Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The days following Bahamut and the shadowcreeper’s rampage through Edge passed in a strange lull. News of the Geostigma cure trickled slowly through the city, like a rumor no one dared to trust. Peace and safety had been promised before—only to be torn away. Now, some wandered aimlessly between the cities of Edge and Midgar. Others gathered in quiet reverence at the church, staring wide-eyed into the glistening water, unsure what to believe.

And then there were those who chose to celebrate.

That first night, Seventh Heaven saw the biggest crowd in its short but storied history. Tifa threw the doors open and served drinks on the house. Word traveled fast. Locals poured in, shoulder to shoulder.

Songs were sung, toasts were made, and Denzel’s recovery was celebrated like a miracle. The children managed to convince everyone to dance. Cloud, still unaccustomed to crowds, found himself half-submerged in a sea of laughter and warmth that he tried to stay afloat in by lurking in the corner. The sheer closeness of everything scraped against every edge of him.

But then Marlene would smile at him from across the room, or Denzel would tug at his sleeve, and the scraping would soften. Tifa’s eyes would meet his, warm and steady, and that ever-present itch on the back of his neck—the one that pushed him to flee—would ease.

Cloud nursed a beer from the corner of the bar, watching the revelry unfold. A strange, quiet sense of peace curled around his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt anything close to it.

Midnight crept in, and the crowd slowly thinned. Tifa didn’t rush anyone out. She simply smiled, poured another round, and let the night wind down on its own. Eventually, only their closest friends remained.

Some, Cloud hadn’t seen in years.

They greeted him with slaps on the back and warm, familiar laughter. They spoke of the “old days”—though to Cloud, two years ago hardly felt distant enough to be called old. Still, it felt good to see them again. To be seen.

Red XIII, who preferred the name Nanaki these days, and Cid left first, bound west aboard the Shera. Vincent vanished as quietly as he’d arrived, though not before giving the children a silent nod and Cloud a parting glance—acknowledgment without words. Barret thundered up the stairs soon after, but not before scooping Marlene into a bone-crushing hug. Yuffie, red-cheeked and giggling, followed close behind Barret.

“See ya tomorrow!” she chirped, waving over her shoulder.

Then it was just the four of them again—Tifa, Denzel, Marlene, and Cloud. The bar was quiet. Empty glasses dotted the tables. Trash littered the floors.

Uncertain, Cloud lingered near the bar.

Was he supposed to leave? Or was he allowed to stay?

The question coiled in his gut like something alive. He couldn’t bring himself to ask. Instead, he quietly began gathering empty bottles and glasses, wordless as ever.

Tifa said nothing, just smiled gently and turned to usher the children upstairs.

“Time to say goodnight,” she told them. Groans met her order. “It’s way past your bedtime,” she added with a mock sternness.

Cloud watched them ascend. The creak of the old stairs, the patter of feet overhead—it struck him then how deeply he’d missed the sounds of home.

The tap ran as the kids brushed their teeth. Sheets rustled as they crawled into bed. And before he realized what he was doing, Cloud found himself heading upstairs. Quiet as a whisper. He avoided the creaky step out of habit.

At the end of the hallway, he paused. From his spot just outside the children’s room, he could see the silhouette of Tifa between their beds. His feet itched to carry him forward but he held back, content to watch.

“I know today’s been exciting,” Tifa was saying, smoothing a hand over Denzel’s hair. “I let you stay up late because today was special. But now it’s time for sleep.”

Marlene clutched her moogle tight. “But we’re not tired,” she mumbled through a yawn.

“Yeah,” Denzel echoed, blinking slowly.

“Of course you aren’t.” Tifa’s smile was audible in her voice. She tugged Marlene’s blanket up to her chin before turning to Denzel and doing the same.

Just as she leaned over him, Marlene piped up, “Where’s Cloud?”

“Yeah,” Denzel murmured. “Isn’t he gonna say goodnight?”

Tifa hesitated. Cloud saw her shoulders tense.

“Cloud’s downstairs,” she said gently. “He’s tired, just like you. I’ll tell him you said goodnight.”

“But I wanna tell him myself.”

“Me too.”

Tifa faltered. Cloud could almost see her thinking, searching for something patient and diplomatic.

“I’m here,” he said softly, stepping into the room.

The children lit up.

“Cloud!”

Tifa turned, startled. Her lips parted like she might say something, but no sound came. She simply stepped aside and let him in.

He moved between the beds, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. But he knelt beside Marlene first, pulling her covers a little higher.

“Goodnight, Marlene,” he said quietly.

She beamed at him. “Goodnight, Cloud.”

He turned to Denzel, who watched him carefully. Cloud tucked his blanket in just like he’d seen Tifa do.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Denzel asked, his voice small.

The question hit Cloud like a blade. He glanced at Tifa. She gave a tiny nod.

“Yes,” Cloud said.

Denzel’s eyes softened. “Goodnight, Cloud. See you tomorrow?”

Cloud nodded. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

By the time Tifa and Cloud stepped back into the hallway, the kids were already fast asleep. Cloud lingered by the door a moment longer, listening to the even rhythm of their breathing.

A normal man might have felt content in that moment. But for Cloud, an undercurrent of unease lingered, quiet but persistent, and impossible to shake.

Silently, he tiptoed down the stairs and into the bar after Tifa. It was still a wreck and would take hours to clean completely. So together, they started to gather glasses and cups, sweep, mop, and clear away trash. It was easy to fall back into their old rhythm, almost like he’d never left.

Almost.

But the illusion didn’t last. A quiet tension hung in the air between them. Not hostile, just... uncertain. It buzzed just beneath the surface of their wordless work.

Cloud could name it—regret, guilt, longing—but his scrambled mind didn’t know where to start explaining. The right words tangled in his throat and stayed there, heavy and unspoken. So he swallowed them down and focused on the task at hand, letting the quiet swallow him whole.

When he set the last cocktail glass on the counter for her to wash, it was Tifa who finally broke the silence.

“Did you mean it?” she asked, voice deceptively casual. “When you said you’d be here when they wake up?”

The fact that she felt the need to ask made something in his chest twist.

He ran his thumb over the rim of the glass. “Yes,” he said quietly, from the other side of the bar. “If... that’s all right with you.”

Because this was her home. Their home, once—but he’d walked away. He had no right to expect to just walk back in and pick up where he’d left off.

If he wanted to stay, he’d have to earn it. All of it. Their trust. His place. Her forgiveness.

Tifa didn’t respond at first. She stood at the sink, rinsing glass after glass, her shoulders low with exhaustion. Then she paused, looked over her shoulder, and offered him one of her quiet, unreadable smiles.

“Everything’s right where you left it,” she said. “You’ll be sharing your room with Barret for the night, though.”

Then she turned back to the sink and kept washing.

Her agreement didn’t soothe the dull ache in his chest. She’d smiled but she was guarded, holding him at arm’s length just like the kids. And how could he blame her? She’d run the bar. Handled deliveries. Raised two kids—one of them sick, wasting away, with no idea if he’d make it. All of it on her own. She'd counted on him to be there and he hadn't been.

Tifa’s shoulders looked delicate as she scrubbed the final glass, sleeves pushed up to her elbows. But Cloud knew better. He knew the strength they carried, the weight they’d borne. He’d watched her lift friends from the brink and stand tall during the worst days of their lives.

She could carry the world—but she shouldn’t have had to.

Cloud’s throat tightened. Words churned just behind his teeth. So much he needed to say. So much he needed her to know. And all he could manage was—

“Tifa…”

She paused. Her eyes met his, warm and deep, the color of brandy. For a second, he forgot how to breathe. He hadn’t realized how much he missed those eyes until now, even as they watched him with gentle reservation.

She waited, patient as ever.

“You shouldn’t have had to carry all that alone.”

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“You deserve better.”

But his voice broke on the only words he could find. “I’m sorry.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, and she looked down, nodding. “I know.”

She dried the last glass, shut off the tap, and wiped her hands. The quiet told him she was ready to turn in.

Panic twisted in his gut.

“Tifa, I—” He stopped, no idea what he meant to say, only that he couldn’t let the night end like this. He wasn’t ready for the distance to return.

“It’s okay, Cloud.” Her voice softened, her expression full of that cautious hope she wore so often. But her eyes were tired—so tired. She reached across the bar, fingers brushing his forearm. “We’ll talk later, okay? It’s been a long day.”

Her touch was light, like she was afraid too much pressure might scare him off.

Then she withdrew, fingers curling gently into her palm.

Cloud swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured, eyes falling to the floor.

Even someone as emotionally stunted as him could read the signs. The moment was over—for now.

He turned, backing away from the bar, and headed for the stairs. His hand paused on the doorframe as his boot met the first step.

“Goodnight, Tifa,” he said, without turning around.

“Goodnight, Cloud,” she replied.

Cloud woke the next morning not to clammy skin and a pounding heart, but to the sound of a chainsaw.

It took him a second to realize the racket was coming from Barret’s wide open mouth. The man’s snoring could probably be heard halfway across the city, and it rattled the room with each exhale.

Cloud sat up stiffly, bracing a hand behind himself. Barret had taken the bed, leaving him the cot on the floor. He didn’t mind. After all the places he’d slept—stone floors, church pews, the beds of trucks—this was practically a luxury.

But it was the first morning in a long time that he’d slept through the night.

He didn’t want to think about why. Guilt stirred immediately at the edges of that thought, curling its fingers around his ribs. So he pushed it aside and headed to the bathroom.

It was strange to be back in his own space. Everything looked the same: the kids’ toothbrushes lined up in the holder, folded towels on the shelf, Tifa’s face wash on the counter. Cloud stared for a beat too long before splashing cold water over his face. He dried off with a towel from the hook—soft, familiar, and smelling like the detergent Tifa always bought.

His clothes used to smell like that too.

Now, they reeked faintly of the cheap stuff he’d used at laundromats wherever he could find them.

He sighed, returned the towel to the hook, and headed downstairs.

The bar was quiet, sunlight slanting through the windows in golden rectangles across the floor. It was early. Everyone else was still asleep. Cloud grabbed a glass of water and sat at the counter, unsure what exactly he was waiting for.

He didn’t have to wonder for long.

The floorboards above his head creaked, and a moment later Tifa stepped into view, dressed in black sleep shorts and a loose white t-shirt. Her hair was longer than he remembered—closer to how it used to be years ago. She was rumpled and damp like she’d just rolled out of bed and washed her face. She paused when she saw him, visibly surprised.

“Oh.” Her fingers swept through her hair. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” he said. This time, it was true. “You?”

“Not bad, considering Yuffie’s still a kicking, punching, blanket-hog.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, amusement warming the space between them.

Some things never changed. During their travels, Yuffie had been notoriously terrible to share a bed or cot with—especially awful to share a tent with. No one had wanted to bunk with her during their stops in Cosmo Canyon, and for good reason.

Tifa tied her hair back into a low ponytail, then washed her hands at the sink. A yawn escaped her as she moved to fill the coffee pot. She paused, glanced over her shoulder.

“Coffee?”

He hesitated, but nodded. She was offering. He wasn’t about to say no.

As the dark roast brewed, scent curling warmly through the air, Tifa started on breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancake mix. Cloud watched as she moved from task to task—cracking eggs, laying bacon in a pan, whisking batter. She never stood still for long, always light on her feet, always multitasking. Then she pulled a container from the fridge, and his eyes followed.

“Blueberries?” he asked, blinking at the little blue fruits as she began to rinse them in a colander.

“They’re Denzel’s favorite.”

Ah. He should’ve known that.

Cloud didn’t move. He watched quietly as she spooned batter into the pan and pressed a few berries into each pancake. In between, she flipped bacon, scrambled eggs, and moved around the stove like a dancer—precise and practiced. He wanted to help. He knew he should’ve been helping. But some invisible line divided the bar between them, and he didn’t know how to cross it.

Someone like Barret or Yuffie would barrel right through. The kids, too. But Cloud had never been good at navigating those invisible lines. Not when it mattered.

He didn’t realize he’d drifted until her voice cut through his thoughts.

“Just sugar, right?”

“Huh?” He blinked, pulled back to the moment. “Yeah. Sugar.”

She was already stirring it into a mug. Tifa slid it across the counter, close enough that the porcelain’s heat warmed the back of his hand.

But instead of returning to the stove, she hovered a beat longer, shifting her weight.

“Where did you go?” she asked, not unkindly. “Just then. When I asked about the sugar. Where was your mind at?”

His throat tightened. How could he explain the endless static in his head? The way thoughts scattered like birds anytime he reached for one?

“I don’t know,” he said, reflexively.

Her face fell—not a frown, exactly. Just the shadow of disappointment.

So he tried again.

“I was thinking about things. You, me, the kids. Our friends. Everything, I guess.”

Tifa looked surprised. She clearly hadn’t expected him to give an answer with some kind of substance. Her gaze dropped to the counter. She traced one of the wood grains with her fingertip.

“You get that blank look sometimes. Like you’re here but not really here. I’ve always wondered what was going on in your head when that happens.”

He dropped his eyes. “Sorry…”

She shook her head, a soft, bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes met his again, and he caught something in them, familiar but distant. Maybe once he could’ve given it an exact name. Now it eluded him, something vague and vulnerable, like she wanted to say more but couldn’t quite bring herself to.

Cloud leaned in, trying to stay. Trying to listen. But before Tifa could speak, the stairs thundered with heavy steps and Barret filled the doorway.

“Mornin’, guys!” he boomed, grin wide.

“Barret, the kids and Yuffie are still asleep,” Tifa scolded lightly.

Whatever she'd been about to say disappeared like smoke.

Barret looked marginally chastised. “Sorry, sorry.” He dropped into a seat a few stools away. “Hope you’re makin’ enough, Tifa. I’m starvin’. Ain’t had a real breakfast in weeks.”

“Don’t worry.” She winked. “The kids love pancakes. I’m making enough to feed an army.”

“Did someone say pancakes?” came a high-pitched squeal. Yuffie poked her head around the corner, grinning like a fox in a henhouse. “Better eat fast or I’m takin’ ‘em all.”

Barret snorted, unfazed. “Try me, girl.”

Tifa groaned. “The kids, Yuffie,” she said, but the damage was already done.

Upstairs, stomping and scrambling broke out like thunder. A minute later, two sets of feet clattered down the stairs—Denzel first, Marlene on his heels. Their pajamas were askew and hair stuck up in every direction.

When they saw Cloud, both their faces lit up like fireworks.

Marlene launched herself at him, hugging his waist and burying her face in his shirt. Not an easy feat with him still on a stool. Denzel lingered behind, awkward, like he wanted to but wasn’t sure if he could.

Cloud opened one arm in invitation.

Denzel’s eyes widened. Then he all but threw himself forward, hugging tight enough to make Cloud’s bones creak.

“Good morning, Cloud!” Marlene beamed, chin resting on his stomach.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

Barret cleared his throat, holding out his arms. “What about me, angel?”

Marlene giggled and bounded over to launch herself into his lap. “Right here, Daddy!”

Denzel lingered a moment longer before pulling away, his face flushed. Cloud rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Good morning,” Tifa said warmly. She leaned over the counter and brushed Denzel’s fringe aside. Her fingers lingered on his forehead, then drifted to his cheek.

Something flickered in her eyes—relief.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

Denzel grinned, wide and proud. “Great. No headaches or anything. I feel really good.”

Cloud watched the way Tifa’s hand stilled on the boy’s face.

And for the first time that morning, guilt didn’t squeeze quite so hard.

“That’s great,” Tifa said, and it was clear that some part of her still hadn’t fully believed it until now—Denzel was cured. No more fevers. No more body aches or black pus. No more nights spent watching him waste away. “Why don’t you and Marlene start setting the table? We’re having a big breakfast this morning.”

“Pancakes!” Yuffie sang.

Denzel’s face lit up. “With blueberries?”

Tifa laughed. “With blueberries.”

“Yes!” Denzel threw both hands in the air, his grin stretching wide across his face. He turned to Marlene, tugging on her sleeve. “C’mon.”

Marlene nodded, matching his smile. The two of them scampered behind the counter to collect plates, cups, and silverware for everyone.

Belatedly, Cloud realized he’d never seen Denzel this happy before. Something warm settled in his chest as he watched the boy hurriedly lay out plates and dash back for cups. He was a far cry from the solemn, empty-eyed orphan Cloud had once plucked off the street and brought home on the back of Fenrir.

Had it really only been four months?

“Thanks,” Cloud murmured when Denzel handed him a cup.

Denzel beamed and ran off to Yuffie, who promptly hooked an arm around his neck and ruffled his hair. Their laughter rang through the kitchen, drawing Tifa’s attention as she flipped the last pancake. A rare, soft smile touched her lips—the kind she only wore when no one was looking.

“Here you go,” chirped Marlene, handing Cloud a knife and fork.

He blinked, snapping out of his daze. “Thank you.”

Breakfast was a noisy, boisterous affair. Between Barret’s naturally thunderous voice, Yuffie’s dramatic retellings of her latest missions, and the kids’ excitement, Cloud was surprised they managed to eat at all. Strangely, though, the noise didn’t bother him.

In fact, it comforted him.

He sat quietly, listening to their chatter and laughter, and let it wash over him. He didn’t have much to say, but no one seemed to mind. At one point, he felt someone watching him. He turned to see Tifa, seated on the other side of Yuffie, her eyes fixed on him. Like she was trying to read his thoughts again. When she realized she’d been caught, she blinked and looked away.

“Right, Cloud?” Marlene prompted.

“Hm?” He turned back toward her. “What?”

“I said, Tifa makes the best blueberry pancakes in the whole world! Right?”

A chuckle bubbled out of him before he could stop it, low and unfamiliar in his own throat. “Yeah. Never had a better blueberry pancake.”

Which was true. He didn’t think he’d ever had a blueberry pancake before.

Marlene nodded seriously, satisfied. Her hair was beginning to slip out of its loose braid, wisping around her face.

“You guys give me way too much credit,” Tifa said, shaking her head.

“Nuh-uh!” Marlene protested.

“Nope,” Denzel added, his plate piled high. “They’re the best.”

“Yeah, even Cloud said so,” Marlene chimed in.

Tifa laughed, resting her chin in her palm. “Well then, thank you.”

Breakfast only ended once every last pancake, strip of bacon, and egg was gone. Not even crumbs remained. And with the food gone, so too went their resident ninja.

“Y’know, I hate to eat and run,” Yuffie groaned, stretching dramatically. “But I gotta hoof it back to Wutai. The White Rose can’t stay away too long!”

Both Marlene and Denzel let out sounds of disappointment. They adored her wild stories though Cloud was fairly sure most were… embellished. But with Yuffie, exaggeration was part of the charm. No wonder the three of them got along so well.

“Don’t worry! I’ll visit again real soon.” She ruffled Denzel’s hair and gave Marlene a thumbs-up.

“If I check my materia crate, will everything still be there?” Cloud asked as she hopped off her stool.

Yuffie spun dramatically, clutching her chest. “You don’t trust me? Rude.”

Marlene and Denzel collapsed into giggles. That told Cloud all he needed to know. He made a mental note to do another inventory sweep.

Tifa chuckled knowingly. “Be safe out there. And call us when you get back, okay?”

Yuffie waved her off. “I’m always safe.”

Barret guffawed, earning himself a glare.

“Well,” she huffed, “now that I’ve saved your asses again, the Great Ninja Yuffie will make her exit! Call me next time the world ends!”

With that, she darted out the door, slamming it behind her.

“I give it a week,” Barret rumbled.

He ended up staying—much to the children’s delight—and proposed a day packed with adventure: a trip to the park, ice cream after, and games back at the bar. He didn’t have to include Denzel, but he always did. And when they left, one kid was hanging from each of his arms, both shrieking with laughter.

Cloud stayed behind with Tifa to help clean up.

They fell into their usual rhythm. Tifa scrubbed dishes while he stood beside her, drying each one with a rag. He tried not to focus on the way her elbow kept brushing his. Bare, warm, familiar. She’d rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt, and every brush of skin made it a little harder to breathe. A light, pleasant aroma curled around him.

Was that her perfume? Or her shampoo?

He shook himself and focused on the plate in his hands.

“Breakfast was nice,” Tifa said after a while, her voice soft with reflection. “Loud, busy, messy… but nice.”

Cloud nodded. It had been.

They worked in quiet for a few more minutes. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I wasn’t lying,” he murmured.

Tifa’s hands stilled. “Huh?”

He turned his head and immediately looked away again when he saw her watching him. “When Marlene asked about the pancakes,” he said. “I wasn’t lying. It really was the best I’ve had.”

“Oh.”

The surprise in her voice made something in his chest twist. Had he said the wrong thing?

But then Tifa picked up another dish and started scrubbing again. “Thank you, Cloud. That’s really sweet.”

She meant it.

Cloud exhaled.

It almost eased some of the weight on his chest. Almost.

Chapter Text

Fenrir skidded to a halt, tires hissing against the worn road of the alley behind Seventh Heaven. When Cloud cut the engine, silence surged in around them, roaring in their ears. He kicked down the stand, then glanced down at the small fist still bunched against his stomach.

The kid hadn’t let go the entire ride—his grip weak but unrelenting, clinging with what little strength his fevered body had left. Now he slumped against Cloud’s back like a puppet with cut strings.

“We’re here,” Cloud murmured, giving the small hand a gentle squeeze.

A faint, pained groan was the only response.

Moving carefully, Cloud swung a leg over and dismounted. The moment his weight shifted, the boy pitched forward, too weak to hold himself up. Cloud caught him without thinking, slipping his hands beneath the kid’s arms and lifting him down with ease.

He set the boy on his feet, but his legs were trembling, buckling almost immediately beneath him.

“C’mon, kid. Can you walk?”

No answer. Not even a flicker of awareness.

When Cloud nudged him forward, the boy collapsed into his arms. Cloud scooped him up and started toward the garage, his steps steady, his jaw tight.

It was a pain opening the door with both hands full, but he managed.

He cut through the garage and climbed the narrow stairwell to the upper level, boots thudding heavily against each step. Upstairs was his office, his room—quiet and dark after weeks of absence.

“Cloud? Is that you?”

Tifa’s voice stopped him cold, tension flaring at the base of his spine.

How long had it been since he’d heard her voice in person and not over the phone? Two weeks? Maybe more.

“Up here,” he called.

Cloud stepped into his office and crossed to the bed. He bent low and eased the boy down as gently as he could. Still, the kid flinched, his face contorting in pain. From a swollen lesion near his brow, thick black pus oozed, trailing down past his eye like a bitter tear.

Footsteps thudded softly up the stairs, quick and purposeful. Tifa entered a breath later.

“Let me see,” she said.

Without hesitation, she nudged Cloud aside with the quiet authority she’d perfected over the years. He stepped back. Her familiar scent—something herbal—brushed past him, and for a brief second, he closed his eyes. The comfort of it, simple and warm, nearly undid him.

Tifa knelt beside the bed, eyes scanning the kid with a steady, clinical tenderness. Compassion without panic—just action.

“Marlene,” she called without looking up, “there’s leftover soup in the fridge. Bring a bowl and a glass of water, please.”

Cloud turned to find Marlene lingering in the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her eyes wide with worry. At Tifa’s words, she nodded and vanished down the hall.

Tifa stood and left the room. A moment later, the bathroom faucet creaked to life, followed by the clatter of pipes and the rush of water. When she returned, she had a damp washcloth in hand. She resumed her place at the kid’s side without a word.

With gentle fingers, she swept his matted hair back and began to dab away the pus, wiping at the fevered skin with soft, practiced strokes. Her touch was careful, like she could will the stigma away with enough steadiness.

The boy flinched but didn’t resist.

“You said he was outside the church?” she asked quietly after a long moment.

The church. Always the church. Her church.

Almost two years now, and still, they couldn’t bring themselves to say her name. It was a weight their tongues didn’t seem strong enough to carry, too full of memories.

Cloud hummed an answer.

Tifa continued dabbing at the boy’s brow. Maybe she was trying to cool his fever. Maybe she was just trying to clean him up. Most probably, it was both.

“Why were you there?” she asked.

That caught him off guard.

Cloud stood silently off to the side, arms crossed, watching as Tifa tended to the kid with quiet focus. But the question echoed in his mind, unsettling something deep inside him.

He’d been going to the church more often lately, ever since Elmyra gave him that bouquet to deliver to the Temple. At first, it’d just been habit. Sentimentality. Some vague, lingering guilt. He’d told himself he missed her.

But the more he returned, the less it felt like grief—and the more it felt like something else. Something he wasn’t ready to name.

The soft creak of the stairs saved him from answering. Footsteps, light and careful, approached once more.

Marlene reappeared, carrying a serving tray balanced in her small arms. On it was a bowl of brothy soup, a glass of water, and a spoon. She carefully placed the tray on Cloud’s desk, then knelt beside Tifa.

“Is he okay?” she murmured.

“He’s sick,” Tifa replied, still dabbing with the cloth. “And probably very hungry.”

Marlene’s brow knit as she watched.

“Why don’t you go play in your room or outside?” Tifa suggested a few minutes later.

Marlene shook her head. “I wanna help.”

Tifa didn’t press. Instead, she nodded and returned to her work.

Cloud shifted, feeling strangely out of place in his own space. The bed had been made. The logbook on his desk had fresh entries. He hadn’t been home in weeks, and yet everything felt like it had carried on without him.

Tifa folded the cloth and laid it gently across the boy’s brow, right over his sickened, blackened sore. She smoothed a hand through his matted hair, repeating the gesture again and again. And then—softly, under her breath—she began to hum.

The melody was faint but familiar.

It was an old song from Nibelheim. Cloud couldn’t remember the words, but he remembered the way it’d made him feel. Worn and wistful, a bittersweet ache.

After a few minutes, the boy stirred. His brow furrowed and he let out a faint moan. “M…om?”

Tifa stopped humming, hand pausing in his hair. “My name is Tifa.”

The kid’s eyes cracked open. They were glassy and dark blue, confused as they dragged across the ceiling before landing on her face.

“Cloud found you outside the church,” she said gently. “He brought you here. You’re safe now. You don’t have to worry.”

It worked for about three seconds.

Then panic overtook him.

He stiffed and scuttled away, leaning on his matchstick-thin elbows. “Don’t touch me! I’m sick.”

Tifa didn’t flinch. Her voice stayed even, reassuring. “We already know about the Geostigma. It’s okay.”

“But—”

“It’s okay,” she repeated firmly. “Are you hungry?”

The kid still looked unsure. His wide blue eyes flicked between Tifa and Cloud, full of skepticism and raw, fragile hope. He wanted to believe them, Cloud could see it, but experience had clearly taught him not to trust so easily.

Before he could say anything, a loud gurgle echoed through the room.

His stomach.

A faint flush rose under the grime coating his cheeks. He hesitated a moment longer, then gave a small, reluctant nod.

Marlene jumped to her feet and grabbed the tray from Cloud’s desk, bringing it over to the bed. The kid stared at her like he was just now noticing she was there.

“It’s soup,” Marlene said brightly. “It has carrots and cabbage and onion. Tifa’s a really good cook, I promise!”

He took the tray gingerly, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to, then mumbled, “...Thank you.”

As soon as he brought the spoon to his lips, his eyes widened. He hurriedly shoveled in a second bite, then a third. It was like watching a stray kitten discover food for the first time—his hand couldn’t keep up with his mouth, and he nearly choked in his eagerness.

“Careful,” Tifa warned. “You’ll make yourself sick if you eat too fast.”

He slowed down. Barely. It was clear it hurt to pace himself, but he managed. When the bowl was empty, he reached for the water and took two large gulps before switching to smaller, careful sips.

“What’s your name?” Tifa asked, her voice soft.

He hesitated for a second, but less than before. “Denzel.”

“Denzel.” Tifa gave a small nod, testing the name. “I’m Tifa. This is Marlene,” she said, gesturing, “and that’s Cloud. He’s the one who found you.”

Denzel looked at Cloud again and gave a small nod. “I remember… Sorry for taking your phone.”

“It’s all right,” Cloud said.

“It was smart,” Tifa added. “Why did you call here?”

“I tried Sector Seven first but…” He trailed off, the hope draining from his face. “There were a lot of calls from this place, so I clicked it. I don’t know why. I just…”

Tifa smiled. “I’m glad you did.”

“Why were you trying to call Sector Seven?” Cloud asked, his voice low.

The name alone was enough to conjure images of ruin. The place had been reduced to rubble years ago—first by the plate collapse, then by Meteorfall. It was one of Midgar’s deepest scars. Cleanup had only just begun, and even then, only at the fringes. The rest remained a hazardous labyrinth of twisted metal and buried memories.

No one went there unless they had to.

People who were sick, lost, forgotten clung to Midgar’s ruins.

People like this kid.

Denzel stared at his hands. “We used to live there. Me and my parents.”

The weight of the unspoken hung heavy in the room.

Cloud’s gaze met Tifa’s. Her expression had softened, eyes swimming with sympathy that had nowhere to go.

“I see,” Tifa murmured. “Your parents…”

“They’re gone.”

The silence that followed was thick. Cloud could feel it settle in his chest, aching and familiar. Guilt swelled like an ugly bruise—too large, too old, and still not healed.

“I’m so sorry, Denzel,” Tifa said.

Denzel rubbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist. “Can I have some more soup?”

Tifa nodded immediately. “Marlene, would you mind?”

“Uh huh!” Marlene took the tray and bounded downstairs.

“So you’ve been on your own since the plate collapsed,” Tifa said.

“Kinda,” Denzel replied. “We were gonna move to this house in Sector Five. My parents took me there and told me to wait until they came back. They never did. I tried looking for them, but I got lost. I broke this old lady’s window by accident and she… she let me stay. Her name was Ruvie. I helped her with stuff around the house. She was nice.”

Tifa smiled. “Ruvie sounds like she was a good person.”

“She was. Then the meteor came. Ruvie protected me.” He touched his forehead where the Geostigma sore still festered. “She got sick. She died.”

Cloud shifted, jaw tight.

“After that, I met this guy named Gaskin. He had a bunch of other kids with him. When they started building the new city, we traded scrap metal for food.”

Smart. Resourceful. A survivor. But still just a kid.

“Gaskin got sick too,” Denzel continued. “Then he died. After that, everyone split up. Some of my friends went to the shelters.”

“Not you?” Tifa asked carefully.

Denzel shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “I didn’t want help. I thought I could make it on my own.”

Cloud hummed low in his throat. He knew the type. He was the type.

“I was wrong,” Denzel added, a quiet shame. “When they brought in those machines, there wasn’t much left to trade. I didn’t have anywhere to go. So I went back to Sector Five.”

“Why Sector Five?” Cloud asked. “Why not a shelter?”

Denzel looked away. “I dunno. It felt like the only place I could go.”

“And that’s where Cloud found you. At the church.”

Denzel nodded again.

Marlene returned with the tray, now carrying a second helping of soup and a fresh glass of water. She walked over and carefully set it on the bed. “Now you’re here with us!”

Denzel took the bowl and dug in more slowly this time. After a few spoonfuls, he paused, brows knitting.

“Where are we?”

“Edge,” Cloud said.

“The new city?” Denzel’s eyes went wide.

“Yep,” Tifa replied. “This is our home. You’re in Cloud’s room right now. Mine’s down the hall, and so is Marlene’s. Downstairs is the bar I run—Seventh Heaven.”

“So… you guys are like a family?”

Marlene beamed at him. “Yep!”

Denzel lowered his eyes and went back to his soup, not saying much else as he worked through his second bowl. When he finished, Tifa set the tray aside and held out her hand to him.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll show you the bathroom, and then I’ll see if I can find you some new clothes to change into.”

“Huh?” Denzel blinked at her.

“You don’t want to stay in those dirty clothes forever, right?” Tifa said.

The shirt he wore hung off his frame, at least two sizes too big. It was sun-bleached and stained with dirt; beneath all of that, Cloud could make out the faint outline of a floral pattern. Denzel’s pants didn’t fit either—too wide and too long, the hems torn and rolled up at his ankles. Both items were clearly scavenged from somewhere in the Midgar ruins.

Denzel glanced down at himself, frowned, and then slowly shook his head. He took Tifa’s hand, and she helped him off the bed.

After giving him a brief tour of the bathroom and getting him settled, Tifa closed the door behind him. “Yell if you need anything!” she called through the door. Turning to Marlene, she said, “Do me a favor, sweetie. Take a look through your closet. See if you have any shirts or pants that might fit Denzel—and aren’t too…”

“Girly?” Marlene giggled.

Tifa chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t think he wants to wear flowers anymore.”

Marlene nodded and headed down the hall to her room to start searching.

“I definitely don’t have anything,” Tifa said to Cloud. “What’s in your closet?”

Cloud balked. “My closet? None of my stuff is going to fit him.”

“What about that white shirt? You know, the one you shrunk in the wash?” Tifa asked. “Do you still have it?”

Honestly, Cloud had no idea.

Tifa skirted around him and went back into his office. He followed her quietly, watching as she opened his closet and rummaged through the clothes inside. She pulled out a couple of shirts, frowned at them, and tossed them back in.

“His parents died in the plate collapse,” Tifa said after a few minutes of searching.

Cloud wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him or to herself. He stood aside, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting.

“We’re the reason his parents are dead,” she continued.

To him, then.

“We didn’t separate the plate,” Cloud reminded her. “That was Shinra and the Turks.”

“Maybe we didn’t push the big red button, but we were the reason they did it in the first place. And we failed to stop it from happening.”

Cloud couldn’t argue with that. She wasn’t wrong.

“I feel like we’re responsible for what’s happened to him,” Tifa said, her voice quiet but heavy, her eyes in a time far away. “Don’t you?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Tifa inhaled and blinked her memories away before squatting down and returning to her search, sifting through the crumpled shirts and pants in the corner of his closet. “And what are the chances? For him to just show up like this? It’s like… I don’t know.”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence,” Cloud murmured.

Tifa looked up at him again.

“I think she brought him to Sector Five, to Fenrir, so I could find him,” he said. “So I could bring him here.”

The thought had been gnawing at the back of his mind from the very beginning, a feeling he couldn't shake. Saying it aloud made it feel more real. It would’ve sounded ridiculous to anyone else, but Tifa’s eyes softened, warm and understanding.

“You really think so?” she asked. When he nodded, she tilted her face up toward the ceiling, as if looking beyond it to the grey sky. “Then I think that leaves us with one choice, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“If he doesn’t want to stay, we can’t force him.”

“No,” Cloud agreed.

But at least they could make sure he was properly taken care of, even from afar.

“We’ll have to talk to Marlene and see what she thinks, too,” Tifa said.

“Yeah.” There wasn’t a doubt in Cloud’s mind that Marlene’s response would be nothing short of enthusiastic.

“Here it is,” Tifa exclaimed. She pulled out a white t-shirt from the bottom of Cloud’s closet and shook it out. It was small but looked like it might fit Denzel’s slender frame. “I’m glad you didn’t throw this away.”

Marlene found a pair of grey pants in her closet. Barret had bought them for her a while ago, but they were just slightly too big. For Denzel, though, they seemed to be the perfect size. And when the kid, freshly showered and smelling like Tifa’s shampoo, stepped out of the bathroom wearing the new clothes, it was hard to ignore the sense that this was meant to be.

Denzel was meant to be with them.

Cloud woke to the roaring chainsaw of Barret’s snoring. He blinked at the ceiling of his office for a few moments, the remnants of a dream lingering in his mind—a dream that felt much more like a memory.

The details of the past year were fuzzy, especially after the stigma had started to cloud his mind, which was already full of holes. Trying to focus on those days felt like swimming through fog. But some moments, like that day, were clear as day, down to the scent of Tifa’s shampoo. It left a soft, nostalgic ache that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

He listened to Barret’s snoring for a few more minutes before deciding to get up.

Edge might have been half-destroyed from yet another global-level crisis, but Strife Delivery business didn’t stop for anyone or anything. That was basically its motto.

His route for the day was already mapped out on his desk, so after getting dressed, he folded it up and tucked it into his pocket. Barret was still snoring as Cloud slipped out of his office and shut the door. Instead of heading downstairs to the garage, however, Cloud found himself walking down the hall to Marlene and Denzel’s room. He opened the door as quietly as he could and stepped inside, finding both kids fast asleep.

The early morning light barely crept through the window, so he wasn’t surprised to see them still asleep.

A different type of ache—a nervous, gritty kind—pulsed in his chest as he stood at the foot of their beds. He was worried, he realized. Worried that they would wake, see that he was gone, and think he’d left them again.

He wasn’t leaving, Cloud reassured himself. After his deliveries were done, he was coming right back home.

Without a word, Cloud turned and left. As he made his way back down the hall, he glanced over his shoulder at Tifa’s room. There was no sound on the other side to suggest she was awake and getting ready for the day. Her door was closed tightly.

Cloud fought the urge to rub his chest, where the ache seemed to worsen, as he crept down the stairs and into the garage.

Before, Tifa used to leave her door cracked. She always said it was for Marlene in case she had nightmares or wanted to cuddle, but part of Cloud had always suspected—or maybe hoped—that she left it cracked for him too. There had been a few nights when, after a long day, he’d found himself wandering into her room, needing… something. Connection, maybe? And she’d given it to him. After scooting over on her bed, she’d patted the space next to her, letting him sleep by her side.

In the garage, Cloud swung his leg over Fenrir’s seat and adjusted his goggles. The engine purred to life as he set off, trying very hard not to think about what he was leaving behind.

It was late in the evening when Cloud finally returned, around seven.

Usually, Seventh Heaven would have been finishing dinner service and transitioning into the evening drink rush, but as Cloud kicked up Fenrir’s stand in the garage and opened the door to the stairwell, it was quiet. The familiar hum of the bar chatter was absent. He shut the door behind him and stepped into the dimly lit space. There, at the family table, were Tifa, Barret, and the kids—plates empty, the evening winding down.

Marlene was the first to notice him, her eyes lighting up as she jumped from her chair. “Cloud!”

Denzel’s head whipped around and, with a speed that mirrored Marlene’s, he followed after her. The kids wrapped themselves around his waist in tight hugs, nearly knocking him off balance.

“You’re home!” Marlene exclaimed, her voice full of joy.

Denzel didn’t say anything, but his arms tightened around Cloud, holding on just as fiercely.

“Yeah,” Cloud managed, his breath a little unsteady from the unexpected squeeze. “I’m home.”

“Cloud.” Tifa stood up from the table, blinking in surprise. “We didn’t know when you’d be back. I’m sorry. I’ll get you a plate.”

“A heads-up would’ve been nice,” Barret muttered gruffly.

“I lost my phone,” Cloud explained.

“Next time I go to the market, I’ll pick you up a new one,” Tifa offered as she turned toward the stove, scraping the inside of one of the pots. “Sorry, there’s not much left…”

She grabbed a plate and started arranging the food: a bed of rice, a homemade hamburger patty, a runny egg, and gravy—Seventh Heaven’s house special. Tifa reserved this dish for special occasions, like birthdays.

Had he missed something?

“Daddy kept going back for seconds,” Marlene tattled, her eyes gleaming. “So did Denzel.”

“Guilty.” Barret snorted. “Tifa’s cooking always hits the spot.”

“I was hungry,” Denzel muttered defensively as he pulled away from Cloud.

Cloud took the plate and fork Tifa handed him, setting it down on the bartop. “You closed the bar?”

“Just for today,” Tifa said. “Everyone’s still recovering and rebuilding. I thought we could use one more day to ourselves. We’ll be back to normal tomorrow. And you two,” she added, looking pointedly at the kids, “have school tomorrow.”

Denzel groaned, the sound barely audible but unmistakable.

“School?” Cloud blinked, looking at Denzel, confused.

Denzel hadn’t been able to attend school while he was ill. Between the delirium, the fevers, and the uncontrollable oozing from the Geostigma, it’d been impossible. The school wouldn’t have let him attend anyway, fearing it would cause an “outbreak,” despite the fact that Geostigma wasn’t contagious. For a while, Tifa had taken it upon herself to homeschool him as best as she could, teaching him during the quiet moments when Denzel was well enough.

“I registered him this morning,” Tifa explained, glancing back at Denzel. “Now you don’t have to suffer through my lessons anymore.”

“And you’ll get to see your friends!” Marlene added cheerfully.

Denzel sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I guess.”

Cloud leaned against the bartop, cutting into the egg and patty. The gravy was rich and savory, exactly as he remembered from the last time Tifa made it, back during the grand re-opening of Seventh Heaven. Cloud had never been a picky eater, especially after everything he’d been through. Food was just fuel. But Tifa’s cooking… it was different. There was something about it, something that made it feel like home.

Marlene and Denzel climbed onto stools next to him as he ate. Marlene chattered away, not leaving out a single detail about their day. Every once in a while, Denzel would chime in, and Cloud mostly just listened, offering the occasional hum of acknowledgment. He didn’t know if they even cared whether he was truly listening. They seemed content enough that he was home.

When he finished eating, Tifa took his plate and began to clear the rest of the table. She glanced up at the large clock on the wall, then over her shoulder at the kids. “Okay, it’s eight. You know what that means.”

Marlene and Denzel both started protesting at once.

“But—”

“No buts,” Barret interjected, standing up from the table and walking over to the bar to nudge the kids off their stools. “Upstairs. You both need a good night’s sleep for school tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Cloud,” the kids mumbled together.

“Goodnight.”

Denzel hesitated before he followed Barret up the stairs, glancing back at Cloud with a quiet, almost uncertain look. “Are you gonna be gone before we wake up?”

“Probably,” Cloud answered, an uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach at the look on Denzel’s face. “But I’ll be home before you go to bed.”

“Promise?”

Cloud nodded. “Promise.”

Denzel gave him a small, satisfied nod before trudging up the stairs, Marlene following closely behind. Barret brought up the rear, and the soft thud of their footsteps as they disappeared upstairs made Cloud’s heart ache. He stood there, staring after them for a moment, forcing himself not to think about how the kids had made him promise not once, but twice, to return home.

They trusted him so little now, and the sting of it was sharper than he had expected. But he couldn’t blame them. He deserved it.

Tifa turned on the faucet, and the sound of the water running brought Cloud’s attention back. The dishes, pots, and pans from dinner were piled up, and Tifa tied her hair back into a low ponytail to get started. Without thinking, his feet moved, carrying him to the other side of the bartop, crossing the unspoken boundary, and joining her at the sink.

She jumped slightly when his arm brushed hers.

“Sorry,” he murmured, stepping to the side and grabbing the drying cloth.

“No, no. It’s fine,” Tifa replied quickly, though her voice was tinged with surprise. “I just wasn’t expecting you to help.”

That stung.

“I helped yesterday,” Cloud reminded her quietly.

She nodded slowly. “You did.”

The edge in her voice made his chest tighten, and an uncomfortable silence settled between them. It lingered in the air, thick and heavy until Cloud couldn’t stand it any longer.

“You don’t want help?”

“Help is nice,” Tifa answered, her hands continuing to scrub a plate, but her gaze fixed on the sink. “But I don’t necessarily need it. So you don’t have to force yourself.”

Cloud didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew she never needed help—she’d always managed on her own. But she’d never turned him away before. Not like this.

Tifa glanced at him then, her brows furrowing in apology. “That came out wrong. I’ve been doing this for so long, it’s no big deal. You don’t have to help me just because you feel like you need to, Cloud.”

“What if I want to?” he asked, his voice quieter now, unsure of the right words.

Tifa sighed, setting the plate down and bracing her hands against the edge of the sink. “Then I guess it depends. How long are you going to want to?”

Cloud blinked, his mind racing.

“Sure, you want to now. But what about a week from now? A month?” She stared down at the water, her voice thick with emotion. “Not knowing if and when you’ll change your mind is harder than never having help in the first place.”

Tifa’s words landed hard, and Cloud felt the weight of them. She was angry but it had nothing to do with the dishes and everything to do with countless unspoken frustrations, old wounds, and unmet needs. This was the kind of anger that had festered in silence during his absence and it couldn’t be healed overnight.

After a long pause, Tifa sighed again. She reached back into the sink, picking up another plate and beginning to scrub it again, her movements slower, softer. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to snap. Of course you can help. Thanks, Cloud.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, feeling the tension between them ease, but only slightly.

Tifa handed him the plate, and he dried it off before setting it aside.

They finished the dishes in heavy, uneasy silence, the tension between them settling like a thick fog. Cloud felt the familiar urge to retreat—to slip away to his office, close the door, and shut out the world. It would’ve been easier to run, easier to let the silence speak for him. But he didn’t. He stayed. He forced his hands to keep moving, drying the next dish, stacking it beside the others, going through the motions even when it felt hollow.

When the last plate was done, Tifa thanked him again, her voice softer this time, before bidding him goodnight as she headed upstairs. Cloud followed her, pausing at the door to his office. He watched her disappear into her own room, the door shutting softly behind her.

And there, in the quiet space between them, Cloud knew he deserved every ounce of her anger.

Chapter Text

Barret ended up staying the entire week to spend quality time with Marlene. He claimed he had time to make up for, since it’d been nearly a month since his last visit. Things in Corel hadn’t been going well, according to the voicemails left on Cloud’s lost phone—at least, not until Barret discovered the massive oil field. Now that things were looking up, he was determined to make the most of his time with Marlene.

But Cloud had an uncomfortable suspicion that was only part of the reason Barret insisted on staying with them.

Things between him and Tifa were clearly…different.

“You talk to her yet?” Barret asked.

In the middle of taking apart and cleaning his fusion sword in the garage, Cloud paused. There was no mistaking what Barret was talking about and he didn’t feel like playing dumb.

“She said we could talk later.”

Grunting, Barret leaned against Cloud’s workbench and crossed his arms. “Later, huh.”

Cloud laid the hollow blade across his workbench and smoothed a cloth over it, careful and slow.

He’d cleaned his fusion sword the day before after finishing his deliveries, but it still felt good to do it again. It was a mindless task, muscle memory—something he could focus on instead of the tension that always seemed to curdle in the air whenever he and Tifa tried to talk.

“For your sake, I hope it’s sooner rather than later,” Barret muttered.

Cloud focused his attention on the V-shaped tip of the hollow blade.

When he didn’t respond, Barret sighed. “Just don’t fight in front of Marlene. She don’t need that kind of stress. Not right after this whole remnant and stigma mess.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“Fighting ain’t just about the words you throw around. It’s all the shit that goes unsaid, too. Tifa’s never been one for confrontation. She keeps everything bottled up, always putting others before herself.”

Cloud knew that.

“So if you’re waiting on her, quit it. She ain’t gonna come to you. You gotta be the one to go to her,” said Barret.

Cloud knew that too.

He grabbed the next blade and kept working.

Heaving another sigh, Barret pushed off the workbench. “M’gonna take the kids out for lunch and maybe a trip to the park. I’ll have ‘em back in time for dinner.”

The garage door banged shut behind Barret’s exit and Cloud’s shoulders slumped. He finished polishing the last of the hollow blades before reassembling his fusion sword, taking a little longer than perhaps was necessary. By the time he pulled off his gloves and left the garage, Barret and the kids were long gone.

Everything Barret had said was true but that didn’t make it any easier to digest.

Tifa was at the bar reviewing the accounting ledgers, crunching numbers, and taking inventory when Cloud finally exited the garage. The bar itself was pristine like she’d been cleaning and scrubbing it from head to toe all morning. The smell of fresh laundry and cleaning chemicals filled his nose.

“Barret and the kids are out,” she called over her shoulder.

Cloud nodded. And when he remembered she wasn’t looking at him, he added, “He told me.”

Tifa finished jotting down the last note in the book and snapped it closed. She fluttered around behind the counter, inspecting the stock, and rather than heading upstairs to his room and office, Cloud’s feet dragged him to the bar to watch her work.

If Tifa minded his presence, she didn’t say so.

She moved to the fridge. Quickly scanning its contents, Tifa made a noise. “Looks like I'm going to need to run to the market before opening. We’re low on juice, wine, spirits… I used the last of the eggs and bacon this morning. And I'm completely out of vegetables.”

“Already?” Cloud frowned.

“That's what happens when business is slow for months at a time,” she replied, a hint of heat in her voice as she grabbed a notepad and started scribbling down a list. “Which you’d know if you picked up the phone every now and then.”

Cloud wasn't expecting the sudden lash and he flinched.

Tifa stopped writing and sighed. “Sorry. It's not your fault. I shouldn't…” She blew out a breath but didn’t continue, staring at her notepad.

“No,” he murmured, “you're right.”

He’d known about the decline in business. While he’d stopped picking up most calls over the last few months, he’d made sure to listen to the voicemails. At least the ones from Tifa. She’d left him at least one message every day for a while. They’d ranged from short personal questions, to updates on Denzel’s condition, to the occasional run-down on the bar.

The new Seventh Heaven had been a huge success at first, with a steady flow of regulars during lunch and a packed bar nearly every night. But after Denzel arrived, its popularity quickly slipped. People were hesitant to eat or drink at a place that sheltered someone with Geostigma, fearing they might catch the disease themselves. Never mind that it wasn’t actually contagious—most still believed otherwise.

With Denzel and most of the population now cured, Cloud hoped the bar's business would rebound. But that didn’t change the reality of the present—money was tight, and Tifa had to cut back on her purchases at the market because of it. Less profit, fewer supplies, fewer customers—it was a vicious cycle that seemed impossible to break.

The payouts from his delivery service had been supporting their finances heavily for the last four months or so.

A weighted silence followed the abrupt end of their conversation as Tifa returned to making the list. A line formed between her eyebrows as she glared at the growing list and her hand kept writing. Cloud stood off to the side, feeling awkward.

The past few days had been relatively calm, but there was still that underlying tension between them. It was buried so deep that he could almost forget about it. Almost. It always resurfaced when he least expected it, and that uncertainty made Cloud uneasy. He couldn’t read or predict Tifa’s emotions. Nothing he said or did felt quite right anymore.

Not for the first time, he found himself standing there, a stranger in a place he once knew so well.

“Cloud? Did you hear me?”

Cloud blinked, looking up. The heat had faded from Tifa’s brandy-colored eyes—buried again for now. “No,” he admitted after a pause.

“Do you need anything from the market?” she asked again. When he shook his head, Tifa tore the page off her notepad and folded it in half. “Okay, I’ll be back later. Call me if you change your mind, okay? If Barret and the kids get back before me, let them know I’m out.”

“Wait, Tifa.” Cloud stepped out of the corner and gestured to the list. “I’ll go.”

Tifa hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Fenrir’s faster than the truck.”

The market Tifa liked to visit was located almost dead-center in Edge. It offered a good variety at decent prices, and Tifa always managed to bargain her way through the stalls. Cloud wasn’t great at haggling—there were too many subtleties for his barely passable people skills—but he could at least get everything on her list. He had enough of his own money to cover any gaps. And since he’d taken the day off, he figured he could swing by Kalm while he was out—Tifa preferred the selection of alcohol there over the local stock in Edge.

“Well...okay then.” Tifa held out the folded list and he took it, tucking it carefully into one of his pockets. “Thank you, Cloud.”

That, at least, had been the right thing to say and do.

“I'll be back later,” he promised before ducking into the garage.

Cloud wasn’t sure he could explain why he’d taken the day off, so he was grateful Tifa hadn’t questioned him. The tension at Seventh Heaven was enough to set off his defenses, and months ago, he would’ve found any excuse to disappear. The urge still lingered, tickling the back of his brain, but he was fighting it. He couldn’t keep running from his problems.

The market in Edge was surprisingly busy for the middle of the day when he arrived.

It wasn’t as crowded as some of the markets in Midgar had been, but there was enough traffic to make Cloud hesitate. His skin crawled, and he had to force himself to take a deep breath, manually adjusting to the noise and the masses of people. Unfolding Tifa’s list, he used it as an anchor and started at the very top.

Most items on the list consisted of produce, meat, and beverages

He found everything fairly easily, but as he’d suspected, his bartering skills were nonexistent. Tifa probably would’ve been able to secure a better deal on most of the items. He tried not to dwell on that. The last item on her list was simply labeled 'chuck.' After several minutes of deliberation, Cloud figured it was likely a cut of meat and made his way to the butcher section of the market.

There was an overwhelming variety of cuts and styles of meat. He didn’t even know where to begin.

The butcher at the second stall leaned across his counter and made a noise, waving Cloud down. He hesitated, unsure, but headed over anyway with Tifa’s list still clutched in his hand and two increasingly heavy bags full of groceries on his other arm.

The butcher regarded him with a grin as he came closer. “You must be Tifa’s husband.”

Caught off guard, Cloud's mind went blank. He fixed the man with a stare.

“You're just like she described,” the butcher continued with a grin, gesturing to Cloud’s chest. “Reserved, focused, a little awkward. Good-looking, too.”

Cloud blinked. “What?”

Awkward wasn’t inaccurate. He’d always been that way, even as a child in Nibelheim. It was a big part of why he’d pushed Tifa away and started picking fights with the other boys.

This man knew his name and was clearly familiar with Tifa. She had to be a regular customer.

“Well, she didn't exactly specify that you were good-looking,” the butcher rambled, crossing his thick arms over his apron. “Just figured as much. Stunning woman like Tifa? Gotta say, didn’t realize she liked ‘em quite so pretty, though.”

The words bounced off Cloud like dried peas. He had to remember to at least crack part of a grin.

The butcher, according to the nametag across the top of his stained apron, was named Albert. Albert was middle-aged and round in the waist. He was tall, too, towering more than a handful of inches over Cloud. Everything about him was sturdy and solid—if Tifa ever actually needed a bouncer, Albert would fit the bill. But he smiled and laughed with ease, which told Cloud that he was much softer than his gruff exterior implied.

Albert seemed a lot like Barret in that.

“Wasn't sure until I saw that.” Albert pointed at the snarling wolf on Cloud’s pauldron. “She wears that ring all the time. Told me it's one of her most precious belongings. Few months ago, I asked her how much she'd be willing to part with it. I run a pawn shop on the side, y’know. She told me exactly where I could put my money.”

Cloud’s small grin grew. Sounded like Tifa.

“I'm not her husband,” he finally blurted. “We're not married.”

Albert drew back, surprised. “Really? Huh. Could've sworn from the way she talked about you…” He rubbed his thick chin. “You better get moving then, kid. Girls like that don't wait forever.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Cloud muttered.

“Don't mention it. Just make me a caterer for the wedding and we’re square.”

Cloud blinked, trying to decide if Albert was serious or not. He really couldn’t tell.

Chuckling, Albert gestured to the list in Cloud’s hand. “What’s she need?”

“Chuck.”

“Okay.” Albert nodded and motioned beneath the counter to his display. He pointed to five different cuts of thick meat. “Bone in, boneless, eye steak, boneless steak, top blade. Which one?”

“It just says chuck.”

“Huh. Well, what’s she making?”

Cloud paused. He had no idea. Once upon a time he’d known the menu but it had been so long… Tifa had probably changed things up while he’d been gone.

Albert cleared his throat when Cloud stayed silent. “If she’s making stew, you’ll want the boneless steak. Bone in if she’s doing a pot roast. Everything else is good for grilling, but she doesn’t usually buy that.”

“I’ll take whatever she normally gets,” Cloud decided after a minute.

“Boneless chuck steak.” Albert nodded and pulled out the meat, wrapping it carefully in multiple layers of brown wax paper and tying it with twine. When Cloud fished out his wallet to pay, Albert waved it away. “On the house. I still owe her for all the Corel wine she brought me last time. Give Tifa my regards, kid.”

“I will.”

“And good luck.” Albert winked.

Luck, Cloud decided not to tell the butcher as he turned on his heel, had never been able to track him down.

After loading up the groceries into Fenrir’s side compartment for safe keeping, he was off to Kalm. But not without making a quick pitstop and buying himself a new phone. He didn't bother buying any of the newer models with their sleek, flat screens and applications. They wouldn't survive a day out on the road. A small, sturdy flip phone suited him just fine—and it was cheap to replace. With good weather and clear roads, Kalm was only about an hour’s ride from Edge. It was mid-afternoon by the time he arrived and found his way to the right store. There, he stocked up on Tifa’s favorite liquors and spirits.

“Haven’t been seeing you around lately,” the owner mused as Cloud hefted his purchases into a medium sized crate for transport.

“Haven’t really been around,” Cloud admitted, trying not to sound too jaded.

It was late in the afternoon by the time Cloud returned to Seventh Heaven. He lugged the bags of groceries into the bar on one arm while the other balanced the liquor crate on his shoulder. Tifa was waiting for him at the door and took the bags.

Her eyes darted to the crate and the bright red logo on its side, lighting up in recognition. “You went to Kalm?”

Cloud nodded and placed the crate on the counter. Tifa set the other bags down, then carefully pried the lid off the crate, peering inside. She picked up a few bottles, turning them over in her hands with a thoughtful look before setting them aside. One by one, she examined each bottle with the same meticulous attention.

“Those are the right ones, right?” he asked. Suddenly, he was worried his memories had betrayed him.

To his relief, she nodded. “They are. But I’ve been buying what I can find here in Edge, so I haven’t had these in stock for a while.”

Cloud shifted on his feet anxiously. He couldn’t tell if she was pleased or not. “I can return them tomorrow, if you want.”

Tifa finally looked at him, and her eyes were soft. “No, I’m sure the customers will be excited to see these back on the menu. This was really thoughtful of you, Cloud, thank you.”

He exhaled, a wave of relief washing over him—finally, something done right.

Tifa made stir fry for dinner that night. Years ago, she’d told him how stir fry was a lifesaver when money was tight and there were mouths to feed—anything could be tossed into the pan with a little seasoning. With two growing kids and Barret to feed, she couldn’t afford to be picky. As she cooked, the bar filled with the rich aroma of sweet and savory spices, rice, and fresh vegetables.

The stir fry was a hit. Conversation at the table was nearly nonexistent as everyone focused on getting food into their mouths. Marlene, however, seemed less enthusiastic.

She frowned at her glass of juice.

“What’s wrong?” Barret asked.

“This isn’t the juice Tifa usually gets.”

“That’s because Cloud did the grocery shopping,” said Tifa.

Barret lifted a thick eyebrow and turned to Cloud. “You?”

“Yeah.” Feeling uncomfortable, he pushed some sort of green vegetable around his plate.

“Oh. Well what kind is it?” Marlene asked.

Cloud forced himself to remember. “Strawberry mango. I think.”

Marlene's face scrunched for a moment, then quickly smoothed out, as if she was worried about hurting his feelings.

“Try it,” Barret told her. “You like strawberry.”

She looked unsure as she took a hesitant sip from her glass. Her face scrunched again and she shook her head. “It’s too sweet. And it doesn’t taste like strawberries at all.”

Cloud stifled his grimace. “Sorry.”

“Well I like it,” Denzel said after taking a sip.

Marlene slid him her glass with a disappointed sigh.

“I’ll get you some water, sweetie.” Tifa slid out of her seat and went back into the kitchen.

Cloud’s barely-there appetite vanished by the time Tifa returned. If anyone at the table noticed, they didn’t let on.

Marlene took a sip of her water, back in good spirits. She eyed Tifa as she scooped another bite of food into her mouth and then promptly changed the subject. “Tifa, can we get a pet?”

Tifa’s eyebrows rose. “A pet?”

Marlene’s head bobbed enthusiastically.

“Why do you want a pet?” Tifa asked.

Marlene twirled her fork on her plate, clearly stalling. She looked like she was trying to come up with an answer that would make Tifa happy. Denzel, less interested in subtlety, answered for her after swallowing.

“Betty got a puppy.”

Barret snorted, hiding his laughter by taking a sip of water.

Tifa hummed. “I see.”

“You should see her, Tifa. She’s so cute,” Marlene gushed, leaning forward in her chair, eyes bright.

“I’m sure she is,” Tifa said, gently but firmly. “But you shouldn’t want one just because Betty has one. Having a pet isn’t a competition. It’s a responsibility.”

Marlene sank back into her seat, crestfallen. “I know.”

Tifa studied her for a moment, clearly choosing her next words with care. “Honestly, sweetie, I’m not sure I’m ready for the extra responsibility right now. I’ve already got the bar, the housework, and the two of you.”

“We’ll take care of it!” Marlene said quickly.

“Yeah,” Denzel added. “We’ll feed it, wash it, walk it…” He sounded like he’d rehearsed it all in his head.

Marlene gave Tifa a pleading look. “We’ll be super responsible. I promise.”

Tifa sighed, sectioning off another bite with her fork. “This isn’t something to decide lightly. I need to think about it.”

Marlene and Denzel deflated.

“So… that’s a no?” Denzel asked, poking at his plate.

“It’s a maybe. Eventually. Once I’ve had time to think it over.”

But to a child, maybe was often just a slower kind of no. The kids didn’t bother hiding their disappointment. Marlene brightened again by the time she finished her plate, but Denzel stayed quiet and sulky.

Barret set down his fork and crossed his huge arms. “Maybe you two can show Tifa you can handle takin’ care of somethin’. Chores, homework. No fussin’, no forgettin’. Maybe then you can talk about pets. Sound fair?”

Denzel perked up and exchanged a hopeful look with Marlene.

Tifa gave Barret a quiet, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He waved her off with a grunt. “Just don’t let ‘em bring home a baby coeurl or nothin’.”

A moment of soft laughter passed around the table—except for Cloud. He’d been quiet for a while, mechanically pushing food around his plate. The sound of the others talking, laughing, planning... it was warm, familiar. And he felt like a shadow sitting at the edge of it. He stayed at the table until Tifa sent the kids off to bed.

Marlene’s empty glass of water stared at him. It felt like a nail in a coffin—an unmistakable reminder that, no matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to mess things up. How could he ever find his place in this family if he couldn’t even get the little things right, like the juice Marlene liked or the cuts of meat Tifa bought at the market?

Maybe he couldn’t.

The thought lingered in his mind long into the night, keeping him awake far longer than Barret’s snoring ever could.

The week came and went. To Cloud, it felt like an eternity, but for Barret, time seemed to fly by all too quickly.

His last morning with them was notably somber. Tifa did her best to lift everyone's spirits, but it was hard when Barret kept moping around and sighing. He was headed back to Corel to continue his work there, and, as always, that meant saying goodbye to Marlene. After a few years, most people would probably find that the parting became easier. But for Barret, it never did.

After breakfast, he trudged to the doors of Seventh Heaven, holding Marlene’s hand. She tugged on him and he bent over for a hug.

“M’sorry I gotta go, baby girl.” Barret held Marlene tight to his chest, closing his eyes. “Wish I could stay longer. Take ya out for ice cream every day.”

Watching their goodbyes made a part of Cloud ache and he wondered distantly if that was proof he hadn’t totally lost his sense of empathy.

“It's okay, daddy,” Marlene said into Barret’s neck. “You're working hard to help people.”

“That’s right.” Barret exhaled and opened his eyes, setting her back on her feet.

“You’ll be back soon. Two weeks will go by fast,” Tifa said, smiling.

Barret’s face softened as he pulled her into an equally tight hug. “Not fast enough.”

When they parted, he knelt and smoothed a hand down Marlene’s hair. His thumb stroked across her round cheek as she smiled. Tifa stood off to the side, putting a gap between herself and Cloud.

It was only a couple feet and yet it felt like a chasm.

Barret’s deep brown eyes peered over Marlene’s head, landing on Cloud for a brief moment. Instantly, Cloud was back in the garage, cleaning his fusion sword while Barret lectured him. He shifted on his feet. Barret’s hard gaze drifted back down to Marlene and he leaned down to be closer to her ear.

“Keep an eye on ‘em,” he whispered in a voice that wasn’t so quiet. “Make sure they behave.”

Marlene looked over her shoulder at Cloud and Tifa before turning back to Barret with a grin. “I’ll take good care of them. Don’t worry, daddy.”

A half-laugh, half-snort tore through Barret. He gave Marlene one last hug. “Atta girl.”

As always, Marlene followed Barret outside to see him off, watching as he climbed into his massive truck, which looked more like an armored tank. As always, Barret stuck his arm out the window and waved as he drove off. And, as always, Marlene waved back with the biggest grin, not stopping until his truck was out of sight.

Cloud watched silently from the window as Marlene stood there, staring after the truck. She lingered for a few moments before turning and heading back inside, straight into Tifa’s waiting arms.

“It’s such a nice day. I was thinking about making some fresh lemonade,” Tifa said, petting Marene’s hair. “Wanna help me?”

Marlene smiled something bittersweet and nodded.

Together, the girls made their way behind the bar. Tifa set out a bowl of bright yellow lemons, the sugar canister, and a large glass pitcher. Marlene dragged over her footstool so she could see over the counter. Tifa sliced the lemons in half while Marlene squeezed them into the pitcher with all the strength her six-year-old body could muster. One of the lemon halves slipped, squirting juice right into Tifa’s face. Marlene gasped, then burst into giggles—a sound that softened Tifa’s surprise and made her smile.

It was clear this had become a routine they'd developed while he’d been away.

Cloud watched as they laughed and made lemonade, feeling a lot like a stranger again.

It was dark and his shoulders ached.

Warm weather always invited all kinds of fiends out onto the roads. Today, it was orcs—three different packs of them. He’d dispatched the first two with relative ease but the third pack had proved to be more troublesome. The scuffle ended with him being tossed from Fenrir and catching a nasty club to the shoulder. It wasn’t anything serious but it hurt like a bitch. All the orc encounters had put him three hours behind schedule and it was long past dusk by the time he made it to the outskirts of Kalm.

Cloud made the decision to stop for the night. No sense in pushing himself.

It was close to ten at night by the time he procured himself a room and showered all the orc blood off. His right shoulder and middle back sported a massive splotchy bruise that was already shades of purple and blue. He winced as he made himself an ice pack with some ice cubes and a towel.

As he turned to get into bed for a long, hard sleep, he noticed the phone sitting on the nightstand.

“A heads up would’ve been nice.”

Cloud grimaced at Barret’s scathing voice in his head. He hesitated for a moment before sticking the phone under his ear and dialing.

“Seventh Heaven! This is Tifa.”

“Hey. It’s me.”

“Cloud.” Her tone changed almost immediately. Somehow, she sounded both relieved and upset. She lowered her voice to a mild whisper. “I thought you would be home hours ago. Where are you?”

“Made it to Kalm about an hour ago. Had some trouble on the road. Nothing serious.” He adjusted his posture and the ice pack. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Why didn’t you call earlier?”

“Broke my phone.”

“The new one?”

“Yeah.”

Tifa sighed. “The kids were worried, you know. They didn’t want to eat until you got back and they got pretty upset with me for not letting them wait.”

Guilt, familiar and all-consuming, gripped him by the throat.

They’d probably thought he’d left them again.

“Sorry…” he murmured.

Something in the background drew Tifa’s attention away from the phone. Cloud picked up the eager voices of Marlene and Denzel. When she returned, she said, “They want to talk to you.”

“Uh, yeah.” Cloud blinked. “Okay.”

There was some rustling before Marlene’s voice chirped through. “Hi Cloud!”

“Hi Marlene.”

“Tifa says you ran into some monsters. Are you okay?”

Cloud adjusted his ice pack and winced. “I’ll be fine. Just some bruises. Sorry I missed dinner.”

“It’s okay. Tifa made stew. We saved the leftovers for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm. Here’s Denzel.”

The line rustled again as Marlene passed the phone. Denzel’s voice came through clear and inquisitive. “Where are you?”

“An inn in Kalm. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“Oh. I tried calling you, but it didn’t even ring.”

“An orc crushed my phone. I have to get a new one.”

“Oh.”

Cloud squinted at the clock on the wall. “It’s pretty late for the two of you to still be awake. Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but we told Tifa we wanted to wait up for you.”

“You guys shouldn’t give Tifa a hard time like that.”

“We’re not. We just…” Denzel trailed off with a sigh. “Will we see you tomorrow before you leave?”

“Probably not.”

“Oh…”

“But I should be back in time for dinner tomorrow. As long as I steer clear of the orc packs.”

Even though he was clearly disappointed, Denzel still managed a chuckle. “Sorry about your phone.”

“It’s okay. I’ll get another one.”

“Me and Marlene should probably get ready for bed now.”

“Probably,” Cloud agreed.

“Goodnight, Cloud.”

“Goodnight, Denzel.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

There was more rustling as Denzel passed the phone back to Tifa. She hesitated before asking, “You said you’re coming back in the morning?”

He understood her skepticism. It didn’t make much sense to ride all the way back to Seventh Heaven only to turn around and leave again for his deliveries. Weeks ago, he wouldn’t have bothered. But things were different now. At least, he was trying to make them different.

“I need a change of clothes,” he said.

Tifa hummed. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then. Drive safe.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Tifa ended the call and Cloud adjusted the ice pack on his shoulder again, grimacing.

Cloud sat hunched over his desk the following night, surrounded by pay stubs, maps, planned routes, and invoice numbers. He’d never been great at organizing these things—that was usually Tifa’s area of expertise—but she had clearly left it for him to sort out. The delivery service was supposed to be his responsibility.

It gave him a headache after ten minutes.

Thumbing through another stack of thin, wrinkled papers, Cloud paused when someone knocked on his door.

“Cloud?” a small voice whispered.

Marlene.

Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, Cloud discovered it was nearly two in the morning.

Equal amounts of confusion and alarm washed through him and he pushed out of the uncomfortable wooden chair. Two strides and he opened the door, revealing Marlene in her nightgown as she clutched her favorite pink Moogle to her chest. She looked unharmed except for the frown she wore as his eyes swept over her.

Cloud exhaled his relief. “Marlene, what's wrong?”

She squeezed her Moogle. “Can I sleep in your room?”

Cloud blinked, then remembered it’d only been a few days since Barret left for Corel. Though Marlene always put on a brave face, she preferred to sleep or cuddle with someone during the first few nights of Barret’s absence. Tifa was always the one she turned to for that comfort.

“Sure,” he said slowly.

Marlene smiled up at him, tip-toeing into his room. She went to his narrow bed and pulled herself on top.

“You don't want to sleep with Tifa?” Cloud asked carefully as he shut his door.

Sitting on his bed, Marlene's shoulders drooped. “Tifa’s sad again,” she said. Her fingers rubbed the soft ears of her Moogle. “I heard her crying.”

Tifa was crying?

Cloud turned toward the direction of her bedroom, diagonal from his and at the very end of the hallway. The kids’ room was right next to hers. For a moment, he stilled and concentrated...but heard nothing. Even with his enhanced hearing, he couldn’t make out any sounds.

He turned back to Marlene. “Again?”

“Tifa gets sad sometimes,” Marlene explained. She kept petting her stuffed Moogle. “But it’s only at night time. She tries to be quiet… I think she doesn’t want me and Denzel to worry.”

Questions piled on Cloud’s tongue, bursting in his head. But none of them felt right and he stopped for a minute, testing them.

Eventually, he settled on, “How long has Tifa been sad?”

Marlene’s lips pressed together, as if she didn’t want to tell him the answer.

That, in itself, confirmed Cloud’s suspicion.

Eventually her brown eyes peeked up at him and they were filled with worry. “You're back now… Why is she still sad?”

Something sharp pierced Cloud’s chest.

There had been a part of him, something naive and perhaps even ignorant, that had hoped coming home would mean things would go back to the way they were before. But the truth was, he couldn’t undo all the hurt he’d caused in a single moment. Fixing their home—and his relationship with Tifa, in particular—was going to take time. And something in the back of his mind hissed that, even then, things would never be the same.

“Some things,” he said after a long pause, “take longer to heal.

“Are you and Tifa fighting?” Marlene asked and her voice was small.

“No. We’re just… figuring things out.”

“I don't want Tifa to be sad…”.

Marlene reached for her Moogle again, then shifted her body to lay on her side, facing Cloud. He stood, adjusting the blankets and pulling them up to her chin. When she was comfortable, he dragged the chair from his desk over and sat beside her, arms crossed, ready to stand guard against any bad dreams.

Marlene sank into the bed with a heavy sigh, her cheek pressing into his pillow.

“I don’t want her to be sad either,” Cloud murmured.

“Are you gonna talk to her?” Marlene asked, eyes heavy. “Maybe you can help her feel better.”

The thought of talking to Tifa—really talking to her—terrified him. His ability to express his thoughts, and god forbid his feelings, was horrendous. More often than not, his words ended up backfiring, making things worse. The idea of making things worse than they already were with Tifa made him feel physically sick.

Beyond that, Cloud was broken beyond repair, and he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t hurt her again at some point. Tifa deserved more than that, but it was all he had to offer.

So what would that conversation look like?

"I’m sorry, I’ll mess up again, and it’s just a matter of when, please don’t hate me?"

Pathetic.

Cloud swallowed. “I’ll talk to Tifa. But I don’t know if I can help her feel better. I’m not very good at comforting people.”

Marlene shook her head. “I think you are.”

“If you say so.”

A sudden yawn shook her frame. Marlene’s fists curled into his sheets and she sighed, a content and happier sound.

“I’m happy you’re back, Cloud,” she whispered, rubbing her face into his pillow. “Really happy.”

“Me too, Marlene.”

Marlene fell into a fast and hard sleep, her stuffed Moogle tucked in between her arms. Her back rose and fell evenly, fingers still clutching Cloud’s sheets.

Propped up in the chair, the wooden slats digging into his spine and the heavy bruise spreading across his shoulders and back, Cloud was far from comfortable. Still, he should’ve been able to close his eyes and catch a few hours of sleep. He should’ve been able to ignore the light that was still on, the ache in his neck, and the throb in his shoulder. But he was wide awake, his mind turning itself inside out.

He wondered if Tifa was still crying or if she had dried her tears and gone to bed by now.

Those thoughts kept him awake long into the night.

At some point, Marlene rolled over, and Cloud stood up to stretch his legs. He checked one last time to make sure she was truly asleep, then turned off the lights. As he returned to his chair, however, a sudden urge to check on Tifa gripped him.

Cloud paused, staring at his door.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, torn. Eventually, he turned away and sat back in the chair beside his bed, resigned to yet another sleepless night.

Chapter Text

The setting sun glinted sharply on the horizon and Cloud squinted behind his goggles.

He barely heard the chirp of his cellphone above the roar of Fenrir’s engine. He dug it out of his pocket and checked the small window across the front. An unknown number flashed at him. Cloud stuffed it back in his pocket, letting the call go to voicemail. 

It rang again almost immediately.

Cloud debated for a handful of seconds before digging it back out. “Strife Delivery.”

“I can’t believe you let me go to voicemail. Rude!”

“Yuffie.” Cloud frowned. “How did you get this number?”

He’d bought himself a new phone a few days ago and hadn’t given out the number to anyone but Tifa. 

“You still doubt my skills, even after all this time. I say again—rude!”

The wind screeched as he took a sharp curve around a bend in the dirt road. Cloud pressed his phone closer to his ear and steadied his bike with one hand. “What do you want?”

“For you to start picking up some people skills, for starters.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No, wait! I need your help.”

Cloud scoffed. “I’m not giving you any materia.”

“The world’s greatest materia hunter can fend for herself, thank you very much. I need you to make a delivery for me. To Vincent.”

“Vincent?”

“It’s a birthday present.”

For some reason, the idea of Vincent having a birthday felt foreign. He’d been purely human once—before Sephiroth, before SOLDIERs, before Hojo—so it stood to reason that he had to have a birthday. But getting personal information out of notoriously tight-lipped Vincent was worse than getting anything out of Cloud. Or so he’d been told. He wasn’t at all surprised Yuffie managed it, though.

“Technically his birthday isn’t until October, but I can’t wait that long. So, can you help a girl out?”

“I’m not making cross-continental deliveries right now. Sorry, Yuffie,” Cloud said.

For at least the next handful of months, he was limiting himself to the East Continent. Tifa hadn’t asked him to, not outright, but Denzel and Marlene had clearly balked at the idea of him traveling too far. They still watched him leave Seventh Heaven with thinly veiled unease—like they were bracing themselves in case he didn’t return.

The depth of the emotional scars he’d left them with…

Guilt, ever present, gnawed at him.

“Aw, come on… I promised I would get him a present!” Yuffie whined.

“Try asking Cid.”

“So much for ‘regardless of distance and obstacles’,” she snorted. “Still on the outs with Tifa?”

Cloud’s tone went flat. “That’s none of your business.”

“It so is. Want my advice?” 

“No.”

“Beg for her forgiveness on your hands and knees. And make sure you cry a little.”

“Yuffie—”

“It'll work, trust me. She can't stay mad forever.”

That was the thing. Tifa wouldn't be angry forever. Once, anger had been her anchor—the thing that kept her going. But she’d told him how exhausting it was, being angry all the time. Like carrying around a massive boulder on her shoulders. Eventually, she’d have to let it go and move on. She’d close herself off and let the distance between them fester until they were essentially strangers to one another.

Cloud feared her indifference much more than her anger.

Yuffie hummed a little tune when he stayed silent. “So, Vincent’s present…”

Cloud snapped his cellphone shut without saying goodbye. This time, Yuffie took the hint.

The sky was a deep, inky black by the time he made it back to Seventh Heaven. A smattering of stars, tiny pinpricks of light, shone through the smog and the slightly cloudy canopy. The windows were dark as Cloud rolled into the garage and cut Fenrir’s engine. 

Silence echoed in his ears.

Cloud shouldered his way into the bar and up the stairs, boots thumping against the steps. Maybe it was the pervasive quiet but each one felt too loud like the toll of a drum.

At the top of the stairs, Cloud froze.

Marlene and Denzel’s door was halfway open.

Adrenaline shot through his veins in a cold rush, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flushing warm in contrast. He stepped closer and used the palm of his hand to nudge the door open all the way, peering inside. His gaze swept over their beds. Empty. 

Every instinct kicked into overtime.

Their sheets were disheveled like they’d kicked off their covers after being tucked in. The window was shut and still latched. Marlene’s stuffed animals sat in a neatly organized pile next to her dresser. A cluster of Denzel’s action figures lay on the desk untouched with the chair pushed in. There were no signs of a struggle. Cloud’s breathing slowed as he immersed himself in the quiet, listening…

Muffled breathing met his ears.

Cloud retreated back into the hall and turned, spotting Tifa’s door slightly ajar. He crept forward and slipped into her room.

His eyes easily picked out the three distinctive figures sleeping in Tifa’s bed. She lay on her side in the middle, curled around Marlene with her back pressed against Denzel’s. She had one arm tucked under Marlene’s head while the other reached behind her to rest on Denzel’s side, like she was making sure he was still there. Marlene clutched her stuffed Moogle and Denzel’s mouth propped open as he breathed. They looked comfortable and at peace despite the tight fit.

Cloud exhaled, slow and controlled. The adrenaline rush dissolved into a familiar tingling sensation in his fingertips. 

He must have been more on edge from the road than he thought. Of course everyone was fine. He suddenly felt ridiculous for even thinking otherwise—Tifa would have called him if something had happened.

Cloud stopped.

Would she have called him?

As he stood there in the pitch black of Tifa’s bedroom, paralyzed by doubt, his mind mulled and processed the scene in front of him. Marlene and Denzel were in Tifa’s bed. Why? Before he’d left, it wasn’t unusual for Marlene to settle in with Tifa for the night—if Barret had recently left or if there was a bad storm—but not Denzel. He’d always put on a brave face even on nights when his fevers and aches had been terrible.

Something had happened while he’d been out on the road and Cloud realized he probably wouldn’t know what. They’d sought comfort in each other and it was a private thing he wasn’t meant to disturb. Everything became startlingly clear at that moment.

Maybe they wanted him here at Seventh Heaven but they didn’t need him. They’d learned to adapt to life without him.

As Cloud backed out of her bedroom, he felt distinctly like an intruder. 

Seventh Heaven’s regulars poured in right on time, finding their usual spots for the evening. The bar was barely half full but Tifa worked nonstop behind the bartop taking orders, cooking, and refilling drinks. An ordinary person might have been totally overwhelmed with the sheer level of multitasking, speed, and precision required to do it alone. Not Tifa.

Cloud couldn’t shake the feeling that he was supposed to be helping her. But every time he took a step toward the bartop, toward Tifa, he was reminded that she had been doing this on her own for a while now. She didn’t need, and probably didn't want, his help. He would just get in her way.

The longer he sat at their family table, the more that became obvious. 

Next to him, Marlene continued to doodle happily, humming while she worked. Normally, she would be upstairs with Denzel, but she had insisted on staying with him because she wanted his opinion on her artwork. She had already completed five drawings and they were spread out on the table around them, each one as colorful and unique as the last.

Now that he was looking, Cloud could see other installments from her collection on the fridge behind the bartop. 

“Okay, what about this one?” Marlene set down her colored pencil and slid her newest piece to him.

Cloud picked up and held the paper, studying it seriously. “It’s abstract,” he observed after a moment, taking in her liberal use of the space and the sharp angles in red, green, and purple. A pair of spiky wings were recognizable. “Lots of colors. A drake?”

“No!” Marlene rolled her eyes. “Can’t you tell? It’s that big monster you and Tifa beat up. Denzel says it’s called Bahamut.”

Cloud looked at her drawing again. “I’ve never seen a purple Bahamut.”

“Not yet, anyway,” she said, wagging her finger at him. Marlene grabbed her artbook—an expensive-looking thing that must have cost Tifa or Barret a pretty gil—and ripped out another page. 

Cloud added the abstract, purple Bahamut to the collection on the table.

Marlene would keep drawing until the bar closed if he let her. He wouldn’t, of course, because Tifa had the kids on a strict bedtime routine that began promptly in an hour. 

Cloud’s gaze dragged back to the bar, as though magnetized by the very thought of her. He watched as she leaned across the bartop to talk to a middle-aged man, jotting down notes on her notepad, tucking her hair behind her ear and smiling. 

Like she could feel his stare, Tifa suddenly looked up. She paused for the briefest second, as if startled, before turning back around. 

He should have been embarrassed, or ashamed, to have been caught openly staring at her like that. He should have stopped. But he continued to watch her, studying the curve of her back and the silky shine of her hair in the dim lighting. Soaking in all the details he had missed while he’d been absent. Cloud wasn’t sure how long he spent just watching her, though it was definitely far longer than was socially acceptable, before Marlene jutted another paper under his nose.

“Here!” she said, a note of pride in her voice.

Cloud finally tore his eyes away from Tifa to refocus on Marlene’s drawing. He stopped, his body feeling strangely stiff. “Is this…?”

“Our family! There’s me, Tifa, Daddy, Denzel, and you.” Marlene pointed to each person respectively. 

It was a crude drawing, befitting of a six-year-old child. Consisting mostly of geometric shapes stacked together to make their bodies, with sticks and circles for limbs, and a bright yellow sun in the top right corner. Cloud easily identified the figure that represented him by its spiky mess of yellow hair. Barret was comically larger than everyone else. Tifa clearly had the most attention to detail and long eyelashes. Denzel’s shoes were too big for the rest of his body and Marlene’s bow was huge and pink. In her picture, they were all holding hands and smiling. Even Cloud.

He stared at the drawing, that tight feeling returning to his chest.

“Cloud?” Marlene asked, tilting her head.

Cloud swallowed past the tightness, looking away from the paper and down into the warm brown eyes of the child next to him. “It’s great, Marlene. Your best one yet.”

She beamed. “You should hang it up in your room. Since it’s the best.”

“I just might have to.”

Marlene continued humming to herself while she drew and colored, passing the time. 

“Marlene,” Tifa called eventually. “Start getting ready for bed, please. And tell Denzel.”

“M’kay!” Marlene put her colored pencils away and gathered all her drawings up, except for the family portrait she’d given Cloud. She hopped out of her chair and headed to the stairs.

Tifa watched over her shoulder with a smile, hands buried deep in the sink. “Thanks, sweetie. I’ll be up in a minute, as soon as I’m finished with the dishes.”

Judging by the number of patrons still sitting at the bar nursing their drinks, it would be much longer than a minute.

Cloud rose and followed after Marlene. “I’ll go,” he said to Tifa.

“Oh. Are you sure?” The look she gave him was something hesitant, much like the one he’d seen the day he’d offered to help her with the dishes. 

“Not knowing if and when you’ll change your mind is harder than never having help in the first place.”

Over a week later and it still stung.

“Yeah.” Cloud glanced around the bar. “You’re busy.”

On cue, one of the men sitting at the bar called Tifa’s name and showed her his empty bottle of beer. Tifa glanced at him and then at Cloud before nodding and wiping her hands on her apron, fetching the man another beer.

Upstairs, Cloud herded both children into the bathroom to wash their faces and brush their teeth. Marlene managed to talk his ear off even with her toothbrush wedged in her mouth and both kids took over ten minutes to find a suitable set of pajamas. Cloud got the distinct impression they were stalling. His suspicions were proven right when, after Marlene and Denzel were settled under their covers, Marlene asked for a bedtime story.

Cloud hesitated in the middle of tucking the covers under her chin.

“Tifa tells us stories all the time,” Marlene urged, reading his doubt.

From his bed, Denzel nodded. “Yeah.”

Cloud expected Marlene’s eagerness but not Denzel’s. The boy was at the age where he was starting to become “too old” for things like bedtime stories. That he would readily agree, with poorly disguised interest, made Cloud more willing to entertain the idea. He wasn’t creative or imaginative by any means and both children undoubtedly knew that. Yet, they were asking anyway. He couldn’t tell them no.

“I’m not a good storyteller,” Cloud warned as he lowered himself to the edge of Marlene’s bed.

She snuggled in deeper with a little smile. “That’s okay.”

“Tell us about the biggest monster you fought,” said Denzel.

“Physically?” Cloud’s eyebrow lifted.

Denzel shrugged. “Sure.”

“Probably Emerald Weapon,” said Cloud after a long, thoughtful pause.

Denzel frowned. “Never heard of it.”

“For a long time, Weapons were an urban legend. No one thought they were real.”

“But they are?” Marlene looked intrigued. 

Cloud nodded. “According to legend, they were spawned by the planet thousands of years ago with giant materia in their core. They only appear in times of great distress to protect the planet.”

Marlene’s eyes seemed to grow bigger.

“And you fought one?” Denzel asked with a note of disbelief.

“We fought three. But Emerald Weapon was the biggest.”

“...Did you kill it?” asked Marlene.

“No,” said Cloud. “We just fended it off.”

She exhaled with relief.

Denzel pushed up on his elbow. “It’s a monster, Marlene.”

“Cloud said it just wants to protect the planet.”

“It’s still a monster.”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s bad. Right, Cloud?” Marlene looked at him, eyes glinting stubbornly.

“Weapons aren’t bad,” he agreed. “But they’re not good either. They defend the planet without prejudice. They might save people, like one did for Tifa. Or they might destroy everything so the planet can start over.”

Marlene’s brow creased curiously. “What happened to Tifa?”

Memories flooded Cloud’s mind in an abrasive stream, unpleasant and startling. His recollection of the events were murky, still to this day, but he remembered enough to wish he didn’t.

“Don’t do this!”

“We were fighting a woman named Scarlet at the ruined Reactor in Gongaga,” he explained, trying to shut the door on his memories. “A Weapon saved Tifa.”

She hadn’t screamed while falling—the only noise she’d made was a gasp of stunned terror. Cloud could hear it clearly even now.

Denzel sat up. “From what?”

From me, was the voiceless murmur in the back of Cloud’s mind. He swallowed and ignored it, slamming the door shut. “She fell into a massive pool of mako. The Weapon swallowed her and protected her before giving her back. If not for that, she might have succumbed to mako poisoning.”

“So they are good.” Marlene nodded, satisfied.

“Cloud said they might destroy everything. Sounds pretty bad to me,” Denzel said.

Cloud crossed his arms and leaned back. “Depends on who you ask. We were pretty divided on how to handle Emerald Weapon.”

“What happened?” Denzel asked as he lay back down, turning onto his side.

“We found it by accident in the waters around the old Underwater Reactor. It was deep, almost on the bed of the ocean floor. By the time we realized, it was too late to escape.”

Marlene gaped. “You fought it underwater?” 

Cloud nodded.

“How?” Denzel pressed.

“Underwater materia,” said Cloud. “Though it may not have made much of a real difference. It was attracted to materia, so the more we used, the stronger its attacks became. It was also immune to protective spells.”

“It sounds invincible,” Denzel murmured, brow furrowed.

“Not invincible, just extremely difficult to kill. We were lucky it decided to leave us alone when it did,” Cloud said, thinking about how gravely he and Tifa had been injured in the encounter. He didn’t think it was a good idea to tell Marlene and Denzel exactly how close to death they’d been.

“How big was it?” asked Marlene.

“You guys saw Bahamut?”

Both children nodded.

“Twice as big as that,” said Cloud.

“And it’s somewhere out there in the ocean?” Denzel blanched.

“Maybe. The imminent threat to the planet is gone now. So, if the legends are true, it’s probably hiding or hibernating somewhere. I don’t think we’ll see it again.” At least, not in their lifetimes. Hopefully.

Denzel’s face relaxed.

“Tell us another story,” said Marlene. “A funny one.”

Cloud frowned as he looked down at her. “I don’t know any funny ones.”

“What about the time you tried to save Tifa from the mansion?” she asked.

The mansion? Cloud’s eyebrows pulled together as he thought. It hit him like a slap—the Don Corneo fiasco. 

Cloud peered at Marlene with narrow eyes. “How do you know about that?”

“Daddy told me.”

Of course he had. Cloud sighed. “Then why do you want me to tell the story again?”

“Because I like it. And Denzel’s never heard it before.”

Denzel, interest piqued, pushed himself up again. “Yeah, I wanna hear it.”

“Fine,” Cloud sighed. “But this is the last one.”

Marlene nodded. “Mhm!”

“It was in Midgar. I was out one night and saw Tifa in a chocobo carriage. She was headed to a mansion to meet with a crime lord, someone who had important information she wanted. I thought she was in trouble, so I went to go save her,” Cloud began.

Denzel gave him a look, like the idea was ridiculous.

“Yeah, I know.” Cloud waved him off. “But our…friend insisted. So we followed Tifa to Sector Six, all the way to a secret colosseum. We fought our way to the top to win money so we could get into the mansion. The issue was, the man, the Don, only let women in. So I had to go undercover.”

Denzel blinked slowly. “You mean…”

“Yeah.” Cloud grimaced. 

Marlene giggled.

“You wore a dress?” Denzel asked, cracking a grin.

“...Yes.”

Denzel’s grin grew. “What color?”

Cloud didn’t understand why the color was important. “Purple.”

In his bed, Denzel started snickering.

“Daddy said you had to wear a wig,” Marlene whispered like it was a heinous conspiracy.

Cloud sighed. “Yeah.”

Both kids erupted into laughter. Cloud let them have their moment. He tried not to think too hard about that accursed purple dress—his skin was starting to itch like it was still trapped in that lacy fabric.

“So…did it work?” Denzel asked after he was done laughing.

“It worked a little too well,” Cloud said. “I got in and met with the Don. But once he figured me out, he dumped us all in a sewer with his pet, a giant monster he called Abzu. We had to fight our way out.”

Denzel leaned in with curiosity. “What’s an Abzu?”

“Dunno. Never come across anything like it.” Cloud shrugged. “It was sort of like a minotaur. Walked on two legs with hooves, but it had arms and hands. Two massive horns on its head. And its tongue was so long it dragged on the ground.”

Marlene’s face scrunched up. “Ew.”

“Cool,” Denzel disagreed. He lay down again with a yawn. “What happened to the crime lord guy? The Don?”

“We met up with him a few more times.”

“And you showed him who’s boss?”

“Yeah,” Cloud snorted. “Something like that.”

Marlene adjusted herself under her covers and blinked heavy eyes up at Cloud. “How come you always try to save Tifa? Is it ‘cuz you love her?”

The question took him by complete surprise and his stomach almost leapt into his throat. What was he supposed to say to that? Cloud struggled for a response—he couldn’t give her one. Marlene was patient as eventually found an answer he was comfortable with. “I know Tifa can take care of herself. But a long time ago, I made her a promise. I told her I would save her if she was ever in trouble.”

Marlene smiled. “Just like a knight.”

“I’m not knight material.”

“Knights have big swords and fight monsters and dragons,” she said. “You have a big sword and you fight monsters and dragons.”

“I’ve only fought two dragons. Most of the time, it’s drakes or wyrms.”

“What’s the difference?” Denzel murmured.

Cloud found himself launching into a detailed explanation of the differences between dragons, drakes, and wyrms, which led to a story about the red dragon deep in the heart of the labyrinth at the Temple of the Ancients. And, naturally, that led to yet another story. And another. At some point, in the middle of telling the kids about a near-deadly encounter with a tonberry, Cloud realized both kids were both out cold. Denzel let out the softest snore and Marlene rolled onto her side, hugging her Moogle close.

Maybe he wasn’t such a bad storyteller after all.

Quietly, Cloud stood and left the room. He headed back downstairs to the bar only to find it empty.

“Suckered you into bedtime stories, didn’t they?” Tifa mused from the sink.

Cloud froze, glanced at the clock, and then sighed. It was almost midnight.  “...Sorry. I lost track of time.”

“It’s all right. One late night isn’t going to ruin their routine.” She had her arms deep in the sink, scrubbing dishes again. She remained focused on her work while she talked to him over her shoulder. “I’ll be honest, it was nice not having to hound them to get ready for bed and manage the bar at the same time. Thank you.”

The words were kind and still felt razor sharp. Cloud flinched.

Yet again, he was reminded how thinly she’d been stretched in his absence. How difficult it must have been trying to keep up with everything and putting on a brave face for everyone. Raising two children, running a business, and handling the intakes and payment for the delivery service… While he isolated himself, content to wallow in his own misery.

And even though he was here now, Tifa had never seemed farther away. Each passing day she felt more and more like a stranger to him.

“She ain’t gonna come to you. You gotta be the one to go to her.”

He couldn’t let her become a stranger. He just couldn’t.

“Tifa…” Cloud rasped.

“Hm?”

He searched his mind for words, the right ones, but they just wouldn’t come. His tongue felt too thick in his mouth and his thoughts were too scattered—putting the right words together was like trying to do a puzzle blind. When he didn’t respond, Tifa pulled her hands out of the sink and turned around.

“Cloud?” She watched him carefully, like he was a frightened and unpredictable animal.

“There’s so much I want to say to you. Need to say. But…” Cloud grimaced and looked at his hands. “I don’t know how.”

Tifa was quiet for a moment, as if debating something. Then she turned off the sink and faced him again, her eyes inscrutable. “Take your time. I’m listening.”

“I’m sorry.”

The words felt stale in his mouth.

“You said that already,” Tifa chuckled. It was an almost sad sound. 

“I need you to know I mean it.”

Tifa folded her arms across her chest and nodded.

“I...don’t want to make excuses,” he said after a long beat of silence passed between them. “I ran away. From you, our friends. From everything. Because I was scared.” Words were finally starting to come but they were half-chewed thoughts, and he had no idea if they were the right ones. He could only hope that Tifa understood what he was trying to say. “Living like this, being happy…it scares me. I don't deserve it. I was looking for a cure for Denzel, I never stopped, but I was sick and dying and I thought running away would be…easier.”

It sounded tortuous, even to his own ears. 

But to his surprise, Tifa nodded. “I understand.”

Cloud drew back and blinked.

“Life feels too good to be true these days...right?” she whispered. “You feel like you don't deserve it. Like something terrible is waiting right around the corner, about to take it all away and leave you with nothing all over again. You felt trapped and you panicked.”

Slowly, he nodded. 

“I understand,” Tifa repeated, her voice even quieter than before. In front of her, her hands tied themselves into a single knot. The edges of her mouth trembled and the hard look in her eyes melted into a glassy sheen. “That’s why it hurt so much.”

Cloud’s breath caught in his throat.

He’d seen Tifa cry before. He’d held her to his chest while she wailed and shook, her fingers digging into the material of his shirt like she was trying to find purchase, some sort of anchor, in him to weather her grief. He’d felt her tears soak his shirt and his skin, wiped them from her cheeks, while fighting the miserable ache in his chest from listening to her break.

Today, her cries were silent. If not for her sniffle, and the way she quickly wiped her eyes, one might not have been able to tell. Cloud could—he could practically feel every shaky breath she exhaled and yet, he was rooted where he stood a few feet in front of her. He couldn’t move.

This was all his fault.

“I almost drove myself crazy wondering if I'd done something to push you away. We were so close and the next thing I knew…we weren't. Every time I left you a voicemail I would watch my phone for hours just in case you called back. The day you found Denzel and he called the bar, I tripped over myself to call him back because I thought it was you.” Tifa wiped at her eyes again. “Things got better for a bit after Denzel came. I thought maybe…maybe we’d be okay after all. And as soon as I let myself hope, you were gone again. You were going through a lot, Cloud, more than any of us realized. And I don't fault you for it. But leaving like that... It still hurt. It hurt all of us, not just me.” 

Each word was like a punch to the gut, leaving him suddenly nauseous. Tifa was hesitating, unable to look him in the eye. Whatever she was about to say was going to hurt even worse and he couldn’t stop her. 

“Denzel thinks he's the reason you left,” she said eventually, voice soft. “Did you know that?”

What?

Cloud’s mouth felt dry. “No.”

“I was up with him for hours one night when his fever spiked. He was delirious and kept blaming himself. I tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault but he didn’t believe me. He still doesn’t.” At the blank, helpless look he gave her, Tifa crossed her arms. “You left when his symptoms took a turn for the worse… What else is he supposed to think?”

She was right. Of course she was right. 

A hard knot formed behind Cloud’s ribs. Her words rattled around in his brain as he tried to come to grips with what she was telling him. This felt like a whole new level of failure and he had no idea how to fix it. He didn’t know if he even could fix it.

“I know we were just playing house so we could move on and feel...normal,” Tifa continued, swallowing back her tears and looking up at one of the ceiling fans as it slowly rotated. “So maybe I shouldn’t be upset. But I am, and I think I have been for a while… I'm trying so hard to not be, because I'm happy you're here. I really am. But...” Tifa sighed, her voice regaining its strength. “I’m just confused about how I feel right now.”

Cloud’s whole body was stiff. He felt jerky when he lifted an arm, as if to comfort her. His hand hung there in the air, mere inches from her own and unable to close the distance. 

“Me too. It’s...confusing,” he agreed, voice raspy. “But Tifa, that’s not... We’re not just playing house.”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because Tifa’s face crumpled. “Are you sure?”

The question left him cold. His brain tried, the synapses firing rapidly, to form some kind of response—any kind—but nothing came out of his mouth when he opened it. 

Tifa pursed her lips and nodded at his silence. She thumbed away the wetness, the only remnants of her tears, from underneath her eyes and cleared her throat. “I thought so.”

She turned on her heel to leave, muttering about tossing a load of dish towels in the wash, and something in Cloud snapped. In sheer panic, his hand shot out and grabbed her arm. “Wait!”

Tifa’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. Cloud looked at his hand, the fingers curled desperately around her forearm, and loosened his grip. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her completely.

The voices in his head hissed that if he did, she’d be lost to him forever.

“Sorry,” he blurted. “Sorry, Tifa. I just…”

He was barely holding onto her. If she wanted, Tifa could shake him off and continue her march to the laundry room. But she didn’t. Tifa stood there quietly, waiting for him to gather his thoughts again, watching him with that careful look in her eyes. She shifted her weight and inched closer so that their feet were nearly touching.

The warmth of her skin radiated against his hand and he focused on that.

“You, Marlene, Denzel, and me... We’re not related by blood but we’re still real,” he said. “Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve to be happy, have a family. The guilt is always there. But I'm dealing with it. I...I won’t lose myself in the past. Or, at least, I’ll try not to. I’m trying to focus on the present, on what really matters.”

Tifa held very still, like she was afraid any movement would shatter the truth of his words. After a long, tense moment, she breathed out. Finally, she slid her arm out of his grip. “What do you mean by that, Cloud?”

“I’m done chasing a memory,” he said. 

And it was the first time he was able to answer, confidently, without running the words through his head over and over again.

“I see…” Brandy eyes lowered to a familiar bulky ring nestled on her finger. Tifa turned it round and round.

After a quiet minute of deliberation, he added, “Tifa, I'm broken. I know that. I’m going to mess up. But I still want to...try…”

The words dropped off. He didn't know how else to say it so that she would believe him.

Tifa’s eyes flicked back up to his and she stopped turning the ring. “That’s all we can ask, that you try. But, Cloud…” She took in a deep breath, like she was debating whether to continue. “We—the kids can’t go through this again. They...can’t have you walk out on them like that. They’ve already lost so much. So if you can’t promise them you won’t leave… Then maybe you shouldn’t.”

Admitting that must have been difficult, judging from the pained look on Tifa’s face. It was equally painful for him to hear, a sharp throb behind his breastbone that turned into an incessant ache.

But she was right. Denzel and Marlene needed stability and structure. He wasn’t fit to care for them if he couldn’t provide that. And despite the fact that he was infamously terrible at reading between the lines, once upon a time he’d been pretty good at reading Tifa. 

Something told him she wasn’t just talking about the kids.

He looked down and nodded slowly. “I’m not running anymore.”

Tifa inhaled, stepping closer into his space. He could smell the seasonal yeast from the beer she’d been serving earlier, combined with the herbal scent of her shampoo from her shower that morning. Her hands hesitated before latching onto his own.

“Then that means,” she murmured, staring at their hands, “you always come home.”

Cloud swallowed and nodded again. “Yeah.”

“You spend time with Denzel and Marlene.” Tifa squeezed his hands.

“Yeah.”

“You talk to me. Don't shut me out.”

“Yeah.” Cloud’s throat felt thick all of a sudden, the single word hard to get out.

“And most importantly,” Tifa met his eyes with a tiny, hopeful smile, “you pick up the damn phone.”

“Yeah…”

Her eyes were watery again, the liquid shine making them brighter than usual. The sweep of her lashes were damp as she blinked away the tears for good. And it was only after she reached up and cupped both sides of his face, thumbs wiping his cheeks, that Cloud realized he was crying.

His tears came quietly.

The clear image of Tifa’s face swam and before he knew what he was doing, Cloud leaned down and pressed his forehead into her shoulder. It was like he’d lost all the strength to stand on his own. Tifa’s arms circled around his neck, her fingers combing through the soft threads of his hair. She welcomed his weight without complaint, let him clutch at the fabric of her shirt. He clung to her pitifully, feeling his whole body tremble and hearing himself gasp into the curve of her neck and shoulder.

Tifa just held him tighter. “Welcome home, Cloud,” she whispered into his hair.

Chapter Text

Things between him and Tifa had been better since that night. 

The tension defining their relationship was finally starting to ease. There was, however, an awkwardness surrounding their boundaries. Where was Cloud’s place in this family now? He wasn't a long-lost puzzle piece to be plugged back in. They’d grown and changed in his absence and it was going to take a while to relearn how they all fit together. He’d committed to trying but had no idea what it meant for him and Tifa in the long run. They hadn’t decided on where they stood. She needed time to sort out her feelings.

Before he'd left, they’d been on the verge of… Cloud didn't quite know. But it had been something. Something that allowed him to hold her close if he wanted, to fall asleep with her head on his shoulder… To kiss her.

Cloud could count on one hand the number of times he and Tifa had kissed.

Once in secret on the Skywheel at the Gold Saucer, once at sunset underneath the Highwind when they both thought they wouldn't live to see the following day, once after the new Seventh Heaven was built, and once after he’d brought Denzel home. Before he had left in search of a quiet place to curl up and die, he and Tifa had been closer than ever. It had felt almost natural to touch each other—his hand on her back, hers on his shoulders. Now there was a chasm of distance between them, leaving him clueless to what was acceptable and what wasn't. 

But at least he didn't want to flinch every time Tifa spoke to him. And she didn't snap at him or cry alone in her room anymore.

Things weren’t the same, but they were getting better.

Even the children seemed to pick up on the improved atmosphere.

“You and Tifa aren’t fighting anymore?” Denzel asked a few weeks later while sitting on the floor of the garage. 

Cloud was in the process of performing routine maintenance on Fenrir. With the various environments he traveled and fiends he slayed, the bike collected unprecedented amounts of dirt, grime, and gore. He’d taken the day off, his first in weeks, to clean Fenrir from the inside out.

Sitting cross-legged, with a rag and Fenrir’s spark plug in his lap, Cloud looked over his shoulder. His eyebrows drew together and he frowned. “We weren’t fighting.”

“That's a lie,” said Denzel.

Cloud sighed and wiped his fingers clean on the rag before digging back into Fenrir’s engine and reconnecting the spark plug. Once that was done, he grabbed a screwdriver and moved on to the equally filthy chains. 

“We just didn’t know what to say to each other. But we talked,” he assured.

“And everything’s okay now?”

The nervous tone in Denzel’s voice made Cloud stop. He set down his rag and screwdriver before turning around to fully face his ward. Denzel studied his fingernails, apparently too fascinated to look up.

“Denzel,” Cloud said and a pair of blue eyes lifted reluctantly. “Everything is okay. Tifa and I are okay. You don't have to worry.”

“But what if you guys start fighting again?”

Cloud’s jaw flexed. He wanted to promise Denzel that it wouldn’t happen. But if Cloud was a betting kind of man, he definitely wouldn’t bet on that. He was impeccable at screwing things up, especially when it came to Tifa.

Denzel grabbed his knees and stared at the floor. “Are you gonna leave?”

“No.” Cloud’s voice was firm. “Even if…Tifa and I aren’t getting along, I won’t be going anywhere. We’re family. This is our home.”

For a while, Denzel was quiet. “Promise?” he murmured, glancing at Cloud with something small and hopeful in his eyes.

Cloud nodded. “Promise.”

That seemed to ease Denzel’s unrest a bit as he let go of his knees to sit cross-legged. Cloud turned back around and picked up his rag and screwdriver to get to work on Fenrir’s chains.

“How long are you gonna be gone?” Denzel asked.

“I have a bunch of deliveries near Junon, so I probably won’t be back until midday, the day after tomorrow.” Fiends and weather forgiving and if Cloud forwent any rest. He could sense Denzel’s apprehension and he looked over his shoulder, trying to be reassuring. “I’ll be back in time for dinner, before you and Marlene go to bed.”

Denzel nodded. “I like when you’re home for dinner. Wish you could stay for longer.”

Something bittersweet settled in Cloud’s stomach and he felt the corners of his mouth pull into a smile. He turned around again. “Yeah. Me too,” he said, reaching out to ruffle Denzel’s hair. He looked back at Fenrir sitting patiently. “You know, I could use some help. Getting the chains off by myself is pretty hard.”

“Really?” Denzel’s eyes got wide.

Cloud moved next to the bike, patting the sleek body. “Come here, I’ll show you.” 

Denzel scooted closer on his knees and paid careful attention as Cloud explained how to remove the chains. He proved to be an excellent helper and was eager to assist Cloud with the rest of Fenrir’s maintenance, even though it resulted in a few pinched fingers and a lot of grease stains. 

Little over an hour later, Cloud left the garage with Denzel, notably in better spirits.

Denzel immediately sought out Tifa behind the bartop as she was taking inventory. “I helped Cloud fix Fenrir!”

“You helped Cloud fix Fenrir,” Tifa echoed with surprise. She peered over Denzel’s head, looking to Cloud for confirmation and he nodded, still wiping the grease off his bare fingers. 

“Yeah,” Denzel continued with excitement. “We took off the chains and cleaned them, checked the tire pressure, and then I helped clean the engine.”

“Wow, that sounds like a lot of work.” Tifa reached down to wipe a smear of grease off his cheek.

“Did you know it has an oval-piston twin engine?”

“I had no idea. Good thing Cloud had your help, huh?”

Denzel nodded, scrubbing his face with his sleeve. It left another greasy smudge on his skin and Tifa chuckled.

“Okay, why don’t you go wash up? You’ve got grease all over you. And your clothes, too,” she scolded lightly, to which he grinned. “Make sure you take them to the laundry room so I can soak them. After that, maybe you can play with Marlene? She’s been waiting for you upstairs.”

“Yep,” he agreed before clambering up the stairs. “Thanks for letting me help, Cloud!”

Tifa stared after him with soft eyes, sighing. Then, she turned to Cloud. “It’s sweet that you let him help. He talks about Fenrir all the time. I think he might love that bike even more than you do.”

“The chains really are a two-person job,” Cloud said.

Tifa made a knowing sound. Her eyes drifted across his face and her brow suddenly furrowed. “Stay still.”

Cloud stiffened, his spine straight as a pole and his hands clutching air at his sides. Tifa stepped into his space, letting him catch a whiff of her shampoo, before using her thumb to wipe his forehead. It came away stained brown with grease. 

“You had some on your face too,” she explained, holding her hand up to show him. 

Cloud’s mouth opened but nothing came out. For once, his shattered mind was completely silent as he stared at Tifa’s face. She stared back like she was waiting for him to say something. When he never did, she blinked and seemed to take notice of how close they were. Her chest was almost touching his. 

“Is it ‘cuz you love her?”

Tifa blinked again, clearing her throat, and took a hasty step back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Cloud said. “Thank you.”

“So,” she released a breath, “all set? Fenrir’s ready to get back to your routes?”

“Should be. Everything looks good.”

“Good.” Tifa nodded. Her hands folded themselves in front of her, fingers twisting. “New phone working okay?”

He nodded.

Tifa shifted her weight. “And you’ll be back the day after tomorrow?”

“Yeah. If I’m late, I’ll call.”

“Okay. Good.” She looked at him with a tiny smile.

“Yeah…” He nodded, tongue-tied at the look she was giving him.

Eyes like warm brandy and a smile so soft it hurt. Yet again, he was reminded of just how beautiful Tifa was. Not that he ever really forgot. But sometimes, like this moment, it was impossible to ignore. He completely understood how most other men became instantly captivated by her.

Tifa looked away and the moment died, her eyes glued to his shirt. “You should go wash up too. And throw your clothes in the laundry.”

Cloud looked down. Even though it was black, his shirt was clearly covered in grime and dirt from crawling underneath Fenrir. 

“After Denzel,” he agreed.

Tifa nodded, twisting her ring again. Then she turned and murmured something about her inventory notebook.

“I like when you’re home for dinner. Wish you could stay for longer.”

Why couldn’t he stay for longer?

“Tifa,” Cloud blurted.

She looked at him from behind the bartop, notebook and pen in hand.

“What if I rescheduled some of the deliveries,” he said.

Tifa frowned and set aside her pen. “What?”

“The deliveries,” Cloud repeated. He had no idea where the idea and words were coming from but he didn’t stop them. “What if I rescheduled them. Took a few weeks off.”

Tifa’s eyes rounded. “You don't have to do that, Cloud.”

“I know. I want to. I...want to spend time with you. And Marlene and Denzel.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Are you sure? Rescheduling is a pain. Mr. Becker in particular gets very upset if there's a change in his delivery, and Mrs. Yuu threatened to take her business elsewhere if we—”

“Yes.”

Tifa fell silent. 

“I'll take care of it,” he promised, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He seriously doubted he was going about this the right way but it was too late to back out now. “Two weeks sounds like a normal vacation...right?”

“Yeah, two weeks is pretty standard at most places. Cloud Strife, taking a vacation. Imagine that.” She broke into a grin and leaned onto the bartop on her elbows. 

His lips twitched, an echo of her own grin. “Figure I'm due one by now. And you too.”

“A vacation would be nice,” Tifa admitted wistfully. She gestured to her notebook. “But I’m not sure we can afford to close for two whole weeks…”

“What about one week?” 

Tifa made another noise, pursing her lips as she thought heavily for a few minutes. She studied her inventory notebook. “A week might be doable. Most of the regulars are pretty understanding. Business has been steady the last few weeks. And I do have a little bit saved up for an emergency or special occasion…”

Cloud nodded.

“Yeah. Okay.” Tifa’s face practically glowed. “Let's go on a vacation.”

After a good amount of deliberation, they settled on Costa del Sol.

It was a popular tourist attraction which meant loud and busy, and while that mostly made Cloud’s skin crawl, it also meant plenty of activities for the kids. Plus, Tifa liked the beach. And with a couple of cashed in favors—from Cid and Johnny—the travel and lodging were taken care of. Most of Seventh Heaven’s regulars, as Tifa had suspected, were in enthusiastic support of a week-long closure so they could have time together as a family.

Marlene and Denzel practically vibrated straight out of their shoes with excitement once all was said and done just a few days later. The moment the Shera touched down, they bolted down the ramp and into the warm sun. Tifa and Cloud gathered up all the luggage.

“Thanks again for the ride, Cid,” Tifa shouted over the roar of the engine and propellers.

Cid snorted from the cockpit. “‘Bout damn time y’guys did something for yourselves. Now get! Shera’s got me runnin’ all the way to Gongaga for potluck stew. Damn cravings.”

They exited the Shera and no sooner had they taken five steps on the sun-soaked cobblestone than Cid pulled off in a violent torrent of air that whipped everyone’s hair around their faces.

“It’s so warm!” Marlene giggled.

Denzel inhaled deeply, eyes sparkling. “I smell the ocean.”

“Are we gonna go to the beach?” Marlene bounced on her feet as she stared longingly up at Tifa, who laughed.

“Well, we need to drop everything off at the inn and unpack a bit first. But after that… I don’t see why not.” Her eyes slid to Cloud.

His mind blanked for a moment, startled that she seemed to be seeking his approval. “Yeah, sure.”

“Yes!”

The familiar smells and sounds of Costa del Sol invaded Cloud’s senses. It was a little overwhelming, all the music and crowds and the smells of salty water and too many spices, and it made him all too aware that the heavy weight of his fusion sword was missing against his back. But he would adjust.

This was a vacation. No weapons, monsters, or motorcycles allowed—according to Tifa.

It didn’t take long for them to find their home for the next week.

The Seaside Inn was a three star resort, a fact which Johnny had boasted when Tifa had called him a few days prior. He’d worked tirelessly to turn what had once been a decrepit shack into a respectable establishment. Despite the fact that it wasn’t considered waterfront, it had an undeniable ambiance with its outdoor hanging lanterns and well-maintained landscape. There was even a large pit for barbecuing. Johnny managed to procure them one of the suites with all the necessary accommodations. A full bathroom complete with jetted tub, a kitchenette, a cozy den, and two full-sized beds in the bedroom.

“We’re gonna share?” Denzel hedged carefully after spotting both beds. His tone was careful, like he was trying very hard not to sound like he was complaining.

“Me and Denzel can share this one,” Marlene exclaimed as she scrambled onto the bed closest to the window and looked at Tifa, “and you and Cloud can share that one!”

Cloud almost balked.

He and Tifa had shared a bed on a couple of occasions, but not for a while. Not since he’d left. And given the fact that he still had no idea where they really stood, it hadn’t even occurred to him as a possibility when Johnny arranged the room for them over the phone.

He glanced at Tifa, trying to gauge her reaction, but she was facing Marlene.

“Or,” Tifa said gently so as to not dampen Marlene’s spirit, “maybe we’ll split up by boys and girls.”

Denzel lifted a hand. “I vote boys and girls.”

“We can figure it out later. For now, why don’t you guys get changed into your swimsuits?” she suggested.

Marlene squealed as she crawled off the bed, lunging for her suitcase. Denzel dug into his with similar gusto and both kids raced to the bathroom with their swimsuits in hand. The sound of a door slamming, along with Marlene’s urgent, “Hurry up!”, told Cloud they were much more interested in the ocean than their sleeping arrangements.

“I’ll sleep on the couch in the den,” he told Tifa. 

She blinked, looking surprised. 

Feeling the need to explain, he said, “I’m used to sleeping on the floor and on cots. I don’t really need a bed. You and the kids can take them.”

“You’re on vacation, Cloud,” Tifa said wryly. “There’s two beds and four of us, so it works out perfectly. No need for anyone to sleep on the couch.”

He couldn’t bring himself to argue. He didn’t want to risk upsetting the newfound peace between him and Tifa while they were on vacation.

Once both the kids were changed, they barreled back into the room and demanded Tifa and Cloud do the same. Tifa chuckled at their impatience and changed into a plain white tank top that stopped just beneath her ribs and a billowing floral skirt with a long slit that stopped at her left upper thigh. The outfit left her shoulders, navel, and most of her left leg visible. Cloud’s mind scrambled itself trying to find the perfect compliment.

As they’d grown older, Tifa had begun to dress more and more functionally. Her wardrobe consisted mostly of black and leather and other things that were easily replaceable. She had a couple of “nice” things for the occasional night out, but “nice” things didn’t last very long behind the bar. And while she always looked good no matter what she wore, she seemed to beam with confidence in her beach outfit as she located a pair of sunglasses and pushed them into place on top of her head.

“You look…good,” Cloud managed.

Denzel nodded his approval silently.

“Oh. Thank you.” Tifa tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling. 

Marlene squealed again. “You look so pretty!”

Tifa’s smile spread. “Thanks, sweetie.” 

Cloud didn’t feel nearly as comfortable as Tifa seemed to be when he changed into his cargo shorts and t-shirt. He felt too bare even though only his elbows and his knees were exposed.

“I think you’re gonna need some sunblock,” Marlene observed, looking pointedly at his pale legs.

“We’re all going to need sunblock,” Tifa corrected.

Marlene and Denzel groaned but accepted their fate with grace as they left the inn. Together, they traveled down the street until they set foot on toasted sand. Music once again filled the air—muted drums and soft guitars and the gentle chime of a marimba somewhere—as they trekked down to the beachfront and located a set of chairs and umbrellas.

Tifa helped the kids slather themselves in bright purple sunblock. She started on Denzel first, rubbing it into his cheeks and forehead with firm circles until he squirmed out of her grip. Cloud stood there, feeling slightly awkward, before giving himself the job of setting up the beach chairs and adjusting the umbrellas. As Tifa was smearing sunblock onto the back of Marlene’s neck, a familiar voice cut through the music and crashing waves.

“Is that you, Tifa?”

Cloud looked over his shoulder, catching sight of fiery red hair glinting in the sunlight as Johnny jogged to them across the sand. Tifa glanced up and then broke into a smile.

“I thought so!” Johnny called. Behind him trailed a woman Cloud didn’t recognize, tall and tan and blonde. “Glad you and the kids could make it out here for some R and R. Oh,” he gaped, “Cloud? Almost didn’t recognize you in that get up, bro. I mean, sh—”

Tifa cleared her throat.

“—oooot.” Johnny’s head whipped down to stare at Marlene and Denzel. “Hey, kids.”

Marlene waved. Denzel glanced at him skeptically.

“Nice to see you too, Johnny,” said Tifa as she finished applying the last of Marlene’s sunblock.

“Don’t mind him,” the woman behind him told the kids. “He’s a bit of a dummy.”

Johnny made a wounded noise and turned to her. “Only for you, baby.”

Cloud grimaced and when he glanced over, he saw Denzel’s face twist in similar disgust. Tifa nudged the kids toward the rolling waves, giving them silent permission to charge, and they wasted no time. Denzel grabbed Marlene’s arm and tugged and then they were kicking up sand as they took off toward the water.

“Oh, yeah, you guys remember my fiancée, Jenny, right?” asked Johnny, turning back around. “The love of my life, apple of my eye, my north star in the darkest night, the—”

Jenny snorted and nudged Johnny before waving at Tifa. “He’s such a schmoozer.”

“That hasn’t changed,” Tifa chuckled.

Tifa clearly knew Jenny but Cloud had no recollection of the woman at all. That didn’t surprise him, though. His memory was still shit even after Tifa had helped piece him back together.

When Jenny turned and offered her hand to Cloud he took it after a moment of deliberation. Her caramel colored eyes studied him, lingering on his own, and lit up with understanding as she put on a polite smile. “Johnny talks about you a lot,” she said to Tifa.

Tifa’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“You’re an inspiration. A true revolutionary,” said Johnny. “Now that things are pretty calm, I’ve been thinking about opening up my own bar, like you. Johnny’s Heaven. Maybe not here, though. Been thinking about setting up shop in Edge. I haven’t decided yet. Don't wanna have to consider you as competition, y’know?”

“Oh.” Tifa’s voice was neutral and careful, like she wasn’t sure what to say. Her eyes darted to Cloud as if pleading for him to take the burden of replying further. 

He cleared his throat and said, “Good luck.”

Johnny beamed and braced both hands on his lower back, altering his stance. It was the typical position most men assumed when they were about to launch into a tirade that no one had asked for and Cloud braced himself.

“Your kids are beautiful.” Jenny nodded to Denzel and Marlene, splashing around in the water together.

Johnny deflated a little and Cloud exhaled. Tifa’s shoulders relaxed like she was grateful for a change in subject. 

She used to laugh a little awkwardly and offer explanations whenever people called Marlene or Denzel “their kids”. Some people didn't think much of it while others did the mental calculations and found the idea of Tifa having a child at the tender age of twelve very troubling. Strangers tended to give her dirty looks. Cloud got his fair share of judgemental stares when he was with the kids in public. But at some point over the last year or so Tifa had stopped correcting people. She’d also stopped caring about the dirty looks.

Cloud wondered when, exactly, things had changed for her.

Tifa smiled with genuine pride when Marlene squealed and Denzel flopped backwards in the water with his own boyish laugh. “Thank you. We’ve never actually taken a vacation before, so they’re excited.”

“What are your plans for the week? Anything interesting?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, um, nothing in particular yet. The kids really wanted to swim in the ocean so that’s where we’re starting.”

“C’mon, it’s Costa del Sol. There’s tons of things to do! Snorkeling, fishing, beach volleyball, bikini contests. You and the kids can even rent bikes.” Johnny listed off all the activities on his fingers. “Don’t just lounge on the beach all day!”

“Not to mention, the Gold Saucer is a stone’s throw,” said Jenny as she looked between Cloud and Tifa. “They have a ton of couple’s activities you could do together, just the two of you. Johnny and I went to the casino and rode the Skywheel yesterday. It was amazing.”

Cloud fought the urge to squirm. 

He and Tifa weren't strangers to the Gold Saucer. Memories exploded inside his head—fireworks, the gondola, Tifa’s lips on his own… They'd been so young. With no idea of what the future would have in store for them. That day felt so long ago, practically another lifetime. One where he was barely himself and somehow still just as much of a mess as he was today.

“Or,” Jenny continued, “if you guys want to do something a little more romantic, there’s a new couple’s spa right here in Costa del Sol. If you want to check it out while you’re here we wouldn’t mind watching your kids for a couple hours.”

Cloud felt the synapses in his brain short circuit as it thrust him a startlingly vivid image of Tifa sprawled out on a massage table, a towel just barely covering her from the hips down to mid-thigh. He could see the dewy glow of her skin and the shine of her silky hair as she pulled it to the side to expose her neck and fix him with a sultry little grin he'd only ever seen a few times before.

A couple’s spa with Tifa?

The sand shifted a bit beneath Cloud’s feet and he readjusted, grimacing. He hated wearing sandals.

“Oh.” Tifa’s cheeks started turning pink. She looked over at him, dark eyes inscrutable, before looking back at Jenny. “That’s a really, um, generous offer. Thank you. But we—well, we’re not…” she trailed off and let the implication settle.

Suddenly, Cloud felt like he was beneath a microscope. A fascinating specimen to study in a laboratory once again. The air was a little too thick and the back of his neck itched with the urge to be anywhere but here on the beach with Johnny and Jenny and the way they looked at him and Tifa.

“Oh.” Jenny’s face dropped, clearly confused. “Sorry, I just assumed…”

Tifa waved her off. “It’s okay.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Johnny muttered, having recovered from his shock, “you're telling me you guys aren’t together? This whole time I thought… And last time you were here… You’re raising two kids. You live together. Isn’t that an engagement ring?” 

Tifa slid her left hand over her right, covering up the wolf ring on her finger, and looked down at the golden sand. The flush on her cheeks was deeper and she shifted her weight on her feet.

“No,” Cloud interjected, feeling defensive.

The proverbial “and?” hung in the air. 

Johnny blinked. “Oh. Uh, okay.”

“It’s complicated,” Tifa admitted as she looked back up at Cloud. “Our family is a little unconventional, but it works for us.”

Johnny opened his mouth, about to make more comments about their arrangement, but Jenny cut him off with a not-so-subtle glare. He wilted obediently.

“That’s all that really matters. If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that there’s no real right way to go about life,” said Jenny. “We should probably get going. We’re supposed to be on our way to get lunch at Sunset Cove. If you guys change your minds and want a couple hours to yourselves, just give Johnny a call.”

Johnny nodded and gave them a thumbs up. 

“Thank you,” Tifa said again.

Rolling his shoulders, Johnny stretched his back and then slung his arm around Jenny’s slender waist with a grin. “Good to see you, Tifa,” he said as he steered his fiancée and himself around. Looking over his shoulder at Cloud, he added, “And, uh, you too, bro.”

Cloud nodded and watched the pair trek across the sand until they were out of sight.

When they were gone, Tifa heaved a sigh. She turned around and plopped onto one of the beach chairs Cloud had commandeered earlier.

“He’s still a talker,” Cloud muttered as he lowered himself into the other chair next to her.

“Mhm.”

“And still an idiot, too.” 

Tifa chuckled. “He did give us a suite for free.”

“Only because you’re the one who asked.”

Tifa made a noise somewhere between a hum and a laugh. She pulled her sunglasses down so they perched on the bridge of her nose and looked out at the ocean where the kids were playing. Cloud followed her gaze, watching Marlene and Denzel try to dunk each other under the waves. Neither succeeded and they both ended up toppling backwards with a huge splash. Their heads popped back up a second later and they spluttered as they wiped the sand and seawater out of their eyes.

The longer he watched, the more surreal everything about the moment felt. Three years ago if someone had told him he would one day be lounging on the beach with his family, for the pure sake of enjoying a vacation, he would've scoffed in their face.

Eventually, movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Cloud turned and looked at Tifa and his brain went numb.

Her skin shimmered in the sunlight as she diligently massaged sunblock into it. She worked her way up her arms, rubbing until the purple turned translucent, all the way to her shoulders. Gathering more sunblock on her fingertips, Tifa began working on her neck and sternum and Cloud couldn’t bring himself to look away. It was wrong of him to stare at her so callously but he suddenly had the moral backbone of a soggy piece of bread. 

Cloud’s throat tightened.

Tifa’s hands moved to her toned stomach. She worked the purple sunblock into her skin, taking care to not skip her navel. By the time she got to her legs—long and lean—the top of Cloud’s head felt like it was burning.

He had no idea if it was because of her or because of the sun.

Tifa never scolded him for his open ogling even though she had to know and he definitely deserved it. When she finished, she handed him the bottle of sunblock and leaned back in her beach chair with a content sigh.

Cloud blinked, dragging his eyes away from her, before he started on himself. The sunblock smelled chalky and bitter and he rubbed it into his face quickly to get it over with before doing his arms and legs. 

“You skipped a lot of spots,” Tifa said when he was done.

Cloud looked down at himself. “It’s fine. I’m under the umbrella anyway.”

“You and Denzel,” she snorted. “The two of you are going to end up sunburnt on this trip.”

It was well into the afternoon by the time the kids dragged themselves out of the ocean. They trudged back to Tifa and Cloud on shaky legs, breathless and smiling, with gurgling stomachs. After toweling dry as best they could, they found a local food truck and had lunch right there on the beach. Sandwiches and juice had never tasted so good, according to the kids.

In the evening, they took a tour of the shops along the boardwalk and stopped for ice cream. At some point, Marlene took hold of Cloud’s hand while they walked. He wasn’t sure why but she seemed content as she nibbled at the sugar cone clutched in her other hand. After Marlene finished her ice cream, her grip on Cloud’s hand tightened.

She was yawning by the time the sun was setting.

“Cloud,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “I’m tired.”

“You two really wore yourselves out in the ocean,” Tifa chuckled.

“I’m not tired yet,” Denzel protested. He yawned hard enough to make his eyes water.

Cloud hummed and reached down to ruffle his hair. “Sure.”

Less than ten minutes later, Cloud and Tifa headed back to the Seaside Inn with both kids in tow. Tifa carried Marlene on her hip, humming under her breath. Denzel tried to make it back on his own two feet. But after tripping, Cloud stopped and hiked the kid up on his back despite the half-mumbled protest Denzel offered. He wrapped his arms around Cloud’s neck and his feet dangled as Cloud cupped underneath both his knees for support.

More than one person cast Cloud and Tifa amused glances as they walked past.

Cloud knew what they saw—just a couple of young parents carrying their kids back home after a long day of fun.

Once they made it back to the inn, Tifa ushered Marlene, half-awake, into the bathroom. “C’mon, we at least have to rinse off and wash your hair. You too, Denzel. You can’t go to bed covered in sand.”

Denzel whined miserably when Cloud slid him off his back and nudged him into the bathroom after Tifa.

“Need any help?” Cloud asked.

Tifa cradled both kids, one on either side of her, and laughed softly. “I think I’m okay. This should be pretty quick.”

And it was.

Tifa had both the kids rinsed off and their hair washed in less than twenty minutes. They stumbled, still bleary-eyed, out of the bathroom and changed into their pajamas with significantly less fuss. Once they were clean and dry, Marlene and Denzel crawled into one of the beds.

There was no begging to stay up later or for stories even though it was a good two hours before their normal bedtime.

Tifa hopped in the shower once the kids were asleep. She offered to let Cloud go first, worried that the water might be cold by the time it was his turn. That was fine with him. He could use a cold shower after today—his brain kept feeding him images of Tifa sitting on that sun chair while she rubbed the sunblock into her skin. 

The water was bitter cold by the time it was his turn for a shower. It didn’t help him cool off at all.

Chapter Text

Pain exploded in his chest.

Brutal, unforgiving, sharp. The familiar blade twisted and the pain spread, setting his nerves on fire.

Fire.

It was everywhere. Flames licked at his skin and the smell of char, ash, and burning flesh filled his nose. Blood gushed from his chest and soaked his shirt, sticky and warm. The roar of the blaze couldn’t drown out all the screaming. Nor did it muffle the low, rolling thunder of someone's laughter.

He knew that haunting sound.

“̴̰͊Ť̴͎̣̉e̶̻͓͊ḽ̷̄ͅl̴̪͛͘ ̴̨̲̉͐m̴͉͍͠e̸̦̊ ̸͔̎̚w̴͍̆h̶̨͔̓̈́a̸̭̐t̸͆͘͜ ̶̯̀ẏ̸̮̖̈o̷̢͍͘͠ủ̸̫͗ ̴̲͒͒c̷͔͆̊h̵̦̺̀̎ē̴̛͕̗r̶̰̬̓i̸̛͇͒ś̷̮h̴̫̞͆͌ ̴̳͈̿m̴̭͌ǒ̶̖̌͜š̴̞͔̎ţ̴̧͑̾.̷̢͔͐̐ ̶̧̬̈́̉G̷̘͒̎i̴͚͠ṿ̵̙̃̀e̸̡͓͆ ̸̱̌m̵̻̀̒è̷̢̗̃ ̶͖͇́t̵̩͋̀h̴͕͔̕è̵̪̖̎ ̵̙͋͘p̴̛̤͘l̴̼͕̄e̸͕̫͋̈́ā̸͎͍̚s̸̝̲͊ṳ̵̃ṙ̵̦̤͝e̸̩͐ ̷̦̱̌o̵͙̐f̸̢͚̓ ̷̦͕̽͝t̷͔͎̓̄ā̷̗̹k̷̫̍ị̸̿̌n̷̖̒̚ğ̷̤ ̴̹͍͌̿î̶̧̒t̷̘͊̄ ̶̙̙͒ą̶̺́̅w̷̫̰͐ą̷̋ȳ̴̤?̵̖̫̌̎”̶̩̈́͋

No.

This was a dream. None of this was real.

And yet, it felt real. His skin was starting to blister and his blood was sizzling, popping, from the heat. The uneven ground dug into his back. His lungs wheezed with the effort to breathe and he choked on acrid smoke and the stench of death.

Maybe it was real after all.

“̶̪̊Ḭ̵̞̍’̶̯̀̚v̸̨̀͠e̶̞̙̾͘ ̶̬̙̽t̵͉̥͌̂h̵̩̭̾͋o̵̝̦̍̆u̸͚̫̿g̵͎̋̚h̴̲̟̀̂ṭ̸̀ ̷̙̰̐̒ö̴̡̻́̐f̷̖̆̈́ ̸̞͓͆͌ȃ̶̳͝ ̴̩̳̕̚w̵͙̝̏ŏ̴̦̑n̵͖̭̉̒d̴̞͋é̶̩r̵̤̯̊f̵̛̜̮u̴̟̔l̷̜͒̒ ̶͎̱́̃ṕ̵̨͝ŕ̸̖̋e̷̪̼͑̚s̵͇̬̊ḙ̵̛n̶͉̂t̴̞̏ ̶͎̙̋ḟ̷̫̋o̴̱͗̓r̷̹͇̓ ̶̟̦͌y̴̹͘õ̴͜͠ṳ̵͙̋.̶͇̖̿͝ ̴͙̥͐S̵͓̭̊̆ȟ̶̭̣́a̶̦̎ḽ̵͉̾͌l̴̻̼̓͠ ̸̥͒I̵̗͔̐ ̴̤̀̕ĝ̶͚͈͝ȉ̸͔v̷́͂ͅë̴̛̯̥́ ̷̯̻͐̔y̷̲̾o̵̭̎̃û̵̩͓ ̷͍̰̃d̴̨̑̚ë̸̬̬́s̷̯̤͘p̸̼͆a̷̘̹̓ḭ̷̱̔͛r̵̫̀͗?̵̛̦͛”̶̺̤̌

No.

He forced his head to turn and follow that voice. His vision scrambled in and out of focus before lasering in on the body lying right next to his. She was on her stomach, hand reaching for him. Her face was smeared with dark red and her brandy-colored eyes filled with tears as she strained, lips forming soundlessly around his name.

Begging. Pleading.

He tried to reach for her but his hand wouldn’t move. His body was made of lead. He couldn’t even say her name. The flames roared louder, chorusing the cacophony of laughter and screams. His chest hurt. He couldn’t breathe.

A glint of metal. Cold cyan eyes glowing from the inside.

He strained, willing his broken body to move. Just an inch. Their fingers brushed. It wasn’t enough.

No.

The long blade plunged down into her back. Her teary eyes widened and she gasped his name.

No!

Cloud jerked awake. His heart thundered in his chest as he forced himself to lay still and take inventory of his surroundings.

Dark, unfamiliar walls with patterned seashell wallpaper. Soft blankets cloying to the bare, sweaty skin of his arms and legs. Saltwater and shampoo in his nose. The deep, even breathing of three other people. And Denzel’s sharp elbow digging into his ribs.

He was in Costa del Sol with Tifa and the kids. They were on vacation.

It had just been a dream.

Cloud exhaled slowly. His jaw was clenched so tight it hurt—but he’d rather suffer an achy jaw than wake everyone up with his screaming.

Had he been thrashing?

Turning his head, he studied Denzel’s sleeping form. The kid was sprawled out on his back with his legs spread like a starfish, snoring softly without a care in the world. Relief coursed through Cloud. He waited for another minute, just to make sure Denzel was really still asleep, before carefully removing the kid’s elbow from his ribs and then slipping out of bed.

Denzel grunted and flopped over and Cloud froze. He waited. When nothing happened, he sighed and turned.

On the opposite bed, Tifa slept on her side with Marlene snuggled up against her back. An echoing pang throbbed in Cloud’s chest at the sight of her face and he suddenly found himself standing next to her, watching. Her chest moved up and down as she breathed. He reached down to brush a piece of hair off her cheek and stopped himself, not wanting to risk disturbing her. Watching her breathe was enough.

It quelled the panic he hadn’t even realized was rising. She was okay.

Cloud watched for another few seconds, convincing his twisted mind that this was reality, before quietly leaving the bedroom. He padded into the small den and found his way to the couch.

If that dream was any indicator, then he was in for a restless night. And the last thing he wanted was to disturb Tifa or the kids. At least if he slept in a separate room they might not be as bothered if he started kicking and shouting in his sleep.

Cloud arranged himself on the couch and willed himself to go back to sleep. But as he’d suspected, his dreams were far from kind. He woke at least two more times, panting and clammy-skinned, as his heart tried to punch through his ribcage. But he never screamed. That, at least, was an improvement in some ways.

The third time he woke, it was to a timid voice. “Cloud?”

Gasping, Cloud jerked himself up to a sitting position. Cold sweat soaked the collar of his shirt and his eyes darted around the room before landing on Denzel directly in front of him. Adrenaline pulsed in his veins and burned in his eyes, simmering with that eerie mako glow.

Denzel took a step back from the couch, looking uncertain.

After a few deep breaths, the adrenaline started to fade and Cloud managed to rasp, “Denzel, what’s wrong?”

“I woke up and you were gone. So I went to look for you. I thought… Nevermind.” Denzel shook his head and looked at his hands almost guiltily.

It took a second for Cloud to understand. Denzel had been worried he’d taken off during the night, like he had months ago, so naturally the kid set off to investigate.

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?” Denzel asked.

“I…wasn’t sleeping well.”

“Oh.” Denzel’s face changed, something guilty in his gaze. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? Marlene says I move around too much in my sleep. Sorry, Cloud…”

Tifa’s words from days ago cut through the white noise in Cloud’s brain.

“He thinks he’s the reason you left… He’s been blaming himself.”

“It’s not your fault,” Cloud said firmly. “The things I do are never your fault.”

Denzel blinked, startled.

Sighing, Cloud adjusted and scooted over on the couch. He patted the cushion next to him in invitation and Denzel sat down. “I have nightmares sometimes,” he explained. “They’re…vivid. And scary. Sometimes when I wake up, I think I’m still dreaming and I don’t always…react the best. That’s why I moved to the couch. It wasn’t anything you did.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t want to accidentally wake you up. Or for you to see me like that.”

“It’s okay. I have nightmares too sometimes,” said Denzel.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm… Usually about my parents. Or Ruvie.”

Cloud swallowed.

This, the comforting, was always Tifa’s area of expertise. He felt out of his depth trying to find the right words.

“Tifa and I…” he began, and then tapered off when it didn’t sound quite right. It took another minute to find what he really wanted to say. “We’re here if you ever need to talk about them. Your nightmares.”

Denzel nodded. He glanced up at Cloud. “Do you wanna talk about yours?”

“Not really.”

Cloud preferred to try and forget they even happened. If he dwelled on them for too long, he would start to spiral, questioning his self-worth and reality. That was how everything had started before and it had led to him cutting the most important people out of his life. Denzel was sitting next to him on a couch in Costa del Sol while they were on a family vacation and it wasn’t a privilege that was lost on him.

Tifa and the kids still wanted him around. Even after all he’d put them through.

“When I left,” Cloud began slowly, “it wasn’t because of you.”

Next to him, Denzel stiffened. His shoulders drew up tight and he picked at his shorts without saying anything.

“It wasn’t your fault, Denzel. I need you to know that.”

There was a long, painful pause as Denzel continued picking at the hem of his shorts. Finally, he glanced at Cloud out of the corner of his eyes, half-hidden by a mop of light brown hair. “If it wasn’t cuz of me, then why’d you leave?”

“A lot of reasons.”

“Like what?”

Cloud inhaled past the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. “I was sad, mostly. I felt guilty, too. And when I got sick I kind of just gave up. Everything felt pointless and running away felt easier than trying to face everything head on. So I ran.”

Denzel gave up picking at his shorts. He brought his feet up on the edge of the couch and wrapped his arms around his knees with a sigh. “Tifa says we can’t just run away from our problems.”

“She’s right,” Cloud agreed. “I was acting like a coward.”

Denzel flinched and flung Cloud a look of surprise.

Cloud nodded. “The main thing you need to know is I left because of me. Not you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’m done acting like a coward. I’m not running. I’m here to stay, no matter what.”

Denzel exhaled and his shoulders seemed to relax a little. He laid his head on his crossed arms over his knees and tilted it to the side to regard Cloud with soft blue eyes. “Marlene said you were trying to find a cure for me.”

“I was.” Cloud leaned back into the couch, grateful for the slight shift in topic. “That was the one thing I didn’t give up on.”

Denzel peeked at him curiously. “What else did you do while you were gone?”

“I made my deliveries. Most of them were pretty boring.”

“Most?”

Cloud felt his mouth twitch in the beginning of a smile. “There was this one incident in the desert…”

There wasn’t a clock in the den so Cloud had no idea how late they stayed up talking. He filled in the gaps created by his absence with colorful stories until, eventually, there were no more stories left to tell. So they talked about random things. School, VR games, motorcycles. At some point, they must have fallen asleep again because the next thing Cloud knew, he was being nudged awake by Tifa.

He knew it was her even before she whispered his name.

Cloud opened his eyes and picked his head up, wincing at the sharp ache in his neck. There was a solid weight in his lap and when he looked down he saw Denzel’s head resting there. Tifa stood in front of them with her hands on her hips and the look on her face was somewhere between baffled and amused.

“Why are you two sleeping on the couch?” she asked.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Cloud muttered, yawning. “He followed me out here and we ended up talking.”

Tifa bent over and ran her fingers through Denzel’s wavy hair before pushing it out of his eyes so she could study his face softened by sleep. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” And, to his surprise, Cloud meant it. “Everything’s fine.”

Cloud and Denzel were sunburnt by the third day.

They’d been making the most out of what Costa del Sol had to offer and Johnny’s list of ideas certainly gave them an idea of where to start. So far, they’d tried beach volleyball, snorkeling, and fishing. Out of all the activities, Cloud probably liked fishing the best but he was alone in that. The kids didn’t have the patience for it and Tifa, as it turned out, was actually squeamish when it came time to take fish off the hook.

Beach volleyball had been tolerable up until they drew a crowd of spectators—even when her bathing suit was essentially a matching black spandex tank top and shorts, Tifa invited attention. More than one observer had urged her, loudly, to consider joining the bikini contest.

Apparently that was a real thing and not something that Johnny just made up.

Denzel and Marlene practically tripped over themselves when they rented the snorkeling gear. The goggles and snorkels were bulky and Cloud felt ridiculous when he put them on. The fact that Tifa and the kids started snickering didn’t help. They spent hours looking at fish and corral and Marlene kept finding seashells and little bits of sea glass that she insisted on keeping except she didn't have any pockets or bags. All of her treasures ended up in the pockets of Cloud’s swim trunks. By the time they left the water, Cloud had to hold his trunks up at the waist and Denzel was grimacing while he walked.

Cloud wore a matching expression as he emptied out his pockets for Marlene. His skin felt tight on his bones and was achy to the touch.

After drying off and sitting in the shade to rest, they both discovered the truth. Now that they were out of the direct sunlight, their skin was developing an even pink glow.

“I told you to reapply before we went snorkeling,” Tifa scolded.

“You did,” Cloud said, nodding.

“And the two of you just chose not to.”

“...Sorry.”

Denzel hissed when Marlene poked his shoulder.

Sighing, Tifa shrugged. “We’ll have to get some sun gel and call it quits for today, I think.”

“What?” Denzel gaped. “But what about the boat?”

“The boat will have to wait for a couple days. You two need a break from the sun. No one is getting sun poisoning on this vacation.” Tifa crossed her arms and leveled them both with a look and that was that.

Thankfully, one of the little shops along the boardwalk carried sun gel and other items unprepared tourists might require. Tifa loaded up and then they were back at the Seaside Inn to recover. She made them shower before applying the gel, insisting that it would work better on clean skin.

The shower was miserable. Even the cold water felt like acid on Cloud’s skin. But where he could put on a front and deal with it, Denzel was distinctly less able to cope. There were tears in the corner of the kid’s eyes when he stepped out of the bathroom.

Tifa wasted no time slathering him in the gel. His back had gotten the brunt of it and it was steadily turning a deeper shade of red as the hours ticked by even though they weren’t outside anymore. Tifa used a ridiculous amount of gel, more than looked necessary, and made comforting noises when Denzel grunted or whined in pain. After she was done, Denzel flopped onto the bed stomach-first with a groan. Marlene scrambled onto the bed next to him with a paper fan and he sighed as she fanned his back.

Tifa turned to Cloud. “Your turn.”

He blinked.

She wasn’t intending to put the gel on for him, was she? Just the thought of Tifa’s hands on his overheated skin made his insides flip and his brain go fuzzy.

“I can do it myself…”

Tifa pointed to her bed with a look that brokered no arguments. “Sit.”

Cloud sat on the edge of the bed. She stepped into the spread of his legs and squeezed a dollop of gel on her fingers before starting on his face. The gel was somehow cold to the touch and room temperature at the same time, leaving behind a menthol tingle that felt almost pleasant. It was slimy, though, and he grimaced. Tifa’s fingers started on his forehead and moved to his cheeks, rubbing gently; her gaze was intense in the way it tended to be when she focused on something.

Cloud didn't know where to look. Her face was right above him and her chest was eye-level…

He decided the floor was very interesting.

Tifa smoothed the gel across his chin, leaving not an inch of his face uncovered. His shoulders were next. They had suffered the most and were starting to turn a darker shade of red like Denzel’s back.

Cloud flinched when Tifa squeezed the gel directly on his skin.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Bear with it for a second. It’ll get better.”

And it did. After a few minutes, the stinging ache he’d started to become accustomed to faded as Tifa smeared the gel around. As long as he tried not to think about the way her hands were touching his bare skin, it wasn't so bad.

She was in the middle of tending to his other shoulder when a tell-tale jingle erupted from somewhere in the room. Tifa’s cellphone. Marlene scrambled off the bed with Denzel and found Tifa’s bag, rooting around before finding the device.

“It’s daddy!”

“Could you bring it to me? Thanks, sweetie.” Tifa took her phone from Marlene with the hand that wasn’t covered in slime and pressed it to her ear with the curve of her shoulder. “Hi, Barret.”

“Hey, Tifa!”

Even without his enhanced hearing, Cloud was sure he would’ve heard Barret loud and clear. He was surprised Tifa didn’t flinch. The man had no concept of an inside voice.

“How's the vacation going?”

“Funny you ask…” Tifa snorted.

“What d’ya mean? Is Marlene okay?”

“Marlene is fine. It's the boys.”

“Lemme guess. They’d rather sit inside than enjoy the beautiful coastal sunshine.”

“Sort of the opposite, actually,” Tifa said, massaging more gel into Cloud’s shoulder. “Let's just say they’ve learned the importance of reapplying their sunblock.”

Barret’s guffaw of laughter was loud enough to make Tifa wince. “Oh, tell me there’s pictures,” he said when he recovered.

“There’s definitely going to be pictures,” she promised.

Pictures?

Cloud jerked his head up to gawk at Tifa in protest only to find her grinning at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Was she teasing him?

Tifa’s lips pursed around her grin as she crooked her finger at him and spun it in a circle, signaling him to stand up and turn around. Cloud reluctantly got to his feet and showed her his back. He jumped when she squirted another glob of cool sun gel between his shoulders and began massaging it in.

“Anyway, things’re wrappin’ up quicker this week than I expected. Hopin’ to squeeze in a little bit more time with Marlene if I can. Y’all still gonna be in Costa del Sol in two days?”

“That’s our last day. Thinking of crashing our vacation?”

Out of his peripheral vision, Cloud saw Marlene sit up straight. "Come to the beach, daddy!” she exclaimed.

Barret laughed again. “How am I s’posed to say no to my two favorite girls? Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“We’ll have to see if Denzel is feeling up for adventure by then,” Tifa chuckled. “I have a feeling he’s going to be down for the count. At least for tomorrow.”

Denzel groaned something that might have been a protest. It was muffled by the bedsheets.

“All right. Don’t forget those pictures!”

Tifa laughed as she hung up. After a few minutes, she patted the middle of Cloud’s back to signal she was finished applying the sun gel.

“You’re not really going to take pictures,” he muttered as he turned around. “Right?”

But Tifa already had the camera in her hands—courtesy of Marlene, judging by her cheeky grin—and was pressing the button on top. The shudder clicked and Cloud blanched.

“Sorry, pictures are a nonnegotiable part of vacationing.” Tifa smiled. She snapped another picture much to Marlene’s delight. “Besides, it’s about time we updated some of the pictures in the bar.”

“The bar?” He tried not to sound panicked.

Tifa glanced down at Marlene before they both erupted into a fit of giggles. Cloud stood there, dumbfounded, until Tifa managed to look back up at him with that same mischievous glint in her eyes from before.

She was teasing him.

Cloud deflated, suddenly feeling ridiculous.

The rest of the day they spent together inside the inn. Tifa diligently reapplied sun gel to Denzel’s back and face every few hours and still, despite his grandstanding earlier, Denzel was miserable. Cloud could sympathize; even though they were out of the sun and covered in soothing gel, the burns seemed to hurt worse with every hour. Marlene tried to keep Denzel occupied by playing card games which worked for a little while. For dinner, Tifa headed out to one of the local restaurants, ordered some things to go, and brought it back to the condo.

They dined on seasoned pulled pork and grilled fruits that, oddly, complimented the meat.

It wasn’t until later in the night when Cloud realized that Denzel and Marlene had fallen asleep together in what was supposed to be his and Denzel’s bed. Denzel was sprawled out on his stomach to let his back breathe while Marlene curled up by his side. Playing cards and Marlene’s treasures from the sea were scattered around them on the bedsheets and on the floor. They were clearly exhausted—Marlene didn’t even budge when Tifa nudged her and tried to get her to move to the other bed.

“It’s fine,” Cloud assured. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“We talked about this. There’s no need for you to sleep on the couch.” Tifa looked like she wanted to roll her eyes. “These beds are plenty big enough for the two of us to share.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Yeah,” she said. When Cloud shifted anxiously on his feet, her expression became uncertain. “Unless…you’re not?”

Cloud shook his head.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t okay with it… He just had no idea what the rules were. He and Tifa were in limbo. When they’d talked, Tifa had admitted to being confused about her feelings. She was trying to figure them out. Since then, he’d been trying to follow the verbal and nonverbal cues she gave. So if Tifa said she was okay with sharing, then that meant it was okay.

Right?

“It’ll be like old times,” he said.

Tifa laughed a little and repeated, “Like old times.”

They’d slept next to each other countless times while they’d been out on the open road, years ago. Sometimes they’d managed to find an inn, in which case they’d always divided up the rooms by boys and girls; but if there hadn’t been an inn around they’d made their camp right there in nature. More often than not, he and Tifa had ended up sleeping next to each other.

This was nothing like that.

For one, he was shirtless. He’d tried putting on a shirt a few hours ago but his skin screamed in protest—the fabric had felt like sandpaper. For two, the bed was relatively narrow despite her earlier claims about having plenty of room. No matter which way they chose to lie down, some part of them would be touching.

If anything, it reminded Cloud of the handful of nights he’d crawled into her bed before things had gotten too bad between them. Before he’d left.

Cloud tried not to think about that—or anything—as he stared up at the ceiling of the room. Lying on his back hurt but it was better than lying on his side and putting pressure on his shoulder. Tifa was lying next to him on her back as well, hands folded over top of her chest. He could hear her slightly unsteady breathing and knew she was just as awake as he was.

For a while, sleep seemed to elude them both.

Tifa’s upper arm pressed up against his, warm and soft, and he let himself focus on that as he closed his eyes.

“Cloud?” she murmured eventually.

“Hm?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

Tifa sighed. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“Guess I’m trying too hard not to think,” he said.

“Maybe it would help if you talk about it. Whatever it is that you’re thinking of.”

Cloud sort of doubted that but found himself going along with it anyway. “This isn’t like old times.”

“No,” Tifa snorted, laughing to herself. “Not at all.”

“It’s…”

“Different.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Everything’s different.”

“Different isn’t bad, though.” When he didn’t disagree, humming low in his throat instead, Tifa sighed contentedly. “This was a good idea. A vacation. I think we needed it… To get away from everything, just for a moment, and reset. The kids, too.”

Cloud nodded. “It’s been nice.”

And despite how Costa del Sol still made his skin itch and heart race from all the noise and people, he genuinely meant it.

“I talked to Denzel.”

Beside him, Tifa grew tense. “You did?”

“I told him it wasn’t his fault. He’s okay.”

Tifa drew in a deep breath and then exhaled, relaxing once more. “Thank you. I’ve tried talking to him but he doesn’t really open up to me. He’s always preferred you.”

Cloud opened his eyes and turned his head. Tifa was still looking at the ceiling. “Why?”

“Because you’re his hero,” she said around a smile, like it was obvious. “He looks up to you. It’s not that he doesn’t like me, I know he does, but you’re different.”

This was news to Cloud. He’d never been good with children—they were unpredictable, loud, and intrusive, all things that made him uncomfortable. It had taken him a while to get used to interacting with Marlene. By the time Denzel was added into the picture, he wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d been before but he still felt awkward. Some days were better than others. As far as he’d been aware, both kids largely preferred Tifa over him, especially given recent circumstances.

To say that something warm didn’t bloom in his chest at this revelation would be a lie but he carefully schooled his features so as to not injure Tifa’s feelings.

“My feelings aren’t hurt, don’t worry,” she said, like she read his mind. “They used to be, though. Back when you first brought him home. He was glued to your hip and would tell you things he wouldn’t tell me. And he was always asking you questions about your deliveries and your travels. Any time I answered one of his questions he would go running to you to check if it was true.” Tifa chuckled. “I was so worried that he wasn’t talking to me. I thought it was because he didn’t like me. Or that I’d done something wrong. But another boy his age told me that’s just how boys are. He said it was a normal thing for families.”

“He was right,” Cloud admitted after a moment. “I was like that too.” Moody and insecure, he had no idea how his mother had put up with him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I was a real pain in the ass.”

“Stop it.” Tifa snorted and elbowed him. “I was okay after that. I think I felt relieved to be called normal, you know? Because most of the time, we’re not. Our family is…different.”

“Different isn’t bad.”

This time, she laughed. It was quiet, so she didn’t accidentally wake the kids, and she rolled over onto her side to face him. “You got me there.”

Her eyes shone in the dark. Not quite like his, with their eerie adrenaline-fueled glow, but in a way that lit them from the inside out with sheer emotion. Or maybe he was imagining things. Regardless, they captivated him and he couldn’t look away. She’d been so guarded with him recently that the openness in her gaze rendered him speechless.

For the first time since he’d returned, Tifa was letting him in.

Cloud didn’t dare breathe. He was afraid to ruin the moment.

And then Marlene whined. Tifa blinked, sat up, and the moment was over. Cloud wrestled with his disappointment as she got out of bed to check on Marlene. A few minutes later she got back into bed and settled next to Cloud again, looking up at the ceiling once more.

“Goodnight, Cloud.” Her voice sounded like the fatigue was finally catching up with her. “Thank you.”

Cloud looked up at the ceiling as well. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re here.”

He knew the exact moment Tifa fell asleep next to him. Her body softened and her breathing evened out, deep and slow. He hoped sleep would come just as quickly for him as he closed his eyes and tried, once again, to think about nothing.

Chapter Text

Cloud woke the next morning to the scent of Tifa’s shampoo and faint traces of salt clinging to the air. Something soft and warm filled his hand.

Seashell-patterned wallpaper swam into focus.

His brain powered on instantly, doing a rapid inventory: Tifa’s head tucked beneath his chin, her back pressed to his bare chest, and his right hand curved over her waist—his fingertips brushing warm skin just beneath the hem of her shirt.

He was touching her. Intimately.

Panic bells shrieked in his head.

Cloud froze. Then, slowly, carefully, he began to pull his hand back and lift his chin, trying to create space between them without waking her.

But Tifa had always been a light sleeper.

She stirred at the movement, stretching slightly against him with a sleepy inhale. “Good morning,” she whispered, her voice low and husky.

Cloud yanked his hand away the rest of the way and shifted back a full inch. “Morning. Sorry.”

Tifa shook her head and stretched again. If she was bothered by the way he’d clung to her, she didn’t say. She simply sat up and rubbed at her eyes.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she mumbled, already swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

The sunlight was barely beginning to creep through the windows. No surprise—Tifa had always been an early riser.

They spent the day holed up inside the inn. As Tifa had suspected, Denzel didn’t want to go out. His back was still a raw, angry red that made any movement uncomfortable. Cloud wasn’t as bad off, thankfully. He was able to wear a shirt again without wanting to claw it off after five minutes.

They filled the hours with card games and movies. Denzel dozed on and off, and Marlene carefully sorted her collection of seashells and sea glass into a jar she’d found in one of the kitchen cupboards.

Through it all, Cloud expected Tifa to say something. To mention the morning. But she didn’t.

And he didn’t know what that meant.

Barret arrived the next day, true to his word.

He’d booked himself a room right on the beach for the night and showed up at the Seaside Inn grinning, decked out in swim trunks with his prosthetic arm gleaming in the morning light. The kids practically tripped over themselves in their rush to get dressed, each shouting over the other about boat rides and sea monsters and buried treasure.

After a full day of rest, Denzel was mostly back to normal. His skin was still red and sensitive, but he didn’t utter a single complaint—not even when Tifa gave him a firm lecture about sunscreen. Cloud sat quietly through the same lecture with a sheepish look, earning a long, knowing glance from her.

As a group of five, they boarded a sleek jet boat courtesy of Barret. Apparently, the kids had complained to him about missing the boat tour two days ago, and he wasn’t about to let that slide.

“Big Daddy B’s gotcha covered,” he’d declared, smirking as he fired up the engine.

The jet boat was built for four, five if they squeezed. Denzel and Marlene didn’t mind—they piled into the passenger seat right next to Barret, chattering excitedly as the boat pushed off from the dock.

Cloud sat toward the back, beside Tifa, one hand steadying himself on the edge of the seat as the boat bounced over the waves. The wind pulled at her hair. She laughed at something the kids yelled from up front, and for a moment, her hand brushed his knee in passing.

She didn’t pull away.

“I can’t believe you bought a boat!” Marlene exclaimed.

“Rented,” Barret said. “Just for the day.”

“How fast can it go?” Denzel asked.

Barret chuckled at their enthusiasm. “Only one way to find out…”

The jet boat was fast and choppy, skipping across the water like a flat stone. Barret drove it like he used to drive the buggy—harsh turns, no brakes. Cloud felt green after the first ten minutes, and Tifa had to beg Barret to take it easy. The kids, of course, were thrilled. Barret drove them around for what felt like hours, jerking left and right just to make them shriek with delight as water sprayed into their faces. It was probably only thirty minutes.

Cloud nearly groaned with relief when Barret finally cut the engine and let the boat idle.

They drifted out in open water, far enough from shore to feel secluded but close enough to see the beach. The ocean stretched around them, clear and deep blue. With the engine silent, the world felt suddenly peaceful.

Tifa helped the kids into bright orange life jackets before they jumped over the side. Cloud stayed seated, hands gripping the railing while he waited for his stomach to settle. Barret remained on the boat too, content to watch Tifa and the kids splash around.

Marlene squirted water at Denzel, who yelped and retaliated with a splash of his own. Their laughter echoed across the water, light and carefree. Then Tifa joined in, splashing them both, her laugh rising above the others—bright and unrestrained.

Cloud glanced at her. Wet hair slicked back from her face, cheeks pink from the sun, and a grin wide enough to hurt. She turned and caught his gaze.

He looked away, focusing on the control panel inside the boat instead.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh like that.

The boat rocked as Barret lumbered into the back seat beside him. He eased down carefully, like he was afraid of flipping the whole thing.

“You two talk?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Cloud said.

“Good.”

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“Telling me to get my shit together,” Cloud admitted. “You always knock sense into me when I need it.”

Barret snorted. “Don’t mention it. Had no idea how bad it got, and that’s on me for not checking in more. I got no problem sockin’ you upside the head—but if you let it get like that again…”

The rest didn’t need to be said. The promise lingered in the salty air.

“There won’t be a next time,” Cloud said.

Barret studied him for a second, then nodded. “Good.”

Then, grinning, he stood up, removed his prosthetic arm and sunglasses, and climbed to the edge of the boat.

Marlene shrieked a warning to Tifa and Denzel, but it was too late—Barret shouted something unintelligible and cannonballed into the water with all his weight.

The resulting splash rocked the boat, and Cloud gripped the side tightly. The water eventually stilled.

The game shifted into a dunking war with Barret’s arrival. It quickly became kids versus adults, and Barret was merciless, dunking both children with exaggerated flair. They came up sputtering and laughing every time. Once they realized Barret wasn’t the strongest swimmer, it was over—Marlene and Denzel teamed up to take him down. After they succeeded, they turned on Tifa.

She could have held them off with one arm, but let them push her under without a fight, laughing all the while.

Then, as if suddenly remembering Cloud was still in the boat, both kids turned toward him.

“Are you gonna get in the water, Cloud?” Denzel asked.

“Yeah! Come play with us,” Marlene added. “Tifa and Daddy could use your help!”

Cloud’s lips twitched into a smile. “Three against two? Doesn’t seem very fair.”

“Don’t worry.” Denzel grinned. “We’ll take it easy on you.”

“Promise!” Marlene giggled.

The Cloud from three months ago would have said no. He would’ve stayed in the boat, detached and watching from the outside. But the Cloud today—still uncertain, still learning—was trying.

Trying meant facing what made him uncomfortable instead of avoiding it. Especially when it came to Tifa and the kids.

Tifa looked stunned when he climbed over the railing and into the water. Barret raised an eyebrow, impressed.

Marlene wasted no time wrapping her arms around Cloud’s neck, laughing directly into his ear as she tried to pull him under. She was small, so it wasn’t hard for Cloud to stay afloat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Denzel swimming toward them until Tifa grabbed his ankles.

“Oh no you don’t!” she laughed, dunking him with practiced ease.

Denzel struggled, sputtering with a grin. Marlene kept tugging at Cloud’s neck, but when she realized he wasn’t going under, she started to frown.

Cloud hesitated. Was he supposed to let her win?

The answer came from Barret. A massive hand landed on his head—and suddenly, Cloud was underwater.

He resurfaced coughing, wiping water from his face, only to find Barret laughing like a maniac.

“Traitor.”

“Just keepin’ things fresh, Stamp!”

Stamp. It’d been years since Barret had called him that.

With Marlene clinging to his side, Barret turned on Tifa and Denzel. Tifa tried to mount a defense, but with all three of them ganging up on her, she stood no chance. She resurfaced laughing, swiping at her soaked bangs.

The game went on like that—Cloud and Tifa versus everyone else. It was never fair, but that seemed to be the point.

When everyone needed a break, they climbed back aboard. Barret had stocked a cooler with drinks and snacks. The kids claimed the front seat with juice boxes and granola bars while Tifa passed Cloud a bottle of water and sank down beside him.

“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last,” she chuckled. “I’m exhausted.”

Cloud nodded, unscrewing his bottle. “Same.”

The kids groaned.

“Can’t we stay out a little longer?” Marlene pleaded.

“C’mon, please?” Denzel added. “I didn’t even get to drive the boat yet!”

“Drive the boat?” Cloud frowned.

“Barret said I could!”

Tifa raised a brow. Barret quickly clarified, “I said he could steer. Not drive.”

“Same thing.” Denzel shrugged.

“I don’t know,” Tifa sighed, clearly worn out.

The kids hit her with wide eyes and pouty lips. Marlene stuck out her bottom lip for good measure.

Barret looked back from the driver’s seat, thoughtful. “I’ll keep the kids if you two wanna head back.”

“Are you sure?” Tifa asked.

“You’ve been takin’ care of everyone else this whole trip. Take a couple hours for yourselves. I got this. ‘Sides,” he patted the side of the boat affectionately, “this baby’s mine for the rest of the day. Be a shame not to use it.”

Tifa bit her lip and glanced at Cloud, torn.

Barret was right. This whole trip had been about making sure the kids had fun. That wasn’t a bad thing—but the selfish part of Cloud stirred at the idea of finally doing something just for them.

Tifa’s eyes mirrored the same quiet longing. She wasn’t good at being selfish. But when Cloud gave her a small nod, she took a deep breath like she was giving herself permission.

“Okay,” she said.

“Yes!” Marlene and Denzel high-fived.

It took only ten minutes for Barret to return to the dock. The ride was much quicker without his sharp turns and attempts to capsize the boat. As Cloud and Tifa climbed over the railing and stepped onto solid wood, she was already rattling off instructions to Barret and the kids.

“Make sure you eat something real for dinner, not just snacks. Wait at least thirty minutes before getting back in the water, or you’ll get sick. And the sun’s still out, so reapply your sunblock. That goes for all of you.” She shot Barret a pointed look. He snorted. “I left the sun gel on the boat for Denzel. He’s going to need it in the next couple of hours.”

“Don’t worry, Tifa!” Marlene grinned. Sensitive as ever to Tifa’s mood, she added, “We’ll be good. Promise.”

Tifa’s shoulders softened. She smiled. “I know. Have fun, okay?”

“We will,” Denzel said, nodding.

“I’ll have ‘em back by bedtime,” Barret called.

Tifa stepped back as the engine roared to life again. Barret eased away from the dock, careful not to splash them, before punching the gas. The kids’ laughter rang out across the water as the boat zipped off into the distance, skipping across the waves. Cloud’s stomach turned just watching. Tifa stood still a moment longer, eyes on the shrinking vessel, then turned and started down the dock with him.

It felt strangely quiet, suddenly being alone with her. The silence pressed in on his chest until words bubbled up.

“So… what do you want to do?” he asked.

Tifa hummed, toes sinking into sun-warmed sand. “I don’t know. Barret’s right—I’ve been so focused on the kids, I haven’t thought about what I want. What about you?”

“I don’t know either.”

What did normal young adults do for fun at the beach?

When Cloud didn’t know what to do, he imagined himself as someone else. It was a habit, a mental trick to get through unfamiliar situations. He tried to picture what Johnny would do: loud crowds, drinks, parties. All the things Cloud instinctively avoided. At least that helped narrow things down.

They wandered along the shoreline with no clear destination. Cloud followed Tifa’s lead, her steps aimless but relaxed. After a while, she stopped and looked up at him.

“I think I want to go to dinner,” she said slowly. “And then take another walk on the beach after sunset. Kind of boring, right?”

Compared to everything Costa del Sol had to offer, dinner and a stroll were low on the thrill list. No crowds. No alcohol—probably. Definitely not Johnny’s idea of a good time. And after a week of public outings and high-energy kids, it sounded perfect.

“Not one bit,” Cloud said.

Tifa smiled, hands folding behind her back. “We should probably change, then.”

“Probably.”

They headed back to the inn and parted to change. Cloud pulled on khaki shorts, a white undershirt, and the last clean shirt he had—a ridiculous tropical button-up. Black, with neon flowers, spiky green leaves, and bright yellow fruit. Denzel had picked it out on a whim, Tifa had approved, and now fate—or poor packing—left him no other option.

“It looks good on you,” Tifa said as she passed him on the way to the bathroom.

“I look ridiculous.”

“Everyone here dresses like that. You fit right in.” She patted his shoulder and disappeared behind the door.

She took longer than usual to get ready. Cloud sat on the edge of the bed, waiting, and stood when the urge to check on her crept in.

Then the door opened.

Tifa stepped out in tiny dark denim shorts and a floral shirt knotted beneath her chest, exposing the full length of her flat stomach. Her legs looked impossibly long in the wedges hugging her feet, and her hair was tied up in a loose, playful bun with a few pieces left to frame her face.

She looked… like the Tifa from three summers ago. The first time they came to Costa del Sol. She’d worn something almost identical then. All that was missing were the delicate white straps of the g-string that used to ride her hips.

Cloud swallowed hard.

“I knew it,” Tifa said, shifting awkwardly. “This kind of stuff doesn’t really suit me anymore, huh?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

She began to tug at the knot of her shirt. “I’ll change. Give me five minutes—”

“No,” he said, too fast. He lifted a hand, and she froze. “It’s fine. You look—good. You don’t need to change.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “You fit right in.”

The tension eased from her shoulders. “All right. Let’s go.”

They left the inn and strolled toward the boardwalk, the afternoon sun casting golden light across the ocean and painting the buildings amber and rose. Cloud tried to pay attention to their surroundings, but his eyes kept drifting to Tifa—specifically the way her legs moved in those shorts.

Other people noticed too. A few heads turned. One man nearly walked into a street lamp.

Despite what he said, Tifa didn’t blend in. She stood out like a ruby in a pile of sea glass.

He noticed the pink blush dusting the back of her neck. Sunburn or embarrassment? He couldn’t tell.

Eventually, she stopped in front of a building with a thatched roof and stucco walls, open to the ocean breeze. A painted sign read Sunset Cove. It was busy but not crowded enough to make Cloud’s skin crawl.

“Johnny says this is his favorite,” she said.

Cloud hesitated. Johnny’s favorite was usually his nightmare. But Tifa looked genuinely curious, so he nodded. “Sure.”

They were seated at a small table facing the ocean. A few people gawked as they passed, and Cloud instinctively stepped behind Tifa, shielding her from view. It was stupid—she wasn’t a fragile thing—but something about the attention made his chest tighten.

A waiter approached with menus.

“Our dinner menu,” he said, handing them a large laminated paper, “and our cocktail menu. We’re running a Couples Cocktail special—two for the price of one.”

Tifa glanced at the menus. Her eyes lit up. “Should we?”

Back when he’d been little more than a shell of a person—stitched together from memories and mannerisms that weren’t really his—he’d made offhanded comments about preferring the hard stuff. In truth, he’d never been much of a drinker. His tolerance was embarrassingly low. These days, he stuck to the occasional beer after a long day on the road, reserving stronger drinks for rare celebrations. Or when the weight of things got too heavy.

But tonight wasn’t about forgetting.

One cocktail wouldn’t hurt.

“Sure,” said Cloud.

“We’ll have two Cosmo Canyons,” Tifa told the waiter.

“Excellent choice,” he said, jotting it down. “I’ll be back with your drinks.”

Cloud raised an eyebrow. “Cosmo Canyons, huh?”

She grinned. “Is it weird I like seeing my drink on other menus?”

“Not weird. But they never hold up to the original.”

Her grin widened, clearly pleased.

When the drinks arrived, they looked just like hers—deep red-orange, like her eyes. Cloud lifted his glass, held it next to her face to compare, and took a sip. Sweet, citrusy, with a hint of spice.

“Well?” she asked.

He licked his lips. “Yours are better.”

Tifa smiled, gaze soft, and for a moment the world narrowed to just them, the ocean breeze, and the taste of something familiar.

She laughed and took a sip of her own drink, nodding. “It’s missing the secret ingredient.” Reaching for the salt shaker, she poured some into the palm of her hand and sprinkled a bit into both of their glasses. “It’s not Corel’s rock salt, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

Cloud took another sip. The salt definitely helped—closer, but still not quite right.

By the time their food arrived, both of their glasses were empty.

“Would you care for another round?” their waiter asked.

Tifa bit her bottom lip and shot Cloud a sheepish, hopeful look. “It is a two-for-one special.”

He could already feel the first drink taking effect. A pleasant warmth had settled in his chest, and the restlessness—usually a constant itch at the back of his neck—had eased. Maybe it was okay to relax a little. To indulge. This was a special occasion. They were on vacation.

“Why not?” he said, lips curling faintly.

Tifa beamed as the waiter retreated to fetch their next round. She cut into her steak, letting out a sigh as her lashes fluttered. “Perfect,” she murmured.

Cloud wasn’t picky. Food was food. Whatever taste buds Shinra’s mess halls hadn’t burned away, mako poisoning probably had. His distaste for seafood was more about staying true to the boy from Nibelheim than any strong opinion he held now. Still, what was left of his palate could recognize that Tifa’s cooking was in a league of its own.

The glazed chicken on his plate wasn’t hers—but it wasn’t bad.

Tifa watched him chew, smiling. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

They talked while they ate, casual, meandering conversation that flowed easily between them. Before he’d left, their small talk had felt like armor. Something to keep the peace. Something to say that wasn’t the truth. But this was different. Nothing was rehearsed. No one was walking on eggshells.

Tifa actually laughed at something he said. And Cloud, without meaning to, smiled.

Maybe they really were going to be okay.

Two Cosmo Canyons turned into three. Then, somehow, four.

Sunset came and went, casting the sky in shades of deep purple and burnt orange. The colors bled together and spilled across the ocean, where the sun disappeared beneath the waves. Music drifted from nearby bars as Costa del Sol’s night scene slowly came to life. Tifa propped her chin on her hand and sighed.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

Cloud looked from the ocean to her—eyes soft, cheeks faintly flushed—and nodded. “Yeah.”

After they paid, Tifa led him down to the beach. A soft hum lingered behind his eyes from the drinks, and his hands and feet were just numb enough that he had to pause to find his balance. Tifa wobbled slightly in the sand, then bent to unbuckle her shoes, stepping out of them and into the cool grit barefoot. She dangled her wedges from one hand and kept walking.

“Your feet okay?” Cloud asked.

“Yeah,” she giggled. “I think I’m a little tipsy. Hard to balance on sand.”

“We can go back to the inn if you want.”

Tifa shook her head. “Not yet. It’s so nice out here.”

And it was.

For the first time since arriving in Costa del Sol, Cloud didn’t feel overwhelmed. Maybe it was the time of day, maybe it was the drinks, but everything felt softer—the lights, the crowd, the sounds of water and music blending into something easy and faraway. He didn’t even notice the absence of his sword. And when he did, he was grateful for it.

They walked the beach in companionable silence.

At some point, her hand slipped into his.

His heart jumped into his throat. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she just needed balance again?

But she gave his hand a little squeeze, fingers lacing between his, and cast him a shy smile. “C’mon,” she said, tugging him closer to the waves.

He followed her to the shoreline, where the ocean met the sand. He watched the water roll in and swallow their feet—hers bare, his still in sandals. The temperature was cooler than expected, but not unpleasant.

“This is perfect,” Tifa said, wiggling her toes. “Thank you, Cloud. And… I’m sorry.”

Cloud frowned. “Sorry for what?”

“It’s our last night, and we’re doing what I wanted to do. We didn’t really get to do anything you wanted.”

“I got what I wanted,” he said simply. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

She was still staring at the water when she asked, “Are you happy?”

The question caught him off guard. He turned toward her, but her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, unreadable.

“Happiness isn’t something you have to earn.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yes.”

She smiled at the sea, then at him, and squeezed back. “Then I guess that’s all that matters.”

They stayed until the last dregs of orange faded into deep violet and the lanterns lining the beach flickered to life. More people arrived—mostly younger couples in swimwear, laughing and wading into the waves with drinks in hand and flower necklaces around their necks.

“Ready to go back?” Cloud asked.

Tifa inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill her lungs. Then she nodded.

They walked up the shore together, sand sticking to their feet and clinging to Cloud’s calves, gritty and uncomfortable. Tifa stayed barefoot. There was no point cramming sandy feet back into her shoes.

Cloud didn’t realize they’d been holding hands the whole way until he had to let go to unlock the door.

“Barret still has the kids,” he said, though it was obvious.

Tifa stepped into the room, glanced around, then looked back at him with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“You know,” she said, “since they’re not back yet… we could go for a night swim. If you want?”

Cloud said yes before he’d even thought about it.

Tifa grinned and ducked into the bathroom to change. Cloud, since they had the room to themselves, headed into the bedroom and quickly stripped out of his clothes before pulling on his swim trunks.

When Tifa stepped back out, his throat went dry.

She wore the same suit she’d worn all trip—a practical black two-piece that looked more like a sports bra and bike shorts than a swimsuit. Functional, modest. And somehow, devastating. It hugged her curves and highlighted every toned inch of her frame.

They’d seen each other like this all week. But now, standing alone together in the bedroom, it felt… different.

The air between them hummed with electricity.

Tifa’s eyes raked over him, lingering on his chest, his stomach. She was looking at him. Really looking. Heat pooled low in his belly and roared in his ears. Tifa never stared at him like this. Not openly. Not that he’d noticed.

So he let himself look, too.

He’d seen her. Touched her. Known her. But it had been so long, he’d started to worry he’d forgotten what it felt like.

As if thinking the same thing, Tifa stepped closer. Her scent hit him—herbal shampoo, salt, sun. His feet didn’t move, but she did, her sandy toes brushing his.

Then her fingertips found his abdomen and dragged across muscle with barely-there pressure.

His stomach flinched. “Tifa?”

“Cloud…” Her voice was low, her eyes dark rubies as they lifted to meet his. She placed her hand over his chest, right where his heart thundered.

And then she kissed him.

Her lips were softer than he remembered. Warmer. Maybe this was a dream.

If it was, he didn’t want to wake up.

Cloud stood frozen, spine locked straight, fists clenched at his sides. But her hand slid up over his collarbone, to the back of his neck, fingers tangling gently in his hair. The kiss deepened—confident now. Certain.

And then it hit him like a tidal wave.

This wasn’t a dream.

Tifa was kissing him.

His hands shot up to her shoulders, pulling her in as he tilted his head and kissed her back the way he really wanted. Her mouth opened in a gasp against his, and the buzzing in the back of his head grew louder.

She tasted like sea salt and Cosmo Canyons—sweet, bitter, warm. Her fingers curled tighter in his hair as he crushed her to him, chest to chest, hip to hip. His knee slid between her thighs and she sighed, soft and breathy, and Cloud thought his heart might explode.

Tifa’s other hand moved over his chest, stroking him.

Could she feel his heartbeat?

“I missed you,” she whispered against his lips.

Emotion clawed at his throat. “Tifa—”

“Shh…” She pressed a kiss beneath his jaw, then down the side of his throat. He gasped. “Kiss me again. Please?”

He obeyed.

This kiss was harder, sloppier. His lips tingled with heat as he coaxed her mouth open. She matched him, softening when he softened, yielding when he pressed. Her tongue brushed his, and he groaned. His hands slipped down her back, pulling her even closer, resting on her hips. His fingers curled into the elastic of her shorts.

“Tifa,” he gasped.

She nodded, kissing him harder. “Yes.”

“I want…”

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

His hands slid lower, over the curve of her backside, and pulled her hips against his. She moaned—again, breathy and unguarded—as they ground against each other in search of friction.

He couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. She was all around him, inside him, everything he could see and smell and taste and feel.

Tifa’s hand smoothed down his stomach to the line of his swim shorts.

The buzz in the back of his brain grew louder. His fingers and toes went numb. The world tilted.

Too much.

He closed his eyes, but that only made it worse. For a second, he thought he might be drowning.

Fingers curled into his elastic waistband and pulled—

A high-pitched jingle split the air like a blade. Tifa’s cellphone.

The sound cut through the haze. Cloud tore himself back, hands braced on her shoulders, lungs heaving. Air rushed in too fast, burning on the way down.

“Cloud?” Her voice was soft, worried.

The room spun in a nauseating circle. The warmth from earlier drained away, replaced by a creeping static that filled his skull and dulled his limbs.

The phone rang a few more times before falling silent.

Tifa’s palm still rested on his chest. “What happened?” she asked gently. “Talk to me.”

Cloud dragged a hand over his face, trying to ground himself, trying to make the room stay still. When he opened his eyes, she was watching him—concern etched into every line of her face.

“Tifa…” He struggled to find the words. “I… don’t know.”

“I think you stopped breathing,” she said, brow furrowed.

“The room’s spinning. I’m… I’m drunk. We’re both drunk.” The memory of the drinks hit him all at once. Cosmo Canyons—three, maybe four. “We shouldn’t…”

“Oh.” Her hand slipped away.

“And I didn’t… bring anything,” he added, voice low, shame curling in his gut.

Not that it would’ve mattered. For all he knew, he was sterile—just another gift from Shinra’s labs. He’d never tested the theory, never wanted to. The idea of a white coat and a sterile cup made his skin crawl. Still, ever since that night under the Highwind, he’d promised himself he’d be careful. Just in case.

“Oh. Yeah. I…” Tifa took a step back. Then another. “You’re right. We shouldn’t. That was probably Barret calling. They’re probably on their way back.”

The guilt twisted like a knife. “Tifa—”

“You’re right,” she said again, voice tighter this time. “This was a mistake.” She cleared her throat and turned away, expression shuttered. She crossed the room and grabbed her phone from the bed. “It was Barret,” she confirmed flatly. “They’re on their way.”

Cloud nodded.

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating.

“I’m still covered in sand,” she said after a moment, not meeting his eyes. “I need to shower. Are you okay waiting for them?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded once and disappeared into the bathroom.

Cloud waited until he heard the water running, then quickly changed back into his clothes and sat down on the edge of his and Denzel’s bed.

"This was a mistake."

Whatever warmth the alcohol had given him was gone, chased out by the one-two punch of adrenaline and shame. What lingered was a biting clarity, cold and sharp as an ice bath.

His skin prickled.

His eyes burned.

He flexed his fingers, restless, haunted by the look in her eyes as she turned away. And he couldn’t help but wonder if, in trying to protect the fragile thing between them, he’d only fractured it further.

Chapter Text

“Do you have any laundry in your room?” Tifa asked over breakfast.

Cloud paused, coffee cup hovering an inch from his lips. The question caught him off guard. He still had a suitcase full of clothes from Costa del Sol sitting untouched in his room. So did Tifa. So did the kids. Why was she asking him specifically?

Was this a test?

It was Sunday, housekeeping day. Tifa always closed the bar and spent the day doing laundry, sweeping, mopping, tidying the kids’ room, running errands, knocking out as much as she could before the new week started. After a week-long vacation, there was even more to do. Twice the usual laundry, for one.

She didn’t need to burden herself with his clothes on top of everything else.

“I can do it,” he said.

Tifa blinked, surprised. “Oh. Okay.”

And that was the end of it.

She turned her focus back to her breakfast. Cloud finally took a sip of his coffee. It hit his stomach like something just past its expiration date.

Since getting back from Costa del Sol two days ago, things had been off. Not bad, exactly—not hostile, not icy—but awkward. He had no idea how to act around her. They weren’t avoiding each other, and yet… they weren’t really looking at each other either.

Especially not in the eyes.

He couldn’t. It was impossible to look directly into Tifa’s eyes and not imagine her lips on his neck or her hand smoothing down his chest, all the way past his navel. Sometimes, Cloud swore he could taste her in his mouth. And then he would hear her voice echo in the back of his mind and it brought him right back to reality.

“This was a mistake.”

Cloud took another sip of coffee and pushed his omelet around with the edge of his fork, slicing off a neat little square like that could somehow restore order to anything.

Maybe her question about the laundry wasn’t a test. Maybe it was a lifeline. A small attempt to start a conversation. One he’d missed, or maybe dodged. Either way, he’d failed to catch it.

Even though things were weird between them—again—they were still trying to keep up appearances for the kids. Cloud wasn’t sure they were succeeding.

Marlene had always been sharp when it came to reading the room, more sensitive to shifts between him and Tifa than Denzel was. She knew just how bad things could get.

Almost on cue, Marlene spoke up and changed the subject before the silence had a chance to stretch too long. Whether it was intentional or just her own train of thought catching up was hard to say. She swung her legs under the table and prattled away with an easy grin that had Tifa smiling back.

When breakfast was finished, Cloud stood and started clearing the table. He began washing the dishes without a word, and Tifa seemed surprised to see him at the sink.

“You don’t have to help,” she said, stepping beside him. “I can do it.”

“You cooked,” Cloud replied. “I’ll wash.”

She hesitated for a second, then seemed to realize how close they were standing. She took a small step back. “All right. I’ll get started on the laundry.”

“I’ll help!” Marlene piped up.

Tifa’s face softened. “Thanks, sweetie. Denzel, why don’t you help Cloud with the dishes?”

Denzel gave a reluctant nod and joined Cloud at the sink without protest. He’d been particularly quiet during breakfast, his expression distant—like his thoughts were elsewhere. If Cloud had noticed, then Tifa surely had too. And since she hadn’t brought it up, Cloud took that as a sign to follow her lead. Sometimes silence was a kindness, and not every weight needed to be named aloud.

Tifa and Marlene headed upstairs to start sorting clothes for what would surely be an all-day laundry marathon.

With Denzel’s help, the dishes were done in no time—he dried each one and put it away silently, his sullen mood lingering.

“I’m heading into the garage,” Cloud said when they were done.

“You’re gonna work on Fenrir?” For the first time that morning, Denzel’s face held a flicker of interest. “Can I help?”

Cloud hesitated before nodding. The kid loved his bike. Maybe helping would lift Denzel’s spirits a bit.

In the garage, they set to work. After sitting idle for a week, Fenrir didn’t need much, just routine maintenance. They went through the usual checklist, with Cloud explaining each step. Where Cloud thought Denzel would ask a plethora of questions, he simply nodded or observed. Together they checked the tire pressure, wiped down the throttle and clutch, and changed the oil.

Last on the list was a good wash.

Cloud had Denzel fill two large buckets—one with soapy water, one clean—and gather sponges and towels. Starting at the hood, they worked their way down the body, scrubbing in slow, gentle circles.

Cloud found the rhythm calming.

Eventually, Denzel broke the silence. “Hey, Cloud?”

“Hm?”

“Can we go back to Midgar sometime?”

Cloud looked up. Denzel was watching him, blue eyes uneasy.

“Why do you want to go back to Midgar?”

“I dunno,” Denzel said quickly. He looked down at his sponge as the water dripped onto the concrete floor. “Just wanted to.”

Cloud paused, sponge still in hand. He wasn’t great with kids and he was worse when it came to feelings but even he instinctively knew that there was more to it.

Nobody went to Midgar unless they had to. The city was a husk—a cautionary tale people were starting to tell their young children. Nobody ventured to its ruins unless they had a very specific purpose. For Cloud, that purpose was making deliveries to the few unfortunate stragglers.

Cloud set his sponge aside. “Denzel.”

“I had a dream last night,” Denzel admitted after a beat, voice small. “About my parents.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Denzel lifted a shoulder. The sponge in his hand had long since dripped down his shirt, soaking it through, and it was starting to wet his cargo shorts, but he didn’t seem to care.

Cloud shifted on his feet, uncertain. His gut told him to go get Tifa but he remembered the night they'd shared a bed in Costa del Sol, their heartfelt and quiet conversation. Denzel opened up to him. Denzel looked up to him, trusted him. Of course he trusted Tifa too, but this moment was different. Right now, the comfort Denzel was looking for wasn’t hers—it was Cloud’s.

He couldn’t pass this off.

Leaning against Fenrir, Cloud crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”

“It was a good dream,” Denzel said. “One time in the middle of winter, we went on a trip to this place with a big frozen lake. In my dream, we were ice skating. My dad slipped and fell, and then my mom did too. We were laughing so hard. And then Tifa woke me up and I was…” He trailed off, still staring at the sponge.

“Disappointed?” Cloud offered.

Denzel nodded slowly. After a beat of silence, he sniffled and wiped at his eyes with the back of his wrist.

“I… miss them.”

“Careful,” Cloud said gently. “You’ll get soap in your eyes.” He grabbed one of the clean towels and handed it over.

Denzel took it and rubbed his face dry. He dropped the sponge in the soapy bucket and sighed—a long, heavy sound that didn’t belong in the chest of an eight year old.

“I like you and Tifa and Marlene, and I like living here,” he said. “But I still miss my parents. I miss them so much. I have the picture you found. I should be happy when I look at it, but… It makes me sad.”

“You’re allowed to miss them, Denzel,” Cloud said.

“I don’t wanna hurt your feelings. Or Tifa’s…”

“You’re not hurting our feelings,” Cloud told him.

Denzel fidgeted. “I don’t wanna hurt my parents’ feelings either.”

And suddenly, it clicked. Cloud understood.

Denzel was torn—caught between two families, two lives. He was happy here with them, and that felt like a betrayal. But mourning his parents made him feel disloyal to the people who loved him now. He was stuck.

“You feel guilty,” Cloud said.

Denzel nodded again, slowly this time. His jaw tightened and he rubbed at his eyes with the towel.

Cloud gave him a moment, then said, “Two things can be true at the same time. You can like it here and still miss your parents. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

“I know that. But…”

“But it doesn’t stop you from feeling guilty anyway.” Cloud was familiar with the conundrum.

“I like Tifa’s blueberry pancakes,” Denzel said after a long pause, “and helping you with Fenrir, and playing games with Marlene. But I wish my parents were still alive. I wish the plate never collapsed.” He twisted the towel in his hands. “I wish we could’ve lived in that house in Sector Five. And I wish we could’ve gone ice skating again.”

How many times had Cloud made similar wishes? Too many to count.

“Is that why you want to go to Midgar?” he asked.

Denzel finally looked up. “I know our house is gone. But I just wanna see it.”

It made sense. His parents had died in the Sector Seven collapse, there were no graves. The ruins were their tomb. And whatever hadn't been destroyed then, Meteorfall had taken care of. Most people at least had a place to grieve. Denzel had nothing—only memories buried in a hazardous metallic wasteland.

Cloud was familiar with that too. Of a home burned to ashes, a mother buried in silence. A life he couldn’t go back to, no matter how much he wanted to, because it had been forgotten by the rest of the world.

Denzel didn’t want his parents to be forgotten.

“We can go to Midgar,” Cloud said. He pushed off of Fenrir and reached out to ruffle Denzel’s wavy brown hair. “Next Sunday. I’ll talk to Tifa.”

“Really?” Denzel blinked up at him, wide-eyed.

“Really.”

Denzel threw his arms around Cloud’s waist. His shirt was still soaked, clinging to Cloud’s like glue, but he didn’t seem to care. He squeezed tight and buried his face into Cloud’s stomach.

“Thank you.”

Cloud hummed low in his throat and ruffled the kid’s hair again.

They stayed like that for nearly a full minute before Denzel finally stepped back and cleared his throat, suddenly sheepish. Then, without another word, they returned to washing Fenrir—side by side—until the motorcycle gleamed like it was brand new.

When the kids were at school and it was just him and Tifa at Seventh Heaven, Cloud didn’t know what to do with himself.

He still had five more days of his two-week vacation. No deliveries to plan. Fenrir and the fusion sword were cleaner than ever. And Tifa clearly didn’t need his help with the bar—she was a one-woman show. Business was slow during the day, just a few loyal regulars trickling in and out for lunch.

With nothing else to occupy him, Cloud ended up at the farthest seat at the bar and turned on the TV. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched a show or movie, and none of the channels seemed worth sticking with. Eventually, he settled on the news, letting it drone in the background while he watched Tifa instead.

Tifa moved behind the bar like she belonged there—fluid, practiced, warm. She smiled without effort, asked about customers’ children, jobs, aging parents. She remembered names and stories, made everyone feel seen. All while pouring drinks or making sandwiches with the same easy grace.

Cloud watched her work and nearly cringed at how natural she made it look. Meanwhile, most of the patrons gave him a wide berth. Some recognized him and offered a small nod of acknowledgment. Others just stared—like he was something out of a bad dream. A ghost that hadn’t gotten the hint. He didn’t meet their eyes, but he felt the weight of their attention anyway, like heat crawling up his neck.

At some point, Tifa placed a sandwich in front of him.

Cloud blinked. He hadn’t said he was hungry. Was his stomach growling?

“I was making Mr. Jameson one and figured you might want one too,” she said.

For the first time in days, she was looking right at him.

Cloud swallowed hard. For just a moment, the bar melted away, and he was back in Costa del Sol. Everything came rushing back—the way her lips tasted, the sound she made when he kissed her neck, the way she melted against him when he pulled her close and slid his thigh between hers. Her skin, the salt of the sea, the softness of her breath against his throat.

He almost choked. “Thanks.”

Tifa bit her lip, almost like she wanted to say something else. But she turned away and went to check on a customer, leaving Cloud alone with the sandwich—and his thoughts.

“This was a mistake.”

He took a bite without really tasting it.

Even with his back to the main entrance, Cloud felt every person who came and went over the hours. It was second nature to catalog potential threats. He had to remind himself that Tifa’s customers weren’t threats—just people. That didn’t stop him from glancing over his shoulder every few minutes to scan the room, or from turning his whole body when he sensed two people approach him from behind.

He fixed them—a man and a woman—with a hard stare.

The man looked vaguely familiar. Early twenties, maybe. Fair-skinned, with medium-length silver hair and sharp hazel eyes. His angular face held a straight nose and a mouth set in something just shy of a grimace.

“Long time no see,” the man said.

Cloud sifted through his memory, frayed and full of holes, until he found the name. “Leslie.”

Leslie nodded, one hand resting on the back of the woman beside him. “This is Merle. My fiancée.”

“Nice to meet you!” Merle beamed. Her face was round, eyes big and brown, and she radiated a warm, easy kind of energy—like Yuffie without the chaotic edge. Her short brown hair bounced around her shoulders as she leaned forward on her toes to take in the bar. “So this is Seventh Heaven. I’ve heard so many stories…”

Tifa joined them from behind the bar, smiling wide. “Leslie! It’s been a couple years. How are you?”

“Yeah. Been a while. I’m good,” Leslie said, smiling back—an awkward, genuine curve of the mouth that looked out of place on his usually guarded face. He gestured toward Merle. “This is Merle.”

“Merle,” Tifa repeated warmly, her gaze dipping just below the hollow of Merle’s throat—where a familiar golden lily pendant glinted—then lower still, to the curve of her belly. Her smile softened into something close to reverent. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“You too! You must be Tifa.”

“That’s me. Welcome to Seventh Heaven. Go ahead and sit down.” She motioned to the stools next to Cloud. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

Leslie pulled out a stool and waited for Merle to sit before settling beside her. He kept a hand on the small of her back, close and steady, like he needed the contact to reassure himself she was real.

“You know, I’ve really been craving a hamburger,” Merle said, tapping a finger to her lips. “Or maybe a peanut butter sandwich?”

“I can make either of those,” Tifa offered.

Merle squinted, clearly torn.

“Or both?” Tifa said with a smile.

“Yes. But not together,” Merle added quickly. “Separately. And some tea to go with that?”

“Sugar,” Leslie said without looking.

Merle groaned and slumped onto the bartop. “Make that an unsweetened tea, please. I’m supposed to be watching my sugar.”

“You got it,” Tifa said. “And you, Leslie?”

“I’ll take the lunch special. And unsweetened tea.”

Tifa nodded and turned toward the kitchen, already reaching for a pan.

As she worked—flipping a patty in one pan, spreading peanut butter in a rhythm only she could make graceful—Leslie leaned forward into Cloud’s line of sight.

“How’s the delivery business?”

“Good. Busy.” At Leslie’s skeptical look, Cloud added, “I took a vacation.”

“You look better.”

Cloud blinked. “Thanks?”

“When I first met you, a couple years ago, you were… different.” Leslie paused, searching for the right word. “Unstable.”

“Leslie,” Merle hissed, elbowing him.

Leslie, unperturbed, shrugged and continued to hold Cloud’s gaze.

It didn’t hurt. Not really. Because Cloud knew it was true.

He’d been unstable—and that was a kind way of putting it. He’d been broken. Barely present in his own body. People, especially Tifa, had tiptoed around him like he might splinter into pieces at any second.

And he had.

He watched Tifa now, carefully juggling Merle’s lunch—thoughtful and steady as ever. He remembered how, when everything else had fallen apart, she’d stayed. She’d done the impossible and held him together while the world around them cracked and bled at the seams.

He’d be nothing but a hollow shell without her.

“I was,” Cloud admitted. “But things are better. I’m working on it.”

Leslie and Merle turned to watch Tifa work. Merle hummed before casting Cloud a knowing smile that made him almost squirm in his seat.

Eventually, Tifa brought three plates to them: a well-done burger and a peanut butter sandwich—extra peanut butter—for Merle, and a honey ham and cheese sandwich for Leslie. She placed two tall glasses of unsweetened iced tea in front of them with a smile.

Merle wasted no time digging into her burger. She sighed happily as she chewed, nodding at Tifa. “So good.”

Beaming, Tifa looked at Leslie. “Well?”

“Really good,” Leslie said around a bite of his sandwich. He sounded almost surprised. His second bite was noticeably bigger than the first.

“So,” Tifa leaned against the bartop, “what brings you to Seventh Heaven?”

Leslie’s chewing slowed as he glanced at Merle. He took a sip of tea before saying, “We live in Midgar. It’s not the safest or the nicest place anymore, but it worked for us. We didn’t have many options after Meteorfall. But, obviously, things are changing.”

He gestured to Merle’s belly.

“We don’t want to raise a kid in the slums.”

“Leslie’s been working extra jobs. We even postponed our wedding,” Merle added. She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “We might finally have enough for a down payment. It won’t be a big place, but… as long as it’s safe, that’s enough.”

“We only have three months to figure things out.” Leslie's tone was cool, but even Cloud sensed the undercurrent of panic.

Merle smiled at him and squeezed his hand again. “Three months is plenty of time.”

Leslie’s shoulders relaxed, and the look in his eyes softened like he was eased by her optimism.

“Are you thinking about moving to Edge?” Tifa asked as she wiped down a cocktail glass.

“Maybe. We wanted to check things out first,” Leslie said, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Evan and Kyrie stopped by a few months ago and told us about Seventh Heaven,” Merle said. “So when we came to look around Edge, I told Leslie we had to stop by. I’m so glad we did! The food’s amazing.”

“The only thing better than the food is the drinks.” Tifa winked and held up the clean cocktail glass.

Merle laughed, rubbing her hand over her stomach. “Guess that means we’ll have to come back after I have the baby.”

“Guess so!”

In the middle of sipping her tea, Merle paused. “Do you have kids?”

Cloud followed her gaze to the fridge behind the bar, plastered with Marlene’s drawings—sunshines, rainbows, Moogles—and two family pictures mixed in. Next to them was a spelling test with Denzel’s name written neatly at the top. Almost a perfect score.

Tifa looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Denzel and Marlene. They’re probably on their way home from school right now.”

Leslie gave Cloud a mildly surprised look. “Didn’t peg you for the family type.”

“A lot can change in two years,” Cloud said.

“Is it hard?” Merle asked, glancing between them. “Running a business and raising kids? How do you balance both?”

Tifa blinked, her smile softening into something more thoughtful. “It is hard. That’s something we’re still figuring out.”

Merle nodded slowly and looked down at her sandwich, her expression pensive—clearly mulling over Tifa’s words in her mind, already grappling with the quiet reality of the challenges her own family would inevitably face.

Merle and Leslie finished their lunch within the hour. Merle kept feeding Tifa compliment after compliment. She was better about accepting praise these days, but the steady stream still made her cheeks pink after a while.

When Merle finished her second glass of iced tea, she groaned and asked Tifa for help finding the bathroom. As they disappeared around the corner, Leslie stared after them and sighed.

“I’m working three jobs right now,” he murmured. “She’s worried I won’t be around much when the baby’s born. I’m worried too. But I don’t really have a choice. I’m hoping things will be different once we leave Midgar and I can find something steadier.”

Cloud stayed quiet. He wasn’t sure why Leslie was confiding in him. He was the last person anyone should ask for parenting advice.

Leslie sighed again, picking up his tea but not drinking from it. “What scares me more is—I don’t know how to be a dad. I never had one. It was just me and my mom until she died. After that, I was on my own until I met Merle.”

“Me too,” Cloud said.

Leslie huffed a laugh like that didn’t surprise him. “Did you figure it out?”

“No,” Cloud said bluntly. “I’ve never been good with kids. I’m not... parent material.”

“And yet, here you are. Raising two kids.”

“I’m trying.” Cloud nodded slowly. Sometimes he got it right, sometimes he got it wrong. But he kept showing up and he hoped that counted for something. “Some days are easier than others.”

Leslie nodded back and finally took a sip of his tea. Merle returned with Tifa not long after that, rubbing the top of her belly and sighing in relief.

“She’s not even that big yet, but I swear she’s obsessed with my bladder,” she joked.

Tifa’s face lit up. “You’re having a girl?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Merle said as Leslie helped her back onto her stool, “but I feel like she is. And they say the mother knows, right?” She smiled at Leslie. “He won’t admit it, but I think he’s hoping for a girl too.”

Leslie rolled his eyes. “I don’t care as long as they’re healthy.”

“You say ‘she’ all the time. Don’t try to hide it!”

“I only say ‘she’ because you do.”

Their banter carried on for a few minutes, warm and familiar. Merle’s cheeks flushed as she laughed. Leslie wore an exasperated grin, but his eyes were soft.

Cloud still remembered the Leslie from nearly three years ago—sharp-edged and cold, carved from bitterness and regret. Those parts were still there, tucked into the glances he cast Cloud and the guarded way he spoke, but they’d been smoothed by Merle’s presence. When he looked at her, there was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was the kind of quiet happiness that didn’t need to be loud to be real. The kind most people spent their whole lives chasing.

About an hour before the dinner rush, the garage door opened.

“We’re home!” Marlene and Denzel called.

“Welcome back!” Tifa answered. “How was school?”

“Great!”

“Good.”

“I’m about to start dinner,” Tifa said, heading back to the stove. “So why don’t you sit down and get started on your—”

“Homework,” both kids chorused.

Denzel sighed. “We know.”

They made their way to the table they’d claimed as their own and began unpacking notebooks and pencils without complaint. It was routine now. Homework first, then playtime upstairs.

A loud sniffle drew Cloud’s attention and he turned. Merle was crying.

“Merle?” Leslie’s hands hovered over her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head quickly, wiping at her face. “Nothing, sorry. I just... watching them. Sitting at the table, doing homework. That’s going to be us soon. A family. Can you believe it?” She laughed and her eyes welled up again. “We went through so much… I never pictured a future like this.”

“Me either,” Leslie said, voice low as he wiped her cheeks. “It still feels surreal.”

“I don’t even know why I’m crying!”

Cloud slid a small stack of napkins across the bar.

“Thank you,” Merle said, laughing through her tears. “These hormones are no joke.”

Leslie laced their fingers together again. “It’s okay.”

She sniffled, wiped the last of her tears, and leaned against him as she watched the kids quietly work.

Just then, Marlene came to the bartop, notebook in hand. “Tifa! Can you help me with this question?”

“I can’t leave the stove right now, sweetie,” Tifa called back. “Ask Cloud.”

Marlene turned to him and held out her notebook. She looked at him like she trusted he had the answer. That used to scare him. Now… maybe not so much. “Cloud?”

“I can try.”

That seemed good enough for her. She nodded. As Cloud slid off his stool, she glanced at Leslie and Merle watching her—both with gentle, wide-eyed expressions like they were trying to imagine what their own child would look like at her age.

Cloud realized, a little belatedly, that someone with better people skills would have introduced them by now.

“Marlene, this is Leslie and Merle,” Cloud said.

“Are they your friends?” she asked.

“Something like that.”

She waved politely. “Hi, I’m Marlene.”

“Nice to meet you, Marlene.” Merle smiled and rubbed her belly. “Your pink bow is very pretty.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes dropped to Merle’s belly, going wide. “Are you having a baby?”

“I am! Wanna feel?”

Marlene clutched her hands to her chest and nodded hard. She stepped forward, letting Merle guide her hand.

“She’s been kicking the last few minutes,” Merle said. “You might feel it.”

Marlene focused hard. A minute passed. Then two.

Suddenly, her face lit up. “I felt it!”

Merle laughed. “I think she’s rolling around in there now.”

Marlene gasped again and looked over at Leslie, who was watching quietly. Merle grabbed his hand and brought it to her belly beside Marlene’s.

Leslie’s expression went slack. “Wow.”

For a while, the three of them stayed like that—hands pressed gently against the curve of Merle’s stomach, smiling.

Eventually, Merle shifted with a sigh. “She’s settling down.”

Marlene stepped back, grinning. Leslie didn’t move.

“I never...” His voice trailed off.

Merle placed her hand over his. “Surreal, right?”

Leslie barely nodded, his hand still resting on Merle’s belly, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. His eyes were distant, glassy with thought, as if he were trying to memorize the moment—the gentle thrum of life, the promise of something better. Then he blinked. Slowly, he turned toward Tifa, who had just stepped away from the stove, wiping her hands on a towel.

His expression shifted, an uncharacteristic vulnerability peering through the cracks of his defenses. He gave Tifa a small, almost sheepish nod, then offered a tight-lipped smile, the kind that said everything he couldn’t seem to say out loud. His hand drifted from Merle’s belly to rest at his side.

Then, with a quick glance toward Cloud—as if to ask him to translate the depth of it all—Leslie spoke softly, “We need to get going. There’s a couple houses we’re supposed to look at. But tell Tifa… thanks. If she hadn’t talked sense into me a few years ago, I wouldn’t be here.”

Cloud nodded. “I will.”

Leslie and Merle paid in cash and made their way to the door. Merle gave Marlene a warm wave, which Marlene returned with an enthusiastic grin. Cloud watched them go—Leslie’s hand resting gently but firmly at the small of Merle’s back. There was a quiet tenderness in the gesture, a wordless vow to protect what he’d found. And as they stepped out into the early evening light, Cloud recognized that feeling all too well. That fragile, trembling hope that maybe, just maybe, he was allowed to hold onto something good. Even if he didn’t deserve it.

When they were gone, Marlene tugged at Cloud’s sleeve. “Can you help me with my homework now?”

He rested a hand gently on her head. “Sure.”

After dinner, once the kids finished their homework, they rushed upstairs: Denzel to watch TV, Marlene to color and read. Cloud followed soon after, just in time to help with the night routine. Tonight, they were in bed almost on time, which felt like a small miracle.

With the kids settled, he returned to the bar. He didn’t order anything—just sat in his usual spot, keeping an idle eye on the place, more out of habit than necessity. Tifa didn’t need any help keeping the peace. If anything happened, she could kick a man twice her size into next week with one hand tied behind her back.

Still, it made him feel useful. Grounded.

Bar service at Seventh Heaven wrapped around midnight, like always, and he headed back upstairs. He was halfway through changing his shirt when the knock on his door came. For a second, he thought it might be one of the kids—Marlene with a nightmare, or Denzel asking for a snack—but when he opened the door, it was Tifa.

She stood in the hallway, arms tucked behind her back, eyes lifted to his with an expression that pulled him back to that night in Costa del Sol. Vulnerable. Unsure.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

Cloud swallowed. “Sure.”

He stepped aside. Tifa walked in slowly, pausing in the center of the room like she wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Then she sat on the edge of his bed. He closed the door behind them and joined her, careful to leave a few inches of space between them.

“Leslie says thanks,” Cloud said, breaking the silence.

Tifa blinked. “Oh. For what?”

“For setting him straight a few years ago.”

She huffed a soft laugh. “I didn’t do much. I think he was already on the verge of looking for her. Sometimes it just helps to hear it from someone else.”

“Yeah.”

Silence stretched again.

Tifa sat with her hands in her lap, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. Cloud planted his elbows on his knees, waiting. He could feel something building in the space between them—something fragile, important.

Then:

“I’m sorry, Cloud…”

He turned to look at her. That wasn’t what he’d expected—not from her. Not now.

She must’ve seen the confusion on his face, because she clarified without waiting. “That last night in Costa del Sol… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Oh.

That night.

“Neither can I,” he admitted.

Even now, his mind threatened to wander.

He could still smell the faint yeast of the seasonal beer she’d been serving, but beneath that was the subtle, unmistakable scent of her herbal shampoo. It hit him in a way he wasn’t prepared for—made his stomach flip and his mouth go dry. All he could picture was threading his fingers through the thick wealth of her hair, pulling her close, burying his nose against the slope of her neck where her scent was richest.

Cloud shifted on the bed, flexing his fingers on his kneecaps.

“I’m sorry,” Tifa repeated, her voice small. “I feel awful.”

“Why?”

She turned to him fully, shame etched into the lines of her face. “Everything that happened was my fault. It was my mistake. I got caught up in the moment and… I took advantage of you.”

Cloud blinked, startled. “Is that what you think?”

Tifa squirmed where she sat, her hands clenched so tightly in her lap her knuckles went white. She couldn’t look at him.

“Tifa,” he said quietly, “I’m not upset about what happened.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

Relief passed over her face like a tide pulling back. Her shoulders dropped, hands slowly loosening their death grip.

“That’s… good,” she said. “I was afraid I’d ruined things.”

Cloud gave a faint, humorless smile. “That’s my line.”

He hesitated. Silence stretched between them again—uncomfortable, charged.

“I stopped because…” He exhaled, shaky and thin. “Because we were drunk. And I didn’t want you to wake up regretting it.”

He looked down at the floor, grounding himself. The boards beneath their feet looked impossibly far away.

“I see… Would you have regretted it?” Tifa asked.

“No.” The word left his mouth unsteady. “I don’t think so. I…”

He trailed off. The words jammed in his throat, his heart hammering so hard it hurt. His palms itched. He didn’t know where to look, didn’t know how to keep going.

Tifa sat there, waiting like she always did with patience that felt undeserved.

That somehow made it harder.

“You what?” she prompted, soft but steady.

Cloud opened his mouth. Closed it. He dug his hands into his lap, fingers twitching before he clenched them into fists.

“I wanted it,” he whispered, the words raw. “You.” His voice cracked, so he lowered it further, barely audible now. “I still do.”

There was a beat of silence—too long.

“Oh,” Tifa breathed.

He didn’t look up. He couldn’t. His entire body tensed like it might break from the weight of his own confession. Shame twisted in his gut, and fear crawled up his spine like static.

She wasn’t saying anything else. That terrified him more than anything she could have said.

He wanted to take it all back. To fold it in, bury it deep. Pretend like the moment never happened.

“Do you mean that?” Tifa asked finally, her voice so gentle it nearly broke him.

The instinct to lie surged hard and fast. Instead, he bit the inside of his cheek, tasted iron, and forced the truth out like a breath he couldn’t hold any longer. “Yeah. I do.”

The words landed between them like a quiet detonation, sending ripples through the fragile stillness of the space they shared.

Tifa studied him silently. Emotions flickered across her face, her eyes full of questions he wasn’t sure he could answer.

Still, he didn’t run. He didn’t look away. He stayed there, exposed, because she deserved at least that much.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” she asked.

That wasn’t the question he’d expected. It hit him like a jolt to the chest.

Cloud blinked, stunned silent.

Why? Why hadn’t he?

Because it was too much. Because it felt like asking for something he had no right to. Because he didn’t know what he was allowed to want anymore. Because every time he got close to something good, it slipped through his fingers.

He swallowed all of that down and gave her the only piece he could manage.

“I didn’t know how.”

The words felt like an excuse, but they were true.

“I was waiting for you,” he added, glancing away. “Waiting for you to decide what you wanted. And I guess… I was waiting for your forgiveness too.”

“You already have it, Cloud.” Tifa looked genuinely confused now. “Of course you do.”

“Do I?”

He looked up at her again. The mako burned in his eyes, adrenaline thrumming just beneath his skin. He dug his fingers into his knee to stop it from bouncing, trying to hold himself together.

Tifa’s gaze softened, something solemn and unflinching in her expression.

“I said some cruel things to you that night,” she murmured.

He remembered it clearly. The night they’d sat downstairs, finally talking after everything. She’d been guarded but honest, laying bare her own pain. She hadn’t said anything untrue. She’d given him an ultimatum—stay, or go. No more halfway. No more running. She’d been angry and hurting and right.

His heart ached at the memory. “No,” he said. “Don’t apologize. They needed to be said.”

She nodded slowly, absorbing that. “We made a choice, remember? No more looking back. Only forward. I do forgive you.” Her voice was firm now. Steady. “But I have my limits.”

“I know.”

“I know you know.” She inched a little closer. “That’s why I think we’re going to be okay. Right?”

Cloud’s voice was hoarse. “That’s my question.”

“We’re going to be okay.” Tifa reached out and gently pried his hand from his knee. She cradled it in both of hers, anchoring him.

And she said it with such conviction, like she wasn’t just trying to convince him, but remind him of something he’d forgotten. He exhaled slowly, threaded their fingers together, and held on.