CHAPTER 53: AFTER THE RAIN

He was hidden like he always was when the other one went to fight something. Cloud had found the strength somehow to raise his head and watch him leave. The man didn't notice, and Cloud had lifted a heavy arm as if to call him back, but he was too slow and it was too late. He waited and waited and no one came back, even long after all the bad, loud noises had stopped. Panic swelled in Cloud's chest and he felt his heart begin to pound. Something was wrong.

Moving his head to look around was agony. Using limbs to crawl over the earth was like wading through thick, wet sand. But fear drove Cloud forward and he slithered out of his hiding place, both relieved and terrified when his hazy eyes landed on a familiar figure lying in the dirt a short distance away. His throat tightened and a strangled mournful noise emerged without his consent. It happened, it finally happened: the bad thing. The worst thing. The other man was hurt—bleeding—and laying very, very still. By the time Cloud crawled to his side, the man's mutilated chest was heaving with the great effort of breathing. All the blonde could do was stare as he came to kneel beside his friend, eyes wide with disbelief and wild fear.

No. No, no, no! This couldn't happen, it just couldn't! One rain drop fell, then another, then another.

"Z-Zack..." Cloud croaked, voice hoarse from thirst and disuse.

Zack was his name, wasn't it? That had been his name. Saying that word and hearing it come out into the air echoed some clarity into the foggy, muddled pace that was his brain. Zack was the one who had helped him all this way, who broke him out of the bad place, whose voice was kind and happy and cheerful. Zack was his friend, his dear friend, his only friend in the world aside from the girl with the red eyes and the laugh that made him think of music and gently falling rain.

Rain...

The rain was hitting Zack's face, diluting the blood that had pooled around his hair line and washing it down the sides of his face. Blue eyes were so fixated upon the spreading crimson pool that had formed around his fallen companion that Cloud almost didn't notice that the other one was speaking. Zack was talking to him with strangled breath, but Cloud's brain and heart and soul were screaming and he couldn't understand the words, no matter how frantically he groped for their meanings. It was all he could do to repeat what was said to him in an attempt to assure the dying man that he was indeed listening.

Over time, he had gotten better at understanding words and remembering their meanings, but right now, everything was lost in the scramble of his panicked brain. It was almost as if he was looking at him for the first time in a very long time, and the warmth of familiarity and comfort spread within him, mixing with the icy fear that pooled in his gut. His head was so groggy and sluggish, but there was one word that he understood. Zack reached up to pull the blonde head to his chest.

"Live…" the fallen SOLDIER said, holding Cloud's cheek against his broken body.

Cloud understood. He was telling him to keep going, to continue walking away from the bad place to find freedom. But how could he ever do that without Zack? Zack had always been there, had always taken care of him, had always reassured him with kind words when he had been frightened. If it wasn't for him, Cloud would still be stuck in his glass prison where the bad people would hurt him and make him scream. If he didn't have Zack, how would anything ever be okay again? Slowly, he raised his head as his companion's gloved hand lifelessly slid away from him. And then, Zack was talking again, and Cloud struggled to listen as the handle of the buster sword was placed into his empty palms.

All this time, his hands had been empty. He had nothing to live for, did he? For the endless days he had been carried on and on, Cloud never thought that there was really anything before his days in the bad place. But now, something tugged at his consciousness, screaming from the lost, forgotten parts of his mind. There was something important that he needed to do, something so very urgent that his heart began to beat wildly in his chest, but his scrambled brain couldn't remember what it was and it frustrated him. But Zack had filled his empty hands with a sword and a command. Live. He would live and fight with everything he was, for Zack and for his freedom. Cloud looked down at his friend to try and tell him that he loved him and was grateful for his kindness and companionship, but his eyes were already closed and a peaceful smile already upon his lips. His chest, littered with bullet holes, wasn't heaving anymore. The pool of blood had stopped expanding.

Cloud trembled violently as rain pounded the earth around him in a loud, unrelenting hiss. For a long moment, he stared at Zack's face in disbelief. Any second, he'd start moving or talking again, wouldn't he? This couldn't be the end. He had told him to live, but didn't say how. Zack was always okay. He kept walking and fighting and talking no matter what, and that had always made him feel better. But it had been a long while, and his chest wasn't moving anymore, and Cloud felt so incredibly alone in this world. It was a desperate, heart shattering loneliness that made him quiver at his very core. After it always being the two of them, how was it possible to go on without the other one? Though Cloud was able to move his body better than he had before, he wasn't sure that he had the will to trudge forwards. He wanted to lie down beside Zack and beg for death, too. For what good could there be in this life if his friend was no longer a part of it?

His breath hitched as he felt a crushing sadness well up in his chest and constrict his throat. Cloud breathed unsteadily as a stream of frantic whimpers sounded into the air. Lips trembling until he could bear it no longer, he let out a broken cry with all of the strength his tired lungs could manage. Wide blue eyes turned upward toward the heavens as the rain soaked his flaxen spikes and blended with his tears. Memories flooded back into his brain, making the thought of never hearing Zack's voice or feeling his warmth or seeing his smile again simply unbearable. He cried out again and again into the empty wasteland where they had fallen. Cloud remembered befriending Zack as a ShinRA grunt. He remembered training sessions together, the handful of missions they shared, and dinners they had had together with his wife in his tiny apartment.

His wife…?

But the memories left almost as quickly as they had come, like a lightning strike in the murky darkness of his mind. Cloud lowered his head enough to look out to the horizon. Midgar stood in its looming enormity across the flat desert wasteland, like a black cloud marring the landscape. Gloved hands clenched the handle of the sword where it rested in his lap as he stared at the massive city in the distance. The rain washed over him, rinsing away some of Zack's blood that marred his cheek. He needed to live. He needed to press forward. Cloud sat for a long time, long after the rain stopped and the heavens opened up to reveal the golden sun. It seemed that many, many hours had passed, but he wasn't good at measuring the passage of time. He wasn't sure when he had closed his eyes, but it was hard to open them again when he tried. The smell of moist earth and wild wind were all around, tinged with the metallic scent of blood. Slowly, tired eyes moved back to the body lying beside him.

"Thank you."

His voice was soft and gentle as he gazed at this man, who had carried him for so long and had always spoken with a kind voice. It seemed as if they had been headed to Midgar, and while Cloud wasn't sure what was there, there was nothing else he could think of to do. Legs trembling with effort, he stood. It felt so strange to be on his own two feet, since he couldn't remember the last time he had been able to stand without assistance. Though he was wobbly and unsteady, he refused to loosen his grip on the sword handle. What had happened to cause them to end up like this? Everything was so mixed up in his mind but Cloud knew that this wasn't right. He knew they had been mistreated and hunted down like animals, but couldn't remember any details. The only thing he was certain of was the pain in his chest as he stood there, feeling helpless and alone. Tears threatened to well up in his eyes, but Cloud closed them instead, dipping his head in respect to the one who had helped him escape from the bad place and made him a free man.

"Goodnight."

Slowly, he turned, putting one foot in front of the other as the clouds continued to disperse.

… … …

One step, another step, and another…

Cloud panted as the sun rose high overhead. It was beginning to scorch his scalp as he shuffled along through the wasteland. There was not a tree in sight to offer him shade, nothing around to give him relief from the unrelenting heat. Panting, he pressed forward on his path to Midgar, dragging the buster sword behind him. The world would spin and his head hurt, but he had no choice but to keep marching on. He was following a gravel path that seemed to be leading him in the right direction. Sweat beaded under his hair and fell in thick droplets down his face and into his eyes, but he didn't mind. His thoughts weren't on his discomfort or the threat of the large birds that circled overhead. The tangled web of thoughts and memories in his head held Cloud's strict attention. There were too many things flashing through his brain and his attempts to sort them out occupied his consciousness.

Images flashed through his mind of a black haired beauty with twinkling red eyes and a shy smile that made his heart rise into his throat. The frequent fever-dreams of this particular ghost brought him peace and happiness, and he welcomed them wholly. He felt warmth and rest as she lingered about on the edges of his thoughts, and she was reclusive even though he continued to invite her inside. Was this girl the reason why he was traveling this way? It was hard to tell with the mess in his head, making it impossible to distinguish truth from fantasies he had woven in his mind.

Wait—no.

A pink bow tied into thick brown waves. Eyes as green as maple leaves. A voice that sing-songed merrily as it teased him for one thing or another. Soft hands dancing over his skin. She was waiting for him, wasn't she? Her first class SOLDIER was coming back to see her. She'd be thrilled and proud when he returned to her, taking her in his arms once again. His lips would find hers and she'd be lost within him, saying that her hero had come back at last.

Something was wrong, but Cloud couldn't figure out what it was. A harsh wind sent grains of sand forward, blowing into his face and bare arms and stinging every inch of exposed skin. Why couldn't he remember her name? It seemed that as soon as some detail of these visions bubbled to the top of his mind, he'd only have a second to process them before they vanished. Cloud found himself becoming increasingly irritated and confused.

Who am I? Where am I going?

Every time his eyes caught sight of one of his pauldrons or he glanced down at his black fatigues, he deduced that he was an elite member of SOLDIER. Something inside him shivered at the word 'SOLDIER' and the thought of ShinRA. He wasn't sure he wanted to work for them anymore. But how did he get here? And why was he going to Midgar?

Cloud grit his teeth and closed his eyes, for he lacked the strength to shield his face from an onslaught of wind. It was alright, because he was almost there. The gravel road joined paths with a paved one that seemed to go directly into a city gate on the edge of the Midgar slums. A car whizzed by every so often and startled him, making his tired muscles tense and his pulse quicken. All he wanted was to get into the city. Maybe once he got there, he'd remember why he needed to be here in the first place. Maybe then, he could sit down and rest. His head was pounding and what strength he had left was rapidly ebbing out of his body.

Cloud's feet carried him forward even as his consciousness began to fade. No one bothered him as he crossed the city border and trudged through the streets, for few people were brave enough to mess with a mako enhanced warrior. Like a spectre, he made his way through crowds of people. His body was present, but his mind wasn't. Cloud followed the flow of people into a transit station and onto a train, collapsing into the first empty seat he saw. Blue eyes, glowing with mako, closed at once. He welcomed the blackness with a soft sigh.

… … …

"Marlene! Don't wipe your nose on your blankie! Here, have a tissue."

The chill of late September had brought the first batch of illness to the slums, and unfortunately it was Marlene who had come down with a mild flu of sorts. Barret was in quite a mood, his concern for his adopted daughter spilling over into his temper, and Tifa thought it was best to send him off to work with a bagged lunch and promises to call if the girl took a turn for the worse. Despite the man's concern, he was useless when it came to caring for an ill child, and it wouldn't do anyone good to have him around while Tifa was trying to nurse the girl back into a more comfortable state. It was a relief that Marlene's fever had broken the night before, after hours of reading her children's books again and again, continuously replacing the cold cloth on her little forehead.

Snug in her bed, Marlene was beginning to get a bit restless now that she was feeling a bit better. Tifa moved to sit next to her and offer the tissue for her runny nose. She gathered the little one in her lap with a smile, cradling her head to her chest. The toddler pulled her blanket tighter around her as she nuzzled her cheek against her caretaker. Brown eyes wandered over the intricate stitching of green yarn that brought her so much comfort in times of sickness and fear.

"You said you made this for your baby?"

Tifa closed her eyes. She had run and run, but could never get away from the memory of Aria, Cloud, and visions of what could have been. But here, with the stability and companionship of friends who were like family, Tifa found the strength to turn and welcome thoughts of those she had loved. Trying to forget about them only brought about more sadness and struggling in the end, and Tifa was learning that embracing the freedom to talk about them was healing her broken heart, one stitch at a time. With their help she had accepted that part of her life, had accepted the loss of her daughter, and understood that life still moved forward.

"Yes. The baby that was in my belly died, and I was very sad."

Marlene turned her face downward, eyebrows drawn together in a thoughtful frown as she ran her little fingers over the soft fabric.

"Why did she die?"

Willing her heart to be still, Tifa exhaled as visions of Aria's perfect little face and tiny curled fingers flooded her brain. She had to remind herself to welcome them calmly. But how was she supposed to explain a stillbirth in a way a small child could understand?

"I don't know. She wasn't supposed to die, but she did, and I miss her very much." Tifa smoothed her palm over the child's head before using her index finger to lift Marlene's head. "But then, when I thought that I could never be happy again, I met you."

"I make you happy?"

"Oh, so very, very much. I know I'm not your real mama, but I love you with all my heart, Marlene. And that's why you should have that blanket."

Marlene grinned, wrapping her little arms around Tifa's waist. She squeezed the younger girl back before tickling her neck, making Marlene giggle.

"Alright, love. Lay down a bit more, alright? You still aren't well."

Marlene snorted, puffing out her cheeks. "But I don' wanna lay down anymore. I wanna play with you!"

"I know, sweetie," Tifa said, caressing her soft hair before moving to stand beside the bed. "But if you rest now, you'll feel much better tomorrow and we can play all you want."

With a huff, she put her head back down onto her pillow. While the baby was sick, Tifa read her fairy tales of different varieties. Marlene was curious about the forests and environments of these stories, since the child had rarely seen a living plant aside from the small fern her father had bought for her birthday one year. It would be impossible to buy many flowers and plants, with lack of gil and vendors, so Tifa came up with her own solution. Paints were way out of budget, so she made her own by mixing flour, water and salt with food coloring. With a few spare basting brushes, Tifa decided to decorate the white walls of the bedroom as Marlene watched from the bed.

"Look, I've got a surprise for you." Big brown eyes followed her as she moved from her bedside to a paper bag on the top of the bookcase. Tifa pulled out several plastic cups and a handful of brushes before turning to smile at Marlene. "Paints!"

"Paints?" the little girl squeaked as a grin chased away her previous pout.

"That's right! You loved the forests and flowers in your story so much that I thought I should paint them for you on the wall here." She carefully arranged her tools on the floor beside the wall opposite of their bed. "That way, you could see them any time you'd like! What do you think?"

"Yeah!" The toddler clapped her hands and wiggled where she lay. "Paint something pretty, Tifa!"

"Alright…" Tifa positioned herself and closed her eyes, churning up memories of lush landscapes she had known in her childhood. With a slow exhale, she dipped a brush in the deep green paint. "When I was a little girl, I lived in the mountains, where there were many plants and trees."

She told Marlene about her home as her brush strokes formed lines of evergreen trees. The girl listened intently as she was told all about the seasons and their changes: of the icicles and frozen creeks in winter, of the bold colors of spring's wildflowers, of the bright endless blue of the summer sky and of the orange trees that looked like fire in autumn. Tifa explained what it felt like to roll down a grassy hill as she painted a small meadow. She described the way the warmth of the sun felt on one's face and how pleasing it was to hear the birds chitter away in the trees. Marlene was fascinated, and Tifa's chest felt tight long after the little girl dropped off into an easy slumber. Dunking her brushes into a cup of water, the young woman stood back to admire her work. While she was no artist, the mural was satisfactory enough for a child's entertainment.

It wasn't until she had tucked the girl in and shut off the light that Tifa realized the source of the sadness that was welling up inside her. She had painted scenes from her childhood home, but it wasn't the memory of brighter days that caused this feeling. Rinsing her makeshift paints down the sink, Tifa watched as swirls of color ran down the drain. The cause of her distress was Marlene. It had been so heartbreaking to try and explain things that every child should have the right to experience. What sort of life would Marlene have if she could never understand the simple pleasure of feeling raindrops on her face or smell the freshly thawed earth in spring? The very highlights of her girlhood were playing outdoors, exploring the wilderness and taking pleasure in the wonders nature had to offer. It was inconceivable to Tifa that a four year old girl had never had the chance to play in the dirt or splash about in a stream.

She promised herself that she'd give everything she had to help get Marlene out of Midgar as soon as possible. She wanted the girl to have hope and happiness as much as Barret did. The terrible thought dawned upon her that if AVALANCHE was not successful, there may soon be no beautiful nature left for Marlene to enjoy. Calloused fingers tightened around the chipped porcelain of the sink basin as Tifa grit her teeth. Jessie had made a bomb. Barret and the others had been discussing at length what they wanted to do with it, and the group had concluded at their last meeting that they would be using it to destroy the mako reactor in Sector One on top of the plate. Everyone had seemed so gung-ho about it, but Tifa's morality pulled at her heart strings. By disabling the reactor, they'd cripple ShinRA's energy output and halt a large amount of mako drilling, at least temporarily. But an explosion of that size would put any number of civilians at risk. Would the end result really justify the means? What would Cloud think if he knew the things she was involved in?

Cloud…

Lately, she had taken to slipping her wedding band back on her finger whenever she felt particularly lonesome. Feeling that familiar weight on her left hand was soothing and spread peace throughout her body like gentle warmth. Thoughtlessly, her hands reached back to untie the cord around her neck and she welcomed the flood of memories as white gold adorned her ring finger once again. Tifa watched for a moment as the metal gleamed in the light of the kitchen. AVALANCHE and Marlene were her only family now. At first, she had felt like she was betraying Cloud and Aria by feeling this way. But Barret had helped her shift her mindset by reminding her that it was healthy and beneficial to accept the fact that Cloud wasn't coming back. With his guidance, she was able to realize that he wasn't really dead, because the pleasure and joy of their time together still lived on inside her. Wasn't it true of everyone else who had left this life? She began to feel as if all the people she'd ever known hadn't in fact gone away, but continued to live on as long as she decided to remember them. It was a small way to quiet the growing unease in her heart.

Tifa felt change was coming, like the way the tide pulls the water in before a wave rushes forth, and it left her unsettled. Life had been steadily getting better. What if something came to take away the happiness she had found?

Suddenly, the lights flickered before they surged, then went out completely. Tifa stood in the dark for a moment, listening as the hum of the refrigerator ebbed away into silence. With a sigh, she pulled a flashlight out of the drawer next to the stove as Barret bellowed a string of curses from the basement. Rolling blackouts were common in the slums. So common that Marlene was starting to not be so afraid anymore and that Tifa and Barret could repair electrical problems in a matter of seconds.

She moved out into the bar space and called out. "Barret! Do you need a light?"

There was grumbling and shuffling below before he answered. "Naw, I got one. Damn fuse blew again-third time this week!"

"Did you find the box with the extra ones? I left it right beside the breaker panel."

"Yeah...we only got one left. Imma use it now."

Biting her lip in thought, Tifa reached into her pocket to count the measly amount of gil in her wallet. She wasn't sure her tip money would be quite enough, but it was all she had. It wouldn't do to be out of replacement fuses, especially when she had a business to run and food to keep cool in electric refrigeration units.

"Barret, I'm going to run out before the bar opens and but some more. Marlene is asleep in her room, so keep an ear out for her, alright?"

There was an audible click. And light flooded the building once again. The platform with the pinball machine rose with Barret in tow. His mouth was drawn downward in a frown, but he ruffled her hair affectionately.

"Aight, you be careful out there, Ti. Watch out for them weirdos on the train. Kick their ass if any of 'em try anything on ya."

"Of course." Tifa winked and shrugged on her jacket. "Also, don't make fun of my paint job when you go to check on Marlene."

"Can't make any promises."

Tifa stuck her tongue out at him and giggled, then pulled on her boots. A quick peek out of the window confirmed that it was still raining in the world above, so she pulled her red umbrella from the nail it hung on beside the door. "Be back in a jiffy!"

… … …

Dirty rainwater poured through gaps in the plate in small torrents, washing debris down into the slums. There was a quite a chill in the air now that September was rolling to a close, but even in the dead of winter it would never get nearly as cold in Midgar as it did in the mountains. Tifa hustled through Sector Seven, smiling at the way people bundled themselves up as if they were expecting a blizzard and shivered in what would've been balmy spring temperature in Nibelheim. Midgar had much more of a mild climate than where she had grown up, and though the city had been her home for quite a few years now, her body was still tough like the mountain child she was born to be. As always, there were people scurrying to and fro, although it wasn't quite rush hour yet.

Fatigue pulled at her body, making Tifa feel sluggish. It was hard to admit, but she was still afraid to sleep sometimes. When she was awake, she could find reason and chase away her anxieties. In sleep, she was vulnerable to whatever visions decided to reveal themselves. Frightening dreams of Cloud, wailing in pain, did their best to shake her newfound confidence and positive outlook. She wished that somehow, her voice would carry the distance to heaven, so she could just tell him one last time that she loved him. That she tried to give their daughter life. That she's still trying to piece her life back together and make him proud. Weaving through the crowd, she pressed her thumb against her wedding band as she approached the train station.

It had been late September four years ago when she last saw Cloud, bidding him farewell on what should have been a short deployment. If Tifa knew that would be the last time she felt him breathing, if she knew she'd never be with him again, she would've kissed him endlessly and run her hands through his beautiful flaxen hair. She would have told him how much she admired him, that he had the most beautiful heart, and how he was the strongest person she had ever known.

She heard the train pull up to the station before she saw it, and a flood of passengers poured out onto the pavement and down the handful of steps. Their murmurs almost drowned out the roar of the water thundering through the drainage pipes and the sound of rain splattering the ground. Tifa pushed through the crowd, sheltering her head under her umbrella. Tifa had lived in the slums for five years and never once had run into a face she knew on the street. For the first few years after Cloud's death, her eyes still flicked upward at the fleeting sight of a head of blonde hair with full hope that just maybe, it was him. Now, she had resigned herself to his death, but the instinct to search desperately after each golden head had never quite left her. Especially lately, as the dreams of him became more and more frequent and her idle thoughts were consumed by her childhood love and late best friend. Splattered droplets from cold puddles tickled her ankles as she hurried toward the station platform, but it was a head of blonde spikes that distracted her.

All this time, she had agonized over the fate of her husband. And, as if by magic, there he was.

A man was sitting slouched against the station wall, his head bent forward and face obscured from view. Surely it was a trick of the eyes, or a fevered manifestation of her desires. Perhaps she had caught whatever illness Marlene was suffering from. Cloud was dead, that was that. This man was wearing a SOLDIER uniform; Cloud had only been a trooper. Homeless people lingering around the train stations and bars were a common sight in the slums. It couldn't be him. Could it? She held her breath as she fixated her gaze on a ghost from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Tifa didn't notice until someone brushed her shoulder that she had stopped in her tracks in the middle of the thinning crowd. Crimson eyes stared and stared until the train boarded its passengers and slowly chugged away from the station. Minutes passed and the man didn't move, like a dark statue in the monotone slums. She noticed an enormous broadsword resting on the cobblestones at his side, his fingers wrapped around the handle. Cloud was just a trooper with a rifle, not a SOLDIER with a sword. With trembling knees, she stepped forward to investigate and knelt down before him. Gently, timidly, she reached out the rest a hand on the top of his head, the other hand squeezing the umbrella handle until her fist turned white. His arms were boney and alarmingly thin as they draped into his lap and one white knuckle brushed the pavement between his legs. The fingers on his other hand were loosely curled around the handle on an enormous broadsword, and it amazed Tifa to think that such a scrawny looking man could even hold such a weapon, let alone fight with it. Heavy, leather boots adorned each lifeless foot.

"A-are you alright, sir?"

He groaned, slowly lifting his head until his weary eyes met hers. Blue. Vibrant, unending blue met her gaze and time seemed to stop as limitless memories flooded forth. Childhood had been full of brilliant colors of the sky and autumn and earth, but now all that remained was electric blue and a bright red umbrella in that grey scale world. Tifa's chest heaved as shuttering breaths escaped her. Her husband was right in front of her: older, taller, but gaunt and sick. Unnatural muscle bulged over bone, his skin stretched taut to show the advanced state of his emaciation. Dark bags hung under each eye, glowing a luminescent blue as they stared lifelessly at her. They were like Zack's eyes. Like mako eyes. But they weren't jovial and lively like Zack's were. They were heavy lidded and glazed with pain. What happened to him?

He spoke, his voice a sound familiar to her bones.

"T-Tifa…"

A whimper escaped her throat as she stared at his pale lips and face. The veins in his arms were prominent and visible and he looked like a skeleton under the bulk of his uniform. She ran her hands over his face, in disbelief, as she brushed dirty bangs out of his empty eyes.

"Oh, Cloud." She wasn't aware of the hot tears that had begun to stream down her face as she searched his eyes for understanding. There was something very wrong. He was injured, it seemed, and his eyes were empty and blank. It took a moment to find her voice, and the lump in her throat made it hard to speak. "Cloud, what happened?"

He made a keening noise before groaning once again, squeezing his eyes shut as if he was in pain. Cloud blinked several times before his head mechanically shifted and his eyes moved to meet hers. Something happened in that moment and he gasped with a great inhale, eyes wide and glowing brighter than before. Brilliant blue came to focus on her face.

"Tifa!"

He grabbed at her shirt, her arm and she broke. Somehow, Cloud's stumbling, faltering mind allowed her name to continue to roll off his tongue. Body caked with sand and grime, he grasped desperately at her. She fell forward, wrapping her arms around him and supporting his heavy head against her chest. Half formed sentences tumbled out of her mouth, but she couldn't finish a single one without dissolving into tears. Dozens of questions bubbled out of her mind, boiling over into a mess on her tongue until she gave in to her emotions and let a sob break free. Against all odds, he had returned to her. Life had always seemed intent to separate them: by social class, by her father's scorn, by nearly fatal falls and dreams of military grandeur. The shadow of death seemed to have finally separated them for good when Cloud disappeared while on a mission to Nibelheim. But somehow, fate had reunited them once again.

Tifa had never been sure just what it was that guided her along in the turbulence of her life. But now, as she cradled his head to her breast, she was sure it was the same magnetic force that had kept her and Cloud falling towards each other, just as a stone falls toward the earth. No matter how hard the world tried to pull them apart, here they were, back in each other's arms once more. Her miracle moved, shakily trying to get to his feet and failing. Cloud threaded his hands through her hair until they were tangled in thick knots. Her heart broke as she heard his broken whimpers and cracking voice spewing forth apologies. Her own flood of tears and staccato sobs hindered her from verbal comfort, and so she stroked his back, his head, his face.

For so long, Tifa had been so busy trying to survive that she had forgotten what it meant to be living. Life wasn't lived by holding onto sorrow and grudges. Her father had been alive without living, and had chosen to throw any chance of happiness to the wind. To be living wasn't hiding and waiting for death. Surviving was putting aside emotion and a sense of self in order to sustain herself from one day to the next, a numb and sad existence. But living was an entirely different thing. Living was hearing Marlene laugh as her little bare feet thudded across the floor boards. It was Biggs's goofy jokes and Jessie's warm smile. Living was hearing Wedge praise her cooking skill and knowing that Barret was proud of the young woman she'd become. It was learning to have faith that things could somehow be okay after so much bad had happened. Living was adapting to circumstances she never dreamed she would face and conquer. It was believing that miracles could indeed happen to someone her. To live was to find kindness after so much unkindness, to find happiness after so much misery.

Tifa endured the greatest struggles one could face during such tender years of her life, and found strength in the hearts of those who loved her. She understood that Cloud was still her rock, still her anchor, still her harbor. Love and loyalty could survive impossible odds, couldn't it?

As the rain continued to thunder around them, Tifa pulled back to gaze deeply into Cloud's eyes. Together, they had lost so many of the blessings they had once enjoyed. Now, even his health had been taken from him. But Tifa would do everything in her power to revive and sustain him, no matter the cost. Together, they'd face the hard road: fighting illness, fighting poverty, and fighting ShinRA. They'd fight for the memory of their families, for their hope of their future, for their precious Aria. It was enough to know that, here in each other's arms, the pain and burdens of their past could bleed into a wash, fading away in the perfect happiness of this private moment.

Hope was more than just a rusted jingle bell or an alabaster sea shell. Hope was a living, changing thing that lived on in the precious people in her life. Hope was tangible, though not quite material. It was in the feeling of Marlene's little hand curled around her leg, and in the way Barret ruffled the hair on her head affectionately. It was in the friendly smiles of the AVALANCHE trio when she welcomed them 'home'. And now, it was in the warmth of clouds body in her arms. It was internal—a flame that burned on despite all of the darkness in her life. One that burned bright at the sound of her name on Cloud's lips.

Together, they'd press forward against the strength of the current, against the darkness of the waves, to close the distance between where they were and where they dreamed they'd be.

Finis

TO BE CONTINUED IN...

"In This Cage"

by The_Ocean_Deep

...

A/N: And so, it comes to an end.

In the summary of this fic, I posed the question: would their lives really have been that different? The point of this story was to display the irony that although Cloud and Tifa were close as children, it did not change their fate. There was minimal difference, in the end. They were destined to suffer this in order to end up saving the planet. Life is cruel, and fate is unrelenting, but good can certainly come from it all.

I want to thank each and every one of you for reading the first story I've ever written, and I want to especially thank those who took the time to leave feedback. It has been so encouraging and I am so thankful for your wonderful, kind words, and I hope you enjoyed this journey as much as I did. So, what did you think? How did I do with character development, illustrating environments, and developing a realistic portrayal of these events? I'd love to hear what you all had to say, and I'd love to know how to improve for future projects.

My hope is that you enjoy the sequel, if you should feel so inclined to read it. :)

Thank you all. I am humbled by your kindness.