Disclaimer: FF VII is not mine and this is done purely for pleasure, nothing more.
Author's Notes: Although I have watched Advent Children and thought it utterly mind-blowing, I must admit I was a little disappointed that once again Sephiroth was the main villain. That therefore, explains this little fic; someone has to give the man a life right? For some odd reason, I think Sephiroth and Tifa would make a great couple and I'm not the only one it seems.
Summary: Revived by the Cetra, Sephiroth is thrown back into the real world where the struggle to redeem himself, ward off old enemies and falling in love slowly but surely convince him that he is human after all… (Seph/Ti)
Genre: Romance/Drama
Pairing: Sephiroth and Tifa.
Ever After
I. Sephiroth
He was floating, his mind shattered in pieces as he drifted down a warm current. All around he could hear them, unintelligible but audible. Animated whispers, soothing whispers… Something warm touched his face and the once great general groaned. It was not so much a thought as it was a yearning for the mother whom he had never known, whom he had loved and who had brought him thus low.
The warmth continued to flow, spreading slowly downward. Helpless to move, all he could do was remain still. Strangely enough, especially for a man of his nature, it felt comforting instead of threatening.
Darkness gave way to the brightest of lights. He had not been aware that his eyes were opened. And in the lights were beings, vaguely human in size and shape but too transparent for the eye to properly behold. They stood over him, looking down at him with their soft chattering whispers filling his senses.
Cetra...?
A translucent hand brushed over his lids, closing unnaturally brilliant green eyes. Sephiroth, the misguided tormented being who had tried to destroy a world, fell into a deep sleep and knew no more of what happened to him.
Tifa Lockheart scrubbed hard at the counter, oblivious to the fact that barring some scratches and a deep gash in it, courtesy of some brawlers whose behinds she had kicked right out of 7th Heaven, it was perfectly clean and shiny. Perhaps what she was trying to scrub instead was the inescapable yearning, the idea that Cloud would one day come walking through those doors, she thought with a resignation tinged with bitterness.
Two years ago they had defeated the megalomaniac Sephiroth, unleashing Holy. As they had stood on the deck of Cid's ship, praying that the planet would somehow save itself, a miracle had happened. Luminescent strands and waves began soaring from the planet's surface, dancing, racing to intercept the crimson Meteor that had been summoned.
In the end, the planet had prevailed. Meteor had been enveloped in blinding folds of Lifestream and in the end had been extinguished, every last part of it vanishing completely. Shinra had initiated a search but not one fragment of Meteor had been found.
And most importantly, the planet had decided that the human race would survive. So here she was, at the cusp of a new beginning. Alone.
In utter frustration with herself, Tifa flung down the rag, listening to the loud smack of the wet cloth against wood and wondering whom she would like to slap more: Cloud or herself. Initially she had thought that it was possible to begin something new with him. Aerith, whom she mourned bitterly, was gone and Cloud had come to accept that. They had nobody, aside from AVALANCHE and their friends, and life had to go on. She and Cloud had returned to Midgar, setting up the bar and moving into the apartment above it.
Cloud had no disagreement with moving on. Except that he had made it clear he wanted to be alone. Whether it was his failure at saving Aerith, or his fear of losing another woman he could love, Tifa would never know. What she did know however was that in spite of the tender moments and the warmth of their friendship, Cloud had put up a barrier that she could not get through, try as she might. There came a point in the last year when things became so tensed and strained, she from wanting more and he from refusing to give it, that it had affected their friendship.
She never heard him leave, never heard the low rumble of Fenrir as he drove off in the night. All she had left was a letter and a mountain of recriminations that she heaped on herself until Barret came by and knocked some sense into her. During that year she had lived with him and Marlene, slowly piecing her heart and life back together. She learned that it was possible to smile and laugh without Cloud around. Life had to go on.
"Perhaps I should move back in," Tifa murmured as she put away the rag and bucket, feeling the slight soreness in her muscles. She missed having company. The nights were too quiet; she had too much time by herself. At the same time she didn't want to get in Barret's way, especially now that he had struck up a very nice friendship with one of his neighbours. Yuffie had very nicely offered to have Tifa over at Wutai when she had learnt of Cloud's disappearance but she had demurred. Tifa did not want anyone's sympathy or pity.
"So you should just bloody well stop drowning in your own." The sound of that firm decisive voice coming from her was welcome. It didn't sound as hollow as before. With an energy that she didn't really possess, Tifa closed up the bar, switched off the lights and bounded upstairs.
Running herself a bath, she stripped off her clothes, dropping them in a pile on the tiled floor before slipping gratefully into the hot water. Leaning her head, she closed her eyes and let out a huge sigh. One day down, tomorrow was another to go.
With a start Tifa awoke. "What the..." She stared at the hard dusty ground in utter disbelief. She had taken some hard knocks to the head in the course of her many battles but none so hard that they had affected her brain. The last she remembered, she was in the shower. Cinnamon eyes widened and her eyes flew down the length of her body but to her relief, she was dressed. Above her, a multitude of stars twinkled through a thick layer of swollen grey clouds and in the background loomed the silhouette of Midgar. From here it was easy to tell which parts had been abandoned and which were occupied; the deserted section was dark, silent and downright forbidding.
Shivering in the cold night air, Tifa got to her feet, hands rubbing her arms rapidly even as goosebumps exploded on her chilled skin. She had never sleepwalked before in her entire life and to assume that she had done just that, and walked not only out of her room but to the distant outskirts of the city, was unbelievable.
"Oh great," she groaned as she searched her pockets. To her dismay, her gloves and materia were not on her. And to be alone in a place like this, and at such an hour, and unarmed to boot, was extremely bad news. The optimist in her thought that she would be able to make it back, although she may have some nasty wounds. The pessimist intoned that it would be months before Barret tracked down her body, if there was a body left once the monsters were done with it.
'And here they come', she noted grimly as a shadow stirred in the dark. Should she run or fight? Adrenaline rushed through her body, sent her heart slamming against her ribs even as she slipped into a fighting stance. If it was one of the heavier creatures, she could make a break for it. If not, she would have to stand her ground because turning her back on a monster built for speed was tantamount to suicide.
The sound of feet sliding through the sand made her hair stand. Whatever it was, it was taking its time. And then the clouds parted and starlight showed her enemy. If he had come at her with his sword, she could not have moved to save her life. Fear, all paralyzing, mind-numbing fear rooted her to the spot and her mouth opened in a silent scream that she heard only in her head.
Silver hair spun in the wind like a ghostly halo and green mako eyes, shining so brightly in the dim light, fixed on her. Tifa trembled even as she shook her head in denial. He was dead, he had to be. She had seen him, seen him break into a thousand pieces, had heard Cloud say with a finality that brooked no argument that he had vanquished Sephiroth's spirit. Was it a ghost? Half hysterical at seeing the man who had brought a planet to its knees, Tifa was almost willing to seize on that explanation. Cloud had seen visions of Aerith in the church. Why couldn't this be a phantom of Sephiroth?
Except that phantoms did not call out the names of their enemies. "Lockheart..."
His ragged whisper cut through the swirl of emotions that bound her. Slender brows met as an expression of almost ferocious determination and rage formed on Tifa's face. She was not an inexperienced greenhorn; she was a seasoned warrior and she had killed before. There was no way she was going to just stand by and see Sephiroth unleashed on the world again.
Flying forward so quickly that her boots barely touched the ground, she sent her clenched fist crashing into the side of his face. There was the satisfying feel of her knuckles crunching into bone and flesh as he toppled back, dragging his sword with him. Cursing herself for not tackling his weapon arm first, Tifa pivoted and kicked, her boot connecting soundly with his wrist. The Masamune arced through the air and landed on the ground where it gleamed long and menacing under the stars but ultimately useless.
What followed next was a barrage of lightning blows and kicks that Tifa rained on Sephiroth. Driven by twin emotions of fear and anger, it never occurred to her that her invincible nemesis was having a hard time dodging her blows, let alone hitting back. Her only thought was to kill him, disable him before he inevitably struck.
Within five seconds Sephiroth realised that Tifa Lockheart was going to beat him to death and he could not really blame her, considering that he was the man who had burnt down her town and killed her father and friends. But that didn't mean he was going to accept death after having been brought back from it.
Even in his current state Sephiroth was still a formidable opponent and Tifa had been lucky that he had been disoriented, just having woken up to discover that he had been horribly weakened and for some reason, the Cetra had chosen to deposit him near Midgar. And seeing the pretty brunette there, shivering in the dark, had not done anything to lessen his confusion. But now survival instincts and years of warrior training kicked in.
Even as Tifa struck for the vulnerable part of his throat, Sephiroth twisted, dodging her blow. His hand clamped down on her right wrist like a vice. With admirable speed, she brought her left elbow forward and if he had been any slower she might have smashed his temple in. As it was, she got off a glancing blow that hurt like hell but he managed to block most of it. Sweeping his leg under her ankles before she could react, Sephiroth floored her.
Tifa let out a grunt of pain as she hit the ground, jagged bits of stone and coarse sand digging into her back. She tried to flip herself back up but Sephiroth moved faster. She had thought he would have gone for his sword but instead he flung himself on top of her, pinning her with his superior body weight. 'That cloak and armour must weigh more than I thought,' the inane thought flitted through her mind as she struggled frantically to throw him off. Within seconds her legs were pinned down, as were her hands and she found herself trapped with her worst nightmare atop her. Silky white strands fell across her face even as she grimaced, refusing to meet his eyes. Her hands clenched and unclenched, angry and futile signs of her helplessness. She wondered if he knew how frightened she really was.
He could smell her fear, could have smelt it a mile off but in her eyes burned another emotion, the one that had driven her to confront him instead of running. It might have been foolhardiness or courage, maybe both. For a moment his mind went back to that moment when seven years ago, a fifteen-year-old had taken his own sword to him. She was still that same girl.
She had steeled herself for the fatal blow, for the taunting words that must surely come. Instead, he suddenly rolled off her. Air rushed back into her lungs and Tifa lay there frozen. Had he just released her?
"Are you just going to lie there, Lockheart?" a sardonic voice questioned. It kicked her into action and she bolted to her feet, retreating a few metres. But he remained where he was, seated on the ground, looking up at her with faint amusement. As ridiculous as it was, Tifa suddenly felt like a recalcitrant child under that unwavering green gaze.
A harsh cough racked him and he turned away, white hair obscuring him from her view as he spat out what she knew to be blood. The crimson stain that he brushed away from the corner of his mouth with leather-covered fingers confirmed it. His lip was split, she noticed and bruises were forming against his fair skin. Sephiroth was hurt. That knowledge was still astounding. In her mind Sephiroth had always been that towering, menacing figure. It had been a team effort of enormous proportions to bring him down and the fact that she had hurt him was more shocking than flattering.
Lockheart continued to stare at him with those enormous eyes, every part of her radiating suspicion. At least she hadn't attacked him again. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, sounding weary even to his own ears. Gods but that woman had some moves. He ached in places that he didn't know he had. Even a tussle with two fire dragons when he had been just a young member of SOLDIER hadn't felt as bad.
She didn't say anything but the slight scornful curl of her lip said it all. Fine then, if words didn't work, actions would. Besides, the last thing he had on his mind was going another round with the brunette. As it was, the world had just stopped spinning. Carefully and slowly, Sephiroth got to his feet. He took one step towards his Masamune only to have her dash past him and snatch it up.
Tifa clutched the sword in her hand, feeling the grooves of the hilt even as her fingers wrapped around it. Seven years ago she had attacked him with this same sword and he had left his mark on her. She could do it again, and this time Tifa was sure she would succeed. Whatever had happened to him, it had left him very weak and although he had bested her earlier, she knew that with her speed and stamina, she could wear him down. And then she could put the blade where it belonged: in his heart. 'If he has one, that is.' It wasn't like her to get sarcastic but it wasn't every day that one faced a resurrected would-be destroyer of the world.
"You could do it, but you won't." He kept his voice calm and firm; it was the kind of tone a General used with a hysterical young recruit.
"What makes you think that?" Tifa bit out.
Emotions warred within her, passed fleetingly over her face. "Because I let you go. In the past I would not have. But things are different now."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I could have snapped your neck just now and we both know it."
Tifa ground her teeth in silent frustration, knowing that he had her there. He had let her go; she could not strike him down in cold blood. Besides, he did seem different. He could have killed her; he had never hesitated before in any attempt to do so.
"What are you doing here?" she asked finally.
There was a spell of stark silence before he finally replied. "I don't know." And that was the truth. All he recalled was the blinding white light, the soft touch of a hand and falling into what he had thought would be eternal slumber. He knew who had revived him; he just didn't know why. Somehow though, he felt like himself again, the man he had been before the horror and madness of his origins had driven him over the edge, before the touch of Jenova had invaded his mind.
Silence fell again. Tifa just stood there, unwilling to make the first move and unsure of what to do. She wanted nothing more than to go home, wake up in bed and find out that this was nothing more than a bad dream. On the other hand, she knew that Sephiroth really was here and she didn't want him to take off into the unknown. For all she knew he would make a beeline for the North Crater and resurrect Jenova or something like that although Reeve and Rufus had made a thorough search of the crater and reported that nothing had been found. The crater was completely empty, void of monsters in fact and half filled with collapsed rock and rubble. Still, the thought of him running around out there was unnerving.
Whatever Lockheart had in her mind, he for one was not going to stand out here in the wretched cold. The slums of Midgar seemed more welcoming than this harsh barren desert. Without a second glance at the woman who had stolen his sword, Sephiroth started walking in the direction of the city.
"Wh-where are you going?" Tifa sputtered.
"To the city, where else? I don't know about you or your inclinations but I am not going to spend the night out here with the cold and the monsters. I'm going to Midgar," Sephiroth said in a cold dignified tone. All of which was spoilt when he slipped and went down on one knee, slamming one hand onto the ground to keep himself from completely collapsing.
Whatever it was, she was quite sure that the man was not pretending. Evil maniacs were nothing if not arrogant and Sephiroth would never put on this show of weakness, regardless of his intentions. She took a step towards him, wondering if she was going to have to help him back to the city when she noticed that several pairs of red eyes had appeared out of the gloom. And they were coming closer.
"Wonderful," she heard Sephiroth swear under his breath. "My sword," he ordered, holding out his hand to her. Still Tifa hesitated.
"Miss Lockheart, if you do not hand me my sword, we are going to become food for these beasts. You are not armed, have no materia and I'm barely standing on my feet. If we are to make it back to the city, I suggest you do as I say."
The shadowy shapes were rapidly becoming more solid as the monsters closed in on them. Ignoring her brain that screamed against putting his sword back in his hand, Tifa tossed it at him and Sephiroth plucked it clean out of the air. Seconds later, one of the monsters leapt forward, fangs bared and dripping thick white saliva as it snapped at him only to have the tip of the Masamune slice through its throat.
Tifa's last thought on the matter was that it was a complete and total irony that she was actually fighting side by side with the man who had taken everything from her. And then there was no more time to think as she was embroiled in a battle for her life.