. "Maybe a little," she admitted, and he knew she was lying; she'd have to have been masturbating for a half hour, maybe an hour, to get to this point. Likely bringing herself close to climax, then stopping, impatient, saving her orgasm for when they could be together. Then her eyes heated to a furnace. "I had to stop myself," she told him, voice smoldering. "I couldn't even put my fingers inside myself. I was so close, just thinking about you…" Her smile grew wider, positively wicked. "About being fucked by you."
He loved it when she talked like that; once, she'd been shy, but now used dirty, filthy words with abandon. "Then do it now," he half-whispered, half-ordered, reaching for her clit – she could orgasm just from her him inside her, but only with the right angle – but a few quick flicks were the secret to bring her over fast. She tensed, holding out to make the pleasure more intense, as he forced her towards an inevitable climax.
She screamed then, so loud the customers could probably hear her two floors down, but Cloud didn't give a shit as she arched and convulsed, coming hard and sloppily. He let himself go along with her, exploding inside her with all of his pent-up lust.
He collapsed on her, spent, letting himself soften and slip out naturally. Their having chests pressed tight against each other, hearts nearly connected, resting on the soft pillows of her breasts. He turned to look at his wife, the lust in his eyes satiated to instead brim bright with love, seeing the same sentiments reflected in her own.
He placed a caress of a kiss on her lips. "Thank you," he breathed.
"Thank you," she replied. "I needed that as much as you did."
In a single motion, he rolled off her and pulled her into his arms. She snuggled close, burying her head into his shoulders. Across from them, the sun was just starting to set; one of their windows faced east and the other west, allowing them to wake up to feel the sun or hold each other as it began to descend.
She had been so still that he'd assumed she'd simply gone to sleep, until she wiggled against him. "Hey," she murmured. "Think you might want to go again?"
His groin gave an affirmative yes. "I might," he whispered, teasing. "You're ready to go so soon?"
Not waiting for an answer, he kissed her long and sweet, grabbing her waist to pull her closer. She returned the embrace with fervor, kissing, touching, enjoying each other's familiarity; it almost felt like an afterthought when he slipped inside her. She sighed as he entered her warm canal, the fluids of her climax leaving her still moist and ready; but he began more gently, not wanting to rush the second round. They began to rock as they had hundreds, if not thousands, of times before; he savored the sensation of closeness; the way she loved how he felt as they gradually made their way to a quieter, but no less pleasurable, climax.
Cloud finally let himself drift with her into sleep. His last sight before he closed his eyes were the stars that swept the sky, over the place that was now their home.
Vits had never been an attractive child.
In fact, Marlene hated to say it, but he'd been downright ugly. As a teenager, he'd improved somewhat – gone up to merely plan. Snub nose, unkempt hair, and a full five inches shorter than her. But he had a good heart, and he was a friend.
A friend who had an enormous crush on her.
It was sadly typical. The boys of the neighborhood largely idolized her, and Marlene did not like it. She didn't want to be someone's ideal; she wanted someone who would understand her, love her, for who she was.
She and Vits had been working on homework together in the empty bar one afternoon. It was a familiar ritual; Kyrie had been bringing him to the bar for as long as she'd been working there. They were nearing the limits of the local public education, and though Marlene knew she was college-bound, Vits really wasn't cut out for it. He was looking into trades and apprenticeships, probably in construction; despite his height, he was built like an ox. A small ox.
Marlene sighed over the columns of numbers; she simply couldn't get the grasp of math. Or anything, really, that kept her staring at a book. She'd rather be out in the real world – meeting new people, seeing new places. Having adventures. She had all kinds of opportunities, and she still couldn't figure out what she wanted to do with her life.
Of course, she knew where her ultimate destiny lay. But that wasn't everything, just like Cloud and Tifa, she wanted to have a regular life, too. A normal job, a happy relationship. One didn't exclude the other.
Looking across the table, she was reminded Vits had been a victim of Geostigma too. He was part of her responsibility. She couldn't do it all alone; she'd already started to delegate. Denzel, Mina, of course, especially as they met more Geostigma children in Asgar. Rix, here in Edge. Vits, she'd just started with, releasing secrets in small bites; letting knowledge ripple outwards with her at the center, a rock dropped into a stream. She'd heard about the new Cetra religion, of course; Barret had called to tell her the very first time he'd heard. Marlene had been mostly amused. She'd had nothing to do with that, but eventually it was something she'd run into as well.
Sometimes, she felt the press of time, a need for urgency she couldn't shake. Unlike her mother, she wasn't in a rush; it was her choice what to do, and when. It made her begin to understand why her mother had said she'd been terrified of freedom; sometimes she wished someone else could just make her choices for her. But she was a woman now… and almost a full Cetra. She would rise to the occasion, emulating the courage she'd seen in her friends and family. If they could endure everything they'd been through… who was she to complain?
"You're staring at me," Vits told her.
"I was just thinking of something," she replied.
"And here I thought you might have finally decided to like me back," he said, self-deprecating.
Marlene reached out a hand. "Vits," she told him, "I just…"
His shoulders sagged. "I know," he told her. "You're waaaay out of my league. I just keep hoping…"
"I can't force my feelings," she told him. Nor could she tell him what she did feel. It was something she couldn't share with Barret, with Tifa, even with Denzel. A secret wish that for the time being would be hers and hers alone.
"Well, maybe I could at least have one kiss?" he asked hopelessly.
Marlene thought for a long moment. A very long moment. "Okay," she finally said.
Before realization could hit him, she'd leaned in to press her lips to his. Nothing big, but much more than a peck; she kept the contact for one second, then two and three, pulling back to leave him red with surprise.
"I'm sorry," she told him. "That's all I can really offer."
"It was…" He stuttered, unsure what to say. "More than enough."
They just stared at each other, mutually wide-eyed; he shocked, she pensive.
"Well," Marlene finally said. "We should probably finish this homework."
"Probably," Vits replied.
She shyly bent over her book, but her mind wasn't on it. She was too busy thinking about what she'd just done. A little bit shocked herself at her impulsive decision. Still… she knew for sure now she wasn't interested, but it actually wasn't half bad.
Cloud sat on the side of the bed, holding the frame in his hands. The dual-sided picture their children had given them as a wedding gift; Marlene's pencil art on the left, Denzel's photo on the right. Seventh Heaven felt just a little emptier.
Of course, Denzel would come back to visit… but it wouldn't be quite the same. He worried that that might say about himself as a father. Wasn't this what fathers were supposed to want for their sons? We all have to cross the mountain, his mother had told him. But we should never cross it alone. And Denzel wasn't crossing alone - he was with Mina, but even more, he would never be alone, not as long as Cloud drew breath.
The lesson that Cloud had wanted him most to learn – how to be a hero. A lesson Cloud had needed to learn himself, that it was something different than he had thought. Tifa had given him the what and Zack the how, twin pillars of his life – one he saw every day, and one he always carried in his heart.
A ray of light from the receding sun struck the window, startling Cloud. He'd been staring at the pictures so long that he'd lost track of time. Motionless for so long, he suddenly felt restless. Rising to put the frame back on the dresser where it lived, he crossed the small third story hall and open the door that led out into their garden.
Cloud stood, surveying the flowers. He needed a distraction; this was as good as anything. Besides, he'd promised Marlene. When she'd first begun constructing this garden on the empty roof space, it had been just a handful from the church, but they had grown rapidly into a lush floral bed. And once Marlene had learned that Mina lived at Aerith's old house, there had been no stopping her. She and Mina together had arrived with bundles of color, happily transporting the blossoms to their new home.
He bent down to fix a wilting petal; it seemed to brighten at his touch.
You have to help work on them. Promise, Marlene had pushed him all those years ago. And he had. First alongside her, but as his children got older and busier with their outside lives, he found himself often doing so alone. And he didn't even mind. It offered him much of the same comfort the church once had, but it was here right at home, just steps away from the bedroom he and Tifa shared. Once, he'd fled to the church looking for answers, but he no longer needed to. Everything he needed to know was right here.
He looked around the garden, trying to decide how to attack it. No, not attack. That was the wrong word. Care for it. That was better.
The flowers like you. Try to be friends with them. There wasn't much to be done, really; straighten a stem here, rearrange some petals there. He'd realized over time that what Aerith had been doing had very little to do with gardening – and everything to do with being one with the Planet. She could hear the flowers… and the flowers could hear her in return. Cloud was learning, too. It wasn't words he heard, but feelings and sensations, rivers of memories and emotions speaking to him in a language he had never learned but somehow understood.
Aerith could have taught him so much. It had been her loss that had opened up his hollow self to a sudden rush of feelings, the sequel to Zack's death shattering him to pieces, together paving the road for Tifa to put him back together in her gentle, loving way. Altogether making him the man he truly was, setting him on the path to where he was today.
The flowers had been her babies, in a way. What if she and Zack had the chance to have a baby of their own? A missed chance… too late, and there would never be another one. Another loss to mourn.
Vegetables intermingled with the flowers, the harmony to their melody. They had been a birthday gift from Cloud to Tifa one year, once he actually learned which was what, planting them with the help of the children while Tifa was out for the day. Tifa had been surprised and delighted, and Cloud got one more reason to maintain the garden. She reserved their products solely for the family and personal guests. Not even Seventh Heaven's customers got a taste.
Oddly enough, Cloud felt like he could talk to the newer plants as well. It was different; where the flowers gave off light and love, from the vegetables Cloud got a sense of support. Safety. Nourishment? That might be the best word.
Follow the yellow flowers, Aerith had said. And they'd led him to friends and family, love and home. Cloud was staying the course. The bond with Aerith was still there, still real; he treasured all his memories of her, even the last. He'd accepted their curse as something he would forever carry – but cupped in his hands, not dragging behind him, not holding him back.
He plucked a flower whose stem was broken; it gave its okay. A red one; he thought it might be a daisy, but he wasn't sure. Either way, he would surprise Tifa with it later. Putting it gently off to one side, he sunk back into his own thoughts, but not so much that he didn't sense Tifa as she entered. No matter how she tiptoed or quietly pushed the door, he knew she was there with that sense of her presence he'd fine-tuned over the years – he could be almost anywhere and still be certain he could point in her direction. Still, he allowed her little ruse, pretending he hadn't noticed, knowing she was watching him in fascination.
"Were you talking to the flowers?" she finally asked, when it had been so long that it was impossible to pretend he hadn't noticed her.
"Trying to," he admitted, looking up from where he'd been crouched.
She bent over to brush a nearby petal, a mirror of his earlier motion. And likewise, it seemed to respond, to bend ever so slowly towards her. "I keep trying myself," she told him. "But no matter what, it never works for me."
He rose, picking up the flower he'd placed off to the side. "I was saving this for you," he told her. "I was going to surprise you later, but…"
She took the flower from him with a smile. "A cosmos flower," she identified it. "It means joy in love and life."
"Where did you learn that?" Cloud wondered.
"Aerith…" Her head drooped; he felt terrible for bringing up the memory, but then she smiled slightly, wistfully, and he knew the memory wasn't all bad. "She taught me a few things. About the meaning of flowers. I remember most of it."
She sat on the bench by the door, facing the ever-rising skyscrapers visible to the west, and beyond, jagged remnants of the Plate. It was one of the old blue Potion benches, the ones that had been everywhere in the slums – they'd scavenged one some months back and brought it home. She'd assumed it had lost its power, but as soon as Cloud restored and repainted it with the same precise care he gave Fenrir, it sprang back to life. Holding the flower in both her hands, she stared down at it while a familiar tingle washed over her, leaving her feeling centered and at peace.
Cloud rose from where he'd been trimming one of her beloved tomato plants – the ones that grew into a rainbow of delicious colors. He sat on the bench beside her, as if the flower had called him near. Tifa had long since accepted that all of her small family had some unusual powers. Cloud had been mako-enhanced, Denzel had survived Geostigma, and Marlene – well, she had no idea where Marlene had got it from, but she seemed practically born knowing how o use the materia she kept stocked in her bracelet.
Back at Zack's grave Cloud had seemed about to see through the flowers to something beyond, swearing to her that Zack could hear her words. Tifa still remembered that day vividly, the guilt spilling out in tears as she desperately sought forgiveness for herself.
You have to keep on living. The Planet wants it that way. Marlene, not yet four, announcing she'd seen it in the White Materia. Tifa hadn't understood then, but she did now. Living was the only way to earn forgiveness. It had been a lesson Cloud had learned, and so had she.
"It's so different with Denzel gone," she began; an obvious statement, merely an invitation to conversation.
"Yeah." Cloud wasn't exactly sure how to answer that. "It's just… Change. We've had the luxury of not having too much, I guess. A few years just to breathe." Cloud was proud of the fact that he'd neem able to give Tifa these happy years. He had trouble finding the anger that had once seeped into his bones; all that was left was wistful regrets, and those mostly for the things she had suffered. What she'd lost that couldn't be returned. Instead, he'd made himself her home, a solid rock that she could count on; a man truly worthy of her.
"We've had a lucky few years of stability," she agreed. "But change was going to happen sooner or later." She paused, pondering. "You're right, change can really be hard sometimes," she continued. "My businesses… We'll, they're all doing so well nowadays. The tradeoff is I feel I'm losing the personal touch."
"And that's what you always liked the most," Cloud commiserated.
"But they practically run themselves nowadays. The people I've hired are doing a good job. Talking to Reeve at the Meteorfall party really made me think. I want to do more with the WRO. Make a difference. But I want to stay close to home, too."
"I'm sure Reeve will let you do whatever you want," soothed Cloud.
"That's just the thing, Cloud. I don't know what I want to do. Or I guess you could say what to do first." They'd kept quiet about their roles as heroes, but they'd achieved a standing in their community on their own, a fact Tifa was particularly proud of. "I'm known around here. I want to use my influence to promote education. Give all the kids the chances ours had."
Cloud reached over to take the flower from her outstretched hands, gently placing it off to the side. He put one arm around his wife, cradling her head into his shoulders. She sighed, content; he felt a surge of pride that she reached to him for comfort. "It sounds like you're off to a pretty good start."
It wasn't many words, but coming from Cloud's mouth, it was more than enough to tell her everything she needed to know. His warm solidity by her side gave her the courage she needed. She breathed in in, thinking how proud she was of him – of how far he'd come, of how deeply he truly felt. How she'd learned to appreciate him and his continuity in her life.
Quietly, they sat together as one.
"Remember how we were always told not to go over the mountain when we were kids?" he broke the silence.
Tifa shuddered. "I was always afraid of the ghosts."
"Well, I think I understand something now. Mt. Nibel… it's a liminal space. One of change. But we can't just be afraid of it – we have to change ourselves and become something new when we come over to the other side." We won't just be changing destiny, we'll be changing ourselves. Something Aerith once had said. "Change is eternal; if we've learned anything from the Lifestream, that's it."
Tifa turned to him, surprised. Just when she thought she had him figured out... He'd surprise her with something unexpected. "I wonder what's going to happen next," she whispered.
"We cross another mountain," he told her. He picked up the flower to place it gently in her lap. Joy in love and life. "And we cross it. Together."
He leaned forward to kiss her lips, before enveloping her in an embrace. "Together, Tifa," he murmured into her ear. "Now and always."
Going to the WRO headquarters was pretty intimidating in the first place, but even more so when you were asking to see the WRO commissioner. Denzel fully expected to be laughed away, told Mr. Tuetsi could not possibly find time. But once he gave his name as "Denzel Strifehart", suddenly all sorts of doors opened up for him.
The WRO headquarters was not a skyscraper as the Shinra building had been. An hour south of Midgar, it had been built straddling the border between the wastes and the grasslands, though over the years the wastes had receded to surround the city with green on all sides. Out here, there was plenty of room to expand. Accordingly Reeve had built a sprawling compound with courtyards, fountains, plants and flowers lining even the corridors within.
He was escorted to the top floor, the seventh, declining the offer to walk him all the way. "I know where I'm going, thank you," he said politely, turning right as he exited the elevator.
To the left would have taken him to Cloud's office; that route, he knew well. But he didn't want to visit Cloud today – in fact, Denzel preferred to avoid him altogether. It would just bring up too many questions he couldn't answer. Not yet.
Even knowing where he was going, he nearly walked right past. Reeve's door had a simple, unassuming nameplate, no larger than any other. Nor did the door have any particular distinction. Denzel backtracked and knocked.
"Come in," said a smooth, elegant voice from within; and Denzel opened the door.
Reeve looked up from his desk, surprised. "Denzel," he greeted him warmly, rising to shake his hand. "I had no idea who to expect. It's been a while."
"Meteorfall party," Denzel reminded him. Reeve's office was no larger than Cloud's own, though the décor was totally different. (Or, to be more accurate, Cloud's office was always such a mess that Denzel had no idea what it really looked like.) Warm carved wood, plush fabrics in soft neutrals, muted gray-blue walls that framed the view east towards Bill's Chocobo Ranch – though the landmark itself was too far away to be seen. "I've been busy with classes," he explained, helping himself to one of Reeve's overstuffed chairs.
"Do you drink coffee yet?" Reeve offered. "I was just about to make some." Denzel nodded.
Denzel took his coffee in his hands, refusing the offer of milk. Coffee was one thing Marlene liked even less than she liked alcohol, though at any given time Seventh Heaven would have a dozen different teas to choose from. Mina liked the stuff, but with tons of milk (which was why she only had it when the right kind was available), more the way Cloud drank it. Denzel preferred straight and bitter.
"You've grown to like it since our first meeting," Reeve observed.
"It's kinda essential to keep up with school." Denzel shrugged.
"How are your classes going, anyway? Are you enjoying the program?" Reeve asked.
"I love it," Denzel truthfully assured him. He'd quickly settled on computers; Mina was taking a little longer, but said she was leaning towards chemistry. The WRO is doing fascinating stuff, she had told him, and she wasn't kidding – the stories she told him made him positively jealous.
Not that he was disappointed with his own choice of course of study. His education was turning out to be more rigorous and intense than he had expected, but he didn't mind one bit. He remembered how he'd thought as a kid that going off to college would be soooo boring – he'd wanted to fight monsters like Cloud, dammit! - but Denzel fell asleep every night with his head swimming so full of thoughts that he could hardly wait to wake up again.
"Should I ask Cloud to come join us?" Reeve asked, reaching one hand towards the phone on his desk. "He's floating around here somewhere."
"Well, actually, I kind of wanted to talk to you in private."
Reeve had always been able to sense a mood. He walked to the door, making sure it was securely shut. Still holding his cup, he took a seat facing Denzel on the taupe velvet sofa that took up a corner of his office. "And what's on your mind that's so secret?"
"Well, it's something I've noticed. Other students, too." He fidgeted nervously; it had taken him anxious days to decide if he should even bring this up. The caffeine wasn't helping his nerves, either. "A lot of students are kids that used to have Geostigma. Like, way more than there should be."
Reeve set his cup down on the table between them, eyes downcast in the way of someone who is deciding what to say. "You've caught onto something, Denzel," he cautiously explained. "You and Mina were legacy students, but most of the others were tested, and part of it was the old SOLDIER exam, actually. The students you're talking about scored the same as everyone else on the regular academic part. But on the mental exam… they were way off the charts. So a lot – maybe even all – that we evaluated were accepted in."
"Huh," Denzel replied. "I wonder why."
"We think it's connected to Geostigma. All our research indicates the disease was caused by a reaction to negative Lifestream – Jenova's infection. We're currently exploring the possible connections between Geostigma and mako poisoning. A good thing gone bad vs too much of a good thing, you could call it – but both represent contact with the Lifestream itself." He looked at Denzel, thoughtfully curious. "Do you, Denzel, ever seem to feel more deeply?"
It was a strange question. Very strange. Even so, Denzel knew exactly what Reeve meant. His first thought was of making love with Mina. Sometimes they'd look into each other's eyes, see the ordinarily faint glow brighten, and every time it happened, it would be that much better, leave them feeling that much closer afterwards. Those times were some of the best it ever was.
"Cloud failed the mental exam," Denzel recalled.
"I suspect he would pass it with flying colors today."
"Why?"
"Because of you. In part," Reeve explained. "The mental test is about one's ability to form connections. With other people; with the world. We first adopted it because we were worried about students experiencing feelings of isolation once they came here for school. You'll note we've done a lot of events to help the students get to know each other."
"We've been to most of those. It really did make a difference."
Reeve smiled. "I'm glad. In any case, those who had Geostigma universally had a moment of giving up. Our working theory is that you adapted afterwards by forming stronger bonds with those around you. As a sort of prevention. Contact with the Lifestream, even corrupt, may have helped. These theories are all very new, of course."
Denzel went carefully still. Reeve was getting… pretty close to the truth. But he didn't think the commissioner would put it together without the final missing piece. Marlene had emphasized that for the time being, Reeve was not to know of her parentage.
"Every student who has had Geostigma has shown particular talents that suggest they are more, let's say, dialed in to the Lifestream," Reeve continued. "Not limited to one department, either. They're spread all over the curriculum. We want to find out more, but we're not Shinra – we're very careful not to treat our students as test subjects." They exchanged a look; both were thinking of Cloud. "We look forward to learning more. Our function here is to nourish ideas. We are still developing our program, but we'd like it to grow organically, not top down."
Denzel thought of home. Home. He meant Edge. He loved the haphazard growth of the city, the often-chaotic mess where he'd grown up. But he also loved his new home, Asgar, with its greenery, its amenities, its wide and beautiful streets.
Reeve patiently observed Denzel; Denzel gazed out the window, towards the centrally planned streets of Asgar. The one luxury Reeve had insisted upon for himself was this view; it was the city he had wanted to create, that he had hoped to achieve under Shinra, unable to do so as he butted heads time and time again against the elder President and the corporation's greed.
Reeve still didn't trust Rufus entirely, but the funding was invaluable, and so far Rufus had not demanded any particular concessions in return. That worried Reeve in and of itself. Rufus seemed to have a particular interest in the Advent children, which would include the young man before him. And Rufus was far harder to read than his father; his plans were nebulous, hidden.
"I once told you children are the future," Reeve finally told Denzel.
"I remember," Denzel said. "I didn't really understand then."
"You were probably a little mad at me," Reeve chuckled.
Denzel laughed right back. "Yeah. You wouldn't let me join the army. Ten years old, and I thought I was a badass." Before he'd left he'd finally told Cloud and Tifa the full story of his time on the streets, leaving Cloud horrified and Tifa breaking down into violent sobs. But he'd needed to let them know, the same as they'd told him the truth – about what they'd been through with Sephiroth, about what had been done to Cloud. Most of all, he told them as a way of letting them know how much he valued the future they were giving him.
Reeve made to rise. "Refill?" he asked.
"Sure thing," Denzel replied, holding out his cup.
Marlene hadn't been back to the church in a while, a fact she felt particularly guilty about. Their home garden had grown so lush and verdant that she usually found what she needed right above her room. But today she had her reasons.
It had been reading her mother's letters that had given her the push to come. She hadn't been exactly sure what she was looking for at first. Maybe just a connection? Not to them, she could see them any time she wanted – but to her lineage, her past.
She knelt by the pool of water. It was the key; the entry point for her answers. Surrounding it, as always, the ever-resilient flowers, with the Buster Sword standing sentinel across. A pool created by a burst of her mother's power, so strong she felt it in her soul that day.
"Hi, Mom," she said reflexively. "Hi, Dad."
She'd wondered if she should have brought Kunsel here with her today. He, or all people, would understand what she was trying to do and why. Her hand had been hovering over the phone, ready to dial his number, knowing he'd drop everything to come if she asked him, but at the last second she'd changed her mind, deciding this was something she could and should do on her own.
The Lifestream could travel through both time and space. She intended to follow its paths. She needed to know more of who she was, but even more importantly, she was looking for guidance as to what she needed to do. And maybe most of all, she was looking for the courage she needed to see it through.
She wasn't a woman yet – well, she was, but not completely. For all that her visions engulfed her, there were places the Lifestream flowed that her eyes were still blind to. She couldn't make them go away; she would have to explore them. Embrace them, even; enter them unafraid.
Communication with the Planet went both ways, after all.
She was her mother's proxy on this side of life, here to do the things Aerith could not do herself. The two of them were working together to bridge the divide, sharing the duty of passing on the connection to the Lifestream and its power.
(And, more practically, what was she going to do for school? A career? She was still lost there.)
Her other powers were growing ever more precise and refined. Healing, for example – the physical kind was easy. Emotional was a little harder. And a variant, controlling the mood of a situation. As her mother and grandmother could before her. She fingered her bracelet. The ability to heal came from the ancient memories of others. Though she didn't need the materia her bracelet contained, they felt like comfort, like the spirit of her people was with her always.
The materia softly glowed, pulsing a beat in time with the sunlight twinkling on the water's surface. The gift of the Goddess. Ripples over the water's surface. LOVELESS had not been a gift Vincent had given idly. He knew. The words of the Cetra, trickled down over the centuries, the ending yet unknown.
If only she had the White Materia. Then she might have some answers. But, she wondered, in the meantime, could she reach towards it? It knew her, after all. Could she find it, see through it, follow its journey to the core of the Lifestream itself. Wasn't that what it was supposed to do, anyway? Bond the Planet to humans?
I'll find a way, you'll see. For a moment, she could have sworn she heard her father's voice. She had to find a way. To get from where she was, to the ending she needed.
She looked to the Buster Sword, and leapt in.
Her dress soaked immediately; she didn't care. The pool was bathwater-warm, washing over her like a heartbeat. She leaned back, allowing herself to float and stare to the heavens above.
The hole above. Made by her father literally falling into her mother's life. It made her smile; it gave her an idea. A place to start; a memory she thought she might be able to find. She could latch onto one of her own earliest memories, that of Aerith rescuing her from Seventh Heaven, and work outward from there.
She closed her eyes and opened her mind.
Boundaries began to dissolve.
It was possibilities she saw, the different ways things could have happened, while still heading towards the same result. Muddled, she was having trouble telling which was truth, which was just a shadow that had never been; she was in all memories and none, everywhere at once. Had Tifa's voice called Cloud back from Sephiroth's control, before he delivered the killing blow to her mother himself? Or had Cloud been alone, trying to parry the blow he knew was coming? Had he succeeded, or had he only thought he did? It all ended the same way, her mother's life bleeding out onto the altar of the Forgotten City, red splashes dripping into green Lifestream before they even hit the ground.
Other possibilities, dead ends. Her father rescuing Aerith, only to have her never wake, and the world dying because of it. Cloud, a vegetable, and Zack dying many other ways, leaving no one to fight Sephiroth. Worse, Cloud, a black cloak, and at the end, it was Cloud that Zack fought with Tifa over the body of her mother. Her father, always finding his end facing an army of Shinra troops. Did Tifa fall in the Lifestream in Gongaga? In Mideel?
And the violence, the pain… but what hurt most of all was the possibilities where her parents had lived, raising her together far from Shinra. The most torturous because those were the faintest, possibilities that truly could never have been. Her parents, never to find their happy ending on this side of life.
The only possibility there can be is the one that therefore exists, came a hollow answer from ancestors long ago.
When the boundaries of fate are breached, new worlds are born. A different voice. Where had it come from? It's not fate, it's chance, her soundless voice cried into the ether. We have a choice… but every choice comes with a sacrifice. At every step, a life unlived, possibilities sacrificed. Still, the cycle of time went on. Reunions upon reunions. Reunions of worlds, reunions of lovers…
A distant buzz, flitting at the edge of her understanding.
She needed to go deeper… letting go, she sank deeper in…
The buzz became a roar, and suddenly instead of drifting away, she was thrashing about. "…my daughter…" she heard a very familiar voice, others mumbling behind, as waves rushed around her and she tumbled, tumbled…
A thump brought her back to reality, as her head hit the floor of the church. A tingle washed over her; reality came rushing torrentially back. Her fingers felt the petals of the flowers that cradled her, crushed but indifferent as the blossoms worried for her, for Marlene, for one of their own, willing her to return to them.
She turned her head, coughing violently; as the attack faded, she rolled back and look up. Opening her eyes, she saw just what she expected, Cloud's frantic face above her. She smiled, beatific, innocent. "I want to be a healer."
Author's note: Short note today, because I'm starting a new job and I'm running late.
Because Cloud is mako-enhanced, he gets ONE beer before driving a motorcycle. For the rest of us, DON'T DRINK if you ride! Motorcycles are WAY too dangerous to begin with. I have a bunch of friends who ride, and every single one of them has been in a serious accident. And that's even WITHOUT drinking!
There is indeed a flower named a cosmos, and it does mean what I put for it, in my version of the flower dictionary at least.
In the last scene, Marlene is obviously seeing some of both OG AND Rebirth. It's also part of my answer to those who think the Remake trilogy is going to somehow end differently, even though the devs have said over and over that it won't.
The bad news: my schedule is about to get busier. The good news: it's in the part of town where it's easier to take the bus than drive, so that gives me a couple extra hours of downtime each day. Which I may very well spend working on this story…
