A/N: Yeah, you're not hallucinating. It's really short, though, but I really wanted to get this out, and I'm already working on more. To note: it's been a few years and of course, my writing style has changed a little, so it might feel kind of jarring if you read the older chapters before this.

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9. The State of Dreaming

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I woke up to soothing darkness.

My body felt leaden as I tried to sit up, and I soon gave up to stare at the stars plastered on the ceiling. I couldn't understand why my throat ached, like I had screamed—

I had. I had screamed. Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck.

Dad, Camilla, Cloud. Their names spun around in my head while images of the night attacked me. A weight pressed me down to the bed, making it hard to breathe, and I felt like I'd been thrown in a glass cage, unable to break through and regain control of my body. I gasped, trying to get air inside my lungs, but all it did was suffocate me further. The sound of footsteps didn't register at first, but when it did I focused all my attention of it to anchor myself. The noise kept floating in and out of my mind, so much so I wondered if it was real.

I rolled on my side as an attempt to sit up, the movement taxing, but the sudden dip of the bed helped. A hand settled between my shoulders, light and caressing. Raising my eyes took a lot of effort, but I managed. Cloud stared at me, his expression hard to decipher in the dark.

"Focus," he said. "Look at me."

I grasped at my chest as if it would assuage the pain my damn heart was causing me. It did no good. My gaze slipped away.

"Hey. Hey, I'm here." His voice was a whisper, barely loud enough to be heard. Somehow it broke through more than a shout would have. "That's good. Stay on me, baby."

I tried to say his name, but what came out was an indecipherable stutter. Cloud shushed me; his hand on my back drifted to my neck and he forced my head up.

"You're safe."

His words brought an overwhelming wave of panic. I'd never felt safe; why would I be now? He said them again—and fuck, why would he promise me something like that, something that's not true. As if he could tell I didn't believe him, Cloud leaned in an inch, enough to immerse me in his presence.

"Tifa…nothing's happening to you, all right? You're safe here."

Despite the comforting implication behind his statement—or maybe because of it—I started crying. Silent tears that ran freely at first. I could make out Cloud panicking, not understanding what had set me off. The sobs came after. He tried to bring me closer, but I couldn't stand it suddenly, couldn't stand being touched—I pushed against his chest, creating a distance between us. Cloud hesitated, then relented.

"Baby…" His voice broke. "I don't—I don't understand."

Of course he didn't, and anyway, how could I make him understand? How could he know that feeling of danger, of vulnerability that had haunted me for years, that only grew stronger since him— I shut off the thought.

Crying seemed to have expelled part of the anxiety that had taken root deep inside, and my head cleared. I wiped at the tears with my hands as my breathing evened out. I could finally take a good look at Cloud—the worry seeping out of him was palpable.

"What did I say?" He asked with all the softness he could muster.

A laugh escaped me. It sounded hysterical even to my ears, and I caught Cloud's small flinch. Right now, all I wanted was to get him to realize how futile his promises were; they would only made my hopes soar then crash. The torrent of truth that spilled out was unstoppable in its force, and I couldn't restrain it.

"Safe?" I laughed again. "That's a lie, and you know it. I wasn't safe when—when—" I hissed a breath, my throat clogging up with fear. "I thought—he wasn't supposed to—" Another burst of laughter, this time accompanied by more tears. Nothing I said made sense—I was aware of it—but I was paralyzed at the idea of admitting what had happened. "She didn't believe—I should have been safe." I couldn't stop the sob. "Don't make a promise you can't keep."

Cloud stayed silent for a while, allowing me to compose myself as best as I could. It felt like I would never be in control again, like my life was slipping through my fingers and I couldn't hold on to it.

"Tifa…" He shook his head. "You should rest."

His dismissal was both everything I wanted and everything I had dreaded. He'd given me an out, but I couldn't take it. Logic was overruled. I gripped his sleeve.

"I'm not tired, I'm saying—" My breath hitched. "I'm trying to make you understand."

Cloud's hand came up to my neck again; his touch initially startled me, but then I relaxed into it. It didn't go past Cloud.

"You need to slow down. I'll be there when you wake up. If you still want to talk then, we will."

"No, no—" My grasp on his shirt tightened. "I don't want to sleep."

"Why?" He tucked away some strands of hair that had fallen across my face.

"I'm afraid to dream," I said meekly. It was liberating to admit it.

Cloud's emotions were easy to decipher as they skipped across his face. There was anticipation, hesitancy, worry, wariness—it was as if he couldn't settle on one. In the end, he only nodded.

"Okay." He inhaled like he was readying himself.

But as he brought his hand back to his side and gazed at me, I folded on myself. Was I really going to tell him? What if his reaction wasn't favorable, what if he threw me out, what if he didn't like me anymore, what if, what if… I gulped the words. My eyes fled his.

Cloud moved around so he was sitting cross-legged; the space between us reduced.

"What Scarlet said…" His voice trailed off.

The only reaction I could manage was a terse nod.

He lowered his head a bit so he could catch my eyes, but I wouldn't allow it. "The teacher...did he—did he assault you?"

Throughout the last months, I had repressed the memories, the feelings, the sensations; they all caught up in a great wave crashing through me, sending me over and under until finding the way up was impossible.

"Cloud—" My voice broke. My hand came up to clutch my heart again. I couldn't repress it anymore. The crying began anew in short, shallow sobs. "I tried to tell them. I tried to let them know, but they didn't believe me. If they had, if she had—" I gasped, feeling my heart constrict and crawl up my throat. "Maybe he wouldn't have…" I ended in a whisper.

Cloud was careful to maintain control over his expression, but slivers of anger shone through despite his efforts. As if realizing I was studying his reactions, he leaned forward and rubbed his hands over his face, and then kept them there, hiding himself from me.

"When?" It came out muffled.

I bit my lip. I wasn't certain telling him this was the best idea, but at this point, there was nothing left to keep secret.

"December."

I heard his sharp intake of breath, saw the slight tremble of his hands as he pulled them away from his face. "Last December?"

I nodded.

"Tifa…" It wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking about; my mind was also on the night we first slept together. The jagged rhythm of his breathing gave him away. "I—I didn't—baby—"

I could see his lips forming the apology I didn't want to hear. I reached out for his hand on impulse.

"Don't," I burst out, pleading and past caring. "Don't say you're sorry. Please."

The shine of unshed tears in his eyes created a whirlwind of uncertainty inside me. Our joke of relationship had sustained me throughout the last months—I couldn't bear to hear that it shouldn't have happened.

Cloud intertwined our fingers, the gesture sweet enough to somewhat dispel my doubts. His words helped. "I'm not sorry. Not about being with you. But I am sorry if the way I acted ever made anything worse."

I kept to myself how I had felt disgusted for a moment that night. It wouldn't do any good to us.

"You helped," I whispered.

He let out a disjointed laugh, and a few tears escaped the corner of his eyes. He rubbed them away. "You were so unhappy, so defeated, and I thought, or rather I didn't think—" Cloud stopped himself, realizing he wasn't making much sense. Instead of continuing, he tugged me toward him. "Baby, come here."

I conceded despite my hesitation, and was glad I had as he wrapped his arms around me and fell back unto the bed, bringing me with him. His ragged sighs ruffled my hair; I couldn't see his face, only his neck and the frayed collar of his shirt, and I had the impression he didn't want me to.

Cloud didn't say I was safe again, now knowing how much I would despise the assurance. But he held me through what was left of the night, and though fatigue eventually overcame me, I fought it, unwilling to be plunged in merciless memories one more time.

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Song: The State of Dreaming - Marina and the Diamonds