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It’s still dark when Tifa stirs awake.
She comes to gently, wading from the dreamlessness in the space of a breath, eyes drifting open. At first, her surroundings disorient her; an unfamiliar room, a cramped, single-sized bed - until, as her lucidness returns, so do her memories of the day before. The plate dropped. Marlene safe. Seventh Heaven gone, ruined. Jessie, Biggs, Wedge. Elmyra. Aerith.
She wonders what woke her.
The house is quiet, and it’s late. After everything, Tifa thought she’d be exhausted enough to take up Elmyra’s offer to rest without too much guilt. Here now, though, she doubts she’s even slept three hours. Marlene could’ve had a nightmare, she thinks, but tonight Barret is here to soothe her fears. She props herself up to a sit and, ears tuned, listens to the night.
Tifa.
She blinks into the dark.
Her name. Something said her name.
The fear from the train graveyard slips beneath her skin, and she draws her shoulders up. She’s had enough ghosts for a lifetime.
A giggle. Just a breath louder, C’mon, Tifa!
Tifa thinks she should be afraid, but the shape of that voice douses her fear. She frowns into the dark wondrously. Aerith?
Another giggle fades just out of reach. A shadow flickers in the light beneath the bedroom door.
Curiosity piqued, Tifa shifts out of bed and pulls on her boots before she can think better of it. The hallway is bright when she opens the door; just around the staircase, she catches the tail of pink ruffles walking out of sight. As if led on a string, Tifa follows.
The kitchen is still bright too, but Elmyra is nowhere to be found. Tifa doesn’t linger, instead heading for the front door, walking out into the night. There, just a few paces down the walkway, stands Aerith. She’s looking at the sky, back toward Tifa, until Tifa steps closer. She turns to her with a cheery smile. “Hi.”
Tifa is given pause, unsure what she’s seeing. “Is this a dream?” she asks at length.
Aerith’s grin falls back into an amenable smile. “If you want it to be,” she replies. She angles herself toward the path and looks over her shoulder. “Take a walk with me?”
Tifa… doesn’t see the harm. Aerith is as corporeal as Tifa is, and something about this - as much as it feels strange, unreal - some of it feels true. She steps over stone, coming forward until she falls into step beside Aerith, and they walk down the stone path together.
"Are you okay?" Tifa hazards, first to break the silence.
"Mmhm," Aerith hums.
"Are… are you here?"
"So many questions." Aerith giggles, then studies Tifa from the corner of her eye while they walk. "I'm here. In a manner of speaking."
Tifa knows enough to surmise it has something to do with her Ancient heritage. Aerith may be here consciously, somehow separate of her physical form.
But, feeling chastised, Tifa doesn't ask anymore questions. She follows Aerith's lead, across the bridge, and up a gentle incline onto a small outcrop of flowers.
It really is quite lovely here. The gentle rush of water, the green gardens and warm night lights. But as they walk, it’s the night sky that draws Tifa’s attention. Out past the rim of the valley, toward the plate and Sector 7, the air curls with wisps of green light.
Tifa knows what that is and what it implies. It’s the lifestream. The sight robs her of her breath and, for a moment, staggers her.
Aerith stops just a few paces ahead at the edge of the gentle rise and turns to watch her carefully. “At first, I was worried this would upset you,” she says. She threads her fingers together. “But then I thought, maybe it would help you to see what I see.”
It’s a moment more before Tifa recovers. Still stricken by the sight, she steps forward timidly, until Aerith reaches out to bridge the distance. She's gentle as she takes Tifa's hand and turns to watch together. “It’s a tragedy to lose so many lives," Aerith says. "But when we die, we return to the planet, sharing our borrowed energy with her again. No one is forsaken, or forgotten. When we die, we return home."
The pressure builds in Tifa's chest, grief making it hard to breathe. But it helps; sadness, guilt, shock, bathed with melancholy at Aerith's words - to know, even after an unjust, unfair death, that today's victims may be fated to live on. Tears sting Tifa’s eyes, but they don’t fall. “Thank you,” she says.
Aerith, what aren’t you telling me?
This. This is what Aerith knew.
“So now you know,” says Aerith. When Tifa blinks up at her, Aerith has withdrawn her hand, looking deeply apologetic. She turns away before she speaks again.
“The Ancients have an omniscient way of looking at things. I can sense what will happen, even if it’s not set in stone and there’s still a chance to make a difference.” Aerith curls one hand into her chest. “I’m sorry. But the truth wasn’t what you needed when you asked me in the sewers. And there wasn’t enough time to explain.”
Tifa knows she’s right. Had she known of the inevitability of Shinra’s plans, she would have been sapped of hope long before they ever reached the plate. She wouldn’t have had the will to make the small difference that she had. Who knew how many lives were saved because she helped barter a few moments to spare. Aerith was trying to help her by giving her that hope with a partial omission of truth.
“No, I… I understand,” says Tifa. She places a hand briefly on Aerith’s shoulder, and Aerith’s expression brightens. Sympathy curls in Tifa's chest. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to know. The uncertainty is bad enough, but at least then there’s hope. To know what’s going to happen…”
She shakes her head. “Thank you for sparing me that truth.”
Aerith smiles, grateful. But then her expression crumples.
“Things are going to get much worse, Tifa,” she says. “For a time. Don’t forget that you have Barret, and Marlene, and others. Don’t forget you have Cloud. You will get through it if you remember that.”
Tifa places her hands on her arms, feeling anxiety settle in the pit of her stomach. She wonders how bad it will have to be for Aerith to warn her of it. “And you?” she asks quietly.
Aerith breaks into a smile again. “For as long as I am able,” she promises solemnly. “Yes. You have me, too.”
They turn to watch the energy-filled sky again in companionable silence. Tifa bids them a gentle farewell, hoping the journey back home - whatever it may be like - is a peaceful one.
“Cloud tells me you’re planning to come get me,” Aerith says after a while. “I want you to know I don’t have any expectations. His judgement may not be clear. I wouldn’t want any of you endangering your lives.”
“No,” says Tifa, almost immediately. She catches herself so as not to sound too hasty, or put her own judgement in question, since she knows they have all been weighing it in their minds long enough that their decision is a calculated one. “We’re worried about you, Aerith. Shinra might have more planned for you than they let on. Even if the Turks believe you won’t be harmed, Shinra likes to pull the wool over people’s eyes.”
She takes a moment to collect herself before she admits, “Besides, Cloud can be really persuasive when he wants to be, and he’s determined to rescue you. But I think I’m safe to speak for Barret when I say we were both ready to come get you, too.”
Though Tifa had thought smiling came easy to Aerith, even as Aerith smiles at her admission, small and gracious, it’s unsustainable.
“If that’s your choice, then thank you,” she says, voice full of warmth, but then her smile falls again. It makes Tifa reconsider; at least here, there is something, a precipice of some sort, that edges too heavy around Aerith for her to maintain. Tifa isn’t ready to face that implication just yet.
“There’s one last thing I must ask of you, then,” Aerith adds. "You can't ask me to elaborate. But Tifa… when the time comes, please take care of Cloud. He's going to need you, too. It'll be important to his survival." She clasps her hands to her chest, fingers threaded, white-knuckled. "When the time comes, you'll know. Please, when he needs you - answer his call."
"Aerith?" Tifa feels foreboding build in her stomach. Turns out it can be worse than fear.
Things are going to get much worse.
"But not yet. Right?"
Aerith looks at Tifa then. A broken hope resides in her gaze, sets Tifa determined. "We have time."
Aerith studies her again, and gives a small exhale of a laugh. "We have time," she replies.
Tifa takes her hand and squeezes, giving her a determined smile. A promise. "Then, we'll make the most of it."
Aerith allows herself another giggle. They turn, still hand in hand, to watch the lifestream together as the sky lightens with the rising sun.
When Tifa wakes, the sun is bright, shining with the present she'll appreciate much more than the future to come.