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When Cecil and Lightning and the others had described regaining their own memories as a "flood," Tifa had assumed they were just drawing from common metaphor. But standing here, months flowing past her eyes in the instants between breaths, she knew exactly what they meant. It was like slipping into a riptide, the world wrenched out from under your feet, struggling to find the surface, find which way was up again. Far more surgical than that, even, like she'd been taken apart bit by bit and had to grasp those constituents together into a seamless whole. It didn't fit. Jagged and messy, conflicting and full. A puzzle with too many pieces.
And then Tifa was back. Gasping at short breaths, grasping at her shirt over her heart. Cloud, Barrett, Yuffie, in similar shocked silence before her, and her other allies providing what comfort and anchor they could to them. And, her arms around Tifa, Aerith.
Tifa couldn't look at the woman. She couldn't bear it, beyond panic or fear or grief, she knew the mere sight would make her come undone, would unravel something held so carefully in her core. But she let go of her own shirt, and hugged her. Hugged her so tight and so close and breathed her in and couldn't exhale but for crying, screwed her eyes shut and sobbed empty apologies into Aerith's hair.
*******
"Our memories aren't going to match up, when you get yours back." They were alone together, in a little room in an abandoned house in an abandoned village that Tifa forced herself not to mentally compare to her memories of Nibelheim. Sitting on a bed together, her and Aerith, one hand in each others'.
Aerith tilted her head in that adorable way she did, and even through the tension, that made Tifa smile. "Why's that?" she asked.
"You..." Tifa couldn't say it. "I remember about two years more than I did, now. A whole lot happened, I don't even know where to start, but I guess, we did it. We saved the planet, the way we set out to." She tried to smile, tried to put on a brave face, but it didn't last. "But you...you didn't..." Like dragging out a nail. "You didn't make it."
Aerith was silent, probably taking all that in. "Oh, Tifa." She reached over, her hand caressing the brawler's cheek. "I'm so sorry."
Tifa stared at the flower girl. "You're sorry?" she spluttered. "You...I'm not the one who..."
"Deep breaths," she reminded her. And while Tifa breathed, Aerith continued. "I won't ask you to relive that, or tell me what happened. I don't need to know. I promise, it's okay."
"You died," Tifa choked out, one hand over Aerith's on her cheek. "I just told you that you died, and you're worried about me?"
"I'm here." Firm, and stubborn. "I'm not dead. I'm right here, and I'm very much alive, and the woman I love is hurting." She smiled, soft and honest. "Of course I'm worried about you."
She was quiet a moment. "I never got a chance to tell you I loved you," Tifa whispered. "I didn't even know, not all the way. I always thought...I could figure out my feelings after everything was over. After we saved the world." She felt like crying again, but she forced the words out past the knot in her throat. "It's so stupid, I felt like such an idiot, wanting you to come back just so I could kiss you, but I wanted that. I wanted that more than anything."
"I'm here now," Aerith whispered, her forehead against Tifa's. "I'm here. We have all the time in the world here, it'll be alright."
"Aerith." Tifa swallowed, hard. "If...if the gods don't let us stay here, after everything is over, if they send us back to our original worlds, I want to ask them to let you stay–"
"Don't." She pulled back, just a little, moving hand off Tifa's cheek but still holding her other. A glint of anger in her chartreuse eyes. "Don't ask me to stay here while you leave. Don't you dare."
"I want you to live," Tifa choked out. "I don't care if that means I never see you again, but I love you more than anything and I want you to live."
It was quiet between them, for a time. "I'm not scared of dying," Aerith said, quietly. "There's a time for endings, there always will be. You can't tell a story without knowing it's gonna end, someday." She leaned in, pressing a long, careful kiss to Tifa's lips. "I'm more scared of living alone than of dying with you."
Tifa swallowed her tears, trying to hold herself together, trying to be strong. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered. "Not again. Not ever again."
"I'm not going anywhere." Aerith scooted closer, as if the proximity alone would grant some comfort her words didn't. "How about, instead of thinking of what happens in a few weeks, or a few months, let's just focus on right now? I want to make the best of our time together. So if – or when – we do have to say goodbye, we can do it without regrets."
It would have sounded like a pipe dream, coming from anyone else. But from Aerith? "Okay," Tifa said. "I'll try. I promise, I'll try. I want to be here with you, I do, I really do." She squeezed her hand tighter. "There's no where else I'd rather be."
Aerith giggled. "It's alright if it takes some trial and error. How about..." She hummed to herself, a little thinking-song. "What do you want to do tonight? Just you and me, let's do something nice."
"Hm," Tifa mumbled. Thoughts brushing elbows with fears, anxiety slinking in the corners of every idea, but she shook them off. Aerith was right. She was here, here and now, and Tifa wanted nothing more than to be simply happy with that, and with her. "Right now, I think I want to kiss you until I can't breathe."
Aerith raised an eyebrow, bursting into quiet laughter. "Looks like you've learned a little boldness after two years." She wrapped her arms around Tifa's shoulders, swinging one leg over to straddle the brawler's lap. "Show me what else you've learned," she whispered against Tifa's lips.
"Yeah," Tifa replied, her cheeks redder than Aerith's most crimson flower.