Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This story serves as a sequel, prequel, and continuation of the Leaving for Future Days series, taking place before Trying to Live. I chose to structure it this way since we haven’t explored much before Advent Children—at least, not to my knowledge.

The narrative will unfold through different perspectives, primarily focusing on Cloud and Tifa, though other characters may also have their moments. While you don’t have to follow the series in order, it’s best to stick to the timeline for coherence.

This will be a drabble-style collection of short pieces leading up to Advent Children, exploring the time before it. While Cloti will be present, the emphasis will be on interpretation and understanding—imagining how events might have unfolded.

I was back on the water tower in Nibelheim, sitting in the same spot as before.

It felt strange being here again. The last time I was in this place, I was someone else—or at least, I thought I was. Now, after everything, it was like stepping into a memory that didn’t quite belong to me.

We saved the world.

I killed Sephiroth.

I should’ve felt something about that, but all I could think was how close it had come to killing me instead.

And now, with no more battles left to fight, everything had settled. The others had gone home.

Red returned to Cosmo Canyon. Yuffie to Wutai. Cid took off with the Highwind, chasing the sky like always. Vincent… he disappeared without a word, but he said he’d check in. Eventually.

We all would.

Even if we didn’t say it outright, we needed each other. The kind of bond we had—it wasn’t quite family. But it was close.

Cait Sith went back to Reeve. Or rather, Reeve took him back—he was just a puppet, after all.

That left the three of us: Tifa, Barret, and me. None of us really had a plan. Barret only knew one thing—he had to see Marlene. So we went with him, back to Kalm. It was still standing, untouched by Meteorfall. One of the few places that was.

On the way back, we stopped in different places. Maybe out of guilt. Maybe just to see what was left. The Lifestream had torn through towns, leaving ruins where homes used to be, people injured, lives shattered.

All because of us.

It was a hard time for everyone. Even now, with things settling down, with no more battles left to fight except the ones in our own heads, we were forced to face the weight of it all. What it really meant to fight for the planet. What it cost.

I dropped my head, feeling that familiar emptiness creeping in. I should have felt something after beating Sephiroth—relief, satisfaction, something. But there was nothing. Just a hollow space I couldn’t fill, no matter how much I told myself to move forward.

Because some things don’t fade so easily. Some things stay.

One of them was her.

I couldn’t save her. I let her die. And yet, in the end, I saw her again—Aerith, standing there with Zack. It didn’t make sense. I froze when I saw him, couldn’t look away. It felt like my mind was playing tricks on me again, dragging me back into old delusions.

But it was real. He was real. Everyone saw him. They saw him, the person I had tried to be. The lie I had lived.

I was never a SOLDIER. I never even came close. The uniform I wore? Zack’s. He gave it to me after I was drenched in Mako, because there was nothing else left. The sword? That was his too. He was supposed to die that day—but instead, he came from another world. Just like Aerith. A world where they had found each other again.

After that, they were gone, just like they’d appeared. We barely had time to talk, to figure out where we stood with each other. Five years of my life just… taken. Stolen. Experimented on, tested. Like none of it mattered. Like I never mattered.

My mom died. My dad too, before I could even remember him. Two people close to me, gone. And then I was left alone, locked in a Mako tube for five years, slowly losing my mind.

But Tifa said it all came back. She saved me from myself. And I still hadn’t thanked her properly.

It was a strange time for us. We were too caught up in trying to help the people we’d hurt and mourning the destruction we’d caused to even talk about what had happened between us. Even Barret, usually loud and brash, was quieter than usual. His temper, his anger—it was all still there, but his usual philosophy was gone. He couldn’t look at the planet, not after everything Mako had taken from it. The guilt was eating at him. But that didn’t stop him from trying to push us forward, to tell us to keep moving. His voice didn’t have the same fire anymore. It was too hollow.

He never took his glasses off. Too much of the hurt was visible in his eyes.

We were all just trying to make up for our sins.

Tonight, the sky was full of stars. The memory of our promise was clear now—I could remember all of it. Our conversation, my determination, all just to get her attention. But in the end, I made the biggest mistake. I dragged her into something I couldn’t control, something I couldn’t protect her from.

Maybe that was the worst part of all.

I tensed at the sound of someone climbing up, my instincts kicking in before I could stop them. My hand went straight for my sword—reflexes I couldn’t shake, ones that weren’t even mine to begin with. My body still held on to what I never wanted to be again.

“It’s me.”

Tifa’s voice cut through the night, and I exhaled, my grip loosening. She tilted her head slightly as she approached, the scene eerily familiar. Just like that night seven years ago, when we were still kids, still living peaceful lives with dreams too big for our small town.

She sat down next to me, her gaze settling on the house in front of us.

Her house.

Or at least, what was supposed to be. The town had been rebuilt after the incident that shattered everything, but even so, nostalgia lingered. A strange, distant kind.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked quietly, careful not to disturb the stillness of the night.

“No… You?”

“Me neither.”

I nodded, though she didn’t see it.

No one had been sleeping well these past few weeks. Some nights, I’d wake up drenched in cold sweat, convinced Sephiroth was still out there, ready to finish what he started. Other nights, I’d relive that moment—Aerith, just before it happened—over and over, unable to change a damn thing. Those were the worst. I’d wake up lost, disoriented, not knowing where the hell I was. And once I did, I’d go for a walk, trying to swallow back the grief before it choked me.

Tifa always knew. It was like she had some kind of sense for it—when I wasn’t myself, when the nightmares were worse than usual. She’d find me, sit with me, stay until I was ready to go back inside. And sometimes, I’d do the same for her. When it all became too much—the destruction, the cries of the people who had lost everything—she’d need someone too. We never said much. Just stood there, side by side. That was enough.

We didn’t kiss. We didn’t hold each other. That part of us felt long gone, buried beneath too much guilt to even consider reaching for it. But the connection was still there. Stronger, in a way. It was what kept us going. What kept us together.

“That night,” Tifa says, her gaze fixed on the stars. “I didn’t want you to go. I didn’t want you to join SOLDIER. I had no idea when I’d see you again.”

Her confession leaves me speechless. I stare at her, wondering why she never said this before. If she had… would things have been different? Would my life have turned out the way it did? Would I have stayed?

I would’ve.

I would’ve done anything for her.

“But I was too shy,” she continues, her voice quiet. “I thought it would be selfish of me—to ask you to stay when it was your dream.”

A dream.

Yeah, I’d wanted to be a SOLDIER. But more than anything, I just wanted her to see me.

“I… I wish I could go back to that night and tell myself not to let you go, Cloud,” she says, turning to me. Her eyes glisten, and before I can react, tears spill down her face.

My chest tightens painfully. I look away before the weight of it overwhelms me. I don’t want to cry. I’ve done enough of that. But every time I think I’ve run dry, more tears come, like the five years stolen from me are forcing them out all at once, crashing over me like waves.

“Tifa…” I swallow hard. “I don’t want to go back to that time. If I did… I don’t know if we’d still be here. Together.”

The truth is, despite everything, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m grateful we met again, grateful I remembered her—the one person I made a promise to. If I had stayed, if I never left that night, would she still see me the way she does now? Would we be closer? Or more distant?

No. I don’t regret my choices. No matter the consequences, I was certain of that.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

I frown, glancing back at her. She’s nervously swinging her legs.

“For what?”

“For being like this. I just keep thinking about how different things would’ve been if I had told you…” She exhales shakily. “But I guess you’re right. Maybe we wouldn’t be together.”

Her hair is loose, the way it’s been since we made our way back. It’s unlike her. Like she’s shedding something—some part of herself she no longer wants to carry. And yet, like this, she’s even more beautiful. The wind plays with her hair, strands framing her face in a way that makes it impossible to look away.

Sometimes, I still feel the tension from that night. Faint, but there. A quiet reminder of what we did, what we lost—whether out of desperation or something more.

She lowers her head, her hair falling like a curtain to shield her from the world. Without thinking, I reach out, gently tucking it behind her ear. The touch makes her jolt slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. She turns to me, with tears in her eyes and I offer her a small smile—bittersweet, barely there, but enough to reassure her.

There are so many things I want to tell her. But I always come up empty. And honestly, there’s always something bigger, something heavier, keeping me from trying.

“Come here,” I murmur, shifting against the water tower and gesturing for her.

Tifa doesn’t hesitate. She moves closer, pressing against me, her head resting on my shoulder. I lower my head against hers, tightening my hold around her just enough to keep her warmth.

Just enough to remind myself she’s still here.

And I look up the stars, shinning bright, the one thing that will never change. At this moment, I know now, Tifa and I will be together, it was a secret promise I made that night as well and it did happen.

“Cloud you are smiling”

I turned my head to see her look at me.

“I am?”

“Yes”

I look up the stars again.

“I guess it’s a new start for us, a new…”my words drift over as I try to find the right words. “A new life”

Tifa isn’t crying anymore which was a good thing.

“We have to live for those who couldn’t…it’s the only way I think…to be forgiven. But I don’t know how, it’s just funny”

“Why is that?”

“Cause I keep screwing everything”

“That’s not funny”

“I know, but I know things will be okay…because I have you”

I feel like a blushing as I say those words, luckily Tifa doesn’t see well in the dark.

“You always had me tho” Tifa responds, and I can sense her smile.

“I think…what I meant is kind of different”

My heart is pounding gently, but I can feel the same tension we had. It’s like I can see our future  spreading before us.

Chapter Text

We were in front of the door, in front of her house.

Elmyra.

I never thought I would see her again and, this time, we were all dreading what had to come.

We all knew, yet none of us said a word.

I stood back with Cloud while Barret hesitated at the door, still wearing his sunglasses despite the looming shadows.

I kept chewing on the inside of my cheek, struggling to contain my emotions. None of us wanted to be the one to tell her that her daughter wasn’t here—that she wasn’t coming back.

“Come on, we got this,” says Barret, though I think he’s saying it more to himself than to us.

We had all silently agreed that he would be the one to talk—he was the one coming back for Marlene. But we knew Elmyra wasn’t stupid. She would ask for explanations, and when she did… the truth—

Barret finally knocks, then quickly steps back, like he’s on the verge of turning and running away.

A small voice comes from inside the house, and we recognize it instantly—Marlene.

Barret smiles at the sound, a real smile, the first one I’ve seen since we left the Northern Crater.

I missed Marlene, too. It feels like ages since I last saw her, since I left Midgar. Maybe she’s changed. A part of me hopes she hasn’t. In my mind, she’s still that little girl I met for the first time.

Then we see it—the door cracks open.

We all hold our breath.

But it’s Marlene, peeking out with curious eyes.

She hasn’t changed at all. She’s still wearing that same pink dress, though her hair has grown longer. Either way, I’m just relieved to see her safe. And when she spots us, I can tell she’s just as happy.

The moment her big eyes land on Barret, she lets out a delighted scream and rushes straight into his arms.

“Daddy!”

“Marlene!”

Barret lifts her up, holding her tightly against him. I know how much he missed her. I know how scared he was. And now, seeing them together like this—it’s a beautiful reunion. A father and daughter, finding each other again when everything else feels hopeless.

I feel my eyes burn, but I can’t let the tears fall. It would be selfish. Everything we’ve done, everything we’ve lost—that’s ours to carry.

But this…

“Cloud?”

Elmyra stands in the doorway, watching us with the same curious eyes as Marlene.

Beside me, I feel Cloud tense. He swallows hard, and for a second, I think he’s about to choke on his own breath.

But Barret steps in before he embarrasses himself.

“Elmyra, how’ve you been?” He sets Marlene down and pulls off his sunglasses. “Heard you had to move.”

“Yes,” she replies, offering a small smile, though her gaze keeps shifting between us. Searching. “Sector Five got caught in the Lifestream storm. I couldn’t stay.”

She’s looking for Aerith.

That realization hits like a punch to the gut.

It’s the worst feeling—to lose someone but not know how. To sense the absence before it’s confirmed.

Cloud and Barret are trying to act normal, but I can’t. It’s too much. My chest tightens, something heavy pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.

We have to tell her.

She needs to know.

It was her daughter, after all.

But we weren’t about to tell her how she died.

Then, the question we dreaded—

“Where is Aerith?”

Silence falls between us. The air shifts, heavy, suffocating.

Cloud and I instinctively lower our heads, too ashamed to meet her eyes. We’re cowards, leaving Barret to carry the weight of answering.

Barret clears his throat, his shoulders sinking as he rubs the back of his neck. We had all been holding our breath for this moment. It was the hardest thing we had to do.

I wish I could turn back time. Run faster. Save her before it was too late.

But what’s done is done.

Beside me, Cloud shifts on his feet, restless. He wants to leave. I can feel it. He’s agitated, torn apart by something deeper than what we knew back then. But we can’t back down now.

We had already decided—after a long, painful conversation—that Elmyra deserved the truth. She couldn’t stay in the dark forever.

Elmyra grips the doorknob so tightly her knuckles turn white, as if she’s holding onto something, anything, to keep herself grounded.

She knows.

I can see it in her eyes, that sixth sense only a mother has.

“Elmyra…” Barret hesitates, searching for the right words. He doesn’t want to say it. None of us do. But we’ve put it on him, forced him to bear the weight of it.

“Aerith, she’s…”

“Barret.” Her voice cuts through the air, sharp with fear. “Where is she?”

The distress in her voice makes our guilt unbearable.

I clench my fists at my sides. I can’t look at her. Neither can Cloud. But we can feel her eyes on us—like daggers, piercing through our silence.

“We’re sorry,” Barret finally says, his head dropping.

Elmyra understands. She doesn’t need more words.

A second later, she’s crying—deep, heart-wrenching sobs that shake her entire body. She cries as if her soul is being torn apart, as if every tear she sheds carries the weight of a loss too great to bear.

And I can’t help but cry too.

Her pain seeps into me, splitting me open like a wound that never healed. I stare at my feet, as if they’re the only thing keeping me grounded, but I’m unravelling. I’ve been unravelling since that day. Since I held Aerith’s lifeless body in my arms, her warmth fading, something in me vanishing along with her.

I was never the same after that.

It’s too much. I can’t listen to Elmyra’s cries.

Maybe Marlene doesn’t fully understand what’s happening. Or maybe she does. Either way, she’s silent. Her usual optimism is gone, replaced by a stillness that’s unsettling.

She must have felt it. She always did.

Barret immediately goes to her, holding her in his arms, trying to comfort her even though he’s in pain too.

Elmyra doesn’t push him away. She just lets herself cry against him, her tears falling endlessly.

I can’t stop crying either. Everything is blurry, my vision clouded by tears, but through it all, I feel Cloud pulling me gently toward him, holding me tightly. He doesn’t cry, but I know he’s in pain. He carries it in silence, shoulders weighed down by guilt. I’ve told him so many times—it wasn’t his fault. But he still blames himself. Just like I do. Just like all of us do.

We stay like this for a moment, each of us clinging to something, trying to grieve in silence.

Aerith.

Every time someone says her name, it feels like something inside me shatters. My heart clenches, my head throbs, my eyes burn each time I try to picture her face.

I bury myself against Cloud, wrapping my arms around him, and he instantly tightens his hold. He’s silent, his face unreadable, a wall with no cracks.

Marlene is still watching us.

She doesn’t understand what’s happening.

Chapter Text

Midgar was a mess. The storm hadn’t spared anything, tearing through what little was left. Most of the plates had collapsed, leaving behind a graveyard of metal and steel. A post-apocalyptic wasteland.

After leaving Elmyra’s, we went straight here. She had offered to make us food, to let us stay the night, but we couldn’t. It would’ve been wrong. After telling her that her daughter had died—died in our hands. In my hands.

We had been silent until now. The guilt was too strong. There was no pretending, no slipping back into life as if nothing had happened. It felt worse than it was—like we were the final blow.

Everyone had left Midgar, scattering in search of shelter, of anything. They had lost everything. Their homes, their jobs. The people they loved.

This was worse than losing Seventh Heaven, worse than the fall of Sector Seven. Back then, there was still something to hold onto, a place to return to. Now, all that was left was wreckage. Hopelessness.

Barret led the way, carrying Marlene, her voice filling the silence with restless chatter. She kept us busy, kept him busy. I couldn’t participate. Couldn’t pretend.

But she sensed it—something had changed. The places she’d known were gone, wiped out. She didn’t understand. She kept asking why the Lifestream had done this, why everything was broken.

Barret had no answer.

Marlene didn’t push.

We arrived in what was left of Sector 8. Midgar’s wreckage stretched out before us, a landscape of chaos. Among it, we found a place to rest, at least for a bit. The night had already fallen. We had been walking all day, and we were all tired.

Marlene was already asleep, her mind untouched by the weight of everything—the guilt, the sins.

Elmyra had given us something to eat, though. She insisted on it, even though we knew there was hardly any food left. Everything else was a wreck. We were grateful, in the end. So, we ate in silence while Marlene slept on a cardboard box we had found for her, trying to make it a bed.

Tonight, the sky stretched wide above us, nothing blocking it anymore. The usual plate was gone. It was just sky—endless, open—but none of us were looking at it.

Silence weighed over everything. The usual noise of the slums was gone, swallowed up. Unsettling.

Then, suddenly, Barret grumbled, pushing himself up and pacing in front of us. I frowned, glancing at Tifa. She looked just as confused.

“Ahh, we can’t keep goin’ like this,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

His eyes landed on Marlene, curled up in a ball without a blanket. She looked cold. It was pitiful to watch. And we all knew what kind of night this was going to be.

“We can’t mope like this forever. We gotta act, right? We didn’t do all this for nothin’. I ain’t gonna live this way—we gotta move forward.”

None of us answered. It was his moment, I guess. It had been a long time since we’d heard him talk like this. Almost missed it.

But I was too drained to react. My whole body had shut down. I leaned back against what was left of a wall, something solid to keep the wind off.

With the materia we had left, we managed to get a fire going. But even that barely warmed anyone.

"Or at least I’m gonna move forward. For Marlene. She deserves better," he said, sitting down next to the fire. His gaze lingered on her, distant, like he was remembering something.

"I don’t know about you two, but I ain’t just gonna sit here. Tomorrow, I’ll find somethin’. See if we can get some help."

"You’re right," Tifa said, sitting up straighter, her eyes shining with determination. "We have to keep living."

"Yeah… we didn’t do this for nothin’."

I knew what he meant.

Aerith didn’t die just so we could waste away in the streets. She wanted me to live—really live. To care about myself, for once. She wasn’t mad, she had said. But still, I had taken her life. Without mercy. And now I had to keep going, had to pretend everything was fine.

"Hey, Cloud."

Barret’s voice pulled me back.

"We gotta do this. We owe her this, at least."

I nodded and took a sip of water.

Even this—we had to survive.

****

It had been the worst night, but we had it coming.

I didn’t sleep. Didn’t dare to. The moment I closed my eyes, I knew what I’d see—the same nightmare that would haunt me forever. So I kept watch. There was no real danger anymore, but standing guard gave me an excuse to stay awake.

Tifa must have noticed. She sat beside me, keeping me company in the dark. Neither of us spoke. We just listened—to the wind, to the distant creaking of collapsed metal, to Barret’s snoring loud enough to echo across Gaia. I still wondered how we hadn’t been spotted.

Morning came too soon. We woke up feeling worse than before, exhaustion weighing us down, but we couldn’t stay here. Barret had a plan.

I hadn’t seen him smile in a while, he was starting to crack jokes again. Tifa listened and smiled at his jokes, Marlene was happy, and I stayed silent.

The place was somewhat familiar. Based on where the plate had once been above us, we figured we weren’t far from Loveless Street and the old fountain.

That became our meeting spot.

Barret laid out his plan—he wanted to search for other survivors, make contact, find anything that could help us start over.

He was ambitious. Too ambitious. I told him everyone had already left, that there was nothing here anymore, but he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to sit around and brood like me.

"Let's meet back here in a few hours. Grab whatever ya can.”

“Alright,” Tifa said, and for the first time, I saw it—determination. The will to live, to prove that everything we fought for had been worth it.

I sighed. I couldn’t pretend.

But at least I tried.

We all went our separate ways—except for Barret and Marlene.

I headed south, toward Sector Six. Tifa went the other way.

I had no idea what I was supposed to be looking for. Didn’t have the energy or the courage to search properly. The place was deserted. No signs of life, just debris—scraps that might’ve been useful for a house, if we had one. But we didn’t.

I tried to find shelter, somewhere we could stay. Sleeping outside wasn’t an option. Too dangerous.

I walked further than I meant to. Probably past Sector Eight by now. I didn’t know. I just kept moving, searching for something—anything—to hold onto.

But for once, my mind didn’t spiral. Didn’t drown in everything I should’ve done—saving Aerith, refusing the Black Materia, being stronger.

I wasn’t any of those things.

But I couldn’t let myself brood, not now.

Because the scene in front of me stole all of my attention.

Dark clouds stretched across the sky, thick and heavy. It was going to rain soon.

I had no idea how long I’d been walking, but it had to have been a while. The hunger was starting to set in.

Not that it mattered. We barely had enough food as it was. No point in thinking about it.

Frustration burned through me. I kicked a rock across the rubble, jaw tightening.

The planet was in this state because of us. Because of Shinra, draining the Mako dry. The lifeblood of the planet.

And we were too late to stop it.

Now, we were paying the price.

Really, what was the point?

Suddenly, a scream cut through the silence.

I stopped in my tracks, instinctively reaching for my sword as I scanned the area. The voice wasn’t far. Someone was calling out, desperate—begging for help.

I couldn’t believe anyone was still out here, lost in the maze of Midgar’s wreckage, Barret had been right.

I ran toward the sound, boots kicking up dust and debris.

And then I saw it.

An Abzu Shoat—the rats of the slums—looming over a child, its sharp claws raised, ready to strike. The girl was pressed against a crumbling wall, trembling, eyes wide with terror.

I didn’t hesitate.

In one swift motion, I launched myself forward, sword drawn. With a powerful push, I leaped into the air, twisting my body mid-flight. My blade gleamed under the dim light as I thrust downward, driving it into the fiend’s body with force.

The impact sent a shockwave through my arms, but I didn’t stop. I shifted my weight, spinning in the air before slashing through the creature’s torso. A clean cut. Blood sprayed, some of it hitting my arm, but I didn’t care, it helped me ease my frustration.

The Shoat let out a final shriek before its body disintegrated, dissolving into green embers as it returned to the Lifestream.

I landed lightly on my feet, exhaling.

“You okay?” I asked, sheathing my sword behind my back.

The girl still had her eyes squeezed shut, her small hands gripping the fabric of her dirt-stained dress. Probably didn’t want to see a man carve a fiend in two like it was nothing.

“Hey,” I tried again, voice softer. “You’re safe now.”

I wasn’t good at this. Never had been.

Something about the moment pulled at my memory—Sector Five, that day with Aerith. The kids. The fight, how I have saved them from their death.

I shoved the thought away before it could settle.

Now wasn’t the time.

“You alone?” I ask again, glancing around for someone—her parents, maybe.

She sniffles, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Mom and Dad… I lost them. They were here, but then… they weren’t.”

She starts crying again, and I stand there, unsure of what to do. I can’t take her back with us—it wouldn’t be any safer—but I can’t just leave her alone either. Not with monsters lurking around.

“Do you know where you last saw them?”

She nods, pointing with a trembling hand. “That way.”

I exhale, adjusting the weight of my sword before following her lead.

The deeper we go, the worse it gets. Buildings have collapsed into each other like a house of cards, mangled steel and shattered glass litter the streets, and cars lie overturned or reduced to wreckage. The roads are barely recognizable beneath the layers of dust and debris. I try to gauge where we are, but without the usual landmarks, everything feels unfamiliar. The destruction has reshaped the city, erased its borders.

I keep moving, but a thought nag at me.

What if this is a trap?

Soon enough, the girl spotted her parents. The mother was the first to notice, rushing forward to embrace her. The father stood nearby, more composed, but still visibly relieved.

He turned to me, his voice steady but grateful. "Thank you for bringing our daughter back to us. We thought we had lost her—or worse."

"No problem," I replied, watching the mother hold her child close.

The father spoke again, his tone serious.

"It's not safe here. Everyone's headed for the edges of Midgar, that's where we're going. You should come with us."

I shift my weight, glancing at the devastation around us.

“I’ve got people waiting for me,” I reply. “Can’t leave ‘em behind.”

Barret, Tifa, and Marlene—they’re still out there, in the middle of this mess.

The man nods, understanding.

“I hope you find them.”

I nod back, adjusting my sword again.

“You should keep moving. Don’t stop until you’re clear of this place.”

With that, I turn away, heading back the way I came.

****

It’s raining.

Not that I needed it, but now I had to find my way back to our meeting point. Everything felt the same, like I had been wandering in circles for hours. In another life, things like this would have been easy—I'd have found my way amidst the chaos. But now, I was just lost, both physically and mentally.

I kept thinking about the parents, terrified of losing their daughter. It was impossible not to think about my own mother, how scared she must have been when I left without any explanation, without a word—no letter to let her know things were okay. There were so many things I wished I could have done differently. It was impossible not to imagine a different version of things—one where everyone came back alive, where Aerith was still here, where Zack was too, and my hometown hadn't burned to the ground.

I clenched my fist, walking faster as the rain soaked my clothes and hair. It wasn't just a light drizzle; it was a deluge, as if the world itself was coming to an end again. The ground was flooded, and I had to leap over puddles, carefully avoiding slippery patches as I moved forward.

But I managed to find our meeting spot. There was still no sign of them. I searched the area, but they were probably still out scouting. With nothing else to do, I went looking for a damn shelter—a task that felt like finding a needle in a haystack. Every building was riddled with holes, water pooled in the ruins, and the dark sky mirrored my mood. I tried to push the feeling aside.

Eventually, I came across a small house—or rather, an old shop—that had somehow remained standing. I stepped inside, scanning for any fiends that might be lurking. As I moved through the place, I found a few things that could be useful, at least for now. There was an old mattress upstairs, decent enough for Marlene, along with some blankets. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

She was going to be happy, and that thought brought me a faint smile—one I hadn’t allowed myself since we set foot in Midgar.

Stepping outside again, I was met with the relentless downpour. The rain felt like tiny daggers, piercing through what remained of this shattered city. I sat by the door, finally letting myself rest, if only for a moment. Sleep had been a luxury I couldn’t afford. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her again. Lifeless in my arms. Blood staining my hands. Her body cold, her face pale and blue. I couldn’t escape it. Even a fleeting moment of rest brought me back to my past.

Then, I heard footsteps.

I knew it was Tifa before I even turned.

I stood as she approached, rain soaking her to the bone. She shielded her face with her arms, rushing toward me. I waited.

“Where’s Barret?” she asked, her voice lacking its usual strength. There was no determination, no hint of reassurance, it was long gone—just exhaustion.

“Maybe he’s still searching. He’ll be back.”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she looked around at what little we had salvaged, at the ruins stretching endlessly before us. I wasn’t sure if it was the rain on her face or the remnants of tears.

I hadn’t been sleeping, too weighed down by my own sins, too hollow to hold onto hope. But Tifa—Tifa was worse. It was as if our roles had reversed. She had always been the one to pull me back, to keep me grounded, but now, she was just as lost as me, even if she forced herself to be present, to support me in my relentless night, I could feel that it wasn’t the same Tifa since we left the forgotten capitol. Now, I had to be the one to do it for her, to be there and be strong for the both of us. And maybe that was ironic, considering I had nothing left to give. It had drained the fire out of her, the strength that once kept us moving forward.

But I tried.

Barret had been right—we couldn’t keep drowning in our own grief. That wasn’t what we fought for.

"Come," I said, taking her hand. "I found a bed and some blankets for us."

She didn’t protest and followed me inside the shop.

We went upstairs, where the old mattress was. Soaked to the bone, we decided to strip off our wet clothes and let them dry. The building, unlike most, was dry—no gaping holes, just faded walls with small cracks. Without fire materia to warm us, we placed our clothes near a window that, against all odds, was still intact.

We were both bare, but there was no hesitation, no shame. Modesty had long faded since that night. Maybe it was normal now, or maybe we were too lost in our own thoughts to care.

I sat on the mattress. It was old, rough against my skin, but I barely noticed.

It all came rushing back—ten times worse. I couldn’t be strong for Tifa. I was too disconnected from myself, from the rest of the world.

What was the point of living? Everything was in ruins. The storm had shown no mercy, and there was no going back to the life we once had. What was it all for?

Sephiroth was gone, but he had taken so many lives with him. I had been controlled, powerless against everything that stood in my way. I screwed up more times than I could count. Mako poisoning—twice. I wasn’t some natural-born SOLDIER. I never was. Just a fraud, an imposter in my own mind.

I wasn’t like the others. I handled my emotions differently. I hadn’t cried since the Forgotten City—maybe even before that. Five years stolen from me. My mind was spiralling, and I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t hide from Tifa. Thoughts kept surfacing—fragments of a broken life, incoherent and relentless.

I felt the mattress shift beneath me, but I didn’t move. Just sat there, hollow, like a dead man. Then, a gentle touch—a hand brushing over my back, my shoulders—before her head rested there. She sighed, and then again, as if trying to breathe out the emptiness that was eating me away, piece by piece.

Now that there was nothing left to do, nowhere to go, we had only our own minds to fight against. I hated it. Hated the silence. Hated the stillness. It gave me too much space to think, to regret—to drown in everything I couldn’t change.

Tifa’s lips brushed lightly against my skin—just a fleeting touch, a quiet attempt to remind me she was still here, even when it felt like neither of us truly was. We were both too broken, clinging to what little remained—each other.

Without thinking, I turned to meet her gaze. Gently, I guided her onto her back, settling between her legs, my movements stripped of thought, driven only by instinct. Her dark eyes reflected mine—filled with pain, empty of hope. I didn’t want her to feel that way, didn’t want her to see how shattered I was. I wanted to take it away, tell her it would be okay. But that was just another lie.

Her hand cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheek, and only then did I realize—I was crying. Silent, unnoticed tears, falling without weight, without the familiar ache in my chest.

You are just a puppet.

His words cut through my mind like ice. Maybe he was right. Maybe I really couldn’t feel anything. I had always buried my emotions, always hidden them away. But now, stripped bare—of armour, of war, of purpose—it was harder. Now, there was nothing left but the truth.

Tifa was crying too. I didn’t know how long I stayed there, bracing my weight on my forearms, trying not to press too hard against her. But she didn’t seem to mind. She just held on, as if grounding herself to the only thing still real. My heart pounded against my ribs, my body cold against hers.

She was beautiful, even when she cried.

I lowered my head, pressing my lips to hers—soft, uncertain, without intent. I wasn’t searching for passion, just something, anything, that might ease the weight between us.

Tifa’s hand slid behind my neck, fingers curling into my hair as she pulled me closer, as if holding on to something slipping away. We didn’t rush, didn’t take it further—we just stayed there, lost in each other. I laid against her, feeling the warmth of her body against mine, the steady rise and fall of her breath.

I wanted to loose myself into her, to forget how we ended up like this. It was selfish of me. This wasn’t like before, not like the way I had kissed her on that night. The emptiness inside me still lingered, clawing at the edges, and I was desperate to fill it with something real.

So, I deepened the kiss, shifting to press closer, needing more. Tifa didn’t pull away. She held onto me, her fingers threading through my hair, grounding me. It felt good—comforting, familiar. But not enough. Not enough to silence the storm raging inside me.

My hands traced the curves of her body, desperate to hold onto something—anything—in this moment.

Tifa must have felt the same, because her fingers then moved along my chest, gliding lower, her touch leaving a trail of warmth against my skin.

A quiet groan slipped from me, swallowed by our kiss.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It had started as something fleeting, something soft, but the air between us had shifted. The ache, the longing, the weight of everything we’d lost—it all bled into the way we held each other.

We didn’t care if it was perfect, we just needed too.

I had been freezing moments ago, but now I burned from the inside out.

Kissing Tifa was like a drug—intoxicating, overwhelming. She tasted sweet and salty, the faint trace of tears mixing between our lips, and I couldn’t tell which belonged to her and which were mine.

It was too much—all of it. Overwhelming. The pressure building between us, the way we clung to each other, impatient to lose ourselves.

And then, I broke the kiss, breathing hard, trying to gather my thoughts. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go further or if this was the wrong time, the wrong reason. We were both struggling, both barely holding on, and I didn’t want whatever was happening between us to be reduced to just seeking comfort in the void.

But at the same time, I wanted this. I wanted her. I wanted to push that limit, to feel her again, to let this be the only thing that existed, even just for a moment.

Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. Tifa once told me that words weren’t the only way to express what someone felt. That was good—because I was never good at talking.

I rested my forehead against hers, our breaths mixing in the space between us. Her lips were red and swollen, and my gaze lingered on them, wanting—aching.

Tifa’s hands pressed against my abs, her warmth seeping into my skin, driving me insane. She let them wander lower, and my heartbeat stuttered, anticipation stealing my breath.

I kissed her again, deep and slow, as my hand found her hip. She shifted beneath me, her legs parting just slightly, just enough—

We were on the edge, about to lose ourselves completely—tangled together, clinging like a lifeline. The rain roared against the walls, drumming on the rusted metal outside, a relentless reminder of the world beyond this fragile moment.

We let the worst parts of ourselves justify our actions, because it was easier than facing our demons.

And somewhere amidst the storm, I felt something. Faint, fleeting—but real.

For once, even just for a moment, I felt like I was alive.

Chapter Text

Finally, I listened to what the guy had told me.

I told the others where everyone had gone. They had all left Midgar except for us. We’d been staying at that shop I found a few days ago. Marlene was curled up with Tifa on the old mattress, while Barret slept on the floor. I still couldn’t sleep, but hearing them breathe, the occasional snore breaking the quiet, kept me from spiralling. I wasn’t tired yet, but I knew it was only a matter of time before my body gave out, and when it did, I’d crash hard.

And then, the nightmares would come for me.

We walked in the opposite direction from where we came, heading toward the edges of Midgar, where the air wasn’t as thick with dust and smoke.

We found them—the refugees of Midgar. They had settled kilometres away from the city’s entrance, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the wreckage. There was nothing left here except for scraps of metal, steel, and wood. But even with so little, people had already started to rebuild. Makeshift tents stood where they could find space, patched together with whatever materials were available. Narrow paths wove through the settlement, clearing the way for those carrying what little they had left. Someone had even managed to put together a water tank, a place where people gathered to fill containers, drink, or wash the grime from their skin.

It was like a second chance—a fragile kind of hope. Even with so little, they didn’t give up. They kept moving forward, enduring the pain.

Unlike us.

Barret couldn’t believe it. Tifa either. Like me, we were frozen, staring at the scene before us.

We had expected to find people lost in despair, mourning everything they had lost. But that wasn’t the case. Instead, small conversations filled the air, quiet chatter passing between them as if they were simply living another day in the slums. It was disconcerting.

Marlene wouldn’t understand. She was too excited to see familiar faces, tugging insistently at Barret’s shirt, eager to run off and play.

“We better start lookin’ for some info, see if we can help ‘round here and find anythin’ useful,” Barret said simply.

So that’s what we did.

We split up again. I went one way, Tifa the other. We hadn’t talked about what had happened a few days ago. After that, we fell back into our usual rhythm, acting as if nothing had ever happened.

I walked down one of the makeshift streets, scanning the area. I was looking for anyone who might need help, for anything useful we could salvage, for a place where we could build something of our own.

Then—

“Hey, you!”

Someone called out to me.

I tensed slightly as I turned. I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I was here to do what needed to be done, nothing more. But when I saw the man calling me, I recognized him immediately.

He was the father I had helped back in Midgar, the one whose daughter had been trapped by a fiend. I had told him what to do, and now, seeing him here, I knew he had listened.

“You made it,” he said. “Did you find your people?”

“Yeah… What about you?” I asked out of politeness, though my heart wasn’t really in it.

“The usual,” he said. “My wife and I are gathering materials from Midgar with some other volunteers. We bring what we can here and try to build something—a city, maybe. It’s ambitious, but what else can we do? If we want to live, we have to make a place for ourselves, right?”

So that’s where they were getting their supplies. That could be useful. Maybe we could give them a hand.

“Where do we volunteer?” I asked after a moment.

“There’s no sign-up. You just come. Everyone’s kind of on their own, but we help each other when we can.”

After this, I wished him luck and turned back the way I came.

For the first time in a long while, I felt something close to purpose. A goal.

I spotted Barret walking ahead—without Marlene. Hopefully, she had found some kids to play with.

I caught up to him and told him everything I had learned, explaining how I had met the man back in Midgar, how his daughter had been trapped with that fiend. Barret listened, then nodded.

“Yeah. We should help ‘em,” he agreed.

So that’s what we would do.

For the next few days, we focused on hunting for anything that could be useful—for us and for the others.

Tifa stayed behind with the other women and kids, helping them settle in, taking care of them as they tried to make a place for themselves. It was a collective effort. Everyone was on their own, in a way, but people started meeting each other, talking, forming friendships.

There weren’t many of us. I figured most of the others had gone to Kalm after Midgar’s destruction. But those who stayed— they weren’t afraid. They impressed me. Inspired me. Seeing them push forward made me want to do the same. It felt good. Instead of drowning in my past, instead of spiralling, I had something to focus on.

Barret and I managed to find a few things— a sofa, some chairs, a couple more blankets, some glasses. They were still in good condition. At least the storm had spared those.

We searched through Sector 8 and Sector 6. Once we agreed on a plan, the job was quick.

With the others, we helped each other find what was needed. That was the priority. It wasn’t about what we wanted. We had to help them first, to make up for what we had caused.

We couldn’t even begin thinking about what came next until we did.

That night, when I returned alone to meet Tifa and Marlene—who were still helping people settle in—I wondered how long this would take. How long before we were finally forgiven?

“Cloud is back!”

Marlene bounced on the spot when she saw me. I faintly smiled. At least she wasn’t scared of me anymore.

I looked around for Tifa and spotted her not far away, giving instructions to a group of people preparing food for the small community. I watched from a distance. She had stopped tying her hair back, and she wasn’t wearing her gloves. She looked different—more natural, more at ease. More beautiful. It felt like I was seeing another side of her, one that had been hidden for too long.

She was hoping for something again. Even though things were uncertain, she was finding herself. And in a way, I was finding the old Tifa, too.

“Cloud?”

Tifa approached me, a slight frown on her face. I wondered why—until I realized I had been staring at her this whole time.

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling heat creep up my face.

“Where’s Barret?” she asked.

“He went to help someone. He’ll be back soon.”

She nodded, then turned back toward the group cooking over the makeshift fire.

I sighed internally. At least she hadn’t noticed my embarrassment.

****

We had our little spot—not far from the others—inside an abandoned building that had been flooded by the last rainstorm. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough.

With Barret, we had brought the same old mattress from Sector 8 for Marlene and Tifa, and we managed to find a few more blankets to keep ourselves warm during the cold nights.

“Hey, guys!”

Barret finally came back just as we were sitting down to watch the sunset. He was carrying some kind of fruit and a bottle that looked like alcohol.

"The guy I helped hooked me up with this. Figured we could have a decent meal while knockin’ back some Corel wine, heh."

Marlene cheered with Tifa, and for the first time, it felt like things were slowly starting to return to normal. Our efforts were paying off.

I had no idea what the fruit was, and there were other things Barret had gotten that he immediately started cooking. He hummed the victory fanfare like he’d won the lottery.

It made me realize just how much I had lost over the years. I barely went to school before leaving home to become a SOLDIER. By doing that, I had stripped myself of so many basic things. It was embarrassing—I didn’t even ask what the fruit was called, where it came from, or how it was prepared. I just trusted Barret and told myself it wasn’t worth knowing.

We started drinking, slow and steady. I wasn’t used to wine—it tasted awful—but I drank anyway. Tifa sipped it like it was just water, and Barret insisted we had to try it since it was from Corel. Even Marlene was allowed a tiny sip.

I drank because, for the first time, I let myself relax. Because despite everything we had lost, we still had this moment.

Barret got drunk—so drunk he could barely keep himself upright. It was like all the tension from the past days finally cracked open. We ate some kind of rice with dried meat, whatever had been shared with us, and sat outside, drinking into the late night.

When Marlene went to bed, it was just the three of us.

Barret started rambling about his past, about Corel. Guess the wine had loosened something in him. Tifa and I just listened as he went on, then at some point, he tried to reenact how he had planned to propose to Myrna—and tripped over himself.

I snickered. Then chuckled. And as Barret kept slurring nonsense into the night, and the alcohol warmed my system, I found myself giggling along with Tifa.

It felt good. Stupid, but good.

That night, I managed to sleep without any dreams—the alcohol did its job.

By morning, Barret was dragging himself through a hangover, groaning as he sat up.

“Man, I’m tellin’ ya, we oughta open up a bar and start sellin’ this stuff,” he said, tossing the empty bottle aside.

We still had three more. It was a generous gift.

“We?” I raised a brow. We came here to build a roof over our heads, not run a damn bar.

“Yeah! Be a fresh start. Ain’t like we got customers lined up, but we can help. And Tifa—she’s the one to run it. She’s good at this kinda thing.”

“Huh… okay,” Tifa answered, but she didn’t sound convinced.

Maybe it reminded her too much of Seventh Heaven. Too much of what we lost.

“C’mon, guys! You saw how we were last night—drunk, laughin’ our asses off. We weren’t stuck in the past, we let go. Ain’t that what we came here for?”

He had a point.

“From now on, we just keep movin’,” he went on. “Ain’t no point sittin’ ‘round mopin’ ‘bout what the world’s become. We gotta move forward. We have to. Be good for us.”

We spend for the next two weeks, trying to find a place to start working on the new bar. It wasn’t far away from the other people. Soon enough, we started gathering what we needed for the construction. The building we found was already done, there was no need luckily to build something out of the dust.

Slowly but surely, people started finding their own feet, their own purpose. We help the people we could and in exchange, we got food. It was a nice trade and was a benefit for everyone. They helped us cleaned our building and start putting some stuff inside, they helped us because we helped them.

At this rate, the bar would be up in no time.

"Cloud!"

Tifa called out to me as I returned from our scavenging run. Barret was still out helping others, and Marlene was off playing with some kids, which meant we were alone.

It had been a while since we’d had a moment like this. We’d been too busy to acknowledge each other, always caught up in something—Tifa helping others, me going back and forth to Midgar. There was never any time.

But today, things had finally slowed down. People were taking a break, doing their own thing.

Tifa was sitting outside, preparing something—a drink, I guessed. Ever since we agreed to open the bar, she’d been experimenting, trying to recreate Corel wine along with other drinks.

"Can you be my taste tester? I made a couple of things, and I need an opinion."

I set my sword down and joined her at the table. She have picked the worse person for this, but I went along with it anyway.

She handed me a glass filled with deep red liquid.

I eyed it cautiously, like it might be poisoned, already wondering how much of Tifa’s trial drinks I’d have to endure before the alcohol got to me.

"So?"

I took a sip, forcing myself to keep a neutral expression.

"Tastes the same."

"Should’ve figured." She smiled before pushing another glass toward me.

"And this one?"

"What is it?"

"Drink first, then I’ll tell you."

I liked this—these rare, quiet moments with her. They were precious.

As I drank, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Tifa bit her lip, waiting for my reaction, her cheeks slightly pink. She was beautiful.

The drink was sweet, much better than the wine.

"So, what is it?" I asked as I finished the glass.

"Pineapple."

"...What’s that?"

I couldn’t hide it anymore. Everything we were seeing around us, everything we ate—it was like I was a child, discovering how to live for the first time.

Tifa made a face, but she quickly masked it. Shame crept up on me. It was probably something everyone knew and used regularly, but I had no clue. Five years of my life were gone.

"You don’t know what pineapple is?"

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to leave, pretend I had something to do, anything to avoid this conversation.

"Wait, I might have some left. Look."

Tifa rummaged through a bag—probably the garbage. She pulled out a yellow, spiky fruit, holding it up for me to see. It looked strange, like some kind of cactus. I stared at it, unable to hide my ignorance.

"I used to make these back at Seventh Heaven. It’s called the Costa Breeze."

"Where do we even find this... pineapple?"

"Where there’s sun and heat—you can find it in Costa del Sol."

How had we even brought this here?

"It’s yellow and spiky," she said, looking at me. "Like your hair, Cloud."

I felt warm all of a sudden—maybe the alcohol was starting to kick in.

But Tifa had more drinks for me to try, and as I kept drinking, a light dizziness settled in.

"I hope there’ll be more of these taste tests later," I said, lifting another glass. I really enjoyed this—any excuse to stay close to her.

"You bet," Tifa replied with a smile, taking a small sip herself.

It was just the two of us drinking, and it wasn’t even night yet, but we were already going through all the drinks she had made.

"Hey, Tifa! Guess what I found!"

Barret’s voice boomed as he returned, just as we were about to go for another drink. He wasn’t alone—there were a few others with him, carrying a big box between them. I couldn’t quite tell what it was.

Barret walked up and revealed his find to Tifa, and the moment she laid eyes on it, her whole face lit up.

"No way—a washing machine!"

She ran toward it like it was some kind of treasure, while I stayed behind, trying to steady my spinning head.

We drank too much. Again.

But Tifa was really happy. She had been complaining about our clothes, about how badly they needed to be washed—and, well, about how much we needed to be cleaned too.

"Does it work?" she asked, inspecting it closely.

"Hope so. Still need electricity, though."

She helped the others carry it inside. I didn’t even try—there was no point. I wasn’t drinking much much compared to her, so naturally, I was more sensitive. Meanwhile, Tifa moved around like she hadn’t been drinking for hours with me.

Either way, it had been a perfect day. And for once, I didn’t think about all my mistakes.

Chapter Text

We finally had water.

The rainy season had arrived, and it hadn’t stopped pouring since. The streets were flooded, but that didn’t stop people from pushing forward, working tirelessly to rebuild. Bit by bit, we were carving out a new city from the ruins. We had even managed to set up a small area for showers. It felt like ages since I had last been able to clean myself properly.

Early this morning, before anyone else had stirred, I decided to take my first real shower. It was the best time—no one would be around. The showers were tucked away between two crumbling buildings, offering just enough shelter from the wind. Thankfully, the rain had stopped for now, so I could bring my clothes with me. Not that I had a spare change—none of us did. Even when Barret had managed to bring back a washing machine, it was useless for now. No electricity. Everything we did, we did with our own hands.

So, once a week, I gathered everyone’s clothes and joined the other women by the water tank. We scrubbed them clean as best we could, making do with what we had.

I made my way to the showers slowly, savouring the stillness of the night. Everyone was asleep, and it felt as though time had come to a standstill.

But before long, I heard the sound of water—the unmistakable sign that someone was already using the shower.

Instinctively, I tightened my grip on what was supposed to be a towel, pulling it closer to my chest, even if I had my clothe on. I had no idea who was in there, and I desperately hoped it wasn’t a man. Unfortunately, we all had to share the same shower—it was mixed. We didn’t have the resources to build another one, so we made do, gathering water from the nearby tank. There was no hot water, which meant cold showers for all of us as well.

I decided to wait. How long, I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to risk disturbing the person inside. So, I stood there, frozen in the night’s cold, the sky tinged with faint pinks.

Eventually, the sound of water stopped. The person was done. I stood there, shivering, wishing I could be back inside the building, curled up under my blanket next to Marlene.

But as I stood there, I watched the person step out of the shower.

My breath caught in my throat.

It was Cloud. He emerged from the shower, wearing nothing but a towel that hung dangerously low around his hips. Everything else was exposed, water droplets clinging to his skin.

I couldn’t look anywhere else, my grip tightening around my own towel, afraid it might slip away.

"Tifa?"

He called out to me, his voice repeating my name several times.

The sight of him pulled me back to that afternoon—when we had clung to each other, not out of passion, but out of desperation. We had been too broken, too weighed down by everything we had done, everything we had lost. There had been no joy in it, no real comfort—just a quiet, aching need to feel something, anything, even if it was fleeting. And for a brief moment, we had shared something, but it was over before I could fully grasp it.

I barely had time to process the way Cloud had moaned against my neck, how his breath had stilled as he pushed deeper into me.

It had hurt. But I endured it, just as I had endured everything else we carried in silence.

But that feeling had faded quickly. We never spoke about it, as if it had never happened. Yet, remembering it now—alongside our first time, which had been so much more tender—I found myself longing to reclaim that closeness with him.

I forced my gaze away from his chest, suddenly afraid that he could see right through me. Since we had returned from the Lifestream, it had become too easy for him to read my thoughts.

Heat crept up my face, and I knew I had to do something—anything—before I embarrassed myself any further.

"I—I thought no one would be here… didn’t expect you," I muttered awkwardly, my gaze dropping to my feet.

I’m pathetic.

"I come here early, when everyone’s still asleep," he said. But I could hear it—that slight shift in his voice, the way he was trying so hard not to smile.

I didn’t mind. It was so rare to see him smile, to see him let go, even for a moment, from the weight of his mistakes. It was something to cherish.

Lifting my head slightly, I caught the faint tug of a smile at his lips. He looked softer like this—cuter, even. His damp hair clung a little to his forehead, though some spikes still stubbornly defied gravity.

And he had pink dusting his cheeks.

"I’m going to take a shower," I said, stepping past him before I let my emotions get the better of me and kissed him.

It was getting harder to hold back. These urges were becoming more frequent, stronger—like the first time hadn’t been enough. But I didn’t want to push Cloud into this. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t need to carry that weight in a world where everything already felt hopeless.

Back then, we had done it because we thought it was our last night on earth, because we hadn’t seen a future beyond that moment.

But now… now there was a future, and that made it all the more terrifying.

I really needed that shower—to wash away the grime, to finally feel fresh again, and, most importantly, to forget what had just happened.

Later, I returned to our temporary shelter to take care of Marlene while experimenting with new drink mixtures. But no matter how much I tried to focus, my mind kept drifting back to Cloud—his bare chest, the water tracing his skin. The memory refused to leave me, and soon, I realized I wasn’t making any progress. My hands moved, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

It was frustrating. I hadn’t expected to be this affected. The only times I ever got close to Cloud were when one of us was falling apart. That was when we clung to each other the most—when he needed an escape, when I needed something to hold on to. We used each other in those moments, without saying it out loud.

It wasn’t healthy. And yet, we were still doing it, trapped in a cycle that felt like a toxic habit.

I wanted to change that.

I wanted to go back to that night under the stars, when everything had felt possible.

But I couldn’t. It was selfish of me to think that way. So many people needed my help—I couldn’t just sit here hoping for something for myself.

And Aerith…

I shook my head violently, forcing the thought away.

“Marlene!”

I called out, my voice louder than I intended. I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts, not now.

She was outside, talking to a girl her age—a neighbour. As soon as she heard me, she abandoned her friend and ran toward me without hesitation.

And just like that, guilt crept in again. I had pulled her into my chaotic life, into all of this, and she didn’t deserve that.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she ran up to me.

I turned my head slowly, keeping my voice neutral.

“Wanna go see what the boys are up to?”

“Yeah!”

Her excitement was contagious.

I left everything behind and took her hand as we walked toward our future—toward the bar.

When we arrived, I spotted Barret right away, waving his arms dramatically as he barked orders at the people helping him. The place was still far from finished. The surfaces needed polishing, the windows were cracked, and there were holes to be patched up. But it was coming together. It was progress.

As I took in the scene, my eyes instinctively searched for Cloud. Men were working all around, the heat forcing most of them to strip off their shirts.

“Oi, Tifa!”

Barret’s voice boomed over the noise.

Marlene ran to him without hesitation, launching herself into his arms. He caught her with a chuckle, holding her close.

I smiled, watching them. It was good to see them like this—reunited, happy. Barret had his daughter back, and now he could just be her father. No more Shinra, no more plans, no more bombs, no more threats against the planet. That fight was over. He was free.

"So, you got any drinks ready?” he asked.

I nodded, but I was barely listening. My eyes kept searching the site, my chest tightening with unease.

Cloud wasn’t here.

Fear crept in before I could stop it. Had he gone somewhere? Had something happened? I hated not knowing where he was, not knowing if he was alone. I felt like I always had to keep an eye on him, like I couldn’t let him out of my sight.

But I had to stop. Cloud wasn’t lost anymore. He had found himself—his real self—and for the first time, he was living.

I couldn’t treat him like a child forever.

He had to learn to stand on his own.

These days, it felt like I was the one who needed to be taken care of.

Cloud had his own way of showing that he cared—never in words, but in actions. He paid attention to how I felt about things, supported me when I lost my way, when I questioned my purpose. He was always there, standing beside me, quietly reminding me of who I was.

“Not like this.”

The familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned to see two men working on part of the building, Cloud standing next to them. He was giving orders—not as loud or commanding as Barret, but calm and firm. He didn’t need to say much to be understood.

Relief settled over me at the sight of him.

But then I noticed something else—something that made my breath catch.

Like this morning, he was bare-chested.

His skin shone under the sun, sweat glistening as his muscles tensed with every movement. Strands of blond clung to his face, while a few stubborn spikes still defied gravity.

And just like that, I was completely distracted again.

Cloud demonstrated the technique to the men, his muscles flexing under the sun as he worked on the building. Each movement was controlled, deliberate, his body tensing with the effort.

I couldn’t breathe.

It was too much—I hadn’t expected to see him like this again, and for a moment, I questioned whether coming here had been a good idea.

I didn’t even realize Barret was standing beside me until he waved a hand in front of my face.

“What?” I snapped, jolting out of my daze.

“Thought I lost ya.”

Before I could respond, Cloud turned, his gaze meeting mine.

A shiver ran down my spine.

He was ridiculously attractive—too attractive. My entire body ached for him, for his touch, for the weight of him pressing against me.

He gave me a small, knowing smile.

Then, as if he had read my thoughts, he quickly looked away, refocusing on his task.

I was losing control of myself.

I needed to get it together, to focus on helping the others, not on my own selfish needs.

Barret who was watching the scene, chuckled. It pulled me back to reality.

“I’m going back to make more drinks,” I muttered, needing an excuse to leave.

“You better—we drinkin’ tonight.”

I left him and Marlene, who was happily immersed in the chaos, shouting orders just like her father.

I needed distance. As much as possible.

Cloud felt like a threat—like a dangerously thin line stretched between us, ready to snap if we weren’t careful.

****

Since I started mixing drinks, we had been drinking every night, talking about nothing and laughing. It was the best feeling I had since leaving Midgar on this crazy journey. We had come so far, and now we could just enjoy ourselves with nothing more than good company and a few drinks.

But soon enough, the alcohol would run out, and I’d have to figure out where to find more ingredients. We were still making do with what we had. Some people were willing to travel beyond the Midgar wasteland to gather food from Kalm and other supplies that could help.

Barret wondered what the others were up to. It had been a while since we’d seen them, and without phones or electricity, we had no way to communicate. But that didn’t seem to bother us. We were just… living in the moment.

“Tifa, pour some more wine,” Barret said, his voice cracking before he burst into laughter, as he was recounting a tale of his misadventures.

“There won’t be enough left, and you’re already really drunk. We should all stop,” I said calmly, though I couldn’t hide my smile.

Barret protested, but Cloud managed to convince him to go to bed, reminding him that his daughter was waiting for him.

I stayed behind to clean up, and Cloud joined me, his presence quiet but grounding. We worked side by side, picking up empty bottles and pushing chairs back into place. It was strange. We had spent so many nights like this before—brushing past each other, touching without meaning to, pretending the tension between us didn’t exist. But now, it was impossible to ignore.

My breath hitched when his fingers accidentally brushed mine, to take the last trash. A simple touch, yet it sent something sharp through me. I didn’t look at him, afraid of what he’d see in my expression—afraid he’d realize just how much I wanted him.

By the time we were done, my head was light, my skin buzzing with heat that had nothing to do with the alcohol. I turned to find him staring at me. Not like before—not like the stolen moments in dark places when we were just bodies seeking comfort.

This was something else.

“Can I kiss you?”

I blinked.

“What?”

His voice was quiet, but it carried weight. I could see it in his green Mako eyes—he had been thinking about this for a while. But the way he asked, the way he hesitated, it wasn’t like him.

Cloud never asked for things like this.

He always took what he needed, what we both needed, without thinking about what it meant. That was how it had always been between us—fast, desperate, and fleeting, like trying to outrun the guilt, the grief, the weight of everything we couldn’t say.

But this… this was different.

Cloud shifted back, running a hand through his hair, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Forget it,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have—”

I grabbed his collar before he could finish.

His breath hitched, but he didn’t resist. I could feel the tension in his body, the restraint, the way he was still giving me the chance to pull away. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to.

I pressed my lips to his, and the moment they met, I felt something in me break.

It wasn’t rushed or messy. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow, hesitant, like we were rediscovering something we had both buried for too long. A soft sound escaped me when he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing along my lips, his arms tightening around me as I pulled him closer.

I had missed this. I had missed him.

But then, too fast, it started to spiral. Cloud pressed me back, and I let him, let the heat of him consume me. My fingers curled in his shirt, clinging, aching, needing more.

But we couldn’t.

Not here. Not now.

Reality slammed back into me like cold water.

I broke the kiss, but I didn’t move away. Our breaths mingled, his forehead resting against mine, his hands still gripping my waist.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “Barret and Marlene…”

“I know.”

His voice was steady, but there was something in his eyes that made my stomach flip. It wasn’t disappointment. It wasn’t frustration. It was something deeper—something neither of us could put into words.

We had always found each other when we needed comfort, but this wasn’t about that anymore. This was something real, something dangerous.

We managed to part, though every step away from him felt like a battle.

Cloud said he’d stay up a little longer, told me not to worry. I wanted to tell him that was impossible—that I knew he wasn’t okay, that he never was. But I also knew that if I stayed, we’d end up tangled together, unable to resist. And with Barret sleeping just a few feet away, that wasn’t an option.

“Goodnight,” I murmured.

“Night.”

I felt his gaze on me as I walked away. It burned into my skin, made me hyper-aware of every step, of the way my body still trembled from his touch.

By the time I reached the mattress where Marlene was curled up, my heart was still racing. I pulled the blanket over me, turning onto my side.

Barret’s snores echoed through the room.

But it wasn’t him keeping me awake.

Chapter Text

A few days had passed since I last kissed Tifa, and I was restless for her touch, for the closeness we had shared. It was like something had awakened in me—a perspective I hadn’t allowed myself to see since the Highwind. But we had been too busy to dwell on it, always caught up in something, always putting the others helps that didn’t leave room for much else. And yet, every night when we were near, I wanted to close the gap, to lose myself in her. This time, it wasn’t about feeling lost or needing comfort. It was something else entirely—something that was slowly driving me insane.

I was with Barret and the others near Sector 4. We had already scavenged three sectors, gathering what we needed as people slowly rebuilt their lives, reclaiming pieces of what they had before. It was incredible how quickly things were moving—whether working alone or together, everyone was pushing forward.

As I passed by a crumbling building barely holding itself together, my thoughts drifted to Tifa. She had been on my mind since that night. I had asked her if I could kiss her—my thoughts had been too loud, and I had to say it. The way she looked at me afterward, like I had lost my mind… I wasn’t surprised. Embarrassment crept in. Maybe Tifa didn’t want this. Maybe what we had was just support—nothing more.

The last time I had a moment alone with her was when we first returned to Midgar. We had stood there, staring at the wreckage left by the Lifestream storm. The sight of it had hit me hard, crushing the last fragile thread of hope I had been holding onto.

But our last kiss… it had felt different. There was hope in it—something unspoken, something we both wanted but couldn’t put into words. I wanted more, just like that night under the Highwind. That night had been everything—the best feeling I had ever known.

I wanted that again.

But then there was Barret. And Marlene.

It wasn’t something we had planned for, but now we were facing a new problem.

I kicked a tiny rock, watching as it rolled until it clinked against a piece of metal. And just like that, an idea took root in my mind.

If we couldn’t do this with Barret and Marlene sleeping nearby, then I’d bring her here—somewhere far away, where no one could hear or see us. It was a good idea. Too good. The thought alone sent a rush of heat through me, tension coiling low in my stomach. I knew I had to push it aside before it got worse. A cold shower wasn’t exactly an option right now.

I focused on the task at hand—finding things we needed for the bar. Some barstools, another mattress. Barret had been complaining about his back, grumbling about how sleeping on the floor was killing him, so we figured it was time to look for something better. I searched everywhere, but it was like no one had ever slept in a bed before—nothing but broken frames and tattered cushions. It was starting to feel like a hunt, and my patience was wearing thin.

And the more I searched, the more my thoughts drifted back to Tifa. That didn’t help.

Now I had another problem to deal with.

****

We came back empty-handed, having found nothing worth taking, which meant Barret would be sleeping on the floor again. But I didn’t care about that—I had my own thoughts to deal with, and I needed to talk to Tifa.

I looked for her everywhere until she finally returned, carrying more food for us. The moment I saw it, I realized just how hungry I was. Barret, too.

We ate in silence. Marlene ran off to play with her friends as soon as she finished, leaving the three of us at the table. I couldn’t bring it up now, not with Barret still around. I had to wait until he was gone, but the anticipation was making me restless. My foot tapped impatiently against the ground.

Tifa noticed.

“Cloud, you okay?”

I looked at her, warmth spreading through me at the sound of her voice.

“I’m fine.”

Barret finally decided he needed a break and told me to take over at the bar. With that, he left, and Tifa began clearing the table. I watched her move—graceful as always, her hair falling around her shoulders, her arms smooth and delicate as she worked, her fingers curling around the dishes.

My mind started spiralling again—but not in a bad way.

I took a slow, steady breath, trying to centre myself. I had to tell her. I had to try. I didn’t know if she’d want this, if she’d even consider it. Last time, she had been so surprised when I asked to kiss her. But then… she had pulled me in, kissed me deeply, without hesitation or doubt.

It gave me the courage.

“Tifa?”

“Yeah?”

“Tonight… meet me outside.”

She paused, her hands stilling as she turned to me, confusion flickering across her face.

I swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words.

“I… I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

For a fraction of a second, something flashed in her eyes before she turned back to her work. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Now that I had said it—well, not really explained anything—I started doubting myself. But I hoped she would come tonight.

It was all I could think about for the rest of the day. I barely registered what the others were saying or doing as I worked at the bar. Every movement felt stiff, my thoughts tangled in anticipation. I was restless, nervous.

I just had to wait.

****

It was probably the dumbest idea I’d ever had.

Tifa wasn’t outside like I’d told her to be. Maybe she didn’t want this. Or maybe I was just jumping to conclusions too quickly instead of waiting. It wasn’t even midnight yet, from what I could tell by looking at the sky. Dark clouds loomed above, hiding most of the stars—reminding me that the rainy season wasn’t over.

Everyone else had gone to sleep. I told them I’d stay up a little longer. It had been two days since I last slept, and it was starting to show. But every time I closed my eyes, my mind dragged me back to that night, to the feeling that had been clinging to me ever since. The alcohol used to help with that, but Tifa said we were running low, so we’d stopped drinking.

Now, all I could do was wait.

“Cloud?”

Her voice was soft, carrying through the quiet night as she stepped outside.

I looked at her and felt my breath hitch. She was beautiful. I couldn’t help but stare, the faint glow of the dying fire casting flickering shadows across her face. We didn’t have materia to light fires anymore, so we had to make do with our hands. But I didn’t need light—I could see her just fine.

She walked toward me, and the urge to kiss her hit me hard. But now wasn’t the time. Not yet.

“Why did you ask me to meet you?” she asked, curiosity laced with a hint of worry.

“Nothing to worry about, Tifa. Come on.”

I reached for her hand, and she let me take it. That was a good sign. She didn’t question me further, and we walked in silence, leaving our little town behind and heading toward Midgar.

The night was still. Tifa clung to me as we walked—she couldn’t see a thing. I liked that. Not that she couldn’t see, but that she was close, close enough that her nails gently pressed into my skin. Every little touch made me painfully aware of her.

Tifa hated the dark. It scared her. And I knew that.

“Cloud… where are we going?” she asked as we made our way through Sector 8.

“There.”

I had come back earlier, looking for a place for us. I lied when I said I hadn’t found anything. There was a small building, just stable enough, tucked away where no one would bother us.

Tifa turned her head as I gestured toward the building, but I could tell she already understood. She bit her lip—something I knew by now meant she was just as impatient as I was.

I took her hand and led her inside.

I’d cleaned up earlier, but even with me guiding her, it was hard for Tifa to navigate in the dark. The faint sound of metal pipes clanging outside didn’t help either. She was on edge, but she trusted me when I told her I’d been here before.

I pushed open the last door, revealing what was supposed to be a room. There was nothing inside except a mattress on the floor. A broken window let in just enough moonlight, bathing the space in a pale glow.

Tifa exhaled sharply, like she’d been holding her breath the whole time.

I stepped toward the center of the room, glancing around, my nerves creeping in. This wasn’t the first time. I knew what was coming. But still—I was scared of doing something wrong. Neither of us had much experience. We were just figuring it out as we went.

Tifa sat down on the mattress, the weight of her body making it squeak.

I stiffened. I hadn’t thought to test if it would make noise. Now, I wished I had. My face burned, and I was grateful for the darkness—the clouds must have swallowed the moon. The sound gave me away. Gave us away.

Tifa looked up at me suddenly, then patted the spot beside her. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curled slightly against the fabric. She was nervous too.

We didn’t need words. We understood each other without them.

I set my sword down and sat beside her.

As soon as we were close, neither of us dared to look at the other. We were shy—like two kids meeting for the first time, unsure but drawn together all the same.

Tifa finally broke the silence:

“So… this is what you’ve been doing today?”

I shrugged, suddenly feeling like I was being scolded.

“If you don’t want to, we can go back.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I want this.”

She turned to look at me, and that was all it took.

Our lips met, hesitant at first, but the slow burn quickly built between us, each kiss feeding the next like a kettle reaching its boiling point. Tifa’s fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me in as I eased her onto her back. I deepened the kiss, and when she parted her lips, something inside me snapped.

Aching. Needing. Wanting.

The sensation spread through me like fireworks, sharp and electric, setting every nerve on edge. I could hear the thundering rhythm of our hearts, hers and mine, pounding in sync. There was no hiding it anymore.

I had missed this. Missed her. Her touch, her warmth—how perfectly we fit together, like two puzzle pieces finally finding their place.

Tifa moaned, and I groaned in response, the pressure between us building fast. But I forced myself to slow down.

Last time had been rushed—urgent, desperate.

Not this time.

This time, I wanted to show her.

Show her how much I cared.

Her hands roamed over my neck and shoulders, fingers trailing with a touch that sent shivers down my spine. I kissed her lips, her cheeks, her jaw—every inch of skin I could reach, not leaving a single spot untouched.

When I reached the base of her neck, I felt the faint pulse beneath her skin, and it undid me. The tension inside me coiled tight, impossible to ignore. I pressed against her, the weight of my desire settling between us. She didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away. Instead, she welcomed it.

We still had our clothes on, but that didn’t matter. We took our time—exploring, testing, learning each other all over again.

Then, Tifa pushed me back just enough to unbuckle herself, slipping off her skirt, then her tank top. I followed her lead, and just like before, our clothes were cast aside in a flurry of impatient hands, neither of us caring where they landed.

Once bare, I eased her onto her back, capturing her lips in a kiss—soft at first, then deep, unrelenting.

Her moans were swallowed by me, each one sending waves of heat through my body.

The tension inside me wound tighter, coiled like a spring ready to snap at any moment.

Tifa’s hands moved down my chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My body tensed, anticipation coiling tight as I realized where she was heading. The urge to pull her closer, to bite down on her lips and claim her, nearly consumed me.

She moaned again, and before I could stop it, a sound escaped me—low, raw, unfamiliar. It sent a shudder through me, like I was unravelling right then and there.

Then, her fingers wrapped around me.

I hissed through my teeth, every muscle in my body locking up.

Our kiss broke, reality crashing down around us as we both registered what she was doing. Her touch was tentative, unsure, yet the effect it had on me was instant. I couldn't stop my hips from moving, chasing the sensation, the heat, the pleasure that was building too fast.

I looked at her—eyes dark with longing, breath uneven, hair fanned around her like a halo. She was beautiful, breathtaking, and I was losing myself in her.

My mind went blank, lost in the feeling of her hand on me, the way she explored without hesitation. My breath hitched as the pleasure surged higher, the tight coil in my belly winding dangerously close to the edge.

“Tifa… I won’t last long.”

I tried to slow down, to hold back, but she gave me no chance. Her lips found mine again, then trailed down to my neck as her hand continued its slow, torturous movement. I groaned, holding her against me, her body flush with mine, the warmth of her skin feeding the fire inside me. The pressure built higher, unbearable, the knot inside me tightening until it finally snapped.

I moaned against her, my breath ragged, feeling the heat spreading between us. Something warm, something real.

I kissed her again, more fervent this time. She had unravelled me completely, and I couldn’t leave her like this.

Slowly, I pressed forward, feeling her softness wrap around me, pulling me in. The sensation nearly undid me all over again, but I forced myself to focus, resting on my hands as I adjusted.

We moved together, unhurried, each motion sending new waves of pleasure through me. Tifa moaned beneath me, and the sound alone was enough to drive me mad. I wanted to make this last, to savour every second, to memorize the way she looked—her face flushed, lips parted, lost in the moment. Her hands gripped the mattress above her head, searching for something to hold onto.

I reached for one, bringing it to my lips, kissing each of her fingers with reverence.

That’s when I saw them—the tears clinging to her lashes.

My heart clenched.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, guilt immediately seeping in, making me hesitate, ready to pull away.

But Tifa wouldn’t let me. She wrapped her legs around me, drawing me deeper.

“No… it’s so good,” she whispered. “I never want this to end.”

“Me too,” I murmured, before sealing my lips over hers.

Just like that, we were tangled once again, as if nothing could break us, as if we were strong and unstoppable. I wanted this—not just the moment, not just the night. I wanted something real, something lasting, something only ours.

I shifted, feeling her tighten around me, her body responding, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. She was close—I could feel it—and I forced myself to hold on.

And then, she cried out my name, her entire body trembling beneath me. I held her, pressing closer, still moving within her—quicker now, clumsier, losing myself all over again.

In the stillness of the night, there was only us. Isolated from the world.

Chapter Text

These past few months had been weird. Not just a little weird—really weird. People lost their homes, and Midgar was gone now. Gone like when something falls and breaks into tiny pieces you can’t put back together. We had to live somewhere else. But everyone was figuring it out.

They built a new place, using whatever they could find, stacking things on top of other things until it started looking like houses again. It wasn’t like before, but it worked. They called it Edge. The name came from a man—he was important, I think. The grown-ups said he was the mayor now. He picked the name because this was a new time, a new place, and people needed something new to believe in.

And to remember everything—because even when things change, you’re not supposed to forget—he made a big rock. A special one, shaped like Meteor. Everyone knew about Meteor. It was the day everything broke apart. The day the world changed all at once.

I didn’t understand everything. Daddy wouldn’t tell me, and Tifa and Cloud always changed the subject when I asked. Grown-ups did that a lot. Maybe it was their way of making things hurt less, like hiding a scratch under a bandage so they wouldn’t have to look at it.

Most days, I spent time with my friends in town while the grown-ups worked. It was nice. I didn’t have the same friends from before, but I found new ones. There was one girl, Mila—she was special. She was taller than me. Six or seven years old, and she knew how to find things to do, even when there wasn’t much. The grown-ups hadn’t really thought about kids when they built Edge, but we figured things out. We always did.

Sometimes, I helped Tifa. She let me mix drinks—only the easy ones. She said we’d need to find more ingredients soon because the grown-ups had already drunk a lot. I didn’t know why they drank so much, but I knew what happened after. Every night, Daddy would come home and fall on the floor, right near where I slept. He snored really loud. I tried to ignore it, but sometimes it was too much, and I couldn’t sleep.

That’s when Tifa would scratch my back. Slow, soft, like little waves rolling over me. It felt nice—like a secret trick only she knew. I’d close my eyes, and before I even noticed, I’d be asleep.

But the last few nights, Tifa wasn’t with me. She said she’d come back, but she didn’t. Cloud wasn’t here either. Something was happening between them—I could see it, even if I didn’t understand. Maybe I should ask, but they’d just change the subject, like they always did.

Today was a special day. The bar was almost done, and we needed a name. Tifa said I could stay up a little longer than usual, so I sat at the table, pretending to read one of the books Cloud found near Sector 6. I couldn’t read yet, but I didn’t want to tell him that. I didn’t want to disappoint him. So I just looked at the words and acted like I understood.

“The name’s stupid.”

Barret and Cloud were arguing again. This time, about the bar’s name. Daddy’s ideas were scary. Cloud’s? Well… let’s just say they weren’t really original.

“We’ll never find a name for the bar like this,” Tifa said, sighing, but she was smiling.

She was happier now. Everyone was. We had a home again, the bar was almost done, and we were together.

Then Daddy turned to me. “How ‘bout this? Marlene, why don’t you pick the name?”

I think my eyes got even bigger. Me? Picking the name? That was so grown-up!

“Oh boy,” Cloud muttered.

He didn’t think I could come up with a good name. I’d prove him wrong.

Cloud wasn’t as scary as I used to think. He was actually kinda funny. Sometimes I’d catch him doing things he didn’t want us to know about. And sometimes he’d say things by accident, then get all awkward. He wasn’t good at talking to people, that was for sure.

Tifa said that’s just how he was. And that she loved him.

Daddy said he was just awkward.

I didn’t know who was right. Maybe they both were.

I knew what I wanted to call the bar—Seventh Heaven, just like the one in Sector 7. It felt like home, something we lost but could find again. It was how we all found each other again. How Tifa found Cloud. How I met the flower girl.

I didn’t know where she was now. I asked once, but no one wanted to talk about it. No one ever did. I didn’t know what happened when they were gone, when I stayed with Aunt Elmyra. But I missed her too. I had so much fun at her house—she taught me how to make cookies and how to plant flowers. Maybe we needed some for the bar.

“Marlene.”

I turned my head. Tifa was next to me, washing Daddy’s vest.

Last night, Daddy spilled juice all over himself. He wasn’t drunk, but Tifa still got mad. She said she couldn’t keep washing their clothes just because they didn’t pay attention.

I wanted to go with her to wash them. I liked being around the other women, listening to their stories. It was like a big town secret meeting—everyone talking about what happened that week. What their kids did, what their husbands said, what trouble someone got into.

Tifa listened, but she didn’t talk.

Like me.

We just sat there, quiet, gathering stories that weren’t really our business. It was fun.

“Did you find a name for the bar yet?” Tifa asked as she got up, ready to head back to our temporary home.

“Seventh Heaven,” I said, picking up a small, crushed flower from the ground.

Flowers were rare here. Maybe I could take this one with me.

But Tifa stopped walking.

Daddy’s vest slipped from her hands, landing in the dirt. It wasn’t clean anymore.

I frowned.

Did I say something wrong?

“Tifa?” I called her name.

“Shit.”

She picked up the vest and went back to the washing spot.

I followed her quietly. Something had changed. I could feel it, even if I didn’t understand. It was… weird.

I didn’t know what I said wrong, but maybe I should wait. I didn’t want to upset her more.

When we finally finished washing Daddy’s clothes—again—and started heading home, Tifa spoke:

“…That’s a good name, Marlene.”

I didn’t know if she really meant it. But I didn’t argue.

Chapter Text

I wasn’t sure how to feel about Marlene’s choice for the bar. Of course, she couldn’t have known what it meant to me—how painful it was just to think about it. I was already carrying my past, forced to live with my mistakes, my sins, and my regrets. The last thing I wanted was another reminder.

We didn’t have any ingredients for alcoholic drinks. People had started traveling again, the world was slowly healing. Maybe it was time for me to step outside too, to see how other towns were doing. When I told Cloud, he said he’d get me what I needed. Soon enough, he left Edge with Barret and a few other men. I stayed behind to help the elders who couldn’t take care of themselves. I liked helping them. It was volunteer work—something not many people paid attention to. The elderly and the children were often overlooked, so there were only a few of us willing to do it. The town wasn’t busy yet, and compared to the slums, the days were quiet.

It reminded me of when I used to teach the people in Nibelheim simple exercises and poses—things Zangan had taught me.

As I walked past a newly opened shop, I suddenly heard my name being called. I frowned, wondering who still knew me. People here were strangers to each other, forming bonds only as the days passed. I hadn’t tried to meet anyone—I was still carrying too much guilt for the things I’d done, for what I had done in the name of the planet, for them.

But when I turned and saw who it was, my jaw dropped.

I couldn’t believe it.

Marle.

The old woman from Sector 7—the one who had helped me settle back in Midgar. She had survived the lifestream storm. She had survived the fall of the plate.

“Tifa, my dear, dear girl!”

She pulled me into a tight hug—something so unlike her. But I didn’t hesitate. I hugged her back, warmth spreading through my chest. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her, how much I still owed her. For everything. For helping me back then. For letting Cloud stay in one of her apartments, free of charge.

"I'm so happy to see you," she said as she pulled away a few moments later. "Well, you look awfully pale. Are you getting enough sleep?"

Again with the questions. She still treated me like a little girl. I remembered the first time I met her, how I told her about AVALANCHE, and how she immediately disapproved—saying it was reckless, that I should find a proper job, settle down, start a family.

But now, I didn’t mind. I had missed her too much to argue, to tell her I could take care of myself. That I wasn’t a kid anymore.

"Don’t tell me, it’s about that blond guy, right? What’s his name again—Cloud?"

I hadn’t expected her to jump to that conclusion so quickly, and worse, I couldn’t even deny it. She had me.

I suppose she wasn’t wrong—I had been tired lately. But for nothing in the world would I stop. Every night, after making sure Marlene was asleep, I’d meet Cloud outside, and we’d go to our usual spot. A place that had slowly become like a second home, where we could just be together, tangled in each other, lost in the warmth of the night.

My face grew warm at the memory, and Marle, perceptive as always, caught on immediately.

"Well, lucky you," she chuckled. "I know what it’s like to be young and in love. So go on—cherish those moments."

I had no idea if I was turning as red as a tomato, but I suddenly felt incredibly awkward. I wasn’t used to talking about things like this, not with anyone. And it wasn’t as if I could even say Cloud and I were officially together.

Our relationship was… complicated. We were there for each other, in every way that mattered. Whether it was comfort or something else, we found solace in one another. But we never spoke about it—not like a real couple would.

And knowing Marle, if she found out, she’d have plenty to say about it. Just like the first time we went to change her filters back at Stargazer Heights—when she nearly went after him herself.

“Well, tell me about yourself. How have you been? Where have you been all this time?” she asked, taking my arm as we started walking.

I was stuck with her now.

“I…” I hesitated, searching for the right words—something that wouldn’t be too explicit about everything I’d been through. I didn’t want her to worry. “A lot has happened since then. It was complicated… we were on the run—from Shinra, you know?”

“Those fools again. I’m glad they’re gone.”

They were officially gone.

We hadn’t heard anything about the Turks or Rufus Shinra himself. Last we knew, their headquarters had been blown up, and many had been presumed dead. Or at least, that’s what we believed. But without Mako being used for electricity anymore, the planet was finally breathing again, slowly healing.

We walked through town together. It was nice to have someone familiar around. Outside of Barret and Cloud, I had been lonely. Marle told me about what she had been up to since the fall of Sector Seven—how she had become the manager of a rather distinguished hotel in Sector Three, and how she had taken in a young girl who had been lost, with no future ahead of her, reminding me of myself.

It was crazy how much had happened in just a few months. It felt like years since we’d last seen each other.

Nostalgia washed over me as we stopped to eat at a small place that everyone in town seemed to frequent. It felt like a community self-service spot, where people gathered naturally. We talked for hours, reminiscing and laughing at some of our best memories.

Marlene wasn’t very far from us. I wondered why I hadn’t realized that sooner. Well…

As the sun began to set, it was time for us to part ways. Marle promised to visit when she could, and I was genuinely happy to hear that. I promised her in return that if she ever needed anything, I would be there. After all, I still owed her so much.

We hugged one last time before she gently pushed me away, pretending to be mad.

“Look at you, making me cry,” she grumbled.

I laughed. That was just how Marle showed her affection.

****

When Barret and Cloud returned, I told them about Marle and how she had been living. Barret said that he will pay a visit to her, Cloud too.

Barret had helped Cloud pick out the ingredients for me—though, of course, Barret was just being Barret, teasing Cloud for not knowing the most basic things. Cloud, as usual, just took it in stride.

As soon as I had everything I needed, I got to work.

Cloud stayed. He wanted me to show him, to explain things. He also just wanted to help—do something different instead of working outside in the humid air.

It was hard to stay focused with him so close.

But they had also brought back some things to cook. For once, we didn’t need to take from the “self-service.” The boys had managed to find a little bit of everything for a meal, and I could handle the cooking—I had learned how to make a fire by now.

“And this… is a zucchini,” I said, holding one up.

It was purple. And big.

My mind immediately went somewhere else. My grip faltered, nearly dropping the vegetable. Cloud, watching me, nodded as if he understood—or maybe just pretended to. But his face was turning red, too. He had thought the same thing.

Our eyes met. And that was it.

The place was empty—Marlene was out with her friends, and Barret wouldn’t be back for at least an hour.

I didn’t know how it happened, but within moments, we were kissing, desperate, like two people searching for air.

Cloud lifted me into his arms, effortless, as if I weighed nothing. His strength was undeniable, firm and steady, and I let myself sink into it.

He carried me to the room where I usually slept with Marlene.

Inside, our clothes were quickly discarded, lost somewhere in the haze of it all. We were too busy—too lost in this silent competition of who could take more, who could give more.

Cloud kissed me slowly—the kind of kiss that always left me breathless. He started with my lips, lingering just long enough before trailing along my jaw, then down to my neck, his pace deliberates, torturous. I shivered when he reached the base, unable to hold back the sound that slipped from my lips. It was different here, not like Sector 8, where the silence stretched endlessly, where I could be as loud as I wanted. Here, I had to be careful.

But Cloud wasn’t making it easy.

His lips wandered lower, tracing over my skin as if learning every inch of me for the first time. When he reached my chest, I gasped—surprised by his touch, by the newness of it. We had always lost ourselves in the rush, tangled together in quiet desperation, but this… this was different. Slow. Intentional. His hands cupped me fully, and the heat pooling in my stomach became unbearable.

I buried my fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, feeling the damp strands slip between them. The air was thick, hot, our bodies pressed together, sticky with heat. I could feel him, hard and insistent against my thigh, and I wanted more—I ached for it.

But Cloud had other ideas.

His kisses trailed lower, his path unhurried, each press of his lips sending a shiver through me. When he reached my thighs, he paused, looking up at me through strands of unruly blond hair. His mako eyes burned, glowing with an intensity that sent my heart racing. I could read him now, could recognize the shift in his gaze—the way the blue faded when something stirred inside him, when desire overtook hesitation.

A few stubborn spikes clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, framing a face that had always been striking but now—now he was breathtaking.

“I want to taste you,” he murmured.

The words sent a jolt through me. They were raw, unfiltered, spoken with a certainty that stole the air from my lungs.

Cloud was always quiet about what he wanted, always hesitant, but this… This wasn’t hesitation.

And I had no words left—only the heat of his gaze, the weight of his presence, and the way my whole body trembled in anticipation.

His lips were warm and damp against me, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles that left me breathless. I couldn’t stay still—my back arched, my fingers tangled in his hair, desperate for more contact.

This was payback.

I knew it the moment he started. That night, I hadn’t given him the chance—I had taken the lead, guiding him, setting the pace. But right now, Cloud was determined to turn the tables, to show me something new. And he was succeeding.

Heat coiled deep inside me, but my skin prickled with goosebumps, shivers racing down my spine in sharp contrast. It was too much—too slow, too intense.

I felt the familiar pressure building low in my stomach, winding tighter with each calculated movement of his mouth. A moan escaped before I could hold it back, louder than I intended. Cloud held me firmly in place, his hands gripping my thighs, keeping me from escaping—not that I wanted to. He was thorough, leaving no part untouched, no space for relief. He was taking his time, savouring it, and I knew he was doing it on purpose.

We had been learning each other’s rhythms over the past few weeks, finding what worked, getting better. But in these moments, I saw a different side of Cloud—one that wasn’t hesitant or unsure. Here, he was confident, knowing exactly what he was doing, exactly how I liked it. He could read me well enough to sense when something wasn’t right.

And now, he was toying with me.

“Cloud,” I called his name, my frustration bleeding through.

He stilled, pulling back just enough to leave me empty, my body aching for the warmth of his touch.

“What?”

He knew exactly what.

I narrowed my eyes, breathless, and if I’d had the strength, I might’ve hit him. But then he chuckled—quiet, teasing—and any thought of retaliation vanished.

Before I could protest, he returned to me, his pace shifting, adding the pressure I craved. Finally.

Then, I felt it—his fingers, grazing along my thigh, trailing upward, slow, agonizing, until they reached exactly where I needed them most.

I thought it could not get much better than it already was, but the sensation of his fingers, insides me as he stroked me with his tongue was on another level. I moaned again, rolling my hips, feeling the faint hums he was making, adding to the pressure.

I couldn’t take it any longer; I tried to put my hand in front of my mouth, attempting to muffle the noises I was making, but each time, Cloud added a small pressure or changed the angle, making it difficult for me to hide the cries of pleasure.

Soon, I felt something sharp and pleasurable pulling inside my stomach, and I knew I was almost there. Cloud knew it, too, since he was speeding up the tempo - he knew I liked. He was driving me insane, scattering all coherent thoughts. I was holding his head and rolling mine, looking for a way out of this. But Cloud was holding me in place, and he was not ready to let go of me.

He was restless; the tension inside me grew, causing all of my muscles to twist till they snapped.

I screamed, not caring about who may hear me; it was just too good, and I couldn't think about anything else; I felt paralyzed by my own body.

Cloud tilted his head toward me, his eyes tracing what he had done about me. My attention immediately focused on his lips as he licked them, a soft trace of me lingering before he kissed me again, savouring myself with it.

We lost ourselves, disconnected from everything around us, oblivious to who might be home—Barret, Marlene, anyone. It was just us.

And it all started with a zucchini.

I wanted to give this a try. It’s not my strongest suit, as you can probably tell—I never quite know when it’s too much or not enough, especially while trying to stay true to their personalities. But it was a fun aspect to explore between them. Cloud taking the lead and showing a level of confidence Tifa didn’t expect was definitely an interesting thing, lol.

Chapter Text

Barret was leaving.

Said he had to go back to Corel—didn’t say why, just that he needed to check something. He’d be back the next day, which meant I had to take care of Tifa and Marlene and keep the bar running at the same time.

Stressful.

Turned out, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Marlene spent most of her time playing with her friends, and Tifa was with Marle.

Didn’t expect what she told us. Still remember her words, telling me to actually listen to Tifa, not just pretend to.

Made me think. Made me realize what we’d been doing these past couple of weeks. I slept better when Tifa was around. After we lost each other, we’d always find our way back—curl up together in that old building in Sector 8. Just a few hours of rest before the day started all over again.

We understood each other without needing to talk—it was like a skill we’d picked up over time. Or maybe she learned it because of me.

But I could always tell when something was bothering Tifa, or when she was happy, excited, sometimes even before she realized it herself. It was strange how, in just a few months, I managed to catch up with her—or at least, I tried to.

I hadn’t been truly back for long, but I felt like myself this whole time. This life—our life—gave me something to move forward for. The bar, Tifa, Marlene…

I wasn’t thinking about my past, my mistakes, my regrets. Wasn’t thinking about Aerith. Wasn’t thinking about Sephiroth. Or Jenova.

I was just being. Just living.

Today, we started moving furniture into the bar.

I went upstairs—to what would be our home—and checked everything again, picturing how it would all come together once we finally settled in. I couldn’t say I was happy just yet, but I was definitely looking forward to it.

The mayor had put up a bounty for anyone who could bring electricity to the town. Without Mako, every man around was scrambling to figure it out, hoping for a big reward. We didn’t have money, so we traded, helped out where we could.

Made me think about the washing machine. Tifa had been pissed once when Barret wasn’t careful with it. I made sure to be careful too—last thing I wanted was to deal with an angry Tifa. Couldn’t even imagine it.

Still, I hoped someone would figure out the electricity soon.

Then my mind went to materia and how it could be useful, to us at least.

Yuffie had been the last to leave, carrying plenty of it—ours included. Not that she’d admit to stealing.

We really needed to see each other again. All of us. I wouldn’t say it out loud, but I missed them. Even Cid. Even Cait.

I missed our team dynamic—how each of us had our own way of doing things, how we clashed over everything, but still came together in the end, bound by the same goal.

A few hours later, I headed back, feeling drained. I hadn’t gotten much sleep. Our nightly activities only added to my insomnia—not that I minded. Still, I couldn’t close my eyes too often. Didn’t want to. If I let myself get too tired, the nightmares would creep back in. But with Tifa next to me, it was easier to push them away, to stay grounded in the present.

Today was different, though. Sleep clung to me like a plague. No matter how much I fought it, my body was shutting down.

When I stepped inside, I saw Tifa in what used to be the kitchen, her back turned as she worked on something. Maybe dinner. Or maybe she was experimenting with new drinks for the bar’s menu.

Apparently, she came back from her visit to Marle.

She hadn’t noticed me, too focused on whatever she was doing.

So, I stayed there for a moment, just watching her. She was humming softly—a song I didn’t recognize. I watched as she swayed her hips ever so slightly with the rhythm of her humming. It was subtle—barely noticeable—but my eyes caught every movement.

She was still wearing the same outfit, same as me and Barret. None of us had a change of clothes yet. There was a shop nearby, but we hadn’t found the time to go. Maybe I should check it out soon.

When she turned around, she jolted, catching sight of me casually leaning against the wall.

“Cloud!”

I liked that—how she still got surprised even when it was just us. I liked how I could be myself around her, how I didn’t have to hold back. I wasn’t afraid. I was comfortable. And by now, we weren’t so clueless anymore.

“How’s the bar going?” she asked, turning back to her task.

My gaze trailed from her neck, where she’d pushed her hair to one side, down the curve of her spine. Watching the way her muscles moved beneath her skin as she worked.

And suddenly, I didn’t feel so tired anymore.

“Did Marlene pick a name yet?” I asked, shifting my focus back to her hands instead of the thoughts creeping into my mind.

She paused for a second before continuing whatever she was doing. She didn’t answer right away, and I could tell something was on her mind.

“She did,” was all she said.

She was avoiding the subject.

But I didn’t push. I didn’t want to ruin the moment—not when we were like this, when things were easy between us.

“I’m gonna lay down for a bit,” I said.

“Sure, I’ll call you when it’s time to eat.”

I didn’t leave right away. Instead, I wrapped my arms around her from behind, pressing my lips to the base of her neck. I felt the way she shivered under my touch.

I Smirked, I knew she liked it when I kissed here.

Satisfied, I let her go and headed upstairs.

There wasn’t much to sleep on yet, so I went straight for Tifa’s mattress. I needed the rest, and for once, with Barret gone, the house was actually quiet.

I kicked off my boots, unstrapped my pauldron, and shed whatever else was dirty before sinking onto the old mattress. A sigh left me as the tension drained from my body, my muscles finally relaxing.

Staring at the ceiling, my eyelids grew heavy. And soon enough, I was out—my thoughts drifting into nothingness.

“Hello!”

I didn’t know where I was. Everything felt too bright, too echoing. Disorienting.

As I opened my eyes, I saw a woman staring down at me—no, upside down. Or maybe I was the one upside down.

I wasn’t on Tifa’s mattress. I wasn’t in the room. I was lying on something soft, unfamiliar.

Where the hell was I?

“Thought you were never gonna wake up,” she said.

I turned my head toward her. She looked familiar—too familiar.

I sat up abruptly, my heart hammering. A fever dream? A trick of my mind? It couldn’t be real. I was happy now. I was with Tifa. Barret had found his daughter. We were building a bar—our bar.

“Don’t get yourself too worked up,” she said with a smile, green eyes shining—reassuring, inviting.

Aerith.

I swallowed hard, my gaze darting around. I wasn’t in our home. I was in a church. That church.

I glanced down and realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Oh, shit.”

I scrambled off the ground. Half of the flowers were crushed beneath my weight. Guilt twisted in my chest. These were Aerith’s flowers—the ones she nurtured, protected.

“I remember that,” she giggled, hands folded in front of her.

I looked at her, trying to find something—anything—that felt off. She looked the same. Too much the same.

“Aerith?” My voice came out quieter than I intended. “What am I doing here?”

“Nothing to worry about,” she said breezily. “I just came to say hi.”

“Hi?”

She grinned.

“Well, yeah. Figured I should pay you a visit. See how you two were doing.”

“You two?” My frown deepened.

Aerith tilted her head, amusement flickering in her expression. “You know who.”

A strange weight settled in my chest.

I didn’t know if I liked this conversation.

Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe Aerith really had just come to see me, to ask how I was doing. There was no threat in seeing an old friend, no weight pressing down on my chest like in the usual dreams. This one was peaceful. I wanted to stay in it forever, lost in time.

“You didn’t forget about me, did you?”

Aerith stepped closer, tilting her head with that playful smirk of hers.

“How could I?” I said, stepping back slightly.

Something about this felt off, but it was still Aerith. Right? I couldn’t tell. And that uncertainty gnawed at me.

“Never forget about me, Cloud.” Her tone shifted, just slightly—but enough to send a chill down my spine. “Remember what you did to me.”

I tensed.

“You have to live with that now.”

She turned, and I saw it.

The illusion shattered.

Those weren’t Aerith’s eyes. Her face—her whole body—was shifting, warping into something else. Something wrong.

Jenova.

Before I could react, the dream collapsed, and I was ripped away.

“Cloud? Cloud!”

I jolted upright, heart hammering against my ribs. My chest was tight. My skin clammy.

What the hell was that?

This wasn’t like the usual nightmares. It was something new, something worse. I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep, let alone how long I’d been under. I had let my guard down, just for a moment—just long enough.

I sucked in a shaky breath, my palms damp with sweat, my hair sticking to my forehead.

“Cloud, are you okay? You had another nightmare?”

Tifa sat beside me, watching with concern. She kept a bit of distance, not wanting to startle me, but she reached for my hand—a quiet, steady reminder that I was here. That I was back.

"I'm fine," I said as I got up.

I didn’t want to worry her. I didn’t want to tell her what my nightmares were—how they were all the same, how they never stopped. Tifa had her own struggles. She didn’t need mine. Not again.

"You sure?" she asked, unconvinced.

I nodded. She didn’t push.

"I called you. Dinner's ready—unless you need a bit more sleep?"

"No, I'm coming."

I hated this.

There wasn’t a moment I could sleep without bad dreams dragging me back. It kept pulling me under, forcing me to relive the past. A reminder of everything I had done.

At dinner, my mind was still tangled in that dream, trying to make sense of it. Why now? Why did I see her? Why like that?

Marlene carried the conversation, chattering about her day with the other kids. Tifa listened, nodding, smiling. I tried to listen, too. Tried. But Aerith’s words—or Jenova’s—kept looping in my head.

"Remember what you did to me."

A cold weight settled in my chest.

I was tired.

Exhausted.

I just wanted to close my eyes.

But I couldn’t.

Because I knew what was waiting for me if I did.

"Cloud."

Tifa called me as I was helping her clean up with Marlene. She waited until Marlene was out of earshot before speaking again.

"Why don’t you sleep with us tonight? The mattress is big enough."

Her words caught me off guard. I hesitated. That wasn’t my place—it was their bed, not mine. I didn’t want Marlene to feel uncomfortable or like I was intruding.

"I really think you should," Tifa insisted, piling more dishes to clean at the water tower tomorrow. "You can’t stay awake forever. And I think you sleep better when you're with me."

She had a point.

I was too tired to argue, too exhausted to fight against something I knew was true. When she asked Marlene if she was okay with it, she didn’t mind at all—if anything, she was happy to have both of us with her.

With a sigh, I got ready for bed.

But I dreaded this moment.

Marlene had already dozed off by the time Tifa finished what she was doing.

"Come on," she murmured, gently pulling me to her side.

She took off her shoes, her stockings already gone for the night. Normally, I would’ve taken the opportunity to look at her, to admire the small details I always noticed. But tonight, I just wanted her close. I wanted to feel like I could sleep without being haunted again. The nightmares were starting to frustrate me.

Marlene shifted between us, mumbling that she wanted to be close to Tifa or she wouldn’t be able to sleep. I couldn’t argue with that. I didn’t tell her I wanted to be close too.

Tifa, always the one to find a solution, simply moved to the middle—Marlene on one side, me on the other.

No one complained. Soon enough, they were asleep.

But I wasn’t.

I kept my eyes open, staring at nothing, waiting for the moment sleep would take over. But as soon as I let my guard down, I knew what would come for me.

So instead, I focused on the sounds around me—the soft rise and fall of Marlene’s breathing, quieter than Barret’s would have been, and Tifa’s, steady and comforting.

And I held onto that.

I finally managed to sleep after resting my palms against Tifa’s belly. It was soft and warm—enough to make the nightmares go away for one night.

Chapter Text

This part was taken back from my other work “Time Machine” on his perspective. Because all my work is linked, I had to include this one too, tho I had imagined that way before, it seemed fair to me to put the (almost) exact same tale.

“Oi, Spikey!”

The last day before the opening.

Finally.

After months of sleeping on the floor like the homeless we were, we were about to settle into our new, permanent home.

I was finishing up the final touches—the sign, the one Barret and I had found in the wreckage of Sector 4. Tifa had finally told us the name of the bar. Marlene’s choice. I was a little surprised she went along with it. Figured she wouldn’t want the reminder. But in the end, she was the happiest out of all of us.

And if Tifa was happy, then I was too.

“Shut up,” I muttered, driving the last nail in place.

The hammer’s echo carried through Edge. A lot had changed these past few months. Too fast. Like someone had hit the acceleration. This city—this place—it already felt normal, like we’d always lived here. Even with the constant warnings about plates collapsing nearby, we stayed. Held our ground. Built something out of it.

I stepped off the ladder and tilted my head back, taking in the work we’d done.

Just the two of us now, we didn’t need the others to help.

Pride settled in my chest.

My home.

Behind me, I could feel Barret gearing up to throw one of his usual fits—the kind that only happened when he was too excited to keep it in. I knew him better now. Living together had forced us to. At some point, we’d just stopped questioning it. He got his daughter, we left for Midgar. And after that... we just kept going.

No one complained.

It was better than being alone.

“Goddamn!” Barret’s voice boomed, and I couldn’t help but smirk.

I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life.

“Tifa’s gonna love this! And it’s all thanks to me, hehe!”

I turned to look at him, baffled by the audacity.

All thanks to him? I wasn’t sure if he was being serious or just hamming it up like he usually did. Either way, I wasn’t about to argue. Not now. We had our home. That was what mattered.

I stepped down onto the street. They were wider now, more structured—practical.

“Finally, home!” Barret declared, standing tall in front of our new place, his voice filled with pride and relief. “Damn right, we earned this! After everything we been through, it’s time to celebrate!”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling for real this time.

But then, I remembered.

“Huh… you do realize we don’t have anything to drink, right?”

Barret turned toward me, grinning so wide it nearly reached his eyes. I wondered if his face ever hurt from smiling that much.

“Who said we got nothin’?” His smirk deepened. “Lucky for me, I got a friend still livin’ back in my hometown. He was real grateful for us savin’ the world, so he hooked me up. Three boxes.”

A week ago, Barret had returned with his hands full of crates. We knew right away what was inside. Tifa had already started making more Corel wine.

Too bad Barret hadn’t thought to bring food.

So, we’d be drinking alcohol for dinner.

“Daddy!”

A high-pitched voice cut through the air, and we turned just in time to see Marlene running toward us.

Tifa had taken her shopping earlier—said it was time she got some new clothes and maybe us too. Turned out, Marlene had picked the exact same dress she always wore, just in a lighter, more faded colour.

Didn’t blame her. Options were still limited. Importing anything from Kalm or the other regions took time.

At least communication was back. We could get updates now—hear how people were doing, how the cities were holding up.

Seemed like things were finally looking up.

Marlene ran toward us, her tiny legs carrying her as fast as they could. From a distance, I could see the faint swaying of her hair, a few strands still damp and sticking together. Looked like she’d just had a bath—wanted to be clean for her new outfit.

Barret’s expression softened. He crouched down, arms open, his usual grin stretching even wider.

“Marlene!”

She crashed into him, laughing, and he scooped her up effortlessly, his own laughter rumbling out to match hers. It was contagious. And for a second, I felt like I was intruding, so I stepped back.

“Hey, the bar is finished!” She beamed, her wide eyes taking in the building.

“Yep, still standin’ strong.” Barret grinned, pride thick in his voice. “And we built it from scrap with our own hands.”

I scratched the back of my neck as he carried her toward the porch.

It was strange, this feeling. A kind of peace I wasn’t used to. Like I was finally… settled. But only because we had a home now. A real one.

No more excuses. No distractions. Which meant that when the nights came, and I closed my eyes, I hadn’t need to face the past. The memories. The dreams.

Some nights before, when it got really bad, Tifa would pull me close, fingers brushing through my hair until everything faded away. But I couldn’t rely on her every time I needed to sleep.

We still kept our routine, though. Almost every night, we’d slip away to Sector 8. And when we couldn’t wait—when it was too much—we found other places. Dark alleys. Abandoned cars. Anywhere. It was reckless. Maybe even stupid.

But Tifa preferred to wait until we got to that building.

At the thought, I saw Tifa walking toward me, humming that same quiet melody, the one she always did when she was content.

The last rays of sunlight stretched across the sky, casting a warm, orange glow around her, framing her face. Her movements were effortless—graceful, hypnotizing.

For a moment, everything else faded.

I only saw her.

My heart pounded, a familiar yet new sensation every time I looked at her.

She was so beautiful.

Then, a rush of images—her bare skin beneath me, the way she trembled under my touch, the taste of her lips as I kissed her slowly.

It was overwhelming.

I couldn’t imagine a world without her anymore.

We had made it.

After everything—the fights, the sacrifices—we finally earned this.

Our future.

“Heya,” she said softly, her smile shy but warm.

The fading light wrapped around her, catching in her crimson eyes, making them almost glow. She looked brighter than usual—radiant. Or maybe it was just me.

I must’ve looked like a fool, standing there, staring at her without a word.

But it hit me then.

We stood there, facing each other, caught in some quiet, awkward moment. Things were changing between us. It wasn’t just about meeting in the dead of night anymore.

I couldn’t keep my hands off her. Even in passing, I’d brush against her—barely there, but enough. Just to feel her. She did the same, always keeping her hand at my back, right at the middle, not far from my hips. She knew I was sensitive there. Knew how it made me react. And I wanted more.

It was getting harder to act normal. Maybe everyone already knew about us. About what we did.

Didn’t matter.

“Oi, you two lovebirds comin’?”

Barret’s voice snapped us back.

We turned, finding him standing on the porch, Marlene perched on his shoulder, grinning down at us in that way that said it all.

He saw it.

“Coming!” Tifa called, rushing toward the bar.

But then she stopped.

Her head tilted slightly as her gaze settled on the bold leather sign: Seventh Heaven.

“Cloud… it’s almost the same,” she murmured, her hand pressing against her chest, as if the memory physically hurt.

“Do you like it?”

I wasn’t sure about the colours, about how it was placed. It wasn’t exactly like before. I still remembered the original, nestled among other buildings in Sector 7—small, worn but full of life. This one stood out. Graceful, vibrant.

It was one of the first things I saw when I came back… not as myself.

But I loved every second of it. The bar. The people. Her.

She saved me back then. I could’ve passed away that day, too stunned and too exhausted to live. Or worse—been dragged back to Hojo, subjected to whatever tests he still had planned for me.

There were good memories and bad ones.

But the bar—this bar—meant everything. More to her than to me.

It was how she had rebuilt herself after Nibelheim. How she had found her place, her friends. How she had become who she was now.

“I like it because you made it, Cloud.”

A pang shot through my chest, warmth creeping up my face before I could stop it.

I never knew how to take compliments. Never felt comfortable with them. Maybe because I thought I didn’t deserve them.

I simply nodded, turning away before she could catch the smile tugging at my lips—a real one. Full of pride. Full of joy.

Today was a new chapter.

****

We were inside the bar. The place looked almost exactly like the old one. Me and Barret had done a good job trying to piece it together from memory. It wasn’t perfect yet—dust covered the floor, tables were still shoved to one side, and there was clutter everywhere—but it didn’t matter. We had a home now.

Barret broke the silence with the familiar victory fanfare, raising his fist in the air. Tifa joined in, striking her usual pose, and before I knew it, I was moving too—swinging my sword smoothly across the floor, through the air, before resting it on my shoulder.

Marlene, who had been watching from the side, jumped up, clapping her hands.

“That’s so cool! Do it again!”

We exaggerated our poses this time, making her laugh even harder.

“That’s outta the way,” Barret said, grinning. “I’m grabbin’ the Corel wine I promised y’all, and we’re gonna drink silly tonight.”

“I’m looking forward to this,” Tifa said, clapping her hands together with a warm smile.

For some reason, the scene felt familiar, like I had lived it before. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Barret left to get the wine, leaving just the three of us.

I was used to that now. At first, I thought it would be stressful when he was gone, but it wasn’t. He left the day after coming back from Corel, said he had to help the people still struggling there. Said he had to repay them for everything he’d done to them.

While he was gone, I spent more time with Marlene, got to know her better. Turns out, she was smarter than she looked—too smart, sometimes. She knew how to negotiate whenever she wanted to go somewhere but needed someone to come with her. It wasn’t that I didn’t like spending time with her—I just wasn’t patient. And compared to Tifa, I couldn’t say no.

Tifa, on the other hand, was strict. She only needed to say something once, and Marlene wouldn’t argue. They had been together much longer than I had. They met when she was just a baby.

I watched them as they walked around, seeing it for the first time, we didn’t want them to see until it was done.

“Hey Tifa!”

Marlene was perched on one of the barstools, swinging her legs as she looked at her, waiting. Tifa seeming to understand, quickly approached, turning behind the counter before standing before her.

“Hello little lady, what can I get you?” She says, seeming to play a role of a bartender, easily sleeping into her old habits.

“Chocoberry Fitz please”

It was her favourite drink, I remembered she would always take this whenever she was in the bar with her.

“Nice choice, what about you Cloud?”

She leaned forward on the counter, spreading her arms as she looked at me—half serious, half playful.

I scoffed, the memory hitting me before I could stop it. I remembered this scene all too well: her asking me the same question after making me help with the water filters, despite my protests.

Slowly, I stepped toward the bar, keeping my eyes on her. She was playing around, but for me, it stirred something deeper. It was one of the few moments from back then when I’d been close to feeling like myself.

“Something hard and bitter,” I said, repeating the exact words from last time.

Tifa didn’t answer right away. Maybe she recognized it too.

We stood there, locked in a stare, the tension thick between us. And if Marlene and Barret weren’t here, I knew exactly what I’d do. My gaze flickered to her lips for just a second, and I heard her sharp inhale.

Images of the other night rushed back, unbidden, raw and consuming.

Then, before it could go any further—

“Got the merchandise!”

Barret’s voice cut through the moment, snapping me back to reality. He carried in three massive boxes and unceremoniously dumped them onto the counter with a heavy thud.

The sound startled me, my senses still on edge.

Tifa immediately turned to help him unpack, leaving me alone with my thoughts. In the corner of my eye, I caught Marlene watching me with a look that made me uneasy—too knowing, too perceptive.

She knew.

Not the details, of course, but enough to understand that Tifa and I were together.

Not that we were doing a great job hiding it. And now, we were all going to be living under the same roof. Pretending wasn’t going to be an option for much longer.

Marlene had wandered off to explore while I stayed behind with Barret, casually waiting at the bar as we talked.

“Hey, spiky! ‘Member how we said we’d be drinkin’ in a new Seventh Heaven?”

The whole scene gave me a strong sense of déjà vu.

Tifa returned with the glasses we had found back in Sector 8 during one of our usual nights out. She had found them charming, and since there were enough for us, we decided to take them.

As she handed me my glass, her hand lingered behind my back, just near my hips. Barret couldn’t see from where he was, which was a relief. I shot her a warning look, still on edge from earlier, but she deliberately ignored it. She was teasing me, and she knew exactly what she was doing.

Barret paced behind the bar, sipping his wine, deep in thought.

“Guys,” he said after a while, his tone suddenly serious, immediately drawing our attention. “’Member that exhibition back in Midgar? We saw somethin’… Didn’t believe it at first, but now—now it all makes sense.”

So I wasn’t the only one.

I remembered it now—the way it had seemed impossible at the time, yet there it was: our future. Living together in a new bar, standing on the brink of a new beginning.

“I guess you’re right,” Tifa murmured, her voice quiet, as if she, too, was recalling that moment.

“Guess Shinra’s technology got that one right, huh?”

Before either of us could say more, the sound of small, hurried footsteps echoed across the floor.

“Daddy.”

Marlene had returned, her tiny frame bouncing as she walked. It struck me - how different it was, the way a child moved compared to us. She carried none of the weight we did.

“Daddy, there are only two rooms.”

Tifa and I exchanged a glance, already knowing where this was going. It was exactly like what we had seen at the exhibition. If things kept playing out this way, it was going to get awkward fast.

“It’s okay, honey. You can sleep with Tifa—I’ll take the other room.”

Barret smirked as he said it, his gaze landing squarely on me.

I wanted to curse him out, but Marlene was right there. He knew that too. He also knew exactly what he was doing. He had said the same thing back then.

I couldn’t believe it. I was going to be stuck in the other room—the unfinished one, with nothing but bare walls and a floor to sleep on.

I took a long sip of my wine, trying to focus on anything else, but the irritation simmered beneath the surface. And Barret? He knew. He knew how much I wanted to be close to Tifa.

Beside me, I heard her laugh.

“What’s so funny, Tifa?” Marlene asked, tilting her head.

“Because Cloud’s grumpy—and it’s cute,” she said, laughing again.

“Real funny,” I muttered dryly.

Barret joined in, his laughter deep and contagious, and before I knew it, I felt a small smile tug at my lips.

It couldn’t just be a coincidence.

Chapter Text

I told Cloud the same damn thing future me told him back at Shinra’s building.

I ain’t stupid—I saw it plain as day. Those two fools couldn’t stay apart for five minutes. It was exasperating. Honestly, I kinda expected it after what went down under the Highwind. We were all up there, watching from the sky, thinking, Well, guess that’s what it takes for them to finally make a move—the end of the damn world.

But now? Now I saw it all the time. They tried to be discreet at first, but c’mon. I wasn’t dumb. I knew exactly where they were sneaking off to when they woke up in the middle of the night. Still, I’ll give Cloud this—he kept his business separate from mine. Respected my space, my daughter’s space. Last thing I needed was to be dealin’ with two lovesick idiots and a kid under the same roof.

It was funny, thinking back to how I used to hate that guy just because he was Shinra. He claimed he’d quit, but I didn’t buy it—not at first. And Tifa? She kept saying he was a nice guy. Nice, huh? She had a real funny way of defining that.

But then, I started seeing him differently. Not as some ex-SOLDIER or a Shinra lapdog, but as… Tifa’s friend. We’ve all been through a lot, but Cloud? That guy’s carried more weight than most of us combined. Everything that happened to him—his hometow, Sephiroth, Aerith...

That bastard.

My grip tightened around the glass in my hand. I didn’t even realize it until I felt Marlene’s eyes on me. She was sitting next to me, watching as the night crept in, her little legs dangling off the chair. She looked up at me, noticing the tension in my hand, the shift in my mood. She was way too perceptive for her age.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?”

I forced a smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice the anger bubbling underneath.

“How about a dance with your daddy, huh?”

Standing up from my chair, I caught everyone’s attention. Cloud gave me that look—like I’d completely lost it. Couldn’t blame him; I hadn’t told him about the old jukebox I’d found. Same kind we’d seen back in Midgar. Everything here was really falling into place, just like we’d seen before. I hated to admit it, but I was impressed—and maybe even a little happy—it had turned out this way.

“With no music?” Tifa asked, looking just as confused.

“I’m glad you asked, ‘cause I found this little baby back in Sector 1,” I said, motioning toward the entrance.

I walked over to where I’d hidden the thing, covered with an old sheet. Grabbing the edge, I yanked it off, sending up a cloud of dust that danced in the air. I waved it away with my hand, even though I knew it was pointless.

“Let’s see if it still plays the same song,” I murmured under my breath, more to myself than anyone else.

My chest tightened at the thought. I knew the song I was talking about. The memory of it stung. Myrna—my wife—she’d loved that song. She didn’t understand a word of it, and neither did I, but damn, it was a good one.

“Barret…”

The melody filled the room, slow and graceful. It wrapped around us like a memory, old and familiar. I didn’t know the words, but I could feel them—had to be about love. My lips curved into a bittersweet smile as a lump rose in my throat. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, and for once, I didn’t have my sunglasses to hide behind.
Goddamn it.

“Marlene, you wanna dance with your old man?”

I turned to her, holding out my only human hand.

Her face lit up like the sun, the chair scraping noisily against the floor as she jumped to her feet. She rushed toward me, her tiny hand slipping into mine, so small, so delicate. For a moment, everything in the world felt right again. My heart swelled, full of love for my little girl. I’d found her. I’d fought like hell for this, for the chance to have moments like this.

Maybe the song really was about this—finding the people you love and holding on to them.

We swayed together, her tiny feet stepping clumsily atop mine. It wasn’t easy, her being so little, but we made it work. Her giggles filled the air, blending with my chuckles as we moved. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world melted away. It was just us, the melody carrying us through this fleeting moment of peace.

I didn’t feel like a man who’d just taken down a platoon, bombed a reactor, or was trying to save the damn planet. I felt normal—just a dad dancing with his daughter. And I didn’t want this feeling to end.

****

“Marlene, time to go to sleep,” Tifa called, standing up and stretching from head to toe.

I couldn’t help but notice Cloud watching her, thinking he was being subtle. He wasn’t. The way he stared—it was so obvious, it almost made me laugh. Acting like he didn’t care, like nothing mattered to him, even though the one person who mattered most was right in front of him. He was a fool, plain and simple. Took him forever to make his move, too.

Not that Tifa minded. She loved the guy—always had. I’d known that for a long time. I remember her mentioning some blond kid once, back before any of this started. She wouldn’t tell me much back then, but the second she brought Cloud around, it all clicked.

“Goodnight, guys,” Tifa said, her voice warm, softer than it’d been in years. She waved, smiling like she used to, back before everything fell apart.

Marlene trailed behind her, clutching Tifa’s hand.

“Night,” we said, watching Tifa scoop Marlene up into her arms. She carried her upstairs with that same easy grace, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tifa.

For Marlene, she was family—mother, sister, and everything in between. She was there when I wasn’t, when I couldn’t be. I still hear her voice sometimes, back when I was too angry to listen. Telling me to do better. Telling me to be better. She stepped up for Marlene when I couldn’t, and that’s something I’ll never forget.

I finished off my drink and reached for another. Tifa had perfected the recipe for Corel wine—managed to track down all the right ingredients—and now it was a staple around here. A taste of home, though the bittersweet kind.

I glanced over at Cloud. His drink was still half-full. Lightweight. I could tell he was already drunk—his glass barely touched, his gaze a little too distant. Kid didn’t know how to drink, just like he didn’t know much about life. Couldn’t blame him for that, though.

“You want some more?” I asked, motioning toward his glass.

Cloud glanced down, like he was weighing the question too carefully. Typical. The kid always thought too hard about the little things.

“I think I’m good,” he muttered after a beat.

“Hey, Cloud,” I called, a little sharper this time. His head snapped toward me, like he thought I was about to chew him out.

“Relax,” I said, waving him off. “I ain’t here to give you a hard time. I just need a favor.”

Cloud didn’t say anything. Just stared at me, that familiar look crossing his face—the one that said, Here we go again.

I’d been heading back to Corel a lot lately. Couldn’t help it. There were things I needed to take care of—things only I could do. Folks back there needed help, and maybe… maybe I needed them, too. Needed to make peace with the mess I left behind.

No matter how far I go, Corel always feels like it’s waiting for me. Like it’s a part of me that I can’t shake off. I swore I’d never look back, but here I am, doing just that.

Still, there’s hope. Things are changing. We’re bringing back the old ways—fossil fuel, the way it used to be. If I can get my hands on some and bring it here, we might have a shot. There’s a bounty on it from the mayor, enough to make a difference for everyone.

“I’ll have to leave again,” I said matter-of-factly. “Things in Corel are a whole lot worse than we thought when we passed through. People still need me there. I can’t turn my back on them, you understand? I owe them, so, I gotta head back and stay until it gets better.”

Cloud’s gaze shifted toward me, his expression unreadable.

“What does this have to do with me?” he asked, his voice calm but cautious.

I poured myself another glass of Corel wine, topping off his glass too, even though he hadn’t finished. He didn’t stop me, but he didn’t say anything either.

“You’re gonna have to look after them,” I said, my tone steady but firm. “I know I’ve asked this of you before, but this time it’s different. I’m asking you to be their man. You get me?”

He didn’t respond right away. Just sat there, quiet as always, probably overthinking it like he does with everything.

And I knew what I was asking wasn’t easy. Cloud wasn’t like me. He’d never been in the role of a father, not in the way I had. He was still young, still figuring things out, still carrying the weight of everything that had happened to him. Hell, he wasn’t even sleeping properly most nights, and I could see how much that was dragging him down.

But I asked him because I trusted him. Not because he had experience, but because I knew he’d do right by them—by Marlene, especially—while I was gone.

We weren’t a conventional family. We weren’t like the folks around town, living under the same roof, tied together by blood or tradition. We were a patchwork group, brought together by circumstance, but we were close in a way most people wouldn’t understand.

Still, as I looked at him, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was asking too much. Maybe this was all a mistake. Cloud had already lost five years of his life, stolen by circumstances beyond his control. And now, I was placing this responsibility on him, asking him to carry something that might feel bigger than any battle we’d fought together.

This wasn’t like facing down Sephiroth. This was something else entirely. Looking after Marlene and Tifa—that was a challenge he’d never faced before.

I used to be the one who handled all that. They were like my kids, all of them in a way. But now, I had to leave, and for who knows how long. It wasn’t easy, walking away from them. But I couldn’t ignore what was happening in Corel.

And deep down, I knew Cloud could handle it, even if he didn’t believe it himself.

Cloud suddenly grabbed his glass and downed it in one go.

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Instead, I followed his lead, finishing off my own drink in one long pull. We both needed that.

He still hadn’t given me an answer, but I knew him well enough to understand what his silence meant. Cloud wasn’t the type to say much, but he had a way of showing when he was on board. I could tell he’d take it on. He probably realized how much this meant to me—how not everyone had the strength to fight the way he did, how some of us struggled just to face the weight of the past, the mistakes, the sins.

And so, he accepted.

I wasn’t leaving right away. I planned to stick around a little longer, to soak in this moment, this bar we built with our own hands.

That exhibition back there? That was some crazy shit, the kind of spectacle I’d never thought I’d see in my life. But, damn, they were right about one thing: all the sacrifices, all the fighting—it had been worth it.

Chapter Text

Today was Marlene’s birthday.

It felt like the perfect day to celebrate, especially since we had just opened the bar. Well, not officially—not to everyone yet. It was just us at first, settling into our new home, getting used to things. The boys had gone out earlier, spreading the word about the reopening. Everyone already knew about Seventh Heaven, and the buzz about a new one had people excited. The fact that I was the one running it again only seemed to add to the hype.

It was strange, though—going back to bartending. It almost felt like nothing had changed since…

No, I wasn’t going to let myself think about that today. Today was Marlene’s birthday, and I wanted it to be special for her. We didn’t have much yet, but we made it work. Seeing her light up when she realized we were celebrating was all that mattered.

I called Yuffie as soon as the communication lines were restored—though the connection was still awful, cutting out midway through the conversation. Still, hearing her voice again brought a smile to my face. She sounded well, and I was relieved to hear that Wutai was slowly rebuilding, just like the rest of us.

While catching up, I sent out invites to everyone, letting them know about the bar’s reopening. The excitement in their voices was contagious. To my surprise, even Vincent said he’d come.

It felt surreal—the old gang was coming back together again.

But now, I had no idea what to do—what drink to make, what they liked, what they hated. I should have asked them, but this was meant to be a surprise. Or maybe I was just too scared to let myself fully commit to it yet. I was still holding back, caught between the present and the weight of my memories.

Now that I had the chance to move forward, it almost felt like I was erasing the past—like I was pretending everything I had done, everything that had happened, didn’t matter.

Was it wrong to try and live a normal life after everything? After AVALANCHE, the people I’ve hurt, the guilt that still lingered? Was I betraying all of that just by trying to move on?

“What’s wrong?”

I turned my head to see Cloud standing nearby. He must’ve noticed my hesitation as I stood in front of the bar, hands on my hips, lost in thought.

“I’m nervous,” I said, half-lying. I didn’t want him to know the full extent of what was going through my mind.

“You can do this, Tifa. That’s who you are.”

His words made me smile. He had a way of being direct yet supportive, even when he didn’t say much. It was all I needed to hear. I took a deep breath and got to work, falling back into what I knew best.

They started arriving, one by one.

First was Cid, much to Cloud’s dismay. True to form, Cid launched into his usual chatter, going on about his adventures in the sky and his life on the ground with Shera—his girlfriend now. He cursed every other sentence, but thankfully Marlene wasn’t around yet to hear it. Despite his rough edges, it was good to see him again.

Next was Yuffie, who burst in with her signature energy. As always, she spoke with so much extravagance and drama that it was hard not to laugh. Her stories were ridiculous, but that was Yuffie—she could make anything entertaining.

Red XIII came after, accompanied by Reeve. Seeing Reeve in person felt a little strange, considering he was the one who’d been controlling Cait Sith all this time. We didn’t dislike him, but his ties to Shinra still lingered in the back of our minds. Even so, he had proven himself time and time again, and for that, we were grateful.

Barret returned from his search just as Vincent made his entrance, striding through the door with his usual nonchalance, his cape trailing behind him in that dramatic way only Vincent could manage.

With everyone here, the bar felt alive. It was big enough to hold us all, and the room buzzed with conversation and laughter. For the first time in a long while, it felt like proof that people were living again.

Marlene was shy at first, staying close to me. But then Reeve presented her with a new Cait Sith prototype. Cloud didn’t look too thrilled about it—his frown said as much—but Marlene’s excitement was immediate, so Reeve handed it over as a gift.

“Let’s hope this thing doesn’t have a camera hidden somewhere,” Cloud muttered, earning a nod of agreement from Barret.

Yuffie, of course, couldn’t be left out. She brought a gift from Wutai, and as soon as Marlene unwrapped it, Barret’s voice boomed across the room.

“What the hell?!” Barret bellowed, his eyes wide as Marlene held up a tiny shuriken, clearly a toy version.

“It’s not real, old man,” Yuffie said with a dramatic eye roll. “Besides, she’s gonna need to learn how to defend herself someday. You should be thanking me!”

“She don’t need none of that crap here!” Barret barked, his arms flailing in frustration.

But Marlene hugged the shuriken close, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Daddy, I like it! I’m keeping it,” she declared, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Barret looked like he was about to blow a gasket, while Yuffie just winked at him, clearly enjoying herself.

Barret looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Yuffie winked at him, clearly proud of herself, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the whole exchange. 

Vincent, ever the gentleman, hadn’t forgotten to bring something. He just wasn’t sure what would be appropriate, so he settled on a bouquet of flowers. Marlene was overjoyed—she loved flowers and immediately started talking about how she wanted to decorate the bar with them.

It didn’t matter what everyone brought; it was all making her day, and in turn, it made mine as well. Seeing her smile and laugh, even after all the changes we’d been through, filled me with so much happiness.

Red XIII didn’t bring a physical gift, but his stories had Marlene completely captivated, even us. He had a way with words that held our attention effortlessly. Cid, on the other hand, brought her something about spaceships—something she clearly didn’t understand at all. But that only made him more excited, and he launched into a long, animated explanation.

“Language, Cid,” Barret warned, giving him a sharp look.

But Cid had already had one too many drinks by then, and trying to rein him in was a losing battle. Every other word out of his mouth was a curse, and Marlene looked at me wide-eyed, clearly thinking he was out of his mind.

No one could get him to stop once he was caught up in his storytelling—until Yuffie, ever the practical one, suggested we all eat. That finally got his attention, and we started moving toward the table.

I had prepared a variety of dishes so everyone could pick and choose according to their tastes. Marlene had helped me cook, and Cloud stepped in to help me serve.

“Well, well… look who’s being a good boy,” Cid said, raising his glass with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Cloud snapped, glaring at him.

“Who would’ve thought Cloud would end up serving in his life,” Cid added with a chuckle, clearly enjoying himself.

This was typical Cid—he’d been like this ever since he joined our party, always teasing Cloud at every opportunity. As usual, Cloud didn’t bother responding beyond his initial comment. He probably knew Cid was too drunk to reason with.

Instead, Cid shifted to grumbling about the weather and how hard it was to find cigarettes these days.

The room buzzed with conversation, everyone talking and laughing together again. It was funny how, despite everything we’d been through, some things between us never changed.

Of course, no one mentioned Aerith or anything that reminded us of what happened.

But as the thought of her crept into my mind, guilt followed closely behind. Here I was, surrounded by laughter and warmth, having fun while she was gone—forever. She didn’t deserve that, and yet, I was here, listening to everyone’s conversations as if nothing had happened.

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about it?

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly felt a hand brush against my thigh. Startled, I looked down to see Cloud watching me with his usual quiet, questioning expression. He knew. He always seemed to know when my mind wasn’t present. I could fool the others, but never him.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. It was a small reassurance—for him and maybe even for me.

“Hey, you two, what’s with the secret conversation over there?” Cid called out, smirking like he’d just caught us red-handed.

Barret, always quick to jump in, pointed at us dramatically.

“Man, you wouldn’t believe the stuff I’ve had to deal with from these two.”

Cid snorted, leaning back with that smug grin of his.

“After what went down on the Highwind, can’t say I’m surprised. You two left the rest of us hangin’—and I’m not talkin’ about the engine parts.”

I felt my stomach drop. Oh, no. He was not going there.

I avoided looking at Cloud, but I could feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a reactor core. If he could’ve activated a Stealth Materia and vanished, he would’ve.

“What happened?” Marlene asked, her wide, innocent eyes darting between us.

“Ah, kid, let’s just say... sometimes grown-ups take ‘maintenance breaks’ on airships.” Cid grinned, clearly enjoying the torment he was dishing out. “Y’know, checkin’ for... turbulence.”

Cloud’s voice, low and gruff, broke through before I could respond. “Why are you even here?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me. You’re the ones who forgot to put up a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign,” Cid fired back, cackling.

Marlene didn’t understand a single thing of what Cid was saying—thankfully, he had the decency to hide it all behind metaphors. Still, the memory of it lingered in my mind, bitter and raw. Our first time wasn’t what it could have been, not because of us, but because of them.

How I wished I could rewrite that moment, erase the awkwardness and the interruptions. But life didn’t work like that, did it?

My face burned with embarrassment, the heat crawling up my cheeks. I was sure everyone noticed, but they moved on, as if the awkward moment had never happened, their attention shifting to plans for another meet-up, dreams of traveling the world again.

Their voices became background noise, distant and faint, as if I wasn’t even in the same room anymore. I excused myself, saying I needed to clean up, though I doubt anyone paid attention.

At the sink, I began washing plates and glasses, one after another, methodically wiping them dry since there wasn’t anywhere to let them air. The repetitive motion was grounding, a way to keep my hands busy while my mind struggled to stay above the rising tide of emotions.

But it wasn’t enough. Guilt crept back in, sharp and unforgiving, twisting in my chest. Each laugh and cheerful voice from the other room only deepened the ache, a reminder that I didn’t belong in their joy.

I was alone—alone with my thoughts, with the relentless whispers that echoed louder than their laughter. They told me what I already feared: I was selfish. I had failed them. I hadn’t cared enough about the lives we lost, about her.

Aerith.

Her name felt like a weight, a stone I couldn’t set down. She had given everything, and here I was, listening to laughter and pretending to be okay. How could I laugh, smile, live, when she was gone forever? My hands trembled as I scrubbed the same glass for the third time, but it didn’t feel clean—nothing did.

The whispers in my head were relentless, accusing. Maybe they were right. Maybe I didn’t deserve this peace, this fleeting happiness.

I suddenly felt a hand on mine, and I nearly crushed the glass I was holding, too caught up in my thoughts to notice I’d been scrubbing the same spot relentlessly for minutes.

“You’re gonna reduce that thing to dust if you keep going,” Cloud said softly.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. A tear slipped free before I could stop it, betraying the emotions I had tried so hard to keep buried.

Cloud gently took the glass from my trembling hands and set it aside, far enough that I couldn’t reach for it again. Then, with quiet determination, he turned my face toward his. His mako-bright eyes locked onto mine, their intensity leaving me frozen, unable to look away. His thumbs brushed my cheeks, wiping away the tear that had fallen, the touch so careful it made my heart ache.

He didn’t speak, and I didn’t want him to. There was no need for words. Cloud always had a way of understanding me, of knowing where my mind went in moments like this.

Without thinking, I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my head against his chest. His heartbeat thudded rapidly beneath my ear, the steady rhythm grounding me in a way I couldn’t quite explain. It was a reminder of his existence, of everything he’d been through—altered, reshaped, and yet still here. I couldn’t help but cling to that, to him, even if it felt selfish to do so.

His hand slipped into my hair, moving gently, soothingly, as I tightened my grip around him. The warmth of his presence was comforting, but it didn’t stop the thoughts that pressed against the edges of my mind.

I had promised myself I wouldn’t cry today, wouldn’t let my thoughts wander back to her. But promises like that were easy to break.

Aerith.

Her name echoed in my head, a constant reminder of what had been lost. She lingered in every corner of my mind, in every shadow of this place. No matter how hard I tried to push the thoughts away, they always came back—what she had lost, what she had given up, and what she could have had if only she were still here.

Cloud.

I swallowed hard, tightening my arms around him. She should have been here, standing in my place, sharing this moment with him. And yet, I was the one here, the one holding onto him like he was my lifeline. Was it selfish to want this, to take comfort in him when so much of my heart felt weighed down by guilt?

I closed my eyes, letting his quiet strength hold me together for just a little while longer.

We’re now in the timeline of On the Way to a Smile. I’m not sure how many chapters this will take, but I want to explore each character from Advent Children—Reno, Denzel, Rufus, the Geostigma outbreak, and more. The official novella leaves much unsaid, so it’s important to dive in and piece it all together.

While Cloud’s struggles are central to the story, I also want to highlight Tifa’s pain. Before becoming friends with Aerith, they were rivals, both deeply caring for the same man. This dynamic adds complexity to Tifa’s character and their relationship, which often gets overlooked.

This isn’t about justifying ships—this is simply how I imagine things unfolded, especially since we still don’t know where Cloud truly stands even now…

Chapter Text

Daddy had to leave again.
But this time, he didn’t say when he’d be back. I felt sad. I thought he was staying forever now. But he told me the same thing he always says—that what he was doing was for me.

The third room was finally finished. Our house was really done now. Everything worked, mostly. Except sometimes the water didn’t come out, and the lights flickered. But it was still ours. I slept in Daddy’s bed the first night. I didn’t want to sleep alone. I was a little scared.

On the first night, I think Cloud and Tifa made Daddy mad. He didn’t tell me why, though. He just said, “Marlene, go play outside.” It was probably a grown-up thing. I wanted to stay, but Daddy’s voice was serious, so I listened.

After that, the days started to go by fast. The bar was open every day, and lots of people came in. Tifa smiled a lot when the bar was busy. I liked seeing her happy. Sometimes she sent Cloud to Kalm to get things we needed, like special ingredients. Sometimes I got to go shopping with Tifa instead. I loved that. Picking out groceries made me feel like a grown-up, too.

But today, Daddy had to leave again.

I hugged Daddy as hard as I could, squeezing tight, like maybe if I held him strong enough, he wouldn’t go. Cloud and Tifa stood a little behind me, quiet, watching us say goodbye.

A taxi pulled up in front of the house. It was shiny and new, and I’d never seen a car like that before. Actually, I hadn’t seen many cars at all. It scared me a little, thinking about Daddy riding in it. But he had to go.

He walked toward the car, but just before getting in, he stopped and turned back to us. He smiled, like he wanted us to know everything would be okay.

“Daddy?” I called out, my voice small.

“Yes, Marlene?”

“I’ll take good care of Cloud and Tifa. I promise.”

I felt Cloud and Tifa shift behind me. I think they were surprised. Maybe even a little embarrassed.

Daddy’s smile got bigger, but his voice sounded funny, like he was trying not to cry.

“That’s right,” he said. “You keep the family together.”

He waved at us with his prosthetic arm before getting into the car. The door shut, and the taxi started to move, the wheels kicking up little clouds of dust. I watched until the car disappeared around the corner.

My chest hurt, like something had been taken away, like Daddy had taken a piece of me with him.

“Hey.”

Tifa knelt down beside me and wrapped her arms around me. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I started crying—big, loud sobs I’d been holding back for a long time. It hurt, but at the same time, it felt better to let it out. I didn’t know when Daddy would be back, and that made me scared. We’d just finished making this house a home, and now he was gone.

“Come on,” Cloud said, his voice soft. He started walking toward the house. “I’ll buy you guys some ice cream.”

I sniffled, wiping my face. Ice cream sounded good. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so sad anymore. With Cloud and Tifa, I knew I wouldn’t be bored.

And I had a promise to keep.

****

It had been a couple of days since Daddy left. Not much had really changed. Tifa was still running the bar, and Cloud was still going out to do who knows what. Lately, we were all doing our own things during the day. But every night, we’d come together, laughing and playing a card game an old man gave me for helping him. It was called Queen’s Blood, a strategic game—really hard. Cloud loved it. He won every single time. Tifa always lost and complained about it, which made me laugh. In those moments, it really felt like we were a family.

One day, Cloud came back to the bar with a bike. I was outside with my friend Mila when I saw him riding up on it. Tifa came out too, looking confused. Cloud explained that he got it in exchange for letting a guy come to Seventh Heaven for free whenever he wanted. He said he knew the guy, and Tifa trusted him, so she didn’t ask more questions. But the bike needed a place to park, so with the help of some neighbors, Cloud built a garage next to the bar. There was even a door that connected it to the inside. Tifa said it gave her more space to store alcohol.

Cloud spent a lot of time working on the bike after that. He started modifying it every day, and I’d help him with some of the parts. I didn’t know Cloud was so good with his hands. He was always tinkering with something. I realized he needed to keep busy, or he’d get restless. Tifa noticed it too. She said it probably had something to do with Mako, though I wasn’t sure what that meant.

I asked him a lot of questions about the bike—where the parts came from, what they were for. He’d answer in short, simple words, but sometimes he wouldn’t answer at all. When that happened, I had to guess, and it was exhausting.

One night, while Cloud was still out, Tifa decided to teach me how to dance. We didn’t use the jukebox much, but Tifa thought now was the time. She kicked everyone out of the bar so we’d have space.

“Come on, Marlene, dance with me!” she said, her face lighting up.

The song was fast and rhythmic, something I’d never heard before, but I liked it. I tried to follow Tifa’s steps as she moved her legs this way and that, spinning around like it was the easiest thing in the world. I couldn’t keep up, even though she kept encouraging me. We were laughing so hard when I accidentally stepped on her foot.

She was really good at dancing. I’d never seen her move like that before, and for a moment, she looked younger—almost like she was my age.

Then Cloud came in. He closed the door behind him, staring at us like he couldn’t figure out what was happening. His confused face made me laugh even more.

“Cloud, come!” I called, waving him over.

Tifa grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room. He just stood there, stiff and awkward.

“You don’t know how to dance?” I asked when he still didn’t move.

“Oh, trust me, he knows,” Tifa said, winking at him.

Cloud’s face turned bright red, and for a second, I thought he might have a panic attack. But then, he surprised me. He took Tifa in his arms and spun her across the room, following the music like he’d done it a hundred times before.

It was beautiful to watch. It didn’t even feel like them—like the Cloud and Tifa I knew. For once, they seemed completely carefree, like all the bad things that had happened—things I didn’t really understand—had disappeared.

We danced and laughed for the rest of the night. We even forgot about dinner.

It felt like time had stopped, and it was just the three of us, together.

Chapter Text

Maybe it was time to let go of those clothes. It wasn’t torn or unwearable—thanks to the washing machine finally being back in service—but there was something about it that felt... heavy. Like it was holding me back. Marlene already had new clothes, and while Tifa still wore the same old outfit, she’d stopped wearing her stockings, and her hair was loose now. She looked different—freer.

Either way, I had to get rid of this and find something new to wear. I never imagined myself going out for a day of shopping, but when I mentioned the idea to Tifa, she was thrilled. She wanted new clothes too.

I couldn’t figure out why we hadn’t done this sooner.

The store we were heading to was on the opposite side of town, but with my fully modified bike, we’d get there in no time. Marlene was out with her friends, so it felt like the perfect opportunity for just the two of us. It felt strange doing something so... mundane. We never really did this—going out to eat, hanging out, or doing things together. I guess we just didn’t have the time since the bar reopened. Between that and my own errands—helping people, running deliveries, doing the odd jobs that felt oddly like being a mercenary again—there was always something that kept us busy.

But today, for once, we had a little free time. So, I brought Tifa out to shop for some new clothes.

I was hesitant at first, worried Tifa might turn into one of those women I saw back on the upper plate during my infantry days. They’d spend hours shopping, trying on clothes, treating the stores like their second home. I never understood the appeal. For me, shopping wasn’t something to enjoy—it was just a way to replace what was worn out. I didn’t plan to buy much.

The store was packed with rows of clothes, most of them too bright or too flashy for my taste. I wasn’t looking for anything that would draw attention—I never did. My eyes scanned past racks of jackets and pants until they stopped.

There it was.

Black. Simple. A sleeveless coat with a high collar, perfect for blocking out the wind. It wasn’t flashy, but it had weight, a quiet kind of presence. The fabric looked sturdy, something that could handle a fight without falling apart. The asymmetry caught my eye—a single sleeve, almost like a reminder that you didn’t have to be whole to keep moving forward.

A wolf emblem rested on the shoulder.

I reached out, running my fingers over the leather. It felt tough but not rigid, like armour without the heaviness. The pants matched—black and slim, with enough give to move easily. The boots were solid, their tread thick and reliable, built for more than just walking city streets.

It wasn’t just an outfit. It was practical. Functional. Something I could fight in if I had to. It felt... different. Like a fresh start. Something that wasn’t tied to the past.

“I think it suits you,” Tifa said softly, stepping behind me. She must’ve noticed the way I lingered.

Before I could answer, my eyes drifted to another outfit hanging right next to it.

It was hers.

Black again, but not plain. A sleeveless vest, fitted just right, with a faint sheen that made it look both durable and refined. The hem wasn’t straight—it dipped lower at the back, flowing almost like a shadow. It had this quiet elegance, like it wasn’t trying too hard, but it demanded your attention anyway.

Underneath was a white layer, bright and clean, sharp against the black. Sleeveless as well, leaving the arms free. It worked in a way I couldn’t quite explain. A short skirt completed the outfit, practical but with enough movement to seem effortless.

The boots stood out. Tall, laced tight, sturdy enough for running or standing your ground. Gloves hung nearby—small, almost forgettable, but I knew better. Nothing about it was accidental. It all felt like her. Strong. Grounded. With just enough softness underneath to keep you guessing.

“This one will suit you,” I said, pointing to the outfit.

Tifa stepped forward and brushed her fingers over the fabric. She didn’t say anything right away, but I could tell from the way her lips curved into a small smile that she loved it.

It didn’t cost much. We grabbed a few other things—comfortable clothes to wear around the house—and headed to the counter. As I picked up my new outfit, something caught my eye. A small box with a bow sat beside it, marked with the same wolf emblem. Curious, I grabbed it.

Outside the store, I opened the box. Inside was a ring—simple, silver, with the wolf symbol etched into it. It shimmered faintly under the light. I frowned, unsure what to do with it. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it—I just didn’t know why it was there.

“Cloud?”

Tifa’s voice pulled me back. She was looking at me, her expression curious.

That’s when I realized what to do.

“It’s a gift,” I said, awkwardly handing her the box.

She tilted her head, confused, but took it and opened it. I could feel my face heat up as I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Don’t go thinking it’s anything... It’s just... it came with the outfit, so I thought you should have it. You know, to remember me or something,” I muttered, my voice stumbling over itself.

She looked up at me, her face breaking into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, my embarrassment growing.

“You,” she said, still smiling. “This just isn’t like you, Cloud. But... I understand. Thank you. I’ll never forget you.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I felt lighter, like I’d been carrying something I didn’t even realize until now.

We spent the rest of the afternoon walking through town. It wasn’t something we usually did—just wandering, looking at how things had changed. The city felt normal, almost like it could’ve been anywhere. But every time I looked up, I saw the ruins of Midgar in the distance. A reminder of everything we’d been through.

We were sitting outside, enjoying our drinks and talking casually.

Well, she talked. I just listened.

I hadn’t realized how much she loved to talk—how endless it seemed, like she could fill every silence effortlessly. She spoke about everything, her smile tugging at her lips, a smudge of ice cream sitting at the corner of her mouth.

I noticed it, and it pulled me back. Back to that night under the Highwind, when it all began. When we thought it would all end. There hadn’t been much hope then, but somehow, that moment had been one of the best.

“Oh, shit.”

Her sudden curse snapped me out of my thoughts. She was staring past me, her expression a mix of surprise and irritation. I turned to see what had cut her monologue short.

That’s when I saw them.

“Well, if it isn’t the SOLDIER First Class,” came the familiar, taunting voice.

What the hell were they doing here?

Reno stood before us, his smirk as irritating as ever. His electro-mag rod rested casually on his shoulder, though I knew all too well how much pain that thing could deliver. Behind him stood Rude, silent and stoic as always, adjusting his sunglasses like it was some nervous tic.

My hand tightened instinctively around my glass of water. For a second, I reached for my sword, only to mentally slap myself—I’d left it at home.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Reno said, his grin widening, like this was all still a game to him. “Gotta say, Strife, you clean up better than I thought since I last saw you. Not bad for someone who usually looks like they just crawled out of a Mako reactor.”

I didn’t bite. Not yet.

“Reno,” Tifa said quietly, her tone sharp but controlled, like she was trying to cut this short before it escalated.

But Reno just laughed, clearly enjoying himself. 

“Relax, Lockhart. Just catching up with an old bro.”

I stiffened.

“I’m not your bro.”

“Ouch.” Reno clutched his chest in mock pain, grinning all the while. “Is this a date?” he asked then, his sharp eyes darting between me and Tifa. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

I felt my jaw clench.

After Meteorfall, I thought the remnants of Shinra would’ve been swept away along with the destruction, their ambitions buried by the Lifestream. But here they were—still standing, still breathing, still walking in their old uniforms like they hadn’t ruined countless lives. Like nothing had changed.

Meaning Rufus Shinra was still alive.

“Cloud, don’t,” Tifa whispered, her hand brushing my arm, but I didn’t move.

“What do you want?” I said coldly, my voice cutting through the air like a blade.

“Whoa, easy there, tiger,” Reno said, raising his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never wavering. “Just here on business. Not everything’s about you, you know.”

“Where’s your sword, anyway?” Reno added, leaning forward slightly, his grin almost predatory. “You can’t fight without it. Or do you think your fists are enough?”

“You wanna find out?” I snapped, my body already moving forward before I could stop myself.

“Reno,” Rude said quietly, his tone calm but firm, like a parent scolding a child.

Reno glanced over his shoulder, then back at me. For a moment, his grin faltered, but it came back just as quickly.

 “Fine, fine. No need to make a scene,” he said, stepping back and twirling his rod lazily. “We’ll leave you lovebirds to it.”

I barely heard him. My fists were clenched so tightly my knuckles ached.

“Cloud,” Tifa said again, more urgently this time, stepping in front of me. “Let’s just go.”

I finally looked around, realizing that people were staring—passersby stopping in their tracks, some whispering, others just watching the show.

Great.

Reno, noticing the attention too, chuckled and gave me one last look.

“Catch you later, Strife, we might need you by the way” He winked, tapping his rod against his shoulder as he turned and walked off, Rude following silently.

As they disappeared into the crowd, I forced myself to sit back down. My body was still tense, my mind still racing. Tifa sat beside me, watching me carefully.

“How are they still alive?” she asked softly, more to herself than to me, but I could still hear the disbelief in her voice.

Neither of us had an answer. Midgar’s heart had been obliterated, reduced to ruins during Meteorfall. Sector 8, where most of Shinra’s employees had been based, was gone. No one could’ve survived that—at least, that’s what we thought.

It was time to go home and call Reeve. We needed answers.

****

Right. So, they were really back again.

As soon as we got home, we called Reeve. He was still connected to Shinra—or what was left of it—and as much as I hated everything that company stood for, I had to admit he’d proven useful more than once. But that didn’t mean I trusted him. Not entirely. Especially now, knowing he’d been aware all along that the Turks, and worse, Rufus Shinra, were alive and apparently... planning something.

“Cloud, listen to me,” he said through the phone, his voice calm but insistent. “I know you hate them—probably more than anything—but this time, it’s not what you think. They’re not rebuilding an empire. They’re trying to make amends.”

I didn’t believe a word of it.

Tifa, standing beside me, must’ve noticed the way my grip tightened on the phone. Without saying a word, she reached out and took it from me. She always had a better chance of getting through conversations like this.

“What exactly are they trying to do, Reeve?” she asked, her voice steady but sceptical.

“They’re forming something new,” Reeve replied, his tone shifting to something almost hopeful. “It’s called the World Regenesis Organization. It’s a volunteer-based group, meant to undo the damage Shinra caused. Rufus and the Turks are involved, yes, but this isn’t about Mako or weapons. It’s about restoring the planet—about making things right.”

Tifa shot me a glance, and I could see the doubt mirrored in her expression.

“And you believe them?” she asked bluntly.

“I do,” he said, and for a moment, his conviction almost sounded genuine. “I’ve been helping them organize it. Cid’s even offered to oversee their air operations. It’s not about profit or power anymore. It’s about atonement.”

I scoffed under my breath.

“Right. Atonement,” I muttered bitterly.

Tifa ignored me and pressed on.

“Then why would Reno say they need Cloud? What does he have to do with any of this?”

Reeve hesitated.

“That’s... complicated. Reno might’ve been out of line bringing it up like that, but the truth is, Cloud’s skills could make a difference. And I think it would help if he heard it from them directly. This isn’t what you think, Tifa.”

“You mean they don’t want to use me as some kind of experiment again?” My voice was sharp, cutting, and I didn’t care if he flinched on the other end of the line.

“No, Cloud,” Reeve said evenly. “Those days are over. They’re not trying to rebuild Shinra or anything like it. You have my word on that.”

His calm tone only made me angrier. I wanted to believe him, but every instinct I had told me otherwise. Rufus Shinra wasn’t the kind of person who did anything without an angle, and the Turks? They’d been complicit in every nightmare we’d lived through.

But if what Reeve was saying was true—if this World Regenesis Organization was real—then why now? Why reach out to me, of all people?

Reeve sighed.
“There’s more to it, but it’s not something I can explain over the phone. If you really want answers, you’ll need to come directly. You know where to find me.”

I didn’t respond. The line went quiet except for the faint hum of static.

“They’re not lying about wanting to help the planet, Cloud,” Reeve said finally, his voice softer. “I wouldn’t be part of this if I didn’t believe that.”

It didn’t sit right with me. Any of it. Reno and Rude showing up out of nowhere, Reeve’s involvement, and now this so-called organization that was supposed to make everything better.

But if they were looking for me, they weren’t going to stop until they got what they wanted. And if they thought I’d just play along, they were dead wrong.

For now, though, there were more questions than answers. And I wasn’t sure I liked where any of this was heading.

“We’ll think about it,” I said flatly before ending the call.

Dropping my head into my hands, I let out a heavy sigh. What the hell had just happened? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Should I really get involved in this? What would happen to Tifa and Marlene if I did? The promise I made to Barret lingered in the back of my mind—his trust in me to look after them. And yet, Reeve’s words hung there too, the possibility that the remnants of Shinra were genuinely trying to make amends. To do good.

But how could I believe that? After everything they’d done?

I didn’t even realize I was spiralling until I felt a faint touch brushing through my hair—gentle, grounding, pulling me back from the pit I was sinking into.

“I think… we should consider this,” Tifa said softly, her voice hesitant, like she wasn’t even sure of her own words.

I turned to glance at her from the corner of my eye. She couldn’t actually believe what Reeve had just said, could she?

“Cloud, I know what you’re thinking,” she started, almost as though she’d read my mind. “But this isn’t about the past. Everyone’s moving forward—I can see it. I mean… I know what they did to us. To Nibelheim, to Sector 7… but I really think they’re trying their best to make things right. We haven’t heard from them since Meteorfall, and honestly, I trust Reeve a little.”

Her words made me clench my jaw. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was still stuck in the past, too blind to see the potential good in whatever this new project was.

“It’s easier said than done,” I muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

“I think you should go,” she continued, her voice firmer now. “See what this is about. Maybe… maybe we could even help them. I wouldn’t mind helping too.”

I shook my head, my voice firm as I stood.

“Tifa, you’re not getting involved in this.”

Her brows furrowed, her tone shifting from calm to defensive.

“Why not?”

“They called for me, if anything happens to you, I—”

“I can still fight, you know,” she interjected, her voice rising slightly.

“I know you can,” I shot back. “But you’ll be safer here. With Marlene.”

Her lips tightened, and for a moment, she just stared at me, her eyes sharp with frustration. Then she scoffed softly, shaking her head. “So that’s it? I’m just some woman who runs a bar and takes care of the kids while you go off to do… whatever this is?”

“Tifa, that’s not what I meant.”

“Really? Because that’s what it sounds like,” she snapped, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger.

“Tifa, I just…” I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. “I can’t lose you.”

“And you think I don’t feel the same about you?” she countered, her voice softer but no less fierce. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing, Cloud. Not if there’s a chance we could actually make a difference.”

Her words hung between us, the silence thick and heavy. I never had an argument with Tifa like this before. Sure, we’d disagreed plenty of times in the past—about battles, plans, or the risks we’d taken—but this felt different. Maybe it was because things were different now. We were closer than ever, and this… this felt real. Like the kind of argument couples have when they care about each other, when the stakes aren’t just about survival but about the life we were trying to build together.

And that scared me.

“Tifa…” I started, but she shook her head, turning away from me.

“I’m going to go get Marlene,” she said quietly, her voice weary. “You can figure this out on your own.”

I watched her walk to the door, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on my shoulders.

It was one of the things I wanted to focus on after watching the movie and seeing how Cloud ended up working (indirectly) with them. I also wanted to write a scene where Cloud and Tifa pick up their new clothes—specifically their iconic outfits from Advent Children. Not that it really matters, but I wanted to include something normal, though "normal" is a big word because nothing truly felt normal yet. They were just trying to settle down and figure out how to live without carrying the constant weight of remorse.

By the way, I plan to write a couple more chapters of happiness and lighter moments before Cloud gets hit by all the guilt and everything else. So, enjoy these chapters while they last.

Chapter Text

Cloud didn’t tell me why they needed him. He just said it was confidential and asked me to trust him. It was ironic, coming from him—he was the first person not to trust them.

Still, he left for work with them every day, which meant we had less and less time together. The bar was running at full speed, and rumors claimed it was the best in town. I was flattered, but it was also becoming exhausting—handling the service, the people… But I couldn’t complain. It was nice seeing everyone living again.

This morning, just before opening, I had a rare moment to breathe. A day that, for once, wouldn’t be as overwhelming.

As I made myself some coffee, I heard footsteps. Cloud was already dressed, his new outfit fitting him perfectly. The slight opening of his turtleneck exposed just enough of his chest, and the wolf emblem added to the dark, brooding aura around him.

I couldn’t help but stare, imagining what it would be like to strip away those layers and feel the warmth of his skin beneath them.

“Tifa?”

His voice snapped me out of it, forcing me to focus on his face instead.

“I’m leaving,” he said bluntly.

“Where?”

“Somewhere.”

“…Okay. Just be careful. People are getting sick everywhere.”

I couldn’t shake the worry. What if something happened to him? What if he got lost again, and I wasn’t there? So many questions filled my mind since he started spending more time away. I knew he wasn’t a child, that he could do as he pleased, but the fear of not being able to protect him lingered.

Why was I like this?

Cloud left without another word, without even looking at me. Somewhere deep down, it hurt—but I pushed the feeling aside and went to work.

"Good morning, and thank you for tuning in. We begin today’s report with an update on the mysterious illness that has been spreading since the aftermath of Meteorfall. Scientists and medical experts have now given it a name—Geostigma."

The radio in the bar switched on at its usual hour, keeping me updated on what was happening outside.

"Geostigma continues to spread across the globe at an alarming rate, affecting people of all ages, though children appear to be particularly vulnerable. Symptoms include blackened, vein-like markings on the skin, severe fatigue, chronic pain, and periods of fever. Many sufferers also experience bouts of dizziness, muscle weakness, and, in advanced cases, hallucinations and intense emotional distress. Medical teams worldwide are working tirelessly to uncover the cause of this affliction and, more importantly, a cure. Preliminary research suggests a possible connection to the Lifestream, but concrete answers remain elusive. With no known treatment, those infected are advised to rest and avoid physical exertion. In Edge and other major cities, authorities have urged the sick to remain in isolation to prevent further outbreaks."

I turned up the volume, my attention snapping to the broadcast as a wave of anxiety crept in.

"As the world continues to recover from recent catastrophic events, this new crisis serves as yet another test of our resilience. Scientists assure us that efforts to combat Geostigma are ongoing, and they urge the public to remain cautious and hopeful. We will provide further updates as more information becomes available. This has been your morning report. Stay safe and take care of one another."

Oh god.

Cloud had just left—I needed to tell him about this.

But then I hesitated. He probably already knew. Him and the WRO had to be aware of what was happening, maybe even working toward a cure. Instead, I called the others, warning them about Geostigma.

Yuffie told me she was helping the people in Wutai, though many blamed her for it—for everything that had happened. Red XIII was already keeping a close eye on his people, who, for now, seemed untouched by the sickness. Cid was with Shera; they had seen firsthand what Geostigma could do and were doing their best to help while staying safe.

I didn’t bother trying to call Vincent. He probably didn’t have a phone—despite us telling him, countless times, that he needed one to stay in touch. But of course, he still refused to get one.

So I called Barret. It had been a week since I last heard from him.

“Tifa!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear, his voice booming loud enough to nearly deafen me.

“How you two been holdin’ up? Where’s Marlene?”

I told him everything—how Marlene spent most of her time with her friends, how she helped out at the bar sometimes. That Cloud and I were taking good care of her, that we bought new clothes.

But I didn’t tell him about Reno and Rude. Or the fact that Shinra was still alive.

“Hey, you ever heard of this World Regenesis Organization?” Barret asked at the end of my spiel.

So, he knew they were still around too.

“No. What is it?” I lied.

“Reeve told me ‘bout it. Says it’s all ‘bout helpin’ the people and the planet. Hard to believe, huh? ‘Specially when it’s Rufus behind it.”

I nodded, but of course, he couldn’t see me over the phone, so I just hummed in response. I already knew all of this.

“Reeve asked me to work with ‘em. Don’t know what to tell him. I mean... we fought these guys, but at the same time, I wanna help, y’know? My people in Corel need all the help they can get.”

Hearing Barret getting involved made something tighten in my chest.

Why couldn’t I do the same?

“Tifa?”

“Yeah.” I answered, maybe a little too sharp.

“You keepin’ the boy safe, huh?”

I nodded again, not even realizing it this time.

I didn’t remember the last time Cloud and I had kissed. At some point, we just... stopped. Too busy with work, with everything, to even think about each other like that.

It was a sad realization. But that’s just how things were.

We still had our moments. A glance when no one else was looking. A touch that lingered, just for a second. But nothing more.

Barret and I talked a little longer before I finally had to cut the call and open up the bar.

The start of another routine.

Chapter Text

I went back to Midgar—Sector 5, to be precise.

I rode in on Fenrir. The engine was stronger now, thanks to some custom work. I’d also made adjustments to the compartment where I stored my sword. It was time to replace that too, though letting go wasn’t easy. Still, I knew I had to find an alternative.

As I parked, I glanced up at the sky. There should’ve been a plate there, but it had fallen not long ago. My reason for coming back was simple—to see the place again, to check if the church was still standing.

I hadn’t returned since the last time we came here—Tifa, Barret, and me. That day had been the worst. Everything reminded me of her. The place, the scent… every memory lingered. I remembered Tifa finally breaking down, grieving after keeping it all inside. I held her, letting her tears soak into my shirt.

I didn’t cry.

That was why I never came back. It hurt too much. But now? Now, I missed this place. I didn’t feel sadness or happiness—just a need to be here, close to her in whatever way I could. I didn’t have those dreams anymore. No nightmares, either. Sleeping next to Tifa helped with that.

So, I figured… maybe it was time to visit the church again.

As I pushed the heavy doors open, memories hit me like a wave. It was as if something—some presence—was trying to pull me back, to keep me away. But I pushed past it and stepped inside the church.

It was silent.

Nothing had changed since the last time I was here. The benches were still neatly arranged, with only a few overturned—just like before. The large hole in the roof let enough light inside to bathe the room in a soft, almost sacred glow.

I walked through the aisle, my footsteps echoing in the stillness, announcing my presence.

At the end, I stopped just before stepping into the flowerbed. The flowers were still blooming, bright and eternal, as if untouched by time. Aerith’s flowers. Her favourite.

"You came."

I whipped around, my hand instinctively reaching for my sword.

For a moment, I thought I was imagining things, that my mind was playing tricks on me again. But something in my gut told me this was real.

There she was, standing not far off, walking toward me with that familiar soft smile. Her eyes, as green as I remembered. Her hair tied up, her dress… everything about her looked like she had been here forever. As if the flowers themselves had kept blooming because she never left.

"I thought you forgot about me. About this place. But here you are," she said, her gaze drifting over the church before locking onto me.

"You miss me that much?"

Her playfulness hit me like a punch to the gut, and it made me nervous—anxiety crawling up my spine. For a split second, I thought this was like last time. I thought she’d shift into Jenova, using her form to trick me again.

"Nice outfit," she added, her eyes scanning me from head to toe.

I didn’t know what to say. Was this really her?

"Relax, Cloud. You’re safe now."

Aerith turned toward the flowers, kneeling beside them and murmuring something I couldn’t hear.

"You knew I was coming?" I finally asked, my voice too deep in the quiet church, echoing off the walls louder than I’d meant it to.

"Not really. Sometimes, I come here to speak to my flowers…"

"Why didn’t you come to the bar?"

I could feel the unease in her at my words.

She turned to face me, her expression softening into something that looked almost… sad. My heart squeezed painfully, the guilt buried deep inside me rising to the surface.

"I think we both know why."

Her words lingered in the air, and I felt the weight of them like a stone sinking in my chest.

Before I could say anything, before I could tell her everything I had buried deep inside, Aerith stood up, clapping her hands together, pulling my focus away.

“Well, I best get going. Zack’s waiting for me.”

“Zack?”

My brain short-circuited for a second.

“Yes, Zack. You remember him? We’ve been together ever since, looking after both our worlds. I came here because people are getting sick. It’s unusual, Cloud. I think you should be careful.”

I had heard about this, about the sickness, but her words still caught me off guard.

Still, I couldn’t shake the weird feeling that crawled up my spine at the mention of Zack. I knew about Aerith’s feelings, but I never thought it was something mutual, something that would go anywhere. I remembered the last time I fought alongside them, how close they were, and the jealousy surged within me.

"But I’ll be back, sooner then you think," she added with a wink. "Maybe Zack will come too. It’s nice to see that this place hasn’t changed, even after Meteorfall.”

We both looked around the church. There was dust everywhere, it needed cleaning, but other than that, it still had the same charm—the same beauty. The same place where everything had started.

But suddenly, she was gone. Just like that.

As if she were a ghost, a fleeting soul passing through my life.

I clenched my fist, feeling my heart rise in my chest, suffocating under the weight of it all. It was too much. The memories, her words, hit me like a punch to the face, knocking the breath out of me.

Aerith was gone, and I couldn’t save her.

My gaze fell to the flowers, their colours shining under the light. But I couldn’t enjoy it now. All I could think about was how useless I had been, how completely under his control I had been that I couldn’t protect her.

I remembered the sound of Sephiroth’s blade cutting through her, the moment I let him do it. I remembered trying to kill her, trying to stop her from protecting herself.

Everything was my fault. I was the reason people were suffering now. The reason the planet couldn’t heal properly. I had been a puppet for Sephiroth, manipulated and used by him, and I couldn’t even stop him without my friends.

"Whatever happens, don’t blame yourself."

Her words echoed in my mind, but I couldn’t stop. I had been blaming myself long before all of this.

It was my fault.

****

I came back home later that night. Tifa must have been worried; I’d never been this late before, even when I was helping out with the WRO.

I felt numb, my mind empty, as I trudged up the stairs to the porch. Inside, everything was dark except for the single light at the counter.

That’s when I saw her.

She was lying there, her head resting on her arms as she dozed off.

I tried to be quiet as I walked, but the wood creaked under my boots, making her stir. She snapped her head up, ready to fight whoever had intruded, but when she saw me, she quickly relaxed.

“Where were you?” she asked gently, though I could hear the irritation in her voice.

“I told you, I went somewhere, then I helped Reeve. Sorry it took a bit longer.”

“Cloud, it’s midnight.”

I glanced at the clock on top of the fridge.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, as if it was the only thing I could say, my head dropping slightly.

But I saw Tifa roll her eyes, like she couldn’t believe it, and honestly, I couldn’t blame her. I’d spent my entire day at the church, and I had lied to her. I didn’t want her to know I’d visited Aerith.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she said, walking toward the stairs.

I followed her.

As we got into bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about her, about everything I could’ve done but didn’t. I was weak.

“Cloud?”

Tifa’s voice was soft as she rested her head on my shoulder. Normally, I would’ve hugged her, but tonight felt different, like if this entire thing felt off, like I was pretending all along.

But I didn’t push her away. I didn’t want her to worry, so I just stared at the ceiling, feeling emptier than ever.

“Cloud, tell me where you’ve been. I won’t get mad.”

But I knew her better than that.

“Promise me,” I said after a long silence.

I heard her scoff.

“I promise.”

“I went to the church.”

I didn’t tell her about Aerith. She wouldn’t believe me if I did.

Tifa didn’t say anything for a while, and eventually, I turned my head to look at her. I couldn’t read her expression. Everything felt wrong. We’d been having these tensions ever since we called Reeve about Reno and Rude. We hadn’t fought yet, but whenever Tifa and I disagreed, it always felt like the same thing: she’d lock herself in her room or make some excuse about having something to do.

I didn’t like where this was heading, but with her working every day and me helping wherever I could, it was starting to get to us.

Maybe we both needed a break from all of this.

“Next time you go, bring me” she said finally, before turning away and putting as much distance between us as possible.

It was like a slap. Another layer of guilt to carry.

Is this how it’s supposed to be?

****

I stayed in my office all morning. Didn’t go out, didn’t want to. I needed to be alone, and Tifa must’ve realized something was off—that I hadn’t told her the whole truth about yesterday.

I sighed, pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind. I’d been doing fine until now. I couldn’t let myself sink into the past again. But after seeing Aerith—the real Aerith—it felt impossible to move forward.

A knock at the door pulled me from my trance.

“Cloud?”

Tifa stepped inside without waiting for an answer. I turned, watching as she approached with a mug in her hands. She set it on the table and nudged it toward me.

Coffee.

I smiled, just a little. No matter what, Tifa was still here. Even if I doubted that would be forever. I knew I was a pain in the ass.

“You know what I was thinking?” she said, leaning against the table, her own mug in hand.

My gaze drifted to her legs—she was wearing just a simple t-shirt and a skirt that stopped above her knees.

“Why don’t you start a business of your own, Cloud? You like helping people, so why not make it official?”

I frowned.

“I don’t know about that.”

“It could help us settle here, and I can handle the paperwork and calls. I know you hate calling.”

“I just... don’t think I trust myself enough for that.”

“You’ve already been doing it since we moved here. I know you can do it. I believe in you, Cloud.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard her say that.

I lifted my head, really looking at her for the first time today. Her hair was still damp from the shower, strands clinging to her face. She smiled softly, reassuringly. And I found myself smiling back.

For the first time today, I felt a little lighter. And to be honest... I was kind of excited.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

“That’s the spirit.”

She left me to myself after that. I think I heard her tell Marlene not to come in, giving me space.

Now I had something new to focus on. Something real. A goal.

Even if I still couldn’t get Aerith’s face out of my mind.

Already posting another chapter lol.

Yeah, we are definitely getting to the heart of Cloud’s problem and where it all begins.

Chapter Text

Cloud finally decided to turn this into a proper business. I helped him with the paperwork and explained how to handle clients. I told him communication was key—something he didn’t particularly appreciate. Still, he tried. With Marlene as his first "client," I couldn't help but burst into laughter, clutching the counter to keep myself from falling as I watched the whole scene unfold.

But I think it gave him something to focus on. Lately, I had the feeling his mind was elsewhere. I knew he often went to the church, no matter what he told me. I wasn’t mad—well, maybe a little, for keeping it from me. But as long as I saw him happy with what he was doing, then I was happy too. There was no need to worry just yet.

I decided to close the bar for the day. I hadn’t taken a break since we opened, and there was never enough time to rest.

“How about I take you all on a trip?” Cloud said, sitting across the counter with a drink in hand.

“Where would you take us?” I asked casually as I washed the glasses.

Marlene, who was sitting next to him with a book—though I knew she couldn’t read just yet—lifted her head eagerly.

“Yes! A vacation!”

I shook my head, her excitement contagious.

“We could go to Costa del Sol.”

I looked at Cloud, biting my lip. I didn’t want to tell him that it was the last place I wanted to go. A year had passed since the fall, and I still couldn’t forgive myself—for what we had done, for what we had lost.

Her.

“It won’t be so bad,” Cloud murmured, just enough for me to hear.

Marlene was already making plans of her own. She hadn’t been outside Midgar since she was a baby expert for this exception where she had to seek refuge in Kalm. She barely even knew her hometown.

The thought of that made me waver. Maybe a trip to Costa del Sol wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Cloud’s bike wouldn’t be enough for the three of us, so we ordered a taxi. Marlene was a little scared at first, but I explained how it worked and how comfortable it was supposed to be. Of course, Cloud didn’t agree. I had almost forgotten how easily he got motion sickness. He had to sit in the front while Marlene and I took the back.

I was wrong—the ride was anything but comfortable. I held Marlene close as we bumped into everything in our path, the driver barely avoiding wreckage—or worse. Cloud was barely holding it together, and when he threw me one of his irritated looks, I knew he was pissed. There was nothing I could do to help, and guilt settled in. I was the one who suggested this, and I hadn’t even thought about how bad it would be for him.

It was supposed to be a long drive to Kalm, where we’d stop for a quick breather before heading to Junon to catch the ferry. But we didn’t make it that far. Cloud suddenly told the driver to pull over, and the moment the car stopped, he stepped out.

“I’m driving.”

There was no room for argument. The way his Mako eyes gleamed under the sun must have been enough, because the driver quickly handed over the wheel without a word.

The rest of the ride was quiet, but at least Cloud had something to focus on besides his motion sickness.

We arrived in Kalm around lunchtime, but none of us had much of an appetite. The driver muttered something under his breath, but we didn’t care. We just wanted to stretch our legs and take in the quiet town. Life here carried on as usual—people going about their day, the looming sickness seemingly not enough to keep them indoors.

“Do you think we can see Aunt Elmyra?”

Cloud and I both froze mid-step, causing Marlene to bump into us. We hadn’t even considered it—or maybe we’d been avoiding the thought altogether. But of course, Marlene didn’t know half the story.

“Not today,” Cloud said before I could respond.

And just like that, the conversation was over. There was no arguing with him, so we moved on.

This time, instead of another miserable taxi ride, we rented chocobos. Marlene had never seen one up close before.

“It has Cloud’s hair,” she giggled.

“Hey, don’t you think this one’s cuter?” I teased, pointing at another chocobo.

I heard Cloud shrug behind me, which only made me laugh.

We rode through the Grasslands, hoping not to run into any fiends. Marlene sat in front of me, gripping the reins as we followed Cloud, who led the way. The rhythm of the ride brought back memories—of all the times we had travelled across Gaia on chocobo back. How sore we were every time we set foot on solid ground again. How Yuffie always had to chase after hers when it ran off to snack on who knows what. How Vincent eventually taught her how to tie it properly to a tree. Or how I would laugh with Aerith about the way Red was riding his, or when we would talk about our past.

They were good times. And painful ones, too.

But I didn’t dwell on it for long, because we soon arrived at our destination.

“Tifa, I’m hungry,” Marlene said as I helped her down from the chocobo.

“Yeah, me too. Let’s check out the town nearby.”

Life here, like in Kalm, carried on as usual. Kids played outside, the streets buzzed with the same easy-going rhythm. It was strange how every city had its own way of coping, how people found different ways to survive in this new reality. It always surprised me—how resilient people were.

“Come on,” Cloud said, already making his way toward a food stand.

It wasn’t hard to tell what people assumed about him. Even if it wasn’t the truth, in their eyes, he was still a SOLDIER. It reminded me just how different we were—how unusual our little family must have seemed. People noticed. Some even pointed.

“Those are the ones who saved the planet.”
“Our heroes.”

The murmurs were low, but we caught them anyway. Some people recognized us, some were grateful, others… wary. It was always like this. And no matter how much we tried to bury the past, to push it deep enough that we wouldn’t have to think about it, it never stayed hidden for long.

“Why do they call you heroes?” Marlene asked, poking at her dessert, curiosity shining in her eyes.

I glanced at Cloud, hoping he’d answer—because honestly, I didn’t know how to.

“Let’s just say… we did something… for the planet,” he said, stumbling over his words.

But I knew the truth. Sooner or later, we wouldn’t be able to avoid it. One day, we’d have to tell her everything—why we were always dodging Elmyra, why we carried this weight.

We spent the rest of the day wandering through town, taking in the sights and letting Marlene enjoy the little things. Before long, it was time to head to the next ferry.

****

I had never seen Marlene this excited before. Everything was new to her—every street, every shop, every passerby. She bombarded Cloud with questions, and surprisingly, he answered most of them with an unusual amount of patience. I guess, after all these years, he’d grown used to her. Maybe even started liking her. The thought made me smile.

We had packed light—just enough for a few days. That’s all we had agreed on. What we needed, more than anything, was a break.

“Cloud, look.”

I pointed at the hotel, surprised it was still standing.

Johnny’s Seaside Inn.

I didn’t wait for the others. Stepping inside, I was immediately hit by a chaotic mix of sea breeze and something overly sweet—coconut, maybe? The walls, painted in an almost blinding sunset gradient, screamed for attention. A massive sign hung behind the driftwood counter:

"Johnny’s Paradise—Where Every Guest is a Legend!"

I could hear his voice in my head already, full of exaggerated enthusiasm. And sure enough—

“Tifaaaaa!”

I barely had time to react before I was pulled into a tight hug. Johnny, in all his glory, stood before me—his Hawaiian shirt somehow even flashier than before, his hair redder, and in his hand, a giant banana-shaped cocktail glass.

“Oh, my Tifa, how I’ve longed for this moment!” he declared, squeezing me like a long-lost lover.

I stiffened. Cloud sighed audibly.

I didn’t even need to look to know he was already regretting stepping foot in here.

Finally, Johnny let go, his grin wide as ever.

“And who’s this little one?”

Marlene had been hiding behind Cloud, peeking at Johnny with curiosity. Cloud instinctively rested a hand on her shoulder—a protective, almost fatherly gesture that made my heart ache in the best way.

“She’s Barret’s daughter,” I explained, stepping back. “Remember Barret? The guy with the—”

Johnny snapped his fingers.

“Gun arm! Of course!”

Then, without missing a beat:

“You guys need a room? Say no more! I just so happen to have a suite—family-sized. And for you guys? It’s free!”

“What? No, Johnny, we can’t—”

“Tifa, please,” he said, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. “I could never charge my bro and his queen!”

Cloud, finally at his limit, cut in.

“What room?”

Johnny, oblivious as ever, launched into a monologue about life on the island, business, and his latest genius ventures. Cloud, to no one's surprise, had already stopped listening.

“This guy is weird,” Marlene whispered to him.

Cloud gave the faintest nod.

I laughed.

Chapter Text

Johnny eventually handed us the key. The room was… a lot. Typical of him. High ceilings, wide-open space, and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in too much of the night. Beyond the glass, the ocean stretched dark and endless, waves rolling in steady and low. The sand, no longer golden, reflected the pale glow of the moon, silver and soft under the starlit sky.

The place had that polished, high-end feel—modern furniture, warm tones, nothing too cluttered. Comfortable, sure, but unmistakably Johnny’s idea of luxury. A private balcony extended from the room, set up with lounge chairs and a small table. The kind of spot meant for unwinding, letting the sea breeze cut through the lingering heat of the day.

Not bad. Just… a lot.

Especially since it was free, we had the luxury of staying in the finest room in the hotel. Three rooms, but I already knew where I was sleeping. With Tifa. And from the look she gave me, she wasn’t planning on sleeping alone either—which worked out just fine.

Marlene ran across the room, too excited to sit still, beaming at everything like she couldn’t take it all in fast enough. She wanted to go out. I just wanted to lie down, close my eyes, and not move until morning—maybe even skip dinner altogether.

But Tifa had other plans. She wanted to go too. Which meant I didn’t have a choice.

After changing into something more fitting for a night out, I followed them outside.

The night was calm, a slow breeze drifting through the illuminated streets. I’d never seen Costa del Sol at night before, so in a way, I was like Marlene—looking everywhere, taking it all in with quiet curiosity. Walking beside Tifa, I could tell she was doing the same. It was different, new. And like shopping, it was one of those things we’d never really done together before.

“Why don’t we sit somewhere and order a few drinks?”

Marlene didn’t care where we went, as long as she was out doing something fun.

We found a bar-restaurant near the shore, where the waves rolled in just a few steps away. We ordered food, let the night settle around us, and talked about whatever came to mind. Even I joined in a little.

After dinner, we wandered through the streets. Something was going on—events, games, small attractions for both kids and adults. Families and friends filled the night with laughter, enjoying themselves like nothing in the world could touch them. And for a while, neither could mine. Edge, the memories—everything else faded, leaving just this moment.

At some point, I spotted an old rampage game I’d played the last time I was here. The records were still posted on the side, daring someone to beat them. Without thinking, I stepped forward, an itch in the back of my mind pushing me to take the challenge.

Tifa and Marlene cheered me on, and somehow, I managed to clear them all. Victory. A real one. The kind that pulled a grin out of me before I even realized it. Maybe the first real one in… I didn’t know how long.

“Sir, you may choose your reward.”

The guy running the stand gestured to a selection of prizes, letting me pick two. I wasn’t interested.

“Marlene, you choose,” I said, not bothering to look.

She lit up, taking her time before settling on a necklace and a Chocobo plushie.

“Because you look like a Chocobo, Cloud,” she said proudly, handing me the plush. “And Tifa, because you deserve to have someone give you presents.”

“How sweet, thank you,” Tifa said, smiling as she pulled Marlene into a hug.

I watched them for a second, that warmth between them. I didn’t know why, but Marlene’s words stung—like she was reminding me of something I already knew too well. That I didn’t deserve any of this. That I couldn’t give Tifa what she really wanted.

Finally, we walked along the beach, shoes in hand, letting the cool sand sink between our toes. Marlene ran ahead, laughing as she chased the waves, only to retreat when they pushed back. I walked next to Tifa, who was watching the horizon, her expression softer than usual. Peaceful. It was strange—it really felt like we were a family. Marlene playing, and us just… watching over her.

I didn’t want this to end.

“It was nice of you to take us on this trip,” Tifa said suddenly, nudging a stray shell with her foot. “I think I was starting to lose it, working nonstop.”

“I’d been thinking about it for a while,” I admitted. “Wasn’t sure if it was the right time, with everything going on.”

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to.

A little ahead, Marlene was tossing small rocks into the sea, watching them disappear beneath the surface. It was peaceful. And it made me glad—knowing that everything we fought for wasn’t wasted. That kids like her got to live without carrying the weight we did.

“Sometimes, I feel like she could be my daughter,” Tifa murmured.

I turned to her. There was something different in her face—something I hadn’t seen before. A quiet longing, maybe. It caught me off guard.

I tried to picture her with a baby. The thought barely formed before I shoved it away. She wasn’t—she couldn’t be—the type.

But then again… wasn’t that something most women wanted?

The question slipped out before I could stop myself.

 “Do you… want kids?”

Tifa hesitated, shifting awkwardly.

“…Maybe.”

I couldn’t picture her with a child.

By the time we made it back to the hotel, Marlene was barely keeping her eyes open. She’d never stayed up this late before—we’d forgotten how young she was, how much more sleep she needed than us. There wasn’t even time for her usual bedtime stories. She just dozed off in my arms before I could lay her down.

Closing her door softly, I stepped into the hallway, my feet moving before I even realized where I was going. I was looking for Tifa.

Maybe it was because we were away from home. Maybe it was because, for once, we weren’t weighed down by routine and everything else going on. Either way, something about tonight felt… different. Good. And for the first time in a long while, I wanted to be close to her again.

It felt like the right time. Just the two of us. Marlene was asleep. Barret wasn’t here to get in the way.

I found her outside on the porch, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, her hair catching the wind. She was wearing a simple tank top—not the white one she used to wear, but close enough. From where I stood, I could see the curve of her spine, the way the dim light traced over her skin.

And for a second, I just… watched her.

"Enjoying the view?" I heard her say at some point.

idn’t even deny it.

"Join me for a drink."

She held out a glass, and I took it as I sat beside her, making sure my leg brushed against hers. She poured champagne—something rare these days. It wasn’t strong, but it was smooth, light, different.

We drank in silence, letting the sounds of the waves and the wind fill the space between us. The night felt calm, easy. Like, for once, there was nothing else to worry about.

I exhaled slowly, rolling the glass between my fingers. The champagne caught the dim light, shifting in the cup, but I wasn’t really looking at it.

“It’s been a while,” I murmured.

Tifa turned her head slightly, watching me.

“Since what?”

I didn’t answer right away. I just looked at her. The way the night breeze played with her hair, the way her lips parted slightly as she waited for me to speak. I could feel the warmth of her leg against mine, the quiet weight of everything we hadn’t said pressing between us. I thought about how long it had been since we had a moment like this—just the two of us, without distractions, without the noise of everyday life pulling us apart. The bar, the deliveries, everything we had to be for everyone else. It was always something. Always a reason to hold back, the tension.

“I don’t know,” I said finally, but we both knew that wasn’t true.

Tifa didn’t push me for more. She just kept looking at me, quiet, patient, like she always was.

I looked at her again, letting myself really take her in. The soft glow of the porch light traced over her features, catching the faint shimmer of champagne on her lips.

I wondered if she was thinking the same thing I was. If she felt the same pull—the quiet understanding that we had spent so much time caught up in everything else that we had forgotten this.

I swallowed, setting my glass down beside me.

Then, without thinking too much about it, I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. My fingers lingered for just a second longer than they needed to.

She didn’t move away. Didn’t say anything.

I let out another breath, quieter this time. Then, finally, I leaned in.

That warmth, that taste—I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until now. The way her lips moved against mine, the way her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling me closer as if she didn’t want to let go. Maybe I didn’t either.

My breath hitched as she pressed against me, her body fitting against mine like it had always belonged there. It was different from before—more urgent, more desperate, like we’d been holding back for too long and now neither of us knew how to take it slow.

I lifted her effortlessly, keeping her close, feeling the way her legs wrapped around me as I carried her inside. The room was dim, but it didn’t matter—I saw everything. Every shadow that stretched across her skin, the way her eyes searched mine in the low light.

The door clicked shut behind us. My hands roamed her back, fingers pressing into the familiar curves, mapping out what I’d missed. When I tugged at her shirt, my hands clumsy, she let out a soft breath—half amused, half something else—and pulled it over her head herself.

And then she was there, right in front of me.

I exhaled sharply, my lips trailing down, drawn to the warmth of her skin, the way she arched slightly at my touch. A sigh slipped past her lips, soft and breathy, and it sent something hot curling through me.

I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into it, letting her pull me in—closer, deeper, until there was nothing else but this.

I moved blindly through the dark, focused only on the feel of her against me, the way she tugged at my shirt, pulling me in with a quiet urgency. It wasn’t just want—it was something deeper, something desperate.

I didn’t question it. Neither did she.

All the weight I carried—the tension, the guilt, the unspoken things between us—faded, even if just for now. Like the moment was allowing me to breathe again. Allowing us both to forget everything else.

My knees hit the edge of the bed, and I let her down, my hands still tracing the familiar curve of her waist, her back—memorizing every inch as if she might slip away if I let go. She moaned softly against my mouth, a sound I had almost forgotten, and it was driving me insane.

I broke the kiss to pull off my shirt, but before I could move, Tifa rested her hand against my abdomen, her touch slow as she dragged downward.

I froze, my breath catching as she rested her hand against me, her fingers toying with the fabric at my waist. The warmth of her touch sent a shiver through me, and for a moment, I forgot what I was doing—forgot everything except the way she was looking up at me.

There was something in her eyes, something quiet but intense, like she was waiting for me to say something, to stop her. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I swallowed hard, my hands twitching at my sides as she dragged her fingers along my skin, slow and deliberate. The anticipation was maddening, a sharp contrast to how desperate we’d been just moments ago.

“Tifa…” My voice came out rougher than I expected, barely more than a breath, begging, longing, twitchy with need.

Slowly, she pulled my shirt away, her fingers brushing against my skin, and a quiet hiss escaped me at the warmth of her touch around me.

I tipped my head back, closing my eyes, letting myself sink into the sensation. It was scorching, a slow, burning ache that spread through me, leaving me restless. I wanted more—I needed more but Tifa took her time, tracing her hands over me with deliberate slowness.

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to grab her, to urge her on. A quiet moan slipped past my lips before I could stop it, and the reminder of Marlene sleeping just down the hall sent a rush of restraint through me.

We had to keep this silent.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. The first time we had tried to keep quiet, we failed miserably. We were reckless, impatient, caught up in something we had waited too long for. And Barret—Barret had never been angrier. After that, we stayed cautious, holding back, afraid of pushing too far again.

But even after he left, even after we were finally free to do whatever we wanted, we still never found the time. Or maybe we just stopped making it. Caught up in the bar, in deliveries, in everything that weighed on us.

Tifa’s lips brushed against my skin, lingering where I needed her most, sending a sharp jolt through me.

Instinct took over—I thrust forward, desperate for more, but she pulled back just as quickly, leaving me hanging, frustration clawing at my gut.

She watched me with that teasing, knowing look, fully aware of the state she had me in. It only made me burn hotter.

I wasn’t about to let her keep control. In a swift motion, I pressed her against the bed, pinning her beneath me as I reclaimed the moment. My hands traced her body, helping her out of the last of her clothing, my lips never leaving hers. She moved beneath me, hips pushing against mine, her warmth drawing me deeper into her, into this.

I didn’t hesitate any longer, pushing into her, the force of our longing spilling out in a shared moan. The sensation overwhelmed me, stronger than I expected—maybe because it had been so long, or maybe because, for once, there was nothing else to think about. Just this. Just her.

That’s what I wanted. What I thought I wanted.

To lose myself in her, to make everything else disappear, even for a moment.

But the second I closed my eyes, she was there.

Watching me.

Watching us.

A presence I couldn’t shake, no matter how deep I tried to bury it. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even accusing. Just… there. A silent sorrow weighing on me, heavier than anything else.

I told myself she was fine. At peace. That it wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. But I knew, I couldn’t hear her laugh anymore. Couldn’t see her smile—not the way I remembered. She had faded into something else entirely, a shadow clinging to the edges of my mind, waiting for me to acknowledge her.

I forced the thought away, buried myself deeper into Tifa, hoping to drown it out.

But it didn’t work.

Tifa flinched beneath me. I must have hurt her.

I hesitated, but she didn’t pull away. She never did. She just took it, bore the weight of it with me. It wasn’t fair to her. It never was. But this was how we coped, how we tried to forget.

It wasn’t the first time.

And it would be the last.

Something inside me snapped, a tight coil unwinding as pleasure coursed through me. But the release was fleeting, empty almost. I don’t think I heard Tifa make a sound.

I let my head fall into the crook of her neck, breathing heavily. She ran her fingers along my back, tracing slow, soothing patterns that should have calmed me. Instead, the weight in my chest only grew heavier.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

I felt wrong. Like I was using her, taking something from her for my own sake. But then again… hadn’t we always done this?

What was she to me?

“Cloud?”

I barely had the energy to respond, only managing a quiet hum.

“You’re hurting me.”

Shit.

“Sorry.”

I pulled away immediately, rolling onto my back beside her.

And then, as if I’d left a door open in my mind, she crept back in. That familiar, ghostly presence. Watching. Judging. If she could see me now, if she knew what I’d become… what I was doing just to keep from drowning in guilt—

“You okay?” Tifa’s voice cut through the haze. She pulled the sheets up, covering herself.

It shouldn’t have stung. Modesty had never mattered between us, not since we first gave in to this… whatever this was. But seeing her do it now felt like a quiet rejection.

“I’ll be fine,” I muttered.

She sighed, long and tired, but didn’t push. She just turned onto her side, putting space between us. Again.

It wasn’t just me. We had both done something wrong.

I just didn’t know when it started. And honestly… I didn’t have the strength to fight it anymore.

Well, this was the last tender moment they will have…maybe. I am slowly setting up my plot, Denzel will soon appear before his departure of course and, I will also bring up other topics that I think are important to the story:)

Chapter Text

There were days when Tifa and Cloud were happy. They would spend time with me, even if it was just for a little while. But there were other days when they wouldn’t. And on those days, it felt like something was about to erupt.

After we came back from Costa del Sol, Cloud left right away. He didn’t say where he was going, and by the time he returned, I was already asleep.

I would hear them shouting sometimes. At first, it startled me. But now… now, it felt normal. I think Cloud is drinking in secret.

I heard Tifa say it one night when I got up to use the toilet. They didn’t notice me. I stood there for a moment, listening, but I didn’t understand everything.

There was something strange in the house. A feeling, like someone was watching us. I didn’t know why, but it scared me.

Tifa seemed different. Stressed. Even angry. I wanted to help her somehow, make things better, but when I asked, she just smiled and told me everything was fine.

“I can handle myself,” she said.

But if that was true, why did all the grown-ups always say that?

But today, Cloud was staying home. He locked himself in the garage, working on something. I had a feeling he was hiding from us—shielding himself away. I could tell just by the way he acted, by how far he seemed whenever we tried to reach him. It was sad. I wanted to help him too, with whatever was on his mind.

“Marlene, leave him be.”

I heard Tifa’s voice as I made my way toward the garage door. But I didn’t listen. Not this time.

For once, I wanted to choose what I thought was right.

I opened the door and stepped inside. The air smelled like metal and oil. Tools and scraps were scattered across the room, and in the middle of it all stood Cloud, hunched over a workbench, completely focused. He hadn’t noticed me.

I hesitated. My courage, so strong just moments ago, was slipping away. Maybe Tifa was right. Maybe I should leave him alone. I didn’t know what Cloud looked like when he was mad—at least, not at me. And I didn’t want to find out.

I took a step back, ready to leave.

“Marlene, can you give me the toolbox next to the bench, please?”

His voice startled me. He still wasn’t looking at me, just focused on his work. But he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t sending me away.

I picked up the toolbox, struggling a little with the weight, and carried it over to him. Cloud took it gently from my hands, setting it down without a word. He didn’t ask me to leave. I think… maybe he wanted someone here.

“What are you doing?” I dared to ask in a small voice.

“Making a sword.”

To prove it, he lifted something from the table. Pieces of metal, different sizes and shapes, some still rough around the edges. It didn’t look like a sword yet, but I nodded. I knew he would make something out of it. Cloud was good at that.

“A friend helped me get the materials,” he added.

I didn’t ask who.

I stayed with him all day, watching him work. Every now and then, when he needed something, I’d hand it to him. We didn’t talk much, but that was okay. It felt nice just being there.

But Tifa didn’t show up once. She stayed in the bar, running things like always. It felt like we were living separately, like we weren’t a family anymore. I didn’t like it. It saddened me to see how far apart we had become.

The silence had been fine at first, but now it was too much. I couldn’t hold back my question any longer.

“Did you and Tifa have a fight?”

I heard the shift in the way Cloud was working, the way his hands froze for just a second, like he hadn’t expected me to speak. But he didn’t answer right away. He just kept going, adjusting the pieces in front of him.

“Nothing to worry about, Marlene.”

It was always the same answer. The same empty reassurance.

Grown-ups were weird sometimes.

Was it really that hard to tell the truth?

****

I was helping Tifa put the chairs back as she closed the bar. I loved working with her, even if I knew I should probably be outside playing like other kids. But I didn’t mind.

I could feel people watching me sometimes, their eyes filled with silent questions. I ignored them. That was something I had learned from Cloud and Tifa—just keep walking and don’t pay attention.

But suddenly, the door burst open. The loud noise made both of us scream before Tifa quickly pulled me behind her, her body tense and protective.

“Reno,” was all she said.

I tried to see who it was, but Tifa blocked me, like she didn’t want me to look. Maybe she had a reason.

“Well, that was easy,” the man said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You guys are the talk of the town—best bar in Edge and all.”

“What do you want?” Tifa’s tone was sharp, no warmth in it.

“Cloud hasn’t come to us for a week.”

I felt Tifa tense. That was a bad sign. Cloud never missed work. No matter what it was, he always went and came back late.

Or at least, I thought he did.

“I tried calling him,” the man went on, “but you know how he is. Guy can’t even pick up a phone.”

“Have you thought that maybe he just doesn’t want you to call him?”

I didn’t like this. I didn’t like the way this man talked, or the way Tifa seemed to hate him. And if she hated him, then I didn’t want to like him either.

“Who are you hiding behind you anyway?” he asked.

“You should leave,” Tifa cut in before I could move. “If Cloud ever found you here…”

“You think he’ll do something?”

The man laughed loudly, and I could feel Tifa’s irritation. She was patient, but even she had limits.

Slowly, I peeked between her legs.

He was a young man with bright red hair, holding a long stick in his hand. His face had marks—tattoos, maybe—and his eyes were a sharp blue.

I didn’t know why, but he looked familiar. Like I had seen him somewhere before. I just didn’t know when.

We just stood there, watching as he laughed—loud and sudden, like he had lost his mind. His laughter echoed through the empty bar, filling every corner. It was intimidating. But Tifa just waited, arms crossed, like she was used to this. Used to him.

“I’ll talk to him when he comes,” she said simply, once he finally stopped to catch his breath.

“That’ll be awesome! Well, on that note, imma leave you to your things.”

He turned to go, but just before stepping out, he glanced back—right at me.

“Say hello to Cloud for me, will ya?”

I shrank behind Tifa as fast as I could, my heart pounding.

This man was creepy.

The door finally closed behind him, and the moment he was gone, I heard Tifa let out a heavy breath. She shook her head before turning to me.

“That was Reno,” she said, annoyed. “Me, Cloud, and Barret… we have a past with him and Shinra. We didn’t get along very well.” She sighed. “Now… things are better, but I still don’t trust him.”

She said it all in one breath, like she had been holding it in for too long. Like she just needed to say it.

I nodded. I understood.

Right then, Cloud strolled into the bar.

“Where were you?” Tifa asked abruptly.

Cloud stopped in his tracks, caught off guard for a moment. He must have sensed it—something was wrong. Tifa was angry, and I could already feel this conversation turning into another fight.

“To work…” he said calmly.

But that was a lie.

“Cloud, when are you going to stop doing this? You weren’t working. You were somewhere else.”

“I went to deliver some packages.”

“We both know that’s a lie.”

Their voices started rising, just a little. Not quite shouting yet, but close.

I didn’t want to be here for this. I had seen enough.

“Tifa, can I leave?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“Yes, go,” she said, not even looking at me. Her eyes were locked on Cloud.

He knew he was in trouble. Tifa rarely got angry, but when she did, she could be scary. You didn’t want to mess with her.

I knew she could fight—I had seen it the first time I met her. She was strong and brave, always standing up for what mattered.

I left as quickly as I could, trying to escape. Rushing upstairs, I shut myself in my room and grabbed Tifa’s cellphone. Sitting on my bed, I quickly unlocked it, my fingers trembling as I heard their voices still rising downstairs.

I dialled Daddy’s number. He picked up after just two rings.

“Marlene, what’s wrong?” His voice was steady, but I knew he could sense it—my unease, the way I was struggling to hold myself together.

My throat tightened. I felt like I was about to cry.

“Cloud and Tifa are fighting.”

The first time I told him, Daddy said it was normal for couples to argue. But this—this wasn’t normal. It happened all the time, like there wasn’t a single day without Tifa getting angry, without Cloud coming home late, drinking, and then them shouting at each other.

Daddy didn’t answer right away.

Somewhere downstairs, I heard a door slam. Tifa, maybe. Or Cloud.

“I’ll talk to them,” he said simply.

I wiped my eyes quickly, not wanting him to hear me cry.

Curling up in bed, I clutched the phone against my chest. I missed my dad. I missed when we were all happy, when we laughed together.

Eventually, exhaustion took over. After crying for what felt like hours, I finally drifted off.

Not even her came to visit me this time.

Chapter Text

Now Barret knew.

Of course, Marlene had to tell him. She didn’t understand what was going on—she was still young and oblivious to half of our problems. But that didn’t stop us from getting a lecture. Even from a distance, Barret made himself perfectly clear: we couldn’t let this happen with Marlene around.

She was just a kid—sensitive, impressionable. And we were supposed to be the responsible adults. It didn’t feel that way, not at all. But he was right. We’d forgotten about her, caught up in the last few days, tangled in tension we could barely contain.

Cloud had gone off again, without a word about where or when he’d be back. I tried to be patient, to keep myself in check. I didn’t want to scare Marlene, not again. She hated it when I raised my voice.

Luckily, I had visitors today. Yuffie was back after her time in Wutai, and I couldn’t hide how much I’d missed her. I actually wanted to see her—to have something else to focus on besides worrying about Cloud.

She arrived just after I closed the bar, launching into stories about Wutai—how things were going, how people cough Geostigma, especially the kids.

I had to keep Marlene safe.

“It’s not just that,” she added in a quiet voice. “I’ve been helping the WRO with Vincent. We discovered something… the birth rates are dropping. Rapidly.”

I hadn’t even known they were working together. And once again, it made me angry that I wasn’t a part of it. But if I was… it would hurt Cloud. And we didn’t need another fight. So I stayed out of it. Still, Yuffie kept me informed.

“It has to do with the Lifestream, after it burst from the ground. The energy is so intense that women are becoming infertile.”

I froze for a moment, my hands wrapped around the warm cup of Wutai tea she had brought.

“What do you mean, infertile?” I asked, unable to hide my disbelief.

“It’s complicated. People who were exposed too much are already struggling. And with the effects of Geostigma… Mako is pure energy, a fusion that burns through cells. It doesn’t seem to affect men, but women…”

So I couldn’t get pregnant.

It shouldn’t have mattered. I didn’t even know if I was capable to begin with. Marlene was always tense around us, always on edge.

But still… it stung to know. My mother had wanted grandchildren someday.

After a long silence, sipping our tea, I finally spoke. 

“Yuffie… I know I shouldn’t ask, but…”

“…Cloud is with Reno and Rude,” she cut in, like she had read my mind. “Lately… he’s been distracted. But he’s making an effort to stay now.”

I forced a small smile, hoping to mask my worry.

We’d been arguing too much lately. That wasn’t what we should be doing. I knew him better than that. He was hiding something—something he couldn’t put into words. He never was good with them.

****

Tonight, everything felt off.

For once, Cloud came home early. Marlene was in the shower, and Iwas trying to go over the bar’s bills.

Trying.

Honestly, what Yuffie had said about women and the declining birth rates unsettled me more than I wanted to admit. It could mean the end of the world all over again—no more children, people growing old with no future generations. And I was one of them.

“Tifa.”

His voice startled me. I had been so lost in thought that I’d completely forgotten he was standing beside me, waiting—maybe expecting me to start dinner.

“Sorry, I’ll go get the plates.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked suddenly, his brows drawing together.

“It’s nothing,” I said quickly. “Just sit and wait.”

But he didn’t sit. He followed me into the kitchen instead.

Neither of us spoke, but I could feel his eyes on me, the silent question lingering between us. I ignored him, focusing on cooking. But his presence unsettled me—just standing there, watching every move I made, as if he didn’t trust me.

I took a deep breath.

“Cloud, why are you still here?”

My question caught him off guard.

I quickly added, “Did you want to tell me something?”

“I just…”

He hesitated. He was uncomfortable, too.

For once, though, the tension wasn’t rising. I couldn’t even remember the last time we spoke without anger hanging between us.

I turned to him. He still didn’t seem to know what to say—or what he even wanted.

“Cloud?”

“Yuffie must have told you.”

So that’s what was on his mind.

He knew. He knew I couldn’t get pregnant.

I remembered him asking me, weeks ago, after I had joked that Marlene could have been my daughter. I hadn’t meant it seriously. 

“Yes, she told me.”

“So…?”

“So?”

Cloud ran a hand behind his neck—a nervous tic. I had no idea what he wanted to say, what he was thinking. It used to be easier to read him, like an open book.

But things had changed.

The last time we had sex had been a nightmare. My body still ached from it. I hadn’t enjoyed it—not even close. I hadn’t reached that peak where everything should have felt right. Instead, I had only endured Cloud’s rough thrusts, forcing myself to stay silent because Marlene was sleeping just a few feet away.

It felt like we were slipping back into old patterns.

I heard Marlene’s small footsteps and quickly moved the pan off the heat before plating dinner.

“Go wait with Marlene,” I said simply.

Cloud nodded and, at last, left the kitchen.

****

It was long after everyone had fallen asleep.

I couldn’t close my eyes. I just lay there, listening to Cloud’s slow, steady breathing. My mind wouldn’t stop racing—thinking about us, about how close we had come to falling apart.

It was happening again. There was no doubt.

Marlene could see it too. She had told me once that Cloud barely listened to her anymore, that he was just… gone. Locked away somewhere no one could reach.

What did I do wrong?

“Cloud, do you love me?” I asked bluntly.

I watched as he stirred, blinking awake—or maybe he hadn’t been sleeping at all. His expression was unreadable, as if I had spoken in a language he didn’t understand.

“What?” he managed to say.

My heart pounded.

“Do you love Marlene?” I muttered instead, embarrassment creeping in.

“Yeah, I guess… I just don’t know how to show it to her.”

“I think she likes you.”

This conversation was going nowhere. But I needed to say something, anything, to keep myself from sinking into my thoughts.

“Cloud, I think we should try harder… at least when she’s around. Can you do that?”

“Of course I can.”

“And do you love me the same way you love her?”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. My heart pounded painfully against my ribs. That old feeling from childhood, the one I had buried for years—the only boy who had ever mattered to me.

Too late, apparently.

Cloud didn’t answer. But I saw the faint flush creeping onto his face.

I had crossed the line again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t be. It’s my problem.”

Was that supposed to comfort me?

He turned his back to me, making it clear he didn’t want to talk.

I bit my lip. I had said something I shouldn’t have. Worse, I had exposed exactly how I felt.

All this time we had spent together, I had tried to push these feelings down, to keep them from growing. But it was getting harder to contain.

And now, after asking the one question I had kept buried for so long—

There was no answer.

And that hurt more than any fight we had ever had.

Maybe it would be best if I just let it go. If we stayed as we were—raising Marlene, running the bar, doing our best not to make things worse than they already were.

I had this idea about Mako and the Lifestream—since it’s an energy source that powered Midgar, it reminded me of a nuclear reactor. We know how dangerous that can be with direct exposure. So, I thought—what if the Lifestream had a similar effect but specifically on women? Just a concept for a potential plot, not something to take too seriously.

Also realised i have already hit 20 chapter and i still have subject to talk about envovlving "On the way to as Smile" until Advent Children.

Lets hope i make a few more lol

Chapter Text

It had been two days since Cloud left the bar. I was worried—something must have happened. I tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up. He hated calls, I knew that, but he never ignored mine, which only made things worse. Even Yuffie, whom I had secretly asked to keep an eye on him, didn’t know where he was.

But I couldn’t let it distract me—I had a bar to run. Marlene had been staying with me more and more, and I couldn’t risk letting her out now. It was too dangerous. People were getting sick everywhere. It seemed contagious, but in reality, only those exposed to the Lifestream were affected. I didn’t know how far it could spread—I just hoped none of us would get it. There was still no cure.

It was sometime in the afternoon when I was mopping the floor—something that desperately needed doing after closing—when my phone rang. I dropped the mop, practically running to grab it.

It was Cloud.

“Cloud, what a surprise. You never call. Is something wrong?”

“Uh-ah…”

It wasn’t Cloud.

My heart clenched, my mind racing to the worst possibilities, but I forced myself to stay calm.

“Cloud?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, who then? Why do you have Cloud’s phone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who is this?”

“I don’t know. Please… I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this.”

The voice belonged to a boy—young, clearly distressed. Cloud must have left his phone on his bike, and the kid had used it.

I heard him sniffle. He was crying.

“Hey, are you crying?” I asked, suddenly more worried about him than anything else.

But he didn’t answer.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard a scream, followed by the clatter of the phone hitting the ground. My stomach twisted. I had no idea what was happening, but I didn’t like it.

“Hello? Are you okay?! Cloud, if you’re there, pick up!”

I couldn’t stand this. It was alarming. The kid was alone, and he had no one to help him. I had no idea where Cloud was, and at that moment, I just wanted him to pick up the damn phone.

A minute later, I heard footsteps, followed by a familiar voice.

“Hey!” Cloud called before kneeling down.

I heard him pick up the phone, trying to get the boy to respond.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Cloud? Can you hear me? What’s wrong?”

“The kid got Geostigma.”

Oh no.

“Cloud, don’t touch him.”

“Well, clearly we can’t leave him like this. I have to bring him.”

“Bring him to me.”

That was it. Decision made. Cloud cut the call, and I stood there, still processing what had just happened.

I had just told him to bring a sick child here.

But I didn’t care. He needed help, and he had no one. He was lucky to have found Cloud’s phone—and lucky that Cloud was nearby.

“Tifa? What’s wrong?”

Marlene’s voice pulled me back. I hadn’t moved, still frozen in place, and I suddenly realized she must have been standing there, watching me clutch my phone.

“Marlene, can you make your bed? Someone’s coming, and he’s sick,” I said, feeling ridiculous the moment the words left my mouth.

“Okay…”

“Don’t worry, you can sleep with us in the meantime.”

She nodded and quickly went upstairs while I rushed to grab my personal kit. Whenever someone got hurt, we always used the small first-aid box kept next to the fridge. I grabbed whatever I thought might be useful, though I doubted any of it would make a difference.

The boy had Geostigma.

How bad was it? Was it contagious? I could only hope it wasn’t.

I gathered some towels and filled a bucket with water. I wasn’t sure what I was doing—my hands were moving faster than my thoughts—but I had to do something. I had to help him. Somehow, this boy had become the most important thing in that moment. People were getting sick everywhere, told to stay home, left to fend for themselves.

I couldn’t leave him to die on the street.

“Tifa!”

“I’m in Marlene’s room.”

I heard Cloud taking the stairs.

Marlene was sitting beside me, waiting anxiously for whatever came next. I gave her a small smile, hoping to reassure her that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Finally, Cloud stepped into the room, the boy in his arms.

The first thing I noticed was how dirty he was. My breath caught at the sight of him, but I didn’t let it slow me down. I quickly stepped forward, carefully taking the boy from Cloud. Our hands brushed in the exchange, sending the faintest shiver through me, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the boy instead.

“What happened to you?” I murmured to myself as I laid him down on the bed. “Where did you find him?” I asked Cloud as I carefully brushed the boy’s bangs away from his face.

Cloud shifted uncomfortably.

“Huh… the church.”

Again.

The boy let out a weak moan of pain. I had to do something. I took a towel, soaked it in water, and gently dabbed his face, hoping to cool his fever.

“It hurts…” he murmured, trying to push my hand away.

“I know, I’m sorry,” I said softly. “Hey, why don’t you tell me what happened to you?”

His name was Denzel. He was alone.

His parents had died during the fall of sector 7 plate, he had to find refuge to someone, who then got caught in the Lifestream disaster, and soon after, he had been forced to fend for himself and a few errands kids like him—wandering through Midgar, searching for food, until he ended up here, alone.

It was because of us. Because of what we had done. And there was no way to undo it.

Cloud took Marlene with him while I finished cleaning Denzel up and gave him some medicine to ease the pain—hopefully.

Completely drained, he eventually fell asleep.

****

I went downstairs after making sure Denzel was asleep. His condition was unlike anything I had ever seen—worse than anything, really. I had to rinse the towel at least ten times just to remove the black liquid. But at least now, he seemed more at ease, probably realizing I only wanted to help. He had been through so much—losing his parents, his home, and now this sickness.

The weight of it all only deepened my guilt.

To my surprise, Cloud was still here. I had expected him to leave, to return to wherever he had been—probably that church again. Not that I cared anymore. He could do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t like I had anything left to lose.

Except… it hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I let out a quiet sigh, irritation creeping in despite myself. With Marlene nearby, I forced myself to keep it together and walked past Cloud without sparing him a glance, heading straight for a glass and a bottle of wine.

Yeah. I definitely needed a drink.

"Tifa, you’re drinking too?"

Marlene’s wide eyes watched me, shining with that knowing look like she was about to break into tears.

I looked down at the bottle in my hands, frustration settling in.

It felt like my life was just a series of failures and disappointments.

But instead, I put the bottle back—maybe a little too harshly—then poured myself some juice. Anything but water.

Cloud still hadn’t said a word. The silence was maddening. What was he thinking? Why did he keep going back there? What was happening, aside from those damn flowers mysteriously blooming?

"Marlene, I think it’s time for you to go to bed," Cloud said suddenly, his voice calm but firm.

So, he wanted to talk. Without her around.

Marlene looked at me, searching for permission. I nodded, and without another word, she headed upstairs to our rooms.

I waited until I heard the door shut before tipping the rest of my juice into the sink. Then, without hesitation, I grabbed the bottle of wine and poured myself a glass. I took a long sip, closing my eyes, trying to clear my mind.

What the hell had even happened today?

"We are keeping the kid."

Slowly, I turned my head to Cloud. He had been watching me this whole time. My grip on the glass tightened, tension creeping into my body.

He couldn’t be serious.

We didn’t even know this boy. And without his consent? He was terrified, fragile—like a single gust of wind could shatter him. He needed a stable home, people who could love him and care for him properly.

We weren’t any of that.

Sensing my hesitation, Cloud sighed. It was that familiar, quiet exhale—like it physically hurt him to say more than a single sentence.

"I... I don’t know how to explain. I just feel like we have to."

Maybe he was right. Maybe Denzel had come to us for a reason—at the right time.

But that didn’t mean he’d be okay with staying.

"We’ll talk about this tomorrow. See if Denzel gets better," I said, pouring myself another glass.

And just like that, I had forced Cloud to stay the night.

Not that he seemed to mind.

I think, like me, he was worried. None of this had been expected, but somehow, without saying it out loud, we had already agreed—we would keep him with us.

"I’m going to sleep in the office," Cloud finally said, pushing himself up from the barstool.

I ignored the sharp ache in my chest and took another sip.

"Don’t drink too much," I heard him say before heading upstairs.

The irony.

Chapter Text

For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. My whole body ached, a deep, gnawing pain settling into my limbs. My head felt heavy, like something sharp was pressing into it from all sides.

I tried to think—tried to remember what happened. The effort made my skull throb even more. Slowly, I realized I was lying on a bed. A real bed. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept in one. It was warm, soft, the kind of comfort I’d forgotten existed. If I closed my eyes again, maybe I could enjoy it a little longer.

I didn’t know when I’d get to sleep in a bed again.

Then, voices. A woman speaking to someone nearby. The sound felt familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

And then, all at once, my memories came rushing back. Every last detail.

I had Geostigma.

Out of everything that could’ve happened, it had to be this. No cure. No way out. Just a slow, painful end.

Great.

I couldn’t stay here. It was too dangerous. If they found out, if they knew what I had… what if they caught it too?

I had to leave.

I tried to move, but my body refused to listen. Everything felt heavy, like I’d been crushed under a pile of bricks. Even the smallest shift sent shivers down my spine as the blankets brushed against my skin.

I hated being sick.

“Denzel?”

A knock at the door.

I froze. My mind raced, but my body stayed still. What was I supposed to do? Say something? Pretend to be asleep?

The door creaked open before I could decide.

A woman stepped inside.

I didn’t know her.

She moved carefully, like she didn’t want to wake me if I was asleep. Her dark hair framed her face, and her eyes—sharp but kind—studied me in a way that made my chest tighten. She wasn’t dressed like a doctor or a nurse, or like my mother.

She wore black, simple but tough-looking. A sleeveless top, a skirt that stopped at her knees, but underneath, she had shorts. Like she needed to be ready to move at any second. Her boots barely made a sound against the floor.

She stopped by the bed, crossing her arms.

“…You’re awake,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

I didn’t answer. I just stared at her, trying to figure out if she was someone I should be afraid of.

“And how are you feeling?”

Horrible.

“Better than I deserve,” I muttered. My throat felt like it had been sliced open, raw and dry. Everything hurt.

She gave a small smile.

“Are you hungry? You can also take a shower if you’d like.”

A shower. The thought hit me like a miracle. When was the last time I even washed? I was covered in dirt, sweat, and whatever else I’d picked up running through the slums. I must’ve ruined the sheets.

And yeah, I was starving. That was why I’d been out there in the first place, pacing around, hunting rats like some stray dog.

Did they even eat rats here?

“I’ll let you get ready. If you need anything, call Marlene. I’ll be in the kitchen making breakfast, okay?”

Marlene. Another name I didn’t know. But I nodded anyway.

She seemed… nice. Like someone I could trust. And lately, trust had been hard to find. I had my friends, once. Before they got sick. Before I did. Back then, I was the lucky one.

Now, it was my turn.

And I had no idea what to do.

****

I felt a lot better after the shower. Not completely, but enough.

I didn’t stay in too long. I didn’t want to use up all the hot water. Didn’t want to upset the woman—not when she was still going to feed me.

But I couldn’t stay here.

I didn’t know where I’d go, but I had to leave. I couldn’t be a burden.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. My skin looked cleaner, but my eyes were still hollow, tired. Then I saw it—the faint mark on my forehead. Darker than the rest of my skin, glistening under the dim light.

I reached up, fingers brushing against it carefully.

Pain. Sharp and immediate.

My grip slipped, and I lurched forward, catching the sink just before I could fall.

“Denzel? You okay in there?”

Marlene’s voice came through the door.

“I’m fine,” I called back, forcing my voice steady. “Coming in a second.”

I didn’t want her to worry.

I looked at myself one last time. The clothes I’d changed into were simple—black pants, a little loose on me, and a long gray t-shirt.

I looked different. Cleaner. But it didn’t change anything.

I opened the door.

Marlene was waiting a few steps away. She looked me over, head to toe, like she was searching for something—some sign, some proof of what I had.

I bit my tongue. I couldn’t lie, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

After a moment, she just nodded and motioned for me to follow.

As we headed downstairs, the smell hit me first—real food. Warm, fresh, and definitely not rats. My mouth watered at the thought. My stomach growled before I could stop it.

I pressed a hand over my belly, hoping Marlene hadn’t heard.

If she did, she didn’t say anything. She just sat at the table, waiting.

I followed her, sitting down beside her.

The woman from before stood behind the counter, her back to us. She wasn’t alone.

A man was helping her.

I could only see his back, but something about him felt… different. He wasn’t big like the other men I’d seen in the slums, the ones who tried to survive. He was leaner, but there was something solid about him, like he could handle himself in a fight.

But the thing that stood out the most was his hair.

It was blond—so bright it almost looked white under the light—and stuck out in every direction, wild and spiky, like it wasn’t meant to stay down. I’d never seen hair like that before.

For some reason, I couldn’t stop staring. 

“This is Cloud,” Marlene whispered beside me, like she didn’t want to break the quiet. “He’s a nice guy. He’s the one who found you.”

That was the last thing I remembered before everything went dark.

“And the woman next to him is Tifa. She’s nice too. And caring.”

I nodded. For some reason, I believed her. Tifa had taken care of me, after all.

But that didn’t change the feeling pressing on my chest—I didn’t belong here. This was their home, their family. I was just… someone passing through. I had to leave.

But then, Cloud was the first to sit down, placing drinks on the table.

That’s when I saw his face.

He looked young, but there was something about him that felt much older. His features were sharp—strong jaw, straight nose—but it was his eyes that caught me first.

Bright. Too bright.

Mako eyes.

I knew that look. My father had worked for Shinra. Men who had SOLDIER written all over them. The ones who walked like they were different from the rest of us. Stronger, faster. Untouchable.

But Cloud… he wasn’t like them.

His eyes had the same glow, but they weren’t filled with that same pride. They weren’t looking down on anyone. If anything, they looked tired. Like he’d seen too much.

I swallowed hard, unsure what to think.

Was he really one of them?

“You okay?” Cloud asked as he sat down.

“Yes.”

I answered too quickly, trying not to show how much he intimidated me.

I preferred when it was Tifa. She looked… softer. Less scary. Maybe because she wasn’t SOLDIER. Maybe because she didn’t wear all black, like some kind of shadow.

But Marlene had said Cloud was a nice guy. And he had found me, brought me here.

Still. He was a SOLDIER.

He had worked for Shinra.

And Shinra had fallen the same day the Lifestream swallowed Midgar.

I didn’t know what to think about that.

Tifa came back, setting the food down.

“Help yourself,” she said, sitting next to Cloud.

They both looked at me.

I hated that.

It made me feel small, like they were daring me to eat their food just because I’d ended up here.

I only took a little. I didn’t want to abuse Tifa’s kindness.

“You can take more,” she said, smiling softly.

Marlene grabbed a big plate. Cloud only had coffee. Tifa poured herself some tea.

We ate in silence.

It felt strange, but I didn’t think too much about it. I was too busy eating, too busy savoring every bite. I hadn’t realized just how starving I was. If Geostigma hadn’t gotten me, hunger might have.

“It’s so good,” I mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes.

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” Marlene said. “It’s not polite.”

“Marlene, let him eat,” Cloud said, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.

I swallowed quickly. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. You must’ve been starving.”

Small talk carried on. I listened more than I spoke. Marlene talked a lot, filling the silence with questions and stories. Tifa answered with her usual calm, while Cloud mostly just listened—like me.

It felt… normal.

Like they didn’t mind me being here. Like, for once, the whole world wasn’t against me.

By the time I finished eating, I felt stronger. More awake. I figured it was time to go. I could manage now, and maybe—maybe I could find something.

Something to go back to.

“Denzel, what do you want to do after this?” Tifa asked, setting her cup aside.

I blinked. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, surely you had plans. Do you have anyone you might know around here?”

I shook my head.

Tifa glanced at Cloud. He gave a small nod. Then she turned back to me.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly nervous. Something about this moment felt… important. Like whatever she was about to say would change everything.

“We were thinking,” she said carefully, “that you could stay here. At least until you get better. What do you think?”

My heart started racing.

I couldn’t believe it.

They wanted me to stay.

But—I couldn’t. I was sick. There was no cure.

Did they even know?

Cloud must have noticed my hesitation because his eyes met mine—Mako-bright, steady.

“We know you have Geostigma,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we should throw you out. You need help.”

I didn’t know what to say.

SOLDIER or not, whoever they really were, I was ready to stay.

No one had cared about me since my parents died. Even my friends—it had never been about anything more than survival.

But here…

Here, I felt like I could just be.

Like I had a home.

Like, maybe, I had people who actually cared.

“So… is he staying?” Marlene asked, her eyes lighting up. “Does that mean I have a brother?”

I froze.

Cloud and Tifa did too. Neither of them seemed to know what to say, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, flustered.

I hadn’t expected things to go that far.

But if I was staying, I wanted to help however I could. I owed them that much.

My mom hadn’t raised any boys—I was her only child—so she’d done everything to teach me how to take care of myself. I knew what it meant to be in a family and how important it was to be responsible and help the others.

“If you say so,” Cloud finally muttered, though I could tell he wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“I need to tell Daddy!” Marlene declared, already getting up.

“No!”

Cloud and Tifa said it at the same time, sharp enough that it sent a dull pain through my skull. I ignored it.

“Marlene, it’s best if I tell him,” Tifa said, her voice gentler now. “For now, let’s focus on getting Denzel some new clothes. Cloud will look for an extra bed.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of it all settling in.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, overwhelmed.

I was staying.

I had a home.

But for how long?

Would there be another catastrophe? Something worse waiting just around the corner?

I pushed the thought away before it could settle.

Instead, I proposed Tifa to help her clean.

She refused.

Chapter Text

I had to admit, having Denzel around meant we fought less.

Tifa didn’t really know why I insisted on keeping the kid with us—or maybe she did, but she never said it. She wanted me to explain. Either way, she seemed a little happier, more talkative with Marlene.

I just listened.

I didn’t know how long this would last—how long I could keep pretending everything was fine when I kept hearing voices.

I barely slept. My new bed was the office couch, even after we set up one for Denzel. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep next to Tifa. Everything felt tense, like even breathing too close to her would be too much. But in front of the kids, we were trying.

But honestly, things were easier now. Thanks to Denzel, Tifa wasn’t asking me a million questions about where I went, what I was doing, or when I’d be back. She still waited for me at the bar, though—still picked up when I called to tell her I had an unexpected delivery and wouldn’t be home for a while, she wouldn’t say anything about it but I knew better.

I was walking on eggshells. I never knew what kind of mood Tifa would be in—stressed from work, exhausted from looking after Denzel, who had Geostigma. It was hitting a lot of people. There were different stages, from what the doctors said, or rather, from what I managed to buy off the WRO clinic. Denzel was still in the first stage—random pain, fevers—but sometimes that black liquid would come up, like vomiting, and he’d pass out. I hated it. Hated watching everyone slowly die around when there was no cure. I was looking for one. Trying. Hoping to find something to help Denzel.

At least it wasn’t contagious.

But right now, I had other problems. Ones that involved Tifa and me.

We were getting married.

It was fake, of course—just a way to speed up the enrolment process. But that meant organizing everything, and I had no idea what I was doing. I wasn’t sure what made me agree to it in the first place. Tifa and I…

“Need some help?”

I hadn’t heard the door open. Tifa stepped into my office, closing it behind her as she joined me. I was still staring at the damn paperwork, reading over and over, the laws and regulations like they’d change if I just kept looking. I never thought this would happen—me, getting married. I’d even laughed the first time we brought it up. But now, even if it was just for the kids, it made me nervous.

“You know, I think it’s best if we just call someone, get a witness, sign the papers, and be done with it,” I sighed.

“Where do you wanna do this?”

“Dunno…”

“We should probably ask Barret. Make him our witness.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m going to call him, then.”

Tifa was about to leave when she suddenly turned back, a small smile on her lips.

“Thank you, Cloud.”

I frowned, confused.

“For sticking around,” she added, like she could read my mind.

Then, she left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

“I wish I could’ve been married.”

The voice made me turn.

I was alone in my office. Or at least, I should have been.

But I knew that voice.

I saw him standing by the window, the light surrounding him. Zack looked exactly the same as he did back then—back when we fought together. Just like Aerith, he hadn’t changed a bit. Like they were frozen in time.

I was losing it again.

“I would’ve been the happiest man on the planet if I knew I’d get to marry the woman I love,” he said, looking at me with that same easy-going smile.

“We’re not getting married,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. “It’s not real.”

“But you care about it, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer. I knew what this was—just another trick of my mind, pushing me toward things I wasn’t ready to face.

“Careful what you wish for.”

His voice faded. The weight in my chest eased.

It was happening more often now—ever since I started going back to Aerith’s church. It felt like my past was catching up with me, one ghost at a time.

****

Denzel wasn’t loud like Marlene, never buzzing with energy. The Geostigma played a part in that, but even without it, he was quiet.

Reserved. Afraid. It wasn’t easy for him to settle in, even after we told him he’d be staying with us. But he tried his best despite all, always helped around whenever he could, making himself small at the house.

It was strange and familiar.

“Tifa, we need to find you a dress!” Marlene cheered over dinner.

Of course, she was the most excited about it, after we told them we were getting married to get them to school, like it was the best news she’d heard in a while. Denzel more reserved, was surprised as well, we didn’t tell him the nature of our relations, even me I didn’t know what we were.

I glanced at Tifa. She was stiff. We still weren’t sure if this was a good idea. Marlene had already accepted it—that we were going to be together, officially. But we hadn’t told them the truth—that this was just a fake marriage, a way to get them into school.

“Not now, Marlene,” Tifa said, quickly changing the subject.

Anything to avoid the conversation.

It had been a year since Meteorfall. We should’ve been happy, grateful to be alive, to have saved the planet.

But at what cost?

Beside me, I felt Denzel shift. I turned to look at him, noticing the sweat gathering at his temple.

Shit.

“Denzel?” I called.

“I’m fine,” he said.

But then he started coughing. Hard. His whole body shook with it.

Tifa stood up instantly, grabbing him to take him upstairs. He kept coughing, and for a split second, I saw something dark between his fingers as he pressed his hand over his mouth.

A weight dropped in my chest.

Tifa had reacted before I did—maybe because she had more experience with kids. I wasn’t like her. I didn’t know how to handle this. I was useless.

“Is he going to be okay?” Marlene’s small voice broke through my thoughts.

I glanced at her. She looked worried.

“I hope so,” I said, forcing a faint smile, hoping it would reassure her.

But I didn’t think it worked.

Tifa came back later, looking more drained than before.

Then I saw it—a black stain on her face. My heart dropped.

Had she caught it too?

I moved without thinking, reaching for her, but before I could even say anything, she spoke.

“Cloud, it’s just a stain. I’m not sick. Denzel’s been vomiting,” she said as I leaned in to look closer.

I hadn’t realized how close we were. But I did realize one thing—

I didn’t want anything to happen to her. Especially not because of me.

“Cloud.”

Her voice was soft, her hand finding mine as she gently pulled it away from her face.

“I’m fine,” she said—calm, but firm.

Did she even know how much this terrified me?

She turned away before I could say anything.

“Marlene, Barret will be here this weekend,” she said instead, her tone unreadable, like nothing happened.

I felt like I’d been hit.

We weren’t fighting. Nothing had happened.

But something was happening.

Something was pulling us further apart.

And I didn’t know what to do.

Or maybe—I just didn’t want to know the answer.

Marlene’s face lit up.

But that also meant we were in for a lecture.

I was in for a lecture.

Barret would have plenty to say—especially to me. I told him I’d take care of them, that I’d do things right. But, like always, I was screwing it up.

I never kept my word.

A brief mention of the marriage, something that i thought would be legitimate to be able to have the kids as they are already pictured as "parent" to Marlene and Denzel. So i thought having this special moment where Cloud doesn't have a clue on what's going on but still goes with it and, Tifa carrying all of it, while staying true to their character could be something to work on:)

Chapter Text

Cloud had been staying home more often now. He refused most of his deliveries, spending more time with the kids. I didn’t know what was going on with him, but I didn’t want to ask and risk disturbing the little peace we had.

Family.

I was still working every day except Sundays and Mondays. Every night, I would go about my usual chores, cleaning the bar while watching Cloud with the kids. It was a comforting sight. Denzel wasn’t getting any better, but he wasn’t getting worse either. He was safe with us now. It was almost funny watching him follow Cloud everywhere, asking endless questions about places on the map, planning imaginary deliveries alongside him.

It really felt like we were a family.

“Tifa.”

Cloud called me over just as I was returning to the bar after putting the kids to bed. He was still seated at the table where he had been with them minutes ago.

“Do you… ever hear voices?”

His question caught me completely off guard.

“What?”

When I didn’t answer right away, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck like he was in pain.

“What kind of voices are you hearing?” I asked hesitantly, unsure if I wanted to hear the answer.

“The old memories.”

And it hit me.

Cloud had been drowning in guilt this whole time, and I hadn’t seen a thing. Anger bubbled up—not at him, but at the fact that he had kept this to himself, that he hadn’t told me sooner. We could have gone through this together instead of letting it pull us apart.

“Cloud, this is the past. And you are in the future. Look at you, look at us,” I said, like I was explaining a lesson to a child. “We have to move on. You’ve told me that plenty of times. Barret is trying too… You can’t just tell me this—I know it’s not true.”

I didn’t know why I said that. But the moment the words left my mouth, I knew they had hurt him.

Cloud didn’t say anything. He simply stood up from his chair and, without even looking at me, walked straight for the door and left.

I was frozen in place, like time itself had paused, forcing me to realize just how stupid I had been. I had practically called him crazy for hearing voices. Indirectly, I had told him his pain wasn’t real, that he should just forget the past. But Cloud wasn’t like that. He still carried his burdens, still struggled under their weight, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

I sighed, feeling like it was already too late to go after him. I told myself I’d explain everything tomorrow.

Still, I waited.

I kept looking at the clock, hoping he’d return.

At some point, exhaustion took over, and I ended up falling asleep at the counter again.

The last thing I remembered was the feeling of strong arms lifting me, carrying me upstairs, and gently laying me in bed.

****

It had been a couple of months since we brought Denzel home. He wasn’t getting better, but he wasn’t getting worse either. Just... stuck. Like we all were.

I knew Cloud was still angry with me. He didn’t say anything—he never did—but I could feel it. After the last time he tried to tell me he was hearing voices, and I... I didn’t believe him. I didn’t want to. Because believing him meant opening that door to the past again, and if I did that, I was afraid everything we had—this family—would fall apart too.

Even if he kept coming home early from his deliveries, even if he stayed close to the kids, helped with everything, pushed himself to be present... I knew it wasn’t the same. He didn’t smile the same way. He didn’t look at me the same. Cloud always kept his feelings buried behind a wall, but I knew him—I know him. I can tell when he’s hurting, even when he won’t admit it.

I apologized. More than once. Told him I didn’t mean everything I said. But months had passed, and nothing between us had gone back to how it used to be.

I think I broke something in him—maybe the last fragile piece that held us together. He was still here, but mostly for Denzel now. That came first. And I understood.

I was scared too. Every time Denzel breathed a little heavier or shifted too quickly, I braced myself for another episode. And they did come. In the middle of the night, Cloud and I would both wake up to help. There was no cure, no clear reason—just coughing fits, tremors, vomiting. I’d clean the sheets, get him in the shower, try to keep my voice steady even when I wanted to cry.

It was exhausting. But we didn’t have a choice.

Denzel would apologize, over and over again. As if he was the one ruining everything. As if any of this was his fault. And that only made the guilt worse.

Marlene started sleeping in his room—to keep an eye on him, she said. She was trying to be strong too.

Cloud had come back to our room, technically. But he never stayed long. He’d say he had work and shut himself in his office again. And I’d be left lying there, staring at the ceiling, not knowing how to reach him anymore.

It hurts. All of it. And I don’t know how to fix any of it.

Today felt like any other. Just another morning where I had to brace myself before stepping into the bar. Cloud had left hours ago. And even though I never said it out loud, part of me was always waiting for the day he wouldn’t come back. I could feel it creeping in—a quiet dread that settled into my chest—but I didn’t know when, or if, it would actually happen.

So I kept moving. Served a few customers, cleaned the counters, answered a couple of calls about deliveries for Cloud. That was it. Nothing more.

I was scrubbing a glass behind the bar, staring through it like it would never be clean, even though it was practically glowing from the polish. My mind was too clouded to notice anything else.

Until I felt two tiny arms wrap around my legs.

I flinched, startled by the sudden warmth. My heart jumped as I turned around, already bracing for the worst—maybe Denzel was having another episode.

But it was just Marlene.

“Happy birthday, Tifa,” she murmured into me.

It took a moment to register. Today was my birthday. Twenty-two. I couldn’t even remember the last time someone had said those words to me.

The fact that she remembered—it cracked something open inside me. A soft warmth bloomed in my chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I smiled. Not a tired smile. A real one.

I shifted to the side, crouching down to meet her eyes. She looked up at me, bright and beaming, her joy so pure it almost hurt. Marlene had always been like that—able to find happiness in the smallest things. Always trying to lift everyone else up, no matter how heavy the world felt.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“So… what are you going to do for your birthday?” she asked, hopeful.

I let out a quiet chuckle. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Her eyes widened, completely surprised. “You mean you’re just going to stay here?”

“Well… I don’t think it’s the right time to go out.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t do something,” she insisted, her voice full of determination.

That was Marlene. Always finding the light in things. Always knowing what to say. And just for a second, she reminded me of her—the way she used to make people feel seen, understood. I pushed the thought away quickly. I couldn’t let myself go there again.

“We could make a cake,” I said instead. “A cake for everyone. What do you think?”

Her entire face lit up like it was the best idea in the world. And hearing her laugh made me laugh too. It wasn’t much—but for today, maybe that was enough.

“It’s settled then. I’ll get the ingredients. Go ask Denzel if he wants to help?”

I gave her a gentle nudge toward the stairs. Denzel had been resting in their room all morning. Maybe this would be good for him—something to pull him out of bed, even just for a little while.

I just hoped he felt strong enough to stand.

****

Cloud came home just as we were in the middle of a full-on pastry war—flour on the floor, cream on our faces, and laughter echoing through the bar. It had started with who could decorate best, and somehow turned into who could smear the most frosting on the others. For a little while, I forgot everything else. Just being there with them, laughing, playing—it reminded me how even the simplest moments could lift the weight off someone’s shoulders.

I had closed the bar early that week. It wasn’t something I usually did, but… it was my birthday. And I wanted to spend it with the kids. No noise, no customers, just us.

Denzel had been feeling better that day—no symptoms, no coughs, no late-night fevers. And surprisingly, he’d joined in. He didn’t even know how to make a cake, which left Marlene stunned, so I showed him. We threw ingredients together with a kind of chaotic teamwork that somehow worked. There was flour on the ceiling, probably, but it was worth it.

Cloud walked in right in the middle of it.

“What the hell…”

He just stood there, blinking, watching Marlene chase Denzel around the table, frosting in her hands like it was a weapon. Denzel ducked behind him, his shield and hero all at once, but Marlene didn’t miss a beat. She dodged around Cloud and smeared a line of cream right on his cheek before bolting behind the bar, giggling like crazy.

“Hey!”

Denzel burst out laughing, and with whatever he had left on his fingers, he added another blob on Cloud’s other cheek before darting off too.

Cloud’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, I see how it is…”

He looked dangerous—but not in the way he used to. There was a playful glint in his eyes, something I hadn’t seen in a long time. Not since before.

“Tifa, save us!” Marlene and Denzel cried, clutching at me like I was their only hope.

But I knew better.

It was already too late.

Cloud was moving fast, grabbing one of the untouched pastries from the counter as he closed in. I couldn’t stop laughing—neither could the kids—and while Marlene and Denzel tried to scatter, he wasn’t chasing after them.

He was chasing me.

“Oh no.”

I knew I didn’t stand a chance against his speed—not with those long legs and SOLDIER traits. So I had to outsmart him. I darted around one of the tables, circling to the opposite side just before he could catch me.

We stood facing each other now, the tension thick like static in the air. My heart was racing, adrenaline humming in my veins.

One wrong move…

The kids had stopped running, their eyes wide and waiting, but I couldn’t look away from Cloud. His mako eyes gleamed, focused, locked on mine. He was bluffing—shifting his weight, giving false signals, trying to fake me out—but I didn’t fall for it. Not this time.

Then, just as I thought he might back down, he moved.

He leapt right over the table with a grace that shouldn’t have surprised me—but still did—and before I could even scream, he caught me in mid-motion.

I let out a laugh-shriek hybrid, raising my arms too late to defend myself. The next thing I knew, I had a thick smear of pastry cream right across my cheek.

Behind us, Marlene and Denzel were cackling.

“My hair!” I cried, half-laughing, half-despairing as I felt the flour settling in my bangs.

But I wasn’t going to let him have the last word. Nope.

I lunged forward and rubbed my face right against his, smearing him with whatever mess was on mine. The kids howled with laughter.

“Now we’re even,” I said, grinning proudly up at him. His face was covered in streaks of cream and dusted with flour—his hair even more of a mess than usual.

Then… he smiled.

A real smile. Soft, unguarded, the kind that reached his eyes. I hadn’t seen that smile in so long.

It made me forget everything else for a moment—everything except him.

And gods, he looked beautiful. Covered in chaos, dusted with sugar, glowing with something that looked an awful lot like peace.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured.

And just like that, I forgot how to breathe.

****

After we ate the cake—covered in mess but livelier than we’d been in weeks—I sent the kids off to shower while I started cleaning the aftermath. And God, there was a lot.

Cloud was helping, gathering plates and heading toward the sink. I turned to look at him and froze.

He wasn’t wearing his usual black outfit. He’d changed into something more comfortable—a simple black t-shirt that hugged his chest and back in all the right places, and a pair of black joggers that moulded to his ass like they were made for it. His sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, his focus entirely on the dishes. He didn’t see me staring.

I bit my lip, stepping in closer, eyes locked on his arms. The way his muscles flexed with each motion, how his veins stood out more with the warm water running over his skin…

I wasn’t sure how long it had been since we’d been close. Intimately close. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, maybe it was selfish to think about it now… but Cloud was—

"Tifa?"

His voice caught me off guard, and I immediately looked away. I noticed the faint red rising on his cheeks—and maybe I blushed too—but what struck me most was how his voice had dipped lower than usual. It sent my heart racing all over again.

"I was thinking we could go out for a bit," he said, trying to shift the atmosphere, to hide the awkwardness between us.

"Now?"

"Yeah… The kids should be asleep soon, and… it’s your birthday. We should do something for it."

"But… aren’t you mad at me?"

He paused. I held my breath.

It had been a while since we’d really spoken to each other without dodging or brushing things aside. I’d tried my best to move past what I’d said—to make myself forgiven—because I knew it hadn’t come from the right place. It hadn’t come from us.
We’d been drifting apart again. Cloud had started disappearing like he used to, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t even know where we stood.

"Today’s your day, Tifa," he said simply.

After making sure the kids were asleep—and that Denzel was feeling well enough for us to leave him for a couple of hours—Cloud took me out. He pulled out his keys and headed toward Fenrir just after I finished closing the bar. The night felt steady, like it was waiting just for us.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked curiously.

“I think it’s a surprise”, he said, though he sounded a bit unsure.

So, he had thought about it. Thought about my birthday, despite everything. That simple fact made me smile. He glanced away, but I caught it—two faint touches of pink on his cheeks. There I recognised the shy Cloud that made me fall in love at first.

He offered his hand, and like a proper gentleman, helped me onto Fenrir before settling in front of me.

It was such a small thing, but I’d forgotten how nice it felt—just two people riding out into the night. Around town, people were still out, despite the pandemic, hanging around in clusters. But Cloud didn’t take us through the centre of Edge. Instead, he drove us toward the outskirts, far from the city lights.

We rode through the wastelands, Fenrir’s engine the only sound breaking the calm. It was comforting somehow—the steady rumble, the sway of the motion. I found myself getting sleepy. When I looked up, the sky was full of stars, and for a moment, I was back on the water tower. The night of the promise, just the two of us, young and careless. The stars had looked just the same—bright, and impossibly distant.

I smiled and then, leaned gently against Cloud’s back. I felt him tense just a little, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just pushed Fenrir a bit faster, like he was carrying us toward something only he knew.

And I liked it. This was his way of giving a gift—his way of saying he was still here, despite everything.

And I didn’t want it to end.

Well, I said there wouldn’t be any more 'happier' chapters, but then I wanted to do something for Tifa’s birthday since we’re approaching another year of the story. It’s soon coming to an end, and I’ve already moved forward with the chapters, so I might end up posting two chapters a day. I don’t think I’ll reach 30 chapters, as I plan to stop just before the Advent Children event. There’s no need to explain further; I might also include Tifa’s case from On the Way to a Smile to wrap things up.

Chapter Text

“Damn…”

That was my reaction when I found out I had it.

It started as a small spot. Barely visible. Just a faint shadow beneath the skin, almost easy to ignore. But I knew what it was — Geostigma. I didn’t even flinch. I just accepted it. Like it was bound to happen. After everything — losing everyone I cared about, losing myself for five years — this felt like the universe’s last joke. And I was the punchline.

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the ghost staring back.

It was early. Quiet. Everyone was still asleep. I hadn’t closed my eyes in days — a week, maybe more. Nightmares wouldn't let me. They came in pieces. The past crashing into the future. Faces I’d buried. Voices I’d tried to forget. Sephiroth, always him, creeping back into my head like mold. Same words, over and over. You’re just a puppet. He died two years ago, but he still lived in the silence between my breaths.

I looked down at my arm. The black spot had spread, crawling beneath the surface like ink in water. My skin looked paler than usual — sickly, translucent. I was soaked from the shower, but the water clung to me like it didn’t want to let go, trailing over skin that felt colder than it should’ve. My shoulders had thinned out. Ribs were showing more than they used to. I’d been eating less, moving less. Strength didn’t come easy anymore. My hands shook sometimes, not from nerves, just from weakness. And every muscle ached like I’d been through a fight I couldn’t remember.

I looked like hell. No — I looked like someone already halfway there.

I’d promised Denzel I’d find a cure. Told him we were going to beat this. The WRO had come up with something — a treatment that slowed it down, but not enough. Not a cure. Just borrowed time. I’d gone looking for answers, thought I could handle it on my own.

Now I had it too.

It was my fault. All of it. I let this world fall apart because I couldn’t stop him when it mattered. Because I wasn’t strong enough. People were dying, and I was the reason.

Geostigma didn’t just kill you — it hollowed you out first. Took your energy. Your will. Left you empty until your body gave out. I knew what was waiting on the other side. And I wasn’t fighting it.

Maybe that’s all I deserved.

And maybe I wanted to laugh.

Because yesterday — when I thought my day couldn’t get any shittier — I remembered it was Tifa’s birthday.

The world was falling apart. And somehow, I still remembered the date.

I couldn’t let the day vanish into the mess we’d been living through for months. Couldn’t let it be another memory smothered by ash and silence. So I took her out. Didn’t really have a plan. We ended up going nowhere. Just riding. Letting the road carry us like we used to. But she didn’t seem to mind.

I felt her arms circle around my waist, her cheek resting against my back. And for a brief moment, I smiled. Not because things were okay — but because I wasn’t thinking about the weight for once. Not about the things I’d lost. Not about the things I’d done. Just the warmth of her, the steady rhythm of the bike beneath us, the breeze tugging at my hair.

It felt like being human again.

Even if deep down, I was still angry with her. Angry that she told me the voices weren’t real. That I wasn’t a puppet. That I wasn’t broken.

But she was wrong. I was losing my mind. Slowly, quietly. I didn’t enjoy anything anymore. I didn’t even pretend. Just moved through the routine. Wake up. Work. Stay silent. Lie. Repeat. I hadn’t smiled in weeks — not really. I didn’t feel alive. Didn’t want to be.

Only thing that numbed it was alcohol. The burn in my throat reminded me I still existed.

I kept locking myself away, telling Tifa I had work. We both knew it was bullshit. She didn’t push it. Maybe she was too tired. Maybe she was just trying to hold things together for Denzel. She had enough on her plate without adding me to the list.

Denzel had a good day yesterday. First time in a while. He laughed — full, real laughter — and it caught me off guard. It reminded me of how I used to be, before everything cracked.

Before the guilt, before the disease.

It didn’t hurt yet. Just sat there, the black mark, like a stain on my arm. Almost looked like a tattoo. A bad one. Useless. Ugly. I kept it hidden. Couldn’t let Tifa see. Couldn’t let her know.

Because once she knew, it would be real. And I wasn’t ready for that.

If I could’ve frozen time, stretched out the hours — just to hear her laugh again, or feel her hold onto me like she did last night — maybe I would’ve fooled myself a little longer.

But life doesn’t work that way.

I had Geostigma. And no amount of pretending would change that. I had to accept it. Accept that I would never be strong. That I would never live normally. That maybe, I never really did.

At the corner of my eye, I caught it — that smirk.

In the mirror, he was there. Sephiroth. Standing with all the arrogance the world had ever known, calm and poised like nothing had ever touched him. His slitted eyes gleamed like a serpent’s, cold and patient. Always watching. Always waiting. Picking at the edges of my mind until something broke loose.

He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there in the corner of the bathroom, arms at his sides, his gaze drifting toward the mark on my arm like it was his masterpiece. I didn’t flinch. Couldn’t. Part of me already knew it wasn’t real — just my mind turning on me again.

But lately… I was starting to doubt that.

The voices weren’t whispers anymore. They were screams, layered and overlapping. Too loud to ignore. Too real to dismiss.

Then he spoke — voice low, calm, like he was stating a fact I had simply forgotten:

“You were born to suffer. To serve. To submit.”

I shut my eyes. And the noise came flooding in.

Screams.

My mother — begging him to spare me. The sound of crackling flames eating through wood and flesh. The stench of burnt hair and death. I was there again — crawling through ash, dragging my body forward, trying to stop him.

Useless.

“You're nothing but a shadow… a failed experiment still pretending to be human.”

No. That’s not true.

I gritted my teeth. I wouldn’t let him win again. Not this time.

I forced my eyes open, breathing hard, my pulse pounding in my ears. And he was gone.

The corner where he stood was empty.

But someone else was there now — leaning against the wall like it was nothing, arms crossed, just watching me.

Zack.

Same grin as always, like none of this was too heavy for him to carry. Like he didn’t know how fucked up things really were.

God damn it.

“Well, look at you. Don’t seem alright. Should I call Tifa?”

“No.”

I answered like he was really there. Like we’d been living together the past few months, when in truth, he’d been dead for three years now.

“She’s gonna know one way or another. Better to tell her the truth.”

She wouldn’t believe me.

“Trust me, she’ll understand.”

“Cloud?”

I turned my head toward the door.

Zack had vanished the second I heard Tifa’s voice. Again, I was slipping — letting myself fall into that spiral, that endless void, just me and my thoughts. The voices. I couldn’t even remember if I had locked the door, but when she tried to open it and it wouldn’t budge, I exhaled in relief.

She couldn’t see it. She didn’t need to know.

Wrong move, buddy.

I wanted to bang my head against the sink, the wall, anything, just to make him shut up.

“Cloud, you okay in there?”

“I’m fine. Just give me a second.”

I knew it was her time to start getting ready. Meanwhile, I’d wasted the last hour staring at my reflection, feeling nothing but emptiness. I had Geostigma. Because of me, people were suffering. Things weren’t good with Tifa, and honestly, I was too tired to fix anything anymore.

I forced myself to put on my usual black outfit for the day. The fabric brushed against my left arm, and I felt it — that sting Denzel had described. A sharp, cold pinch under the skin. It wasn’t painful yet.

I finally opened the door, hoping Tifa wouldn’t ask anything. I didn’t have the energy for answers. I just wanted to leave. Get out of this house, away from the light, and wait for the sickness to finally catch me.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked with her usual soft voice.

It irritated me—and I remembered I was still mad at her.

“Nothing,” I said, walking past her.

“Cloud?”

I stopped and turned. Tifa had her hands on her hips. She looked upset too.

Great. Now we were back to this.

“Are you not gonna give me your clothes? It’s been five days—you’re still wearing the same ones.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Fine. Do what you want. I’m not your mother.”

She closed the door—or more like slammed it, just to make sure I knew how pissed she was. I’d messed up her laundry schedule. I couldn’t care less. I didn’t care about anything now. I just wanted this day to end. Me, with it.

The kids were downstairs at the bar. Marlene had heard something had happened, but she just looked at me with that same wariness in her eyes. She was watching us—and she’d report everything to Barret. He’s the reason we forced ourselves to stay calm.

“Tifa’s just having a bad day,” I told her, trying to dissuade her from calling Barret.

Denzel looked worried too, but he didn’t say anything.

And just like that, I left the bar.

****

The spot on my left arm was getting worse. I hadn’t imagined something like that could spread this fast. Now, it was covering almost the entire limb. It made my skin itch, and I couldn’t focus on the road—I had a special delivery to make. No sender name. No address to trace it back. Like it was all meant to stay secret.

But I didn’t care. I just wanted to drop it off and leave.

As I approached the destination, I quickly understood why it had been kept anonymous.

Elmyra Gainsborough.

I hadn’t seen her since the day we took Marlene. I had no idea how she’d contacted me—maybe she’d reached out to Tifa, who left me a paper note about it? I couldn’t recall. Nothing came to mind.

My heart pounded in rhythm with the engine’s roar. I was going back to that place—the one I’d been avoiding all this time. It made me think. I hadn’t seen Aerith in my dreams for a while, not even in the church. I’d gone back there often, like it had become a second home.

But she was gone. Just... gone.

Zack had taken her place, and now he wouldn’t leave me alone for a single day. I missed her—more than I cared to admit. And coming back here only brought everything back, sharper than ever.

Elmyra wasn’t there, luckily. She had just left a note on the door, with a bouquet of yellow flowers.

I flipped the note and read:

Take this to her grave.
Thank you, for everything.

That was it. Cold. Like she was upset I hadn’t come back since—or maybe she blamed me for getting her daughter killed.

And now, this was how I paid it back.

I didn’t know what was worse—having to travel all the way across Gaia, knowing I wouldn’t be home for days, leaving Denzel alone with no cure... or the fact that I was headed back to the one place I hated most.

Aerith’s grave.

Though I wouldn’t call it that. Elmyra didn’t know where she was—where we’d put her. I didn’t want to go there. The church would’ve been enough.

But then I thought… maybe it’d buy me more time. Time away from Tifa. Fewer questions. Less arguing.

All I needed now was enough alcohol to quiet the voices in my head.

I took the flowers and stored them in the compartment. I was glad to have my fusion swords—there’d be fiends on the way, and I had to be ready.

The problem was… I didn’t know if I could actually fight anymore. Not like I used to. Ever since the last battle, I’d been getting weaker. My muscles felt limp. My body, heavy.

“You need some help?”

Zack. Again.

“Maybe you should see a doctor.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or just his usual idiot self.

Either way, I didn’t have time for this.

I swung my leg over Fenrir and ignored him as he strolled around like he belonged here.

“This place looks as charming as Sector 5. Don’t forget the flowers, okay? Aerith’ll be happy to know you came.”

****

Water.

Endless water, still and glowing, too bright for my eyes. Trees—tall, pale, ghostly—wrapped in silence. The forest was hollow, like time had stopped breathing here. The deeper I drove, the quieter everything became. Even the engine of Fenrir seemed to fade, swallowed by the weight of this place.

I knew where I was, even if I didn’t want to admit it.

The Forgotten City.

This was where I buried her.
The last place I saw her.
The last place she saw me.

I didn’t remember which exact spot I left her in. I never marked it.
Maybe I didn’t want to.
Maybe part of me thought I didn’t deserve to.

Still, I drove until I saw the lake—the largest and clearest among them all. It reflected the light like it was holding on to heaven.
This had to be it.

I cut the engine and stepped off Fenrir. The moment my boots hit the wet ground, I heard something—soft, like a whisper or a footstep brushing the earth.

I didn’t hesitate. I reached for my sword and held it out, the familiar weight grounding me.
There weren’t many fiends in this place, and I was thankful. Less blood here. Less noise.
But the few that came were stronger, older, like they belonged to this silence. They took longer to cut down, and each strike burned my arm.
Geostigma pulsed under the skin like it had a heartbeat of its own.

"Cloud."

I froze.

Then turned.

Vincent.

He emerged from the shadows like a ghost—just as much a part of this place as the trees and the water. His red cape billowed out as he landed from a branch, his movement silent, calculated. Always theatrical. Always precise.

His boots didn’t make a sound on the moss-covered ground. His glowing crimson eyes locked onto mine, unreadable. There was something timeless about him—like the City had carved him from its sorrow and gave him back to me.

He didn’t speak again. Just walked toward me, eyes like knives. He hadn’t changed since the last time I saw him—Marlene’s birthday. Back then, he had stood in a corner, listening. Watching. Saying nothing.

Here, though… here he looked like he belonged.

And maybe I didn’t.

“You finally came.”

Vincent’s voice broke through the silence like a blade through water. I blinked, drawn out of whatever daze the lake had pulled me into.

“Aerith told me you were coming.”

“You come here often?” I asked instead, my voice flatter than I intended.

He only nodded, slow, solemn. Then he tilted his head toward the lake, his gaze never leaving the surface.

“Her spirit might not be here today,” he said, “but she is here. Waiting.”

I didn’t like that.

Didn’t like the idea of her waiting. Of me being late.

I didn’t answer. Just walked forward, clutching the bouquet of yellow flowers tighter than I should have. My boots sunk into the damp earth, the scent of moss and water heavy around me. I felt something—like the pull of a memory—tugging at my chest, dragging me toward the lake.

I didn’t want to think about her.
Not now.
Not here.

But this was her place. The last place she stood, the last time she smiled. Where everything fell apart, precisely.

Where I failed.

Why couldn’t I just be happy?

Aerith didn’t show up. Not this time. Not even as a whisper in the trees. And it felt like something inside me had been torn out, something I didn’t know how to replace. I stood at the edge of the water, staring at the surface.
Waiting.
Wishing.

Maybe she'd rise from beneath it. Tell me it was all right. That she forgave me. That she wasn’t angry.

I wanted to believe she was still out there, a part of the team, still walking ahead of us toward the next destination, calling out monsters, laughing. I wanted to believe it was all just a dream.

But it wasn’t.
It never was.

And I was tired of it.

My whole life…
It’s just been made of lies.

And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to doubt myself over again.

Chapter Text

Cloud was acting strange.
More than usual.

He wouldn’t let me near him, wouldn’t hand me his clothes like he always did—like suddenly, he wanted to take care of the laundry himself. Cloud, who didn’t even know how to use the washing machine properly. I had to show him the first time, standing beside him as he stared at the buttons like they were materia he’d never seen before.
And yet… he kept forgetting things. Small things. Silly things. Stuff he never used to miss.

It was starting to worry me.

He looked tired. Not just from lack of sleep, but something deeper, heavier. The kind of tired that doesn’t go away with rest. He was sleeping in the office again. Sometimes, on the rare nights he came into our room, I’d wake to find him sitting beside the bed, just watching me. As if something was going to happen. As if I’d disappear the moment he looked away.

We’ve been living separately, in a way. I don’t even know if that’s the right word—separately. But something between us had changed. The warmth that used to flicker between our glances… that spark… it was gone. All that remained was cold ash, and silence we didn’t know how to fill.

We still tried to act normal for the kids. Play the part.
But when night came, we argued.
Soft at first, but it always built up—anger, resentment, pain.
And Cloud… he drank.

A lot.

Barret wouldn’t even touch that much liquor, and he bragged about his tolerance like it was a sport. But Cloud didn’t drink to feel good. He drank to feel nothing. He locked himself in the office with all the Corel wines he used to hate. Said it tasted like rust, but kept reaching for the bottle anyway.

I didn’t know what was wrong with him. Or maybe… I did.
Maybe I just didn’t want to face it.
Didn’t want to open my door, the one I’d locked up tight for years.
I couldn’t. Not with the kids here. Not now.

So, I did what I had to do.
Held things together, ignored the things that hurt, and kept my eyes forward.

But deep down, I knew.
Something was coming.
I could feel it.
And I was already bracing myself for the impact.

“Tifa!”

I knew that scream.

Without hesitation, I dropped the glass I was wiping and rushed out from behind the bar, ignoring the half-dozen eyes that followed me. There were still customers seated, but they didn’t matter right now. Lately, they’d been coming less and less anyway… and I knew why. I just didn’t want to face it.

I flew up the stairs two steps at a time, my heart pounding like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest. I pushed open the door to the kids' room, breath caught in my throat.

Marlene was kneeling on the floor, holding a plastic bucket in front of Denzel, her little arms straining to keep it still while he threw up everything he had eaten that morning. It was awful. Violent. His entire body shook with the effort.

The smell hit me next, sharp and sour, curling into my nose and burning my eyes.

He looked worse than ever.

Denzel had barely moved from bed the last two days. He only got up to use the bathroom, and even that was a struggle. Today, he hadn’t even made it.

“I need Cloud,” I whispered to myself, the words catching like splinters in my throat.

He would know what to do. He always did in situations like this. Denzel trusted him, looked up to him in a way that was hard to explain. He was his hero. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous sometimes… but I understood. Boys stuck together, didn’t they?

But Cloud was gone. Off somewhere on one of his long-distance deliveries. He hadn’t even called.

“It’s black,” Marlene whispered, her voice trembling as she stared at the dark stains around Denzel’s lips.

I shut my eyes for a second, swallowing hard. The weight of it all pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. I wanted to fall apart. Just for a second.
But I couldn’t.
Not now.
Not with the kids like this. Not with him gone.

“I’m sorry,” Denzel mumbled, his voice hoarse, barely above a breath.

His face was pale, his body so thin it almost scared me to look at him. But it was his eyes that hit me hardest—those wide, tired blue eyes, filled with guilt. Like he thought this was his fault.

My heart clenched.

“Don’t be,” I said softly, kneeling beside him and gently taking the bucket from Marlene’s hands. “Do you think you can make it to the bathroom, or do you need help?”

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered. But he didn’t sound fine.

“Marlene, can you stay with him while I change the sheets?”

She nodded, quiet and calm. Always calm when I needed her most.

She was only five, but sometimes I swore she carried more maturity than I did.
And maybe that’s what hurt most.
That she was learning how to take care of things because I couldn’t always be there. Because we were both pretending everything was okay when none of it was.

She helped Denzel to the bathroom, slow and unsteady with every step. I followed close, afraid he might throw up again. But he fought it—his throat moved like he was forcing it down, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Brave, even now.

I tightened my grip on the bucket and headed to the kitchen, the smell clinging stubbornly to it. My face twisted in disgust as I dumped the contents into the sink, flipping the tap on and scrubbing it down with one hand, holding my breath with the other. It was no use—the stench lingered. And worse, the judgmental silence from the bar crawled in through the open doorway. I didn’t have to look up to know they were watching me, the few remaining customers. Like I was the reason this place felt sick.

Maybe I was.

I thought about closing again, just for the rest of the day. But I couldn’t afford it. I had closed too often lately, and every time I reopened, fewer people came back. Word spread fast in a town like this. The bar was starting to slip through my fingers, just like everything else.

It had been this way since we came back from Costa del Sol. Since Cloud stopped… living here.

I returned upstairs and stripped Denzel’s sheets. They weren’t stained, but I changed them anyway. He needed something fresh. Something clean. Something that didn’t smell like sickness or sweat—something that could comfort him, even if I couldn’t.

When Marlene came back with him, he looked a little better. His steps were slower, his body smaller somehow, but there was colour in his cheeks again. I’d just finished making his bed, fluffed the pillow and everything, so he could crawl right in. I helped him lie down gently and handed him a spoon of syrup, the one the WRO sent out to stop the progression of Geostigma.

Cloud said it didn’t work. That it was nothing more than a temporary fix. But I gave it to Denzel anyway.

I had to try something.

“Is Cloud coming home?”

His voice was soft, almost unsure. But there was hope in it—fragile, glimmering hope that broke something inside me.

I froze for a second, unsure what to say.

He was watching me too closely. Like my answer mattered more than the medicine. Like he needed to believe in Cloud to keep going.

So I smiled, tucking the blanket up to his chin.

“He’ll be back any time now,” I said gently. “He’s still out there, searching for a cure.”

It was the same line I’d told him before, but this time… this time I think he saw through it. Maybe he saw it in my eyes—that even I didn’t believe it anymore.

Cloud had been gone for weeks.

“Marlene,” I said quietly, needing to escape the weight in that room. “Let’s go clean the office. I think it needs it.”

I turned back to Denzel, forcing another small smile. “Call me if you need anything, alright?”

He nodded, but the sadness didn’t leave his face.

Because Cloud wasn’t here.
And heroes weren’t supposed to vanish.

We cleaned the office. It was a complete mess—bottles scattered across the table, more littering the floor near the couch Cloud had been sleeping on lately. Marlene didn’t say a word, but I could tell she was just as worried as I was. She was old enough now to notice the signs, to feel the shift in the air.

Cloud never kept his space as tidy as I did, but he used to try. He’d at least make the effort to straighten the bed, crack the window open for fresh air. Now, it all felt neglected. Materia were left lying around in clusters—on the floor, in corners, on the desk—and I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d been doing with them. I gathered them carefully and returned them to their boxes.

Marlene took out the trash, silent and focused. I stayed behind, sorting through the scattered papers on his desk. Dust clung to everything now, coating the room like a layer of time we’d all stopped noticing.

Then, as I grabbed a few loose sheets, a note slipped from my fingers and fluttered to the floor. I froze.

My eyes locked on the name written across it:
Elmyra Gainsborough.

My chest tightened, breath caught somewhere deep. For a moment, the world around me fell completely silent. I didn’t need to read more. I suddenly understood where Cloud had gone—why he hadn’t called, why he kept disappearing.

I never should’ve given him that note. He wasn’t ready. He’d been holding it all back for so long, grieving too late—grieving in secret. He’d buried it all inside so that I could be the one to fall apart first.

“Tifa?”

Marlene’s voice broke the stillness. I startled as she returned, dragging the trash bin behind her.

“Is Denzel okay?” I asked, too quickly, my nerves starting to crawl under my skin.

“He’s alright… but are you?”

“Of course, I am.”

A lie.

She didn’t press. Just turned back to the room and continued cleaning, carefully picking through Cloud’s things.

I stared at the paper in my hand a second longer before quietly folding it and tucking it back into the pile.
Not now.
Some things… were better left alone. For now.

****

Tonight, I felt it—someone watching me.
Even before I opened my eyes, I knew who it was.

I sat up in bed, and there he was across the room, sitting silently in the dark, watching.
Cloud.

He looked more worn down than ever. The glow in his eyes was too sharp, too bright—it didn’t belong.
He was drunk.

“Cloud?” I called softly, afraid that if I spoke too loud, he might vanish. That maybe this wasn’t real. That maybe it was another nightmare.

“Did I ever tell you where I found Denzel?” he asked, voice rough, like it hadn’t been used in days.

My chest tightened.
Soldier’s cells degrade…I think…that’s what happening to me, that I’m falling apart, bit by bit.

I didn’t want to believe it.

I wanted to believe he was still strong, still the man I saw in dreams, the one who came home. But I knew better. He was hurting again. Everything was catching up to him, just like before. He couldn’t move on without a reason, and right now, he didn’t seem to have one.

I didn’t answer. I just stared, my eyes stinging. The weight of it all—days, weeks, months of silence and strain—it was too much.

“I think you already know,” Cloud said, not waiting for a reply. “Aerith gave Denzel to us. I can feel it.”

Of course I knew. I always knew.
But I wasn’t sure if that truth brought us closer… or pulled us further apart.

“Cloud… tell me what’s wrong,” I said, though I already knew he wouldn’t.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

He let out a faint chuckle. It was hollow. Tired.
He was still carrying all that pain.

“Just… tell me everything’s going to be okay,” I whispered, even if it was a lie.

He looked at me. Didn’t speak at first. I couldn’t tell if he was thinking… or just lost.
I needed him to say something—anything—that might keep me from sinking with him.

“Everything is going to be fine,” he said at last, his voice steadier.

I blinked. Just hearing it helped. Just a little.
I could breathe again.

“Sleep with me.”

Something flickered in his gaze—a spark, ancient and dangerous, a fire that had never gone out.
My heart raced in my chest like a trapped bird.
He didn’t respond with words. Just stood, slowly moving toward the bed.

I backed up slightly. There was something in his eyes that unsettled me—not threatening, just… empty. Like something had hollowed him out from the inside.

He reached out, brushing his fingers through my hair, coaxing me gently to lie back.
I held my breath, unsure what he meant to do—unsure of myself—but willing to take whatever this was, if it meant keeping him here a little longer.

His face hovered close, blue eyes fixed on me. Then, he pressed his lips to my hair. Softly. So lightly it felt like air. Like he wasn’t even sure it had happened.
Then he pulled away, as if realizing what he’d just done.

“I’ll be around,” he said.

But we both knew he was lying.

****

It had to be a goodbye kiss.
One of those you give when you’re about to disappear for a long time—like the kind of hug Marlene gave her father the day he left the house.
It was the same. I felt it in my chest. I just knew.

I saw Cloud leave that night. I didn’t sleep—I couldn’t.
I had my reasons.

From the hallway window, I watched him slowly close the door behind him, locking it gently, like he didn’t want me to know it had been unlocked.
I saw him mount his bike. He didn’t look back.

He left.

I could’ve chased after him. Said something.
Kissed him.
Pulled him close and begged him to stay. It was our pattern—we always reached for each other like that when we didn’t know what else to say.

But this time… I just watched him go.
My eyes filled with tears I couldn’t stop. I didn’t even make it back to bed. I curled up on the floor with a blanket, under that same window, and fell asleep against the wall.

That was it.
Cloud was gone.
Like we had never meant anything to each other. Like we were strangers all along.
No connection. No bond. Nothing.

It hurt.
It took everything in me to stand up before the kids woke.
I didn’t want them to know. Didn’t want them to worry.
Because the truth was—I didn’t have a fucking clue what to do now.

I wanted to scream. Punch through the walls. Cry until there was nothing left inside.
Cloud didn’t deserve any of this. He needed help, and I’d been too blind, too selfish to see it.
Because I didn’t want to feel pain anymore. I thought it was my turn to heal, to move on, to start a new life.
I told myself I didn’t care. Not about him. Not about how he felt.

But the truth hit hard. Like a slap. A weight that settled in my chest and wouldn’t let up.

I’d already called him thirteen times.
Voicemail.

I begged him to come back. To talk to me.
We could’ve explained everything, worked through it.

I tried the night before—but he was still angry. Still hurt from what I said.
From when I told him none of it was real. Like I’d spit in his face.
And now he was gone.

But I couldn’t break.
Not now.

Denzel was sick. Worse than ever. I didn’t know what stage he was in anymore, but… it was close.
Too close.
Cloud had gone looking for a cure, but he wouldn’t admit the truth. That there wasn’t one.
Because the truth was cruel:
We’re all bound to die.

This was the end.
The end of our happiness.
The end of everything.

I saw the last customer out of the bar, offering a small smile before closing the door behind them. The soft click echoed louder than I expected. I turned back toward the galley to clean up, my steps quiet in the dim light.

The room was barely lit—just enough to see, but not enough to feel warm. I stood there alone in the gloom. Just a few days ago, this kind of work would’ve felt simple, even comforting. I used to hum while scrubbing the glasses, keeping one ear open for the kids or Cloud. But now... the water felt colder than usual, and no matter how much I scrubbed, the dishes never seemed to come clean.

I reached over and flicked on all the bar lights, hoping it might change the mood, make things feel normal again. For a second, the room brightened, and I almost believed it would help—but then the lights flickered and dimmed again, the power too unstable to hold.

A chill crept into me. I couldn’t shake the feeling. I couldn’t ignore it, this guilt, it was coming back now, and I didn’t know if I could hold long enough before I shatter completely too.

Why Cloud?

The silence didn’t answer. It pressed down harder.

I broke.

“Marlene!” I called out, the panic raw in my voice.

Her footsteps came quickly, and when she appeared, she frowned. “Is everything alright?”

“Is Denzel still sleeping?” I asked, trying to sound casual, normal. I wasn’t sure it worked.

“He is… yeah.”

“You should go too.”

“I am.”

“Sorry,” I muttered without thinking.

“Why are you apologizing?” she asked, tilting her head. Too wise. She was always too wise. Like she could see through me, see the exact place where I was unravelling.

I swallowed hard and tried to smile. “I’m just tired. I’ll check on Denzel one last time.”

She nodded, but didn’t move.

“When is Cloud coming back?” she asked softly.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to lie down and never get up again.

“He still has work to do,” I said, barely able to push the words out.

She was thinking. I could see it. She felt the shift, even if she couldn’t name it yet. I wondered if she would call Barret, or if I could buy her silence with that stupid oversized chocobo plushie she kept asking about.

Cloud’s last smile flashed in my mind—my birthday, him chasing me through the bar with a box of Frosties, laughing like a kid again. I hadn’t laughed so hard in years. I remembered the warmth, the sound of his voice, the way he had been there, fully there.

But now… now I didn’t know if it had been real. Maybe I’d imagined it. Maybe it was just one more illusion I forced myself to believe. Like the home we tried to build under the Highwind’s shadow. Like the bar, this safe place we made out of ashes. Like the family we swore we were.

I stood there, hands wet, eyes stinging.

Maybe it was all my fault.

Maybe I was the one who broke us, slowly, without realizing. Because I didn’t want to see the truth. I was too afraid to face what Cloud was going through, too afraid to admit how much he was slipping away from me.

Too afraid to admit he already had.

And now... it was too late.

I turned the faucet off.

And in the silence, I stayed.

And on that somber note, this marks the end of the story.

But fear not—I’ve already written the first draft of the second part. I’ll be revising it now, since I originally created it before writing this one. Reworking it feels necessary to ensure everything aligns better within the timeline.

I want to emphasize that Cloud isn’t the only one struggling with his mistakes and inner conflicts. Tifa carries her own burdens too—layers of pain she’s learned to hide as a way of protecting herself. One thing I never appreciated in On the Way to a Smile and Advent Children was how easily people took her for granted, even though she was suffering in her own way. She stood by Cloud through everything, and I felt it was important to finally place her in the spotlight. That’s also part of the reason I drew from the book’s explanation of why they had been drifting apart in recent months.

I didn’t want to expand too much on things we already know about Cloud or rehash events we’ve already seen. So, the next part will jump forward—picking up right after the church scene. I’ll maintain the same narrative approach, switching perspectives between characters, though the focus will remain on Cloud and Tifa.

To be continued…