This story takes place after the end of the game, but before the beginning of Advent Children.

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII, Advent Children, and all characters, places, etc. mentioned hereafter are property of Square, all rights reserved. The author of this work is in no way affiliated with the afformentioned party, or any legal proceedings concering Final Fantasy VII and the like. This story has been written purely out of enjoyment, without intending to profit, offend, or steal ideas. Any similarities between this work and that of any other fan author is purely coincidental.

O

By The Last Princess of Hyrule

O

-click- "Hey, Cloud, it's Tifa. What have you been up to? I've just been thinking about you since, you know, you just disappeared after that last battle with Sephiroth. Where'd you go? Well, the rest of us are on vacation here in Costa del Sol, so come join us as soon as you get this message, okay?" -click-

-click- "Hey, Cloud, it's me again. I'm in Wutai with Yuffie trying to figure out what I'm going to do now. No one's heard from you in a month. What's going on? I'm starting to get worried. Anyways, I thought I'd go to Nibelheim next week to see if that's where you've been hiding out. Give me a call." -click-

-click- "Hey, it's me. I'm here in Nibelheim, but I haven't seen you. Nobody's seen you for ages. Where are you? If this is some big joke, it isn't funny anymore. I'm really worried about you! Why don't you call me?" -click-

-click- "I've decided to move back to Midgar. I can't get used to living anywhere else. Have you been there all this time? Why don't you ever call me back? Are you all right? What's going on?" -click-

-click- "It's been almost four months. Why don't you call me?" -click-

-click- "Cloud, where are you?" -click-

O

Cloud Strife awoke one gray morning in the Slums of Midgar to the loud rumbling of his cell phone as it vibrated its way across the wooden pew where he left it the previous night. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out why the damn thing was on in the first place. He could have sworn he turned it off before he went to sleep.

He sat up and grabbed it before it rumbled off the pew and onto the hardwood floor near where he had been sleeping. It went still. Cloud stretched his arms above his head with another yawn. The sun hadn't yet risen high enough in the sky for its light to shine through the massive hole in the church ceiling, meaning he still had a little time to sleep. The phone suddenly vibrated again, announcing the arrival of new voicemail. Cloud flipped it open and played back the message.

"Hey, Cloud, it's Yuffie! What are you doing! Why don't you pick up?"

Cloud winced at the indignant voice and held the phone away from his ear. Even in the early morning, Yuffie Kisaragi was as loud and demanding as ever, making Cloud wonder if ninjas ever needed to sleep. It would explain why she didn't seem to understand that she stood little chance of Cloud answering his cell phone at the crack of dawn.

Yuffie swore at the message after waiting a second to see if Cloud would answer. "Look, you promised me some materia after we beat Sephiroth, and it's been four months since then. You better not have forgotten about that! Call me back and tell me where you are so I can come collect. And start answering your phone, geez! Your stupid voicemail message is getting annoying!" And with that, she abruptly hung up.

Cloud scowled at the phone. If she didn't want to listen to it, she didn't have to call him so often.

Making certain it was turned off, Cloud placed the phone back on the pew and laid down again. His bed was poorly padded and in direct line with the rising sun, but he covered his eyes with one arm and tried to ignore it. Maybe the reason he wasn't sleeping so well lately was that hard floor, but he wasn't inclined to move anywhere else. Aerith Gainsborough's rundown church had become home.

It seemed like only a minute had passed when he heard the groan of the front doors opening. He lay still. It was probably just some bum looking for a place to stay out of the chill morning air. Light footsteps made their way toward him, hesitating on creaky boards with a gasp, but steadily coming closer. Cloud moved his arm and cracked one eye open to get a better look. Of all the people on the Planet that could have walked into the church at that moment, it turned out to be Tifa Lockheart, come looking for Cloud.

As she came to the first row of pews, Cloud covered his eyes again, pretending to be asleep. He heard her gasp, and knew she'd seen him. He stirred, seeming to wake. She mumbled something inaudible under her breath and he heard her take a few slow steps toward him. Dreaded confrontation drew near, burning, he knew, with the questions from her messages he hadn't even wanted to answer over the phone. He moved his arm, knowing he'd have to tell her why he abandoned her, but not even sure of the answer himself. He waited for that question . . .

"What are you doing sleeping on the floor?"

Cloud opened his eyes and found himself staring up at Tifa's sun-framed silhouette as she bent over him. She leaned down with her hands supported against her knees, smiling. Cloud's eyebrows knit together in concern, wondering why she wasn't more surprised to see him, and why, of all things to ask, she posed such a superficial question.

"You know you're going to get sick when the ground gets cold," Tifa went on, shivering in her tank top for effect. "I'm surprised you're not sick now."

Suddenly alert, Cloud grabbed at his blanket to make sure it was still covering his left arm. It was. He shook his head and looked up at her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, still wondering why that hadn't been the first question Tifa asked.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," she replied, straightening. Tifa moved out of the sun so that Cloud could see her clearly. She looked momentarily worried, but quickly disguised it with a smile. She was hiding something. "Well, I haven't seen you since the last battle. What was that, like four months ago?" She waved it off casually.

"Yeah." Cloud sat up, making sure to pull the blanket around his shoulders to hide his arm. "But how did you know I was here?"

"Well, you weren't anywhere else on the Planet," Tifa said with a laugh. She shrugged. "Actually, I just had a hunch." She sat down on the pew near his bed, where the now-quiet cell phone rested. "It's been a really long time," she went on, her eyes on the phone. "What are you doing these days?"

Cloud shook his head. "Nothing. I don't have a job."

"Well, join the crowd," Tifa replied, looking up. She gave a weak smile, one hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've been looking to reopen my bar somewhere, but I haven't had much luck. So if you find someone who's hiring, let me know."

Cloud nodded. "Could you . . . turn around so I can get dressed?" he asked, motioning with one hand.

"Oh, yeah." Tifa jumped to her feet, trying to hide her blush with one hand. "Sorry." She turned and strode to the other side of the church, clasping her hands behind her with her back to Cloud. "So, if you're not doing anything today," she started, staring up at the sun through the hole in the ceiling, "do you want to have breakfast with me? It's been so long since we've seen each other. We have a lot of catching up to do."

Cloud pulled a nearby shirt over his head and grabbed the jacket next to it, drawing it up over his shoulders quickly. Even if Tifa turned around at that moment, she probably wouldn't notice the discoloration on his arm before it was covered—a small, dark patch on his skin that almost resembled a tiny constellation of stars. He wasn't sure what it was or where it had come from; only that it appeared about two months ago as just a freckle, and slowly grew into the shape it was now. Occasionally, it throbbed, but as little more than a reminder of its presence, and not painful. Nevertheless Cloud knew Tifa would make a big deal out of the mark if she saw it, and he didn't want to burden her with an unnecessary worry.

"Sure," he said, standing. "I guess."

Tifa turned around and smiled at him. "Well, then let's get going." She spun on one heel and headed for the front doors, leaving Cloud to pick up his phone and follow behind. How can she be so genuinely happy to see me? He wondered as he walked out after her, shoving the phone in his pocket. Here he had blown her off for months, ignored her calls and never tried to contact her, and she still hadn't said a word about it. She just seemed happy to be with him.

His mind wandered to a memory of Yuffie from a few weeks after they met. She had sat next to him by the fire one night and whispered that she knew a secret—Tifa had a crush on him. Caught completely unaware, Cloud denied it openly. There was no way that a girl like Tifa could be in love with him. Someone so cheerful and optimistic would only grow frustrating with his constant pessimism. Yuffie ignored him and proceeded to tell the rest of the party, including Aerith, whom he felt the same way about at the time. Yuffie giggled for the next week straight every time she looked at him, and Cloud hurriedly put the crush out of mind as they continued their journey.

As Cloud stepped outside, Tifa stood on the stairs of the broken-down church looking up at the sky through one of the big holes in the Plate above. As she saw him, she put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side expectantly. "A little slow today?" she asked.

Cloud said nothing and followed as Tifa led him through the crowded streets, walking out of the sunlight and under the shadow cast by the remains of the Sector 5 Plate. The damage done to the upper level Plates by Meteor was the only blessing to the Slums with the fall of ShinRa. Since Meteor, the Slums had become even more populous and filthy, and no one was taking action to clean them up. People worried about the structural soundness of the Plates, and prayed they wouldn't crash down on those below, but few bothered to move away. Everyone went about their business. Nothing had changed in Midgar. And yet, no one seemed to mind this when they walked through a patch of sunlight and could look up through a hole in the Plate to see the sky. Even after living in Midgar so long—

"—it's hard to believe there are actually people here who went months without seeing the sun at all," Tifa finished. She looked back at Cloud and caught the astonished look on his face. "What?"

"I was just thinking that same thing," said Cloud.

"Really?" Tifa laughed. "Wow, that's weird!" she exclaimed. "It's like we're in tune with each other's thoughts or something."

Cloud nodded and forced himself to look pleased, though he didn't find it as funny as Tifa did. They made their way down the street in silence, weaving between tarpaper shacks and trying to ignore piles of waste. This street in Sector 5 was one of the few away from the city center that had been mostly cleared of rubble fallen from the Plate above.

Suddenly, about two blocks from the church, the first bands of a melancholy tune belted out of nowhere. Cloud recognized the synthesized score as Tifa reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. It was a piece he remembered her struggling over for months with her piano tutor when they were children. He remembered the way Nibelheim would go quiet in the summer when she practiced with her window open for an hour. People held their collective breath, listening for what eventually became known as Tifa's theme song to issue forth without flaws, and then sighing as a sour note broke the spell.

Tifa snapped her cell phone closed and in turn snapped Cloud out of his reverie. "That was Cid," she said without bothering to ask if he wanted to know or not. "He's on his way to Kalm and he wants to know if we know any good pilots or technicians that could help him build his new airship." She gave Cloud a helpless look. "I told him I didn't know any. Have you gotten his message yet?"

As if on cue, Cloud felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He made no move to answer it. "Yeah," he replied.

Tifa waited a moment, obviously expecting that he had more to add, but in the enduring silence, turned and continued down the sidewalk. Cloud was left to follow, wondering just where she was leading him.

O

Just under half an hour later, they sat at a small table tucked away in the corner of a bustling diner ten blocks from the church. Almost every table inside was full, along with the counter and several chairs in the waiting area. Half a dozen waitresses scurried around the diner with two pots of coffee in one hand and a tray of breakfasts balanced on the other. Cloud couldn't seem to figure out why Tifa brought him to this place of all the places they could have gone. The atmosphere and the crowd didn't bother him as much as he'd expected they would, but why come to have a casual conversation in a place where they couldn't hear each other speak?

Tifa seemed to have no inclination to explain, and just as Cloud was about to ask, she pulled something out of her pocket that drowned out all the noise around him, thrusting it into his face. It was Aerith's pink ribbon—the one she'd worn in a bow on the top of her head; the one she once tied to Cloud's wrist in battle, calling it her "lady's favor;" the one he'd assumed had disappeared when she died. Tifa looked Cloud straight in the eye and held it out to him.

"I've been holding onto this since the day she died," Tifa said without explaining who she was talking about, setting the ribbon between them on the table. She knew Cloud recognized it. "I know it wasn't right of me to keep it from you, and I'm sorry. I'm not even entirely sure why I kept it." Tifa looked away toward the inside of the diner. "Well, actually, I do. Kind of. I mean, I kept it—at first because I didn't want to forget about her."

Cloud opened his mouth, but Tifa cut him off.

"After that, I figured I should give it back to you because . . ." she trailed off and tried a new thread. "Well, I kind of just forgot about it after awhile, with all the stuff that happened and everything." Tifa's cheeks filled with pink and her eyes followed a brown-haired boy as he struggled to climb into a seat at the counter.

In the tense silence, a waitress dropped two cups at their table and filled them with coffee as she breathlessly asked for their order. Cloud hadn't even opened his menu, but before he could flip through it, Tifa pulled it out of his hands and ordered for them both.

"Sorry," she apologized when the waitress was gone. "I just didn't think she had time to wait for you to decide."

"I didn't see you open a menu," Cloud pointed out.

Tifa smiled. "Yeah, but I come here all the time, so I know what's good." She laughed when Cloud raised an eyebrow, and insisted, "Trust me."

The next silence was much more relaxed than the first, and Cloud looked around again, further examining his new surroundings. Tifa clutched her cup of coffee in two hands, blowing away the steam and taking timid sips. Each time he glanced back at her to see what she was doing, her eyes caught and held his, as if trying to look into his thoughts. Each time he looked at her, her expression grew a little more solemn until she'd gone all the way from a gentle smile to a concerned frown.

"What?" Cloud asked when he noticed this.

Tifa shook her head, setting her cup down and rubbing her temples. "I've had a lot on my mind lately. I've been staying with Barret and Marlene until I can find my own place, and even though they say it's not any trouble, I know they can't afford to put me up much longer. I still don't have a job either, and I don't want to live on charity forever. I—" Suddenly, she stopped herself and smiled. "Sorry, I don't mean to go on about myself like this," she apologized again.

"It's all right," Cloud assured her. "It's been a long time since we've seen each other."

"That's for sure," Tifa agreed. "So, have you been here in Midgar all this time?" she asked, changing the focus from herself to Cloud.

"Yeah."

"Doing what?"

"This and that," he replied vaguely. Hadn't they been over this when she found him in the church? "Why?"

"You've been here for four months—how have you been getting by without a job or a place to live?"

"What's wrong with where I live?"

"It's old, broken down, drafty." Tifa ticked off the negatives on her fingers. "It doesn't even have all four walls or a ceiling. It's going to be really cold there when winter comes. The Slums may not get snow, but it still freezes."

"I'll be fine."

"If you really want to be around things Aerith loved, why don't you go live with her mother next to that giant flower garden?" Tifa blurted out. As soon as the words were out, she clapped her hands over her mouth with a stifled gasp, brown eyes wide with shock. "Oh my God, I didn't mean it like that," she insisted, her words muffled by her hands. "I wasn't trying to be rude, I swear. It just—came out."

Cloud turned away without saying anything. Tifa didn't know better—he didn't have the right to be angry at her. But she just didn't understand. He'd thought about visiting Aerith's foster mother many times, but the meeting never played out well in his mind. If she saw him coming back to her house alone—the man she thought would protect her daughter—she would know immediately that Aerith was dead. Cloud couldn't find it in himself to burden her with that grief. It was better to let her believe whatever she wanted, especially if that was that Aerith was living happily somewhere far away.

As Cloud watched the other customers in the café, the waitress suddenly appeared next to the table, slid two plates in front of them, and rushed off. Both were heaped with steaming white and yellow eggs, brown sausage, and four pieces of toast sliced diagonally and slathered with melted butter. Cloud felt his stomach rumble at the sight of it. He'd been eating cold, non-perishable food for far too long. He looked up at Tifa and saw her biting her lip, watching him with an expression somewhere between concern and frustration. He started in on his eggs while she was still deciding what to say.

"Why are you like this?" Tifa asked, as if unable to fathom Cloud's logic concerning Aerith. "Why are you always dwelling on the past? The world is going on without you, and you don't even seem to care." She blinked her eyes several time, as if to bat away tears. "I know you really miss Aerith. You—loved her, didn't you?" Tifa choked on the word 'loved,' but kept talking. "Well, I miss her, too. We all do—she was a good friend—but eventually, you have to let her go. Don't forget about her, but don't forget the people you still have, either. Just stop clinging to her memory like it's the only thing left in your life." Tifa looked down at her hands, turning the cup of coffee between them on the table. Her voice softened and became uncharacteristically meek. "I mean, do you still care about all of us? About me? Do you ignore me on purpose every time I call? Or are you only there for me when I'm in trouble, just to keep your promise?" She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and picked up a piece of toast.

"That's . . . not true," said Cloud, struggling to take it all in. He dropped his fork on the side of the plate. He wasn't even sure which part he was denying—that he was ignoring Tifa, that he was clinging to Aerith, that he actually loved Aerith, or that he didn't love Tifa. Love Tifa? Where had that come from? "I haven't forgotten about you," Cloud protested. That he knew for sure. He shook the other thoughts from his mind.

"Then why don't you ever call me anymore?" Tifa asked, her voice rising.

"I've been busy," he dodged.

She nibbled her toast. "Doing what? You said you don't have a job."

"That doesn't mean I'm just sitting around doing nothing," he snapped. "I get busy."

"But enough not to answer your phone for four months?" Tifa countered. "No one is that busy." She sighed and finished off the toast. "Sorry." This time, the apology sounded forced, as if she thought Cloud should be the one apologizing for the outburst and the argument. "Thanks for coming to eat with me even though you're busy."

"Sure." Cloud looked down at his plate and picked up his fork to continue eating. The half-finished eggs had started to get cold.

There was a moment of tense silence before Tifa spoke again. This time, her words were sincere. "Cloud, I'm worried that we're growing apart."

"What makes you say that?" he asked, admittedly only half-interested. Now she was being over-dramatic.

"Well, we never see each other, for one thing," she pointed out, stating the obvious. "But you don't seem to want to talk to me anymore, anyway. I've been doing all the talking while you just sit there and listen. I feel like you're waiting for a chance to get away."

Cloud took another bite, chewed over his thoughts, then swallowed. "It's just strange seeing you after all this time."

"And whose fault is that? I've been back in Midgar for almost three months, called you nearly every single day, and I've only seen you this once." Tifa shook her fork in Cloud's direction to emphasize her point. "The phone rings both ways, you know."

Cloud said nothing, merely looked down at his food and continued eating. He didn't want to be forced to admit that she was right.

Tifa stabbed a piece of sausage and put it in her mouth, hurriedly chewing and choking it down so she could continue. "If you'd just get out of that church once in awhile, we'd probably bump into each other on the street, at least."

Now she'd gone too far. Immediately, Cloud pushed back his chair and got to his feet. He had no reason to stay and take this.

"Cloud, I—" Tifa started to rise, but Cloud interrupted.

"Look, I really should be leaving," he explained, even though they both knew it was a lie. "I have other things I need to do today."

As Cloud spoke, Tifa sank back into her chair. "Oh yeah, of course. How selfish of me to keep distracting you like this." She gave him a very wide, very forced smile. "I guess I'll see you later, then. Give me a call when you have a chance."

Cloud nodded. "Sure." Rummaging around in his pocket, he pulled out a few gil to cover his meal and dropped them near Aerith's ribbon. Then, even though he knew Tifa was watching and it would prove that she was right, he picked up the ribbon and tucked it in his pocket. "See you." He turned and wound his way through the crowded café and out the door.

O

Outside, Cloud leaned over with his hands against his knees and groaned, expelling a deep sigh. His muscles were tense and his teeth gritted together, anger and frustration coursing through his body. Sometimes, Tifa just couldn't figure out when enough was enough. She just kept talking even though she knew the topic was bothering the person she was talking to. Cloud straightened and tilted his head back, taking a slow breath, but still clenching his hands at his sides. And who was she to preach about letting things go when she wouldn't let the subject drop?

Cloud looked to the right and thought about going back to the church, but found himself instead headed deeper into the city, toward a train station nearby that ran up onto the Sector 5 Plate. The station was only a short distance away, so he set off at a brisk pace. The autumn air had grown colder since he'd been inside, the wind now snarling and biting at his exposed skin. Scowling, he rubbed his hands up and down his arms where the cold had seeped in through the collar of his shirt. It seemed like the Planet was scolding him for something he'd done (or didn't do—he wasn't sure which). If he turned back to the café, and the wind would be with him, but Cloud struggled against it anyway, stubborn and certain of his own conviction. Still fighting—and sometimes it seemed like he was always fighting—to reach the surface and see the full sky above the city of steel, even though there were doors all around him on the ground that led outside the walls.

As he walked, Cloud played over his parting with Tifa in his mind and felt a sudden belated rush of shame. Why—why—why? The word echoed in his mind with each footfall on the cracked pavement. Why did he get so defensive when she was only telling him how she felt? Tifa had said all those things in the café because she assumed she could, assumed Cloud wouldn't fly off the handle at such petty criticism. She had said them because she cared about him. Why hadn't he seen this a few minutes ago, when he could stop himself from lashing out at her? It was entirely his fault that they never saw each other anymore. He couldn't blame her for being mad at him after four months without so much as a returned call when she were trying so hard to reach him.

Cloud's phone vibrated in his pocket as he entered the station and stood in line for a ticket. It was Tifa; he didn't even have to check to know. He let her go to voicemail, as usual, and reached into his other pocket for a few more gil to pay for the ticket. Once out on the loading zone, back in the chill wind, he pulled out the phone and played back her message.

Cloud . . . pick up," she begged, pausing for a moment to wait. "I know you know it's me. I wish you'd talk to me, though I guess I can't say I blame you for ignoring me." Her voice filled with regret, and she sighed. "I shouldn't have questioned how you live, and I . . . I shouldn't have brought up Aerith. I know how much she meant—means—to you, and I shouldn't have expected you to be . . . but you know my mouth runs away with me sometimes, and I . . ." Tifa sighed, cutting herself off before she could go any further. "Listen to me; I can't even apologize without being a jerk, can I?" She gave a weak laugh. "I just wanted you to know that I miss her too, but I don't want you to, in missing her . . . forget about me." Tifa took a shaky breath, swallowed, and went on. Cloud couldn't understand why she was getting so nervous. "Because I really care about you too and I don't want you to forget that—that I'm still here. And . . . I'm just upset that I never get to see you. So, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry and I hope you'll call me back soon." There was a pause and her voice drifted away. "Oh, this is the place," she mumbled. "Anyway, I have to go. Call me back, please. You know I always pick up. Bye." And she hurriedly hung up.

A whistle and screech of brakes announced the arrival of the train—and the realization that Cloud could have taken his bike up to the Plate for free. It was too late to change now. A rush of hurried people that had been milling around and behind him lunged forward as the train came to a stop, and Cloud was pushed into the nearest open cab.

Cloud sat down next to a window, rubbing his temples with a sigh. He agonized over the way Tifa's words at breakfast had made him so irrationally angry, especially when he knew they were true. He put his hand in his pocket and touched Aerith's pink ribbon, rubbing the silky fabric between his fingers. Her memories—he couldn't resist revisiting them; smooth, rare, and colorful as they were. But the more he thought about it, the better he understood that he wasn't casually remembering Aerith—he was dwelling on her, obsessing over her memory. He refused to let her out of his mind for a moment, as if her entire existence would be lost if she ever slipped from his immediate consciousness. He had lived in that decrepit church—her church—for the past four months because he could swear he almost feel her presence the first time he returned after her death. It comforted him, and the first night he slept there was more peaceful than any night since her death. It was almost as if she was watching over him.

Every day that Cloud didn't leave the church, he told himself it was because he had nowhere else to go, even though his voicemail was always full with calls from Tifa and the others, asking why he hadn't called or visited and inviting him to stay with any of them. Every night he went to sleep on the hardwood floor under his worn blanket, the lights of Midgar making colored mosaics on the dusty ground through the few stained glass windows that remained unbroken. Then, every morning he awoke to dust that fell on his nose from the rafters, and saw the white and yellow flowers blooming where the altar and pulpit should have stood. Some days, Cloud almost thought he could hear Aerith humming, and some nights he swore he saw her bent over those flowers, clipping and weeding them, a trowel in her lap and shears in her hand.

Cloud shook the images out of his head and focused his attention outside, where the train was about to break above the Plate's surface. Suddenly, he found himself thinking about Tifa, and remembering the time she talked him into staying with AVALANCHE. It was the day they took the train from the Slums up to the Sector 5 reactor for their next mission. He remembered how she's tried to impress him by telling him about the train route using the onboard cross-section of Midgar, even though she wasn't quite sure what she was talking about. He remembered how she'd grabbed his hand when the checkpoint alarm sounded and squeezed it as she dragged him through the cars. He remembered her awkward smile as she prepared to jump out of the train, when he assured her that he'd be right behind her.

Suddenly, the realization hit, and Cloud almost slapped his forehead and cursed aloud. He was doing to Tifa exactly what he was trying not to do to Aerith—he was ignoring Tifa and casting aside his memories of her in exchange for those of someone else. Tifa, his dear childhood friend, had stuck by him and stuck up for him when no one else would, and didn't even interfere when she saw him falling in love with some other girl. Should he even be so lucky to have such a wonderful friend?

Cloud covered his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold, shuddering windowpane. He couldn't believe how ignorant he'd been. All that time—not just that morning at breakfast, but every time he hadn't stopped to consider Tifa's feelings before he spoke—he'd let his words hurt her. He tried to imagine how she felt, what it was like when he pushed her aside for someone else. She had never protested, but she'd also never missed a chance to tell Cloud she was always there for him. She had always been the one true thing he could count on in his life; even when everything else was a lie, she was real. She was there. And now, when he thought he was all alone, she was still there, waiting for him to realize it.

With a howling whistle, the train began to slow, pulling into the Sector 5 station. As Cloud lifted his head and watched out the window, the late morning sun hid behind the towering ShinRa building, as if ashamed to show its face. The once-proud and gleaming city of steel—now resembling the Slums as much above the surviving Plates as below—was an eyesore to the heavens. The Planet was still bitter about the manmade scar of Midgar it had been unable to destroy. The Planet would probably try another method to destroy its inhabitants—if for no other reason than it suspected humanity would go back to its previous habits, Mako refining, as Cloud did.

Cloud rode the train up and down the length of its track six times over the next hour. All the things Tifa had said in her message and all the things he wanted to say in response rolled over in his mind, but he never once reached for the cell phone in his pocket. Why was it that, even with so much to say, he couldn't bring himself to call her? If she'd been sitting next to him at that moment, he could have told her everything without much trouble. After all, this was Tifa. She had told him time and again that she would listen no matter what he had to say. And he had to tell her that he'd been wrong that morning. But despite its convenience, for Cloud, his phone was too impersonal a way of dealing with other people. It was very easy to misunderstand or misinterpret one's words when he couldn't see one's facial expressions.

He put his hand over his pocket. When it came down to it, the real reason he hadn't answered his phone for four months was the subconscious knowledge that it would lead him back to a reality where Aerith was dead and he couldn't sense her spirit in the church. Like a child in pain, he had hoped that ignoring it would make it go away, and that he'd be able to live alone in peace. But Cloud knew he couldn't hide in the broken church with its perennial blooming flowers anymore, and he had to acknowledge the people who were still alive before he lost them too.

As the train pulled to a stop for a seventh time on top of the Plate, Cloud surged to his feet with the rest of the passengers. He pulled out his phone and flipped it open. Tifa's number was at the top of the surprisingly long list of contacts stored in his directory—none that he had bothered to memorize and some he didn't even recognize. Tifa's was one that he had once known, but forgotten in months of disuse. As he followed the flow of passengers shuffling off the train, Cloud scrolled through the directory in a moment of curiosity, then took a deep breath and selected her number.

His hand started shaking when he held the phone to his ear, and his heart raced. He had to take another deep breath to calm himself as the first ring made the entire phone shudder. Or was that his hand still trembling? He shook his head. What kind of person was so pathetic as to get nervous over a simple phone call, especially one to such a familiar person? He couldn't believe himself.

At the second ring, Cloud almost hung up. He frowned and silently ordered himself to stop being nervous. A third ring. What was she doing? Was she ever going to pick up? A fourth ring. This must be what it's like to call me, he thought, ironically.

Suddenly, Tifa's voice cut into the middle of the fifth ring, sounding out of breath. "Cloud?" she breathed.

Cloud took a deep breath, trying to make sure his voice didn't crack. "Yeah."

"What's going on?" Tifa sounded worried. "Is something wrong?"

"No. What makes you think that?" he asked, genuinely confused.

She giggled. "Well, I didn't think you'd ever call me unless it was a life or death emergency."

Cloud didn't laugh, though he figured she was right. This was no time for idle conversation. He had to apologize to her before he lost his nerve and hung up mid-sentence. "I got your message," he said, right to the point.

Oh." All of the delight melted from Tifa's voice.

The crowd of passengers dispersed toward other trains and Cloud weaved his way off the platform and into the crowded station. The connection crackled, interference caused by the metal Plates when a wireless call tried to travel through them. Cloud hurried out onto the sidewalk where the reception was a little better. "I think I owe you an apology for the way I acted today," he said, sitting down on a nearby bench. The silence on Tifa's end persisted, so he went on hurriedly. "I was being too touchy about Aerith. I know you were just trying to talk to me, but I shouldn't have been so short with you. I'm really sorry."

"Cloud, it's my—" Tifa started to protest, but Cloud cut her off.

"No, it's not your fault," he insisted. "Don't try to blame yourself to make me feel better. I deserve to feel guilty and frustrated because I was the one who was rude and didn't listen to you." He leaned forward on the bench, closing his eyes and resting a hand against his forehead. "I've been completely ignoring you all this time."

"Cloud . . ." Tifa's voice was full of pity—pity he didn't want. He deserved to be suffering for the way he'd treated her. "Cloud, I'm not mad at you at all. I can't believe you think you need to suffer just because of a stupid little misunderstanding." Suddenly, she giggled. "You can be so melodramatic sometimes."

Cloud opened his mouth, but found himself at a loss for words, completely swept away by Tifa's ability to shift from pity to amusement in only a few seconds. "I—what?"

"You're so cute," she laughed. "Don't worry about it anymore, okay? I totally forgive you."

Cloud breathed a sigh of relief, and wondered he'd actually expected a different outcome. "Thanks."

Yeah, forget it," Tifa replied with a definitive pause, closing the subject. "Anyways, I was meaning to ask you at breakfast, but . . . would you like to come live with me?"

"What?" Cloud straightened in his seat, staring out at the road with wide eyes. "I thought you were living with Barret."

Well, yeah, I am right now," said Tifa. "But I've been talking to this guy in Edge. You know, that place outside Sector 4. And anyway, he's got this place he wants to sell." Her words came faster, and Cloud could hear excitement growing in her voice. "In fact, I'm on my way to meet with him right now to sign over the deeds. I'm going be able to reopen Seventh Heaven!"

"Really? That's wonderful!"

Isn't it?" Tifa squealed with girlish delight, then took a deep, gasping breath. "I can't believe this is actually happening!"

"I'm really happy for you," Cloud replied sincerely, though he couldn't mirror her enthusiasm.

Cloud!" said Tifa suddenly. "I just got a wonderful idea! You don't have a job now—you could work for me! You could . . ." She trailed off, trying to determine what Cloud's sudden job would entail. "Well, you could fix things, or run errands, or make deliveries, or whatever, and that way it would be convenient for you to live with me."

"Actually, that does sound like a good idea," Cloud admitted.

You doubted me?"

He could imagine Tifa smiling playfully on the other end of the line. "Of course not."

There was momentary pause. "Oh good, this is the place." Tifa caught her breath in a sharp hiss. "I'm really looking forward to this now. Look at me—I'm so excited, I'm shaking."

Cloud found that he wasn't shaking anymore. The sound of Tifa's optimistic voice had put his entire body at ease. "Things will work out great," he encouraged.

Yeah. I can't wait to see you." Tifa paused. "You know what?" she added on second thought. "Pack up all your stuff—we're moving in tonight."

"What—tonight? But, I don't even know the address," Cloud protested.

Don't worry, I'll call you after I sign the deeds and give you directions." She paused. "You will answer, right?" she asked in all seriousness.

"Yes," Cloud assured her, meaning it.

Okay." Tifa believed him, like she always did, but this time in good faith. "So, how about I wait for you here after I call you, and then we go to Barret's together to get my stuff? You haven't seen Barret and Marlene for months."

"That sounds good."

Okay." Another pause, and another nervous breath. "All right, I have to go now. See you later."

"Bye."

Cloud hung up and flipped the phone closed, tucking it in his pocket as he stood up. As he withdrew his hand, he touched Aerith's silk ribbon. He noticed a trashcan standing a few feet away, but even though he was prepared to start putting Aerith's memories aside, he couldn't bring himself to throw the ribbon out. As Tifa had said, he couldn't live completely wrapped up in Aerith's memories, but he shouldn't forget them either.

Cloud returned inside the train station to buy a ticket back down to the Sector 5 Slums, where his things were waiting in Aerith's church to be packed. One hand stayed in his pocket, resting against his phone to be absolutely certain that he felt the vibration announce Tifa's anticipated call. Her optimism had inspired Cloud to believe that good things would come from living with her—closure for old wounds and fresh starts that hopefully would not create new ones. Perhaps, Cloud thought, remembering of Yuffie's 'secret' about Tifa, I'll learn to love the wonderful person I've always known and never acknowledged in you.

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The end.

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