Chapter Text
Tifa closed her eyes, letting her gloveless palms stretch out on the table she was sitting at in Seventh Heaven. Her hands were hot and throbbing against the wood, slick with sweat. She inhaled deeply several times, smelling the oddly comforting stench of Sector Seven before looking down at her fingers. She had been chewing her nails again, had been for a while, and the sight disappointed her. She always chewed her nails when she was stressed, ever since she was a child, and this time had been no different. Her nails were currently chewed down to almost bleeding, ragged nubs that she struggled to hide from customers. There was no point in trying to hide them from Cloud; she couldn’t and he never commented on them anyway, so she just acted as if they didn’t exist whenever she was around him. She was good at pretending a lot of problems didn’t exist.
Her stomach ached. It was a sharp, stabbing pain that started in her side and spread to her abdomen that made her bite her lip and double over on the tabletop. She groaned, her head thumping heavily against the thick bar ledger she was trying to work on. Today was Wednesday, the only day off she had each week. It was crucial that every minute of every Wednesday was time well spent: books needed to be balanced, the bar and the living quarters needed to be thoroughly cleaned, provisions ordered, laundry washed and dried, plus a ton of other things needed to be accomplished that exhausted her just by thinking about them. She didn’t have time to deviate from her schedule especially to feel sorry for herself, which was exactly what she was doing. Tifa had already been up for four hours and she had barely done anything yet.
“It’s only going to hurt you in the end, girl,” she said to herself, surprised at how raspy her voice sounded. She cleared her throat and sighed, motioning to get up for a drink of water when a sharp, sudden vibration made her heart pound. Her PHS danced on the table, vibrating wildly, and she grabbed it quickly before it tumbled off the edge, her heart pounding even faster as it almost slipped out of her still sweaty hand. Flipping it open, she read the text message and felt her stomach clench again.
Negotiations are off. Your lack of communication speaks volumes.
Tifa opened her mouth in a silent moan, her eyes directing toward the ceiling. She rubbed her lips together hard until they felt like they could bleed and looked back down at her PHS. She had to have reread the message at least twenty times before shaky fingers began typing a response. She got as far as one word.
I- What was she supposed to say? Since being appointed as the liaison between the Avalanche main branch and splinter cell a month ago by Barret, she had been under strict instructions by him to not communicate.
“Isn’t that the whole point of a liaison?” Tifa had asked. “To liaise? To communicate? Create and maintain relationships?”
“I’ll let you know when the time is right,” Barret said. His face was stoic, unreadable. Tifa knew he looked like this only when he didn’t know what to do. “Right now ain’t the time.”
So Tifa respectfully sat back at Barret’s behest and let Avalanche continue to unnecessarily cannibalize itself, yet still allowed herself to be held accountable for the two groups’ relationship, or lack thereof. She didn’t know why she let such things to happen to her so willingly, other than the fact that she had always trusted Barret and she had no reason to not trust him now. They would eventually find a resolution. They always did. But, for now, she would settle for finding a proper response to the text she just received.
I apologize for the lack of communication. There was nothing she could say to that, really. But please do not confuse it for a lack of desire to mend relations between the two groups. She bit her lip again. This time she did indeed taste blood.
Now what? Internally, she was screaming. She was teetering on the precipice of dangerous territory. Quite possibly political anarchy. Again. Relations with main Avalanche were beyond fragile and, with one wrong word, a new war could ensue.
We are but humble stewards of the Planet. Tifa’s fingers started moving before her brain could really register what she was saying. She was desperate. We want nothing else but to protect what we fought Sephiroth and Shinra so hard for. While we may have different tactics regarding how we do things, we are not your enemy.
She paused, waited. There was no immediate response, so she continued.
Please understand that while we are passionate, we are truly inexperienced at heart. You are a much larger, more structured organization than our small cell. There is a learning curve, one that will take time for us to overcome. If you could extend a small amount of grace and patience towards us, it would be most invaluable. Tifa was babbling at this point. She wanted so desperately to end this conversation yet she still kept typing. She regretted her next words before she even hit enter. I promise you we will meet in person before Spring’s end.
The response was quick, final.
That is only three weeks from now. Remember that.
The pain in Tifa’s side would make sure she wouldn’t forget.
Tifa was still sitting at the table an hour later. She had felt dizzy and weak ever since her conversation with Avalanche. She obsessively reread the message, ruminating over the seemingly countless ways she had fucked up from the beginning to the end of the conversation. She couldn’t have been any more desperate if she had tried.
She put her PHS down, almost throwing it across the table. She could no longer hold it; her skin felt tight, every nerve ending inflamed and painful. She looked at her unfinished ledger, the unloaded provisions boxes across the room, the dirty bar top and floors. She imagined the messy apartment, the piles of dirty clothes in the laundry room, the uncooked dinner. She thought about the fact that, at this point, there was no way she was going to get everything she needed done today, and the rest of her week was screwed and would be all about playing catch up. She imagined explaining to Barret what she had done, him exploding, and her undoubtedly reneging on her promise to meeting with Avalanche prior to Spring’s end. She imagined the ensuing political mayhem that would be solely of her doing. Imagined them going right back to where they started: a life of war and pain.
Tifa felt her throat constrict and and the corners of her vision darken. It felt as if a Rust Drake was trying to brake free from within her chest and her breathing became uneven.
She was having a panic attack.
She began to whisper the spell for Chakra but panicked as she remembered that she was gloveless. She didn’t make it much of a habit to equip materia anymore now that Sephiroth was gone, but Chakra was always a good one to keep around whenever she needed a boost, like when she worked 18 hours on three hours of sleep, or to help calm her when panic attacks struck, which were becoming disturbingly more prevalent in recent months. The materia was lodged in her left glove, strewn on the bar near the beer taps about twenty feet away from her and, as Tifa stumbled out of her chair, gasping for air, it may as well have been located in Icicle Inn.
Her right foot twisted awkwardly as she attempted to stand and she fell painfully to her knees, the noise echoing loudly in the empty bar. Tifa was openly panting now as she got on all fours. She began slowly crawling to the bar, looking and sounding like a sweaty, wounded animal. It made the situation seem surreal to her, to a laughable extent, and she began emitting a strange mixture of gasps, laughs, and grunts. She still couldn’t breathe, she was so lightheaded and she really shouldn’t be laughing because she needed to save all the air she could. But when the laughter subsided and the tears started mixing with the sweat on her flushed face, she felt the lowest she had felt all day knowing she had failed to do something as simple as preventing herself from crying.
After several excruciating minutes of crawling, Tifa had reached a barstool and hoisted herself up. She used what little energy she had left to snatch her glove and recite the incantation and almost immediately felt the restorative properties of the spell course through her body and return her functions back to their baseline. She still felt a little wobbly; she was using Chakra too often and its healing properties weakened with each subsequent use.
Perhaps it wasn't that Chakra was getting weaker but, rather, each panic attack she had was getting worse.
Tifa had considered seeing a therapist for a while, but ended up deciding against it. She couldn’t risk Cloud, Barret, and the others finding out, even though she ended up finding a pretty good one in Kalm away from inquisitive eyes and ears. But there’d be no way for her to justify going to Kalm or leaving the Sector so often, period. She would eventually be caught, and she certainly couldn’t tell them the truth. I’m overworked, overstressed, chronically anxious, and have a perpetual need to be everything to everyone at all times, so I needed to talk to a shrink about it? Just thinking about the truth of the situation made Tifa sick to her stomach. So she rejected reality and found ways to deal with the consequences of her stress mismanagement, just like she always did. She knew what to do.
She looked at herself in the mirrors behind the bar. A ghastly, unrecognizable face stared back.
It was almost 12:30 and Cloud would be home soon. He made sure that Wednesdays were his short delivery days as it was really the only day he and Tifa could actually spend time during daylight hours during the week together. The routine would consist of him coming home around lunchtime to a meal already waiting for him and her to share. They always ate the same thing on Wednesdays: a traditional Nibelheim stew his mother used to make him with fresh preiselbeere juice. Tifa thanked the Gods that she always made the stew the night before and, for whatever reason, she had the foresight to press the juice first thing that morning instead of right before he got home because she certainly wouldn’t have had time. She was currently working on how not to look like shit for her husband because looking like shit meant questions would be asked. Questions asked meant she would have to be evasive. Evasiveness meant stress.
“Stress, bad,” she said before draining a Mega Potion bottle.
She hid the bottle in the bottom of the trash then ran upstairs to their apartment to warm the stew and take a quick shower, praying she still had enough time. Once freshly bathed and dressed, she looked the bathroom mirror to evaluate herself. She smiled widely, a fake, saccharine smile. It was the smile that everyone had grown used to by now and Tifa wondered if she used it enough if she could grow used to it, too.
She made her way into the kitchen, trying to still her heart over the sight of a few dust bunnies in a corner, and looked at the clock. 1:20. Tifa frowned. Cloud should have been home by now, but it actually wasn’t that big of a deal since she still needed to set the table. That only took her a few minutes though and, when it was nearly 2:00 and Cloud was still not home, she was starting to become concerned.
Tifa was about to go back downstairs to the bar to get her PHS when she heard the clomping of boots up the steps. She smiled and exhaled and her heart began racing for a completely different reason than it did earlier that morning. The door to the main apartment opened and Cloud emerged. Tifa felt exalted and alive upon seeing his face, but that wasn’t really entirely accurate. She felt reborn. Every time Cloud left her, she died a little inside, and every time he returned to her, she felt as if she were reborn.
“Hi,” said Cloud.” His voice vibrated deep down in her bones. His hair was a complete windblown mess and his cheeks red. Tifa guessed he rushed here on Fenrir and didn’t wear a helmet as usual. She felt like scolding him, but she’d save it for another time. Right now, she just wanted to kiss him. “How was your day?”
Tifa plastered on That Smile again before closing the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly before kissing him deeply. They kissed for several moments before she could feel Cloud pulling back slightly. Tifa noticed he had items in both hands.
“Fine!” Tifa said, a little too cheerful but Cloud didn’t notice the difference. “Oh…I’m sorry. I didn’t see those packages. I was just so happy to see you. Let me help.”
Tifa reached for a bag and an oddly shaped rectangular package but Cloud pulled away.
“No, it’s okay.” Cloud placed the items on the kitchen counter. He turned and looked at her for a moment and his gaze was neutral, but it still felt probing. “I got it.”
Tifa nodded and suddenly felt nervous. She cleared her throat. “Let’s eat? I’m sure you’re hungry. Especially since we’re eating a little later than usual.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Cloud as they both sat down at the table. “I had to pick up a few last minute things.” He reached over to grab one of Tifa’s hands, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Thanks for keeping it warm for me.”
“Always,” she whispered, and he brought her hand to his mouth to place a gentle kiss.
Tifa served the two of them and they ate in relative silence as they usually did. Tifa wasn’t much of a talker anymore to the point where Cloud had even commented on the scope of which she had retreated into herself. Of course, Tifa told him that he was overreacting and Cloud had promptly left it alone. She didn’t want to rebuff him to the point where he stopped caring again, but she didn’t want him to preoccupy himself with her problems. He had more important things to worry about. Like, literally anything else.
“I picked up some wine on the way home,” said Cloud. “Dunno what kind, but I figured you’d be able to tell if it’s good or not.”
He got up and grabbed the bottle from one of the satchels on the kitchen counter and handed it over to Tifa. She scanned the label and lifted one pretty eyebrow.
“Nice,” she hummed and nodded. “Costa Del Sol vintage Pinot Noir, ’62. Rare to find it anywhere around here. You did good, babe.” Cloud leaned down and kissed her nose. “Also just so happens to be my favorite of all time, so I find it hard to believe you didn’t know what kind it was.”
Cloud simply shrugged and smiled.
They were two glasses deep each before the questions started.
“So,” Cloud began, toying with the stem of his wine glass. “How’s the liaison position going?”
Beneath the burgeoning wine haze, Tifa felt that familiar stab. She swallowed hard, the process difficult due to the dry wine and her sudden nerves. She forced a shaky smile and lifted her wine glass to her mouth with an equally shaky hand that she tried desperately to control. She took a huge swig before speaking.
“Why, Mr. Strife,” Tifa said, the smile in her voice betraying how she truly felt. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk on purpose for information.”
“No Tifa,” began Cloud. His voice was quiet, gentle. “The wine has nothing to do with it. I ask because you’re my wife and I see you’re clearly troubled. Have been for a while.”
Tifa’s smile faltered. She took another drink.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Cloud.”
Cloud sighed and shook his head.
“Please, Tifa. Stop. I can’t watch you go through whatever you’re going through alone. I refuse. You don’t need to do it alone.”
“Cloud, I—“
Tifa recalled the morning’s events and her head began to spin once more. For a second time that day, she felt she was on a very dangerous precipice, this time of losing Cloud’s trust completely. How many times could she deny him the truth before he no longer cared? Why did she seem insistent on pushing away the one she loved the most?
The Gold Saucer theme song rang through the air. It was Cloud’s alarm, and he looked sheepishly at her as he reached in his pocket and pulled his PHS out.
“Sorry,” he muttered, the mood broken.
He looked at the time and his face brightened. Cloud jumped up from the table and made his way to the kitchen counter for a second time, reaching again into the satchel and grabbing the odd, rectangular package. The rectangular package didn’t look like anything special; it was merely wrapped in brown paper and nothing else. However, what emerged from the satchel was the most beautiful bouquet of flowers that Tifa had seen in her life.
“Aerith put these together for me,” Cloud said as he presented the flowers to Tifa. “I know you think flowers are unnecessary. So do I. We didn’t even have them at our wedding. But, we have the means to get them now and…you deserve every last flower on this Planet and so much more. Still, all their beauty combined could never surpass yours.”
“Cloud…”
“And this…” He held up the package. “I’m…not very good at gift giving. I’ve never given one, to be honest. I mean, unless you count that flower I gave you when we were first reunited. But, I did some research online and they said paper is what you’re supposed to traditionally present a spouse on the first anniversary.” Cloud tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Whoever ‘they’ are.”
Tifa’s blood ran cold.
Anniversary?!
She looked at the clock on their kitchen wall and thought back to when Cloud’s alarm went off two minutes ago. Two minutes ago, it was 3:25, the exact time when they got married.
“Oh, Cloud.” Tifa immediately felt the tears.
“I don’t care if you forgot,” he said quickly. “Your devotion to me is never and will never be in question.” Cloud got down on a knee and lifted a hand to one of Tifa’s long legs, gently rubbing circles on the bare skin just above the hem of her stocking. “Anniversaries are stupid anyway. You don’t need a gift, or one specific day to celebrate your love for your spouse. It’s just…I haven’t been so good at expressing my feelings for a long time and I wanted to do this. I didn’t really expect or want anything in return.” Tifa felt his hand still, then slowly slide up her thigh, barely ghosting her skin. “I don’t care if you never remember our anniversaries. I just want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Cloud placed a gentle kiss on her kneecap.
“Du meine seele, du mein herz,” he whispered in their mother tongue, his breath searing her skin.
Tifa closed her eyes and let the tears flow freely.
“Du meine welt, in der ich lebe,” Cloud continued, his hand moving higher. “Don’t you understand? You are my world in which I live. Now and forever.”
His hand suddenly moved from the anterior of Tifa’s thigh to the interior, pushing her skirt up. Tifa just barely spread her legs and felt his long fingers toy with the elastic of her panties. She realized she had been holding her breath for quite a while and she felt completely exhausted from the rapid emotional shifts she’d been experiencing all day, but she still felt nothing but unabashed pleasure flow freely through her veins and waited for Cloud’s next move.
He pulled away. Tifa audibly exhaled in a mix of gratitude and frustration.
Cloud grabbed the nearly forgotten mystery package and sat back on his haunches, holding the item towards Tifa. He grinned his crooked, boyish grin that Tifa surmised he would have until the end of his days.
“Your gift.”
She took it without hesitation and opened it. Inside the bland parchment wrapping was a beautiful custom frame housing an expensive looking piece of paper. Tifa looked closer at the paper and could see ornate calligraphy and musical notes: it was sheet music. Her brow furrowed for a moment, then her eyes widened and stung sharply. She closed them tightly as she sobbed and she clutched the frame to her chest. Cloud rubbed her affectionately and silently as she released her emotions.
“Oh, Cloud,” she whispered when she could finally speak. “This is the song my father wrote for my mother about the Titaness Theia, her namesake, and Hyperion. This was impossible for me to find!”
“You’d be surprised what an insomniac with a lot of time in between deliveries near Nibelheim can accomplish. A copy was tucked in a random book in Brian’s library. It was pretty worn, but it was legible enough to be copied.”
“But…” Tifa felt the guilt wash over her and she wiped her tears. She didn’t like the idea of Cloud spending time there, with all of the bad memories. “I don’t like you going there. Especially for my sake.”
“Stop.” He stood up and kissed her, full and deep on the lips. "Du bist vom Himmel mir beschieden. You come to me from heaven. You are my heaven. My final, my only heaven.”
He kissed her again, this time a little deeper. Tifa felt herself grow hot.
“My heaven, my angel. My sun, moon, and stars, all rolled into one. How could one mortal man be so lucky? What did I do to deserve you?”
Cloud returned to his knees. Tifa watched in silence as he lifted a small stockinged foot almost reverently to his mouth and kissed it.
“Let me devote the rest of my life thanking you for making me the luckiest man on the Planet.”
He gently removed the frame from Tifa’s hands and set it on the table. Cloud wrapped his arms around her waist and stood, scooping her into his arms.
“Let’s go to the bedroom.”