Disclaimer: I do NOT own ANY part of Final Fantasy VII in any way, shape, or form. I own nothing!

A/N: Hello! So this is another addition to my FFVII series but reading my previous works isn't essential, especially since this one will be a little different than the others. It will basically be a story about Cloud and Tifa confronting the challenges of everyday life but with some very FFVII type…twists along the way. After all, how normal can their lives really be? I'm going to stick to canon events as much as possible, so prepare for angst, Jenova cells, fluff, and Materia!

The point of view and chapter length will change and vary from one chapter to the next but since this story focuses on Cloud and Tifa, most of the chapters will be from their point of view. Enjoy!

Overlapping Melodies

Chapter 1:

TIFA

It's dark and I'm angry. Initially, I'd been sad, devastated but it had transformed into rage so fast it almost gave me whiplash.

Sephiroth… Soldier… Shinra… Mako reactor…

Green. Everything is green and smells like smoke, sulfur, and death… The world around me looks sick…but perhaps that's because I feel sick.

The sword, still lathered in crimson, the blood of the innocent…

Father's blood…

It is long, too long and I don't know how to wield it properly. I'm off balance but I don't care. It can still do its job, it can still do what I want it to do, what I need it to do.

I hate it. I hate it all!

Running. Continuous running up so many hard, hollow steps. Metal vibrating through every pore as I run, surrounded by dull, red piping… Slanted yellow and black strips, lining the way, screaming at me: Caution.

They know. This isn't a fight I should be picking. This is a fight I can't win.

I don't listen.

Pods full of monsters, gleaming turquoise lights shining through their circular windows, windows for scientists to look in, not for the monsters to look out…

Stairs. So many stairs... The shallow thud of my footsteps on metal, ringing in perfect synchronization with the empty, wrathful heartbeat in my ears…

Sephiroth…

Green eyes glowing, glowering but not with anger… Strangely, he looks more humored than anything, entertained by my pathetic display, my pathetic attempt at slaughtering him. Him of all people! His eyes laugh at me but the laughter never resonates, never manifests in the physical world.

Mako eyes flash with amusement only for a moment before swift, pale blue steel swipes up and across…

The sword follows his instruction much better than it had followed mine.

Pain. Bright and hot across my chest, a swift, clean laceration that sent me reeling back in a beautifully tragic arc…

Falling, falling, falling…

Metal roars and bellows as I tumble down, the sound deep, shaking, vibrating, rattling through my spine, through my skull, down through my ribs.

And then it's still. Then it's quiet and there's nothing left but pain and the cool caress of the hard, burgundy flooring beneath me, floor I am staining crimson, stains that will go unnoticed on such a dark, foreboding floor…

Cloud…

I wake up with a start, my faded scars itching.

I honestly can't remember the last time I had one of these nightmares. It's been a long time but I can't say that I've missed them. There are some things that I don't ever want to revisit but I can never leave them behind completely. They follow me as a reminder and I guess I should be grateful for that. I don't need to be blinded or forget what I've suffered through and what I've done. I've convinced myself that these memories and sins will pave the way for a brighter future. It's one of the things that have kept me going over the years.

Sighing and pushing the pain away, I glance over my shoulder to the weight on the other side of the bed. Cloud's still asleep, lying on his stomach, his arms folded under his beautifully blonde head. He looks so peaceful…but I can still remember when he even looked tormented in his sleep and a part of me will probably hold those memories forever too.

Sometimes it's still hard for me to accept that he is really here. Despite how long it's been since he moved into my room and gave me my ring, I still sometimes feel that he will disappear in a puff of smoke if I touch him, and because of that, sometimes I don't touch him.

I think I could live forever and still have this insecurity in my heart. Cloud will always be this magical, illusive entity to me.

Resolving to let him sleep, I check the clock.

It's 6:47. I've overslept. I usually wake up at 5:30. That's the time I've trained myself to wake up for the past several years. It's the magic number that gives me the time I need to get everything (and everyone) up and running. I've learned that you have to allow time for delays and setbacks but that's the way I like it. I like our structured chaos. I don't think I'd know what I'd do if things actually went off without a hitch.

However, at present, I can't do anything for the overwhelming nausea I feel. It's probably just the dream messing with my nerves but I try to remember what I ate last night anyway. Nothing out of the ordinary… I cooked like I usually do. We didn't go out and I don't think any of the shipments Cloud brought in were old or from some sketchy supplier.

Maybe I'm getting sick. Shit. I can't get sick.

As I sit up and hold my face in my hands, all I can do is think of all the reasons why I can't get sick. I'm raising two preadolescents and trying to run a bar. This house/business won't run properly without me. Will it run? Sure, but not without difficulty. All the wheels would fall off before it once again became a well-oiled machine.

Even though something is clearly wrong with me, I decide to go ahead and get up and suffer through my nausea. It'll pass. I'll take my shower, make breakfast, then I'll wake up the kids and help them get ready for school. I usually try to check inventory, do some laundry, and sometimes even go to the market if I have time but I can't do that today since I overslept.

Kids…. I'll always call them that but they aren't really kids anymore. Denzel is creeping in on 14 and Marlene is 11.

My heart aches a little at the thought of them being this old. In my mind, they will always be children who need to be watched over and protected even though they are now capable of doing a lot of things without us. That doesn't keep them from trying to get out of their chores whenever the opportunity presents itself though.

By the time I make it to the bathroom, I'm nauseous again. This time it's worse and I can't tell if it's my anxiety over the kids growing up, the remnants of my nightmare, or if I am indeed getting sick.

No. I refuse to get sick. It's not happening! Steeling my resolve yet again, I take a few more steps to the shower.

But I never get inside. Nausea overpowers me and forces me to my knees where I lose my stomach in the toilet.

I don't just get sick once or twice. No. No, I get sick three times. I probably would have puked again if there were anything left to purge. How do I know? Because I dry heave until my throat aches and burns.

"Damn it…" I groan into the toilet, my head low inside its porcelain, my back and forehead lathered with cold sweat and goosebumps.

As I sit there hugging the icy body of the toilet bowl, panting, coughing and shivering down to the very tips of my toes, I feel warm hands pulling my hair back. They pull my long black stands out of the toilet and over my shoulders until they are gliding safely down my back. Once they are out of the way, the hands move to my forehead to pull back the strands that have gotten plastered to my face with sweat.

When I finally trust myself enough to not throw up anymore, I fall onto my backside and lean against the nearest wall, my legs splayed out in front of me. Taking in a deep breath, I look over at my guest who is now standing by the sink. I can't see what he is doing from my pitiful position in the floor. I assume he is washing my puke and sweat off his hands.

I'm almost embarrassed. Almost. But when you've been through what we've been though, you can't really get embarrassed over this kind of thing. We've been through worse. Much worse. We've seen each other at our lowest.

I stare at his back, watching the muscles move and bulge under his taut, pale skin. He isn't doing anything spectacular but I honestly just like to look at him. I even like looking at his scars and trying to remember how he got all of them. The white, rectangular slivers by his shoulder and by the center of his spine are easy. Those are the ones he got from Sephiroth.

Suddenly, my old scars get itchy again and my hand gravitates to my sternum.

Cloud turns with a washrag in his hands. He kneels down in front of me and extends the offering to me.

"Put it over your mouth," he instructs matter-of-factly.

I do as I'm told and immediately feel some better. The coolness of the rag on the bottom half of my face soothes the lingering nausea.

"Thank you," I mumble through the cloth.

Cloud sits next to me and grins either at my mumbling or at my general patheticness. Probably both.

His smile fades and his face contorts with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I've probably just got some kind of bug…" I'm not sure why, but I don't mention my dream about the Nibelheim Incident and my confrontation with Sephiroth.

He nods. "We'll call Barret and he can take Marlene and Denzel for the weekend. They're overdue for a visit anyway."

I want to say no. I want to say that he is overreacting. I want to insist that this is a fluke and that I am fine but I honestly can't do that. I don't know how sick I am and I probably shouldn't risk it. My body is clearly trying to tell me something.

Cloud reaches out and touches my forehead. "You don't feel feverish."

I shrug, still holding the cool rag to my mouth. "You should keep your distance, just in case."

He sits with me a little longer before he gets up and heads for the door. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna wake up the kids."

Funny. He still calls them 'the kids' too.

I'm glad that Cloud gets to wrestle with Denzel and his desire to stay in bed. Marlene is a little easier to stir but getting Denzel out of bed on time is challenging. However, Denzel is always more inclined to listen to Cloud. Cloud doesn't put his foot down that much but when he does, they know he means business. They respect him, which is good. We'll need that respect if we want to get through the pending teenage years.

My head hurts now. It's heavy like lead and I find myself staying on the cool tile of the floor with the washcloth Cloud gave me pressed firmly against my mouth. I'm kind of afraid to move.

"Tifa…"

I look over and see Marlene standing in the doorway, looking at me with concerned eyes.

I can still remember the very first time I held her. I remember Barret handing her to me. I remember how overwhelmed and weary he looked and I remember vowing to help them always. I've loved her as if she were my own ever since.

She's a little taller now but her eyes still shine with gentle innocence and she still wears her hair in a long braid that now glides down her back and a pink ribbon in her hair. Her style, which consists mainly of dresses and boots, is not unlike Aerith's and I would be lying if I said Marlene didn't remind me of Aerith from time to time.

"Don't come in," I heed. "I don't want you catching anything I might have."

"Cloud said not to bother you," she whispers and glances around the corner to make sure he isn't nearby to witness her disobedience. "But I wanted to see if you were okay. Do you need anything?"

"I'll be fine. Just get ready for school."

"Are you sure? I can stay home and take care of you if you need me to…" Marlene has always been attentive (especially after Cloud left us) and it definitely hasn't ebbed with age.

I pull the cloth from my mouth and smile. "No. It's okay."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Marlene bobs her head and reluctantly leaves after giving me another quick glance.

I must look horrible. The way she looked at me like I was a wounded animal says a lot. Maybe I'm worse off than I think.

Eventually I rise to my wobbly feet and head to the sink. Once there, I bend my head down and start rinsing my mouth out and brushing my teeth. As I do so, I hear the harmony that occurs whenever Denzel and Cloud's timbre and baritones mix.

Good. At least Cloud was able to wake him up. Now I won't have to worry about them being late.

Once I finish brushing my teeth, I go back to bed. Despite how much I want to fulfill my typical morning routine, I feel horrible and my body isn't giving me much choice.

After lying there a while, I grab my phone and call Barret.

He answers after three rings. "Yo. What's goin' on?"

"I'm sick."

"No shit. Ya sound awful."

"Thank you." I ooze sarcasm.

"Hell, I didn't mean nothin' by it! I'm just sayin' I can hear it over the phone."

"Good to know. Anyway, I need a favor."

"What ya need?"

"I may need you to take the kids this weekend until I get better. You know, just in case."

"No problem. We can meet up at the usual halfway point if they want."

Barret stayed in Corel after everything settled down, after Sephiroth and even after Deepground. He said he was trying to settle his past but that became a lengthy venture, lengthy to the point that he just decided to stay there. Then, it was basically like having joint custody. Barret would visit on weekends or take Marlene and even Denzel to Costa del Sol or his home in Corel. And holidays/vacations were done together.

I'm still not entirely sure why Barret hasn't pushed to have Marlene more. I've just always assumed that he felt that we needed her and that she obtained a stability with us that he didn't want to disrupt.

"Okay. I'll talk to them about it and see what they want to do. I may be better later so we'll just have to wait and see." I throw an arm over my eyes, hoping it will lessen the pounding in my head.

"Alright. Let me know if ya need anythin'."

"Thanks, Barret…" I mumble as I end the call and curl up in a ball.

I hear the noises downstairs. I hear everyone talking. I hear dishes rattling around and I really want to get up and help but I just can't. I'm not really that nauseous anymore but I am…exhausted, which isn't necessary new. I've been fighting my mounting fatigue for a while now (longer than I care to admit) and I'm obviously paying the price for it.

I'm just glad Cloud isn't really the gloating type because he's been telling me for weeks that I needed to take some time off. Me getting sick is proof that he was right so I wouldn't be surprised if I got a big fat I-told-you-so soon.

At some point I must have fallen asleep because when I open my eyes again, Cloud is sitting on the edge of the bed next to me.

"How long was I out?" I ask as I slowly sit upright.

"'Bout thirty minutes," he says calmly.

"Did you get them out of the house on time?"

"I think so." He rubs at the back of his neck. "Feeling any better?"

"A little. I'm mainly tired now."

He nods.

"When are you leaving?"

He raises a brow at me. "I'm not."

"You've got deliveries to make. Don't tell me that you don't. I know you do," I say sternly.

"Making sure you're okay is more important." Cloud shrugs a shoulder.

"I'll get you sick," I warn.

He scoffs and a half-smirk blooms across his face. "I doubt it."

Yes, the experiments on him and his altered genetic makeup did leave him with an incredible immune system. He rarely gets sick but he is still capable of getting sick. He's been sick before. I can count the times he's succumbed to normal illness on one hand but still!

Tired of this debate going nowhere and just tired in general, I roll my eyes and lie back down.

"Do you need anything?" he asks, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"No. I'm good." My eyes close and I feel him gently brush some of my hair away from my face before his weight shifts off the bed and his footsteps retreat.

When I wake up the third time, I feel much better. Like, a lot better! Like I-was never sick-at-all better. In fact, I'm starving.

I crawl out of bed and head down to the bar in search of food, my bare feet slapping against the hardwood and tile of our strange, little home.

Shifting from foot to foot, I try to find something that looks good. I need something gentle, something that won't be harsh on my stomach. Sure, I feel better but that doesn't mean that I should go crazy.

Soup. I could probably handle some soup. Yeah. That actually sounds pretty darn good. Maybe crackers?

Hmm…

As I start sorting through our supply and putting my dish together, I wonder where Cloud is. He's probably in the garage making phone calls or playing with Fenrir.

Not too long after my room became his room too, Cloud's office became Denzel's room. Denzel reached the age where he no longer wanted to share a room with Marlene, something that had hurt her feelings initially. We had to explain that it was nothing personal. Denzel was just growing up and wanted his own space and that one day she would want hers too.

So we moved all of Cloud's office supplies to the garage where he could work in peace and moved all of Denzel's things into what had been Cloud's office. Which is how we got to the living arrangement we have now.

"Tifa?"

"In here!" I call, amazed that he has already picked up on the fact that I'm out of bed.

Cloud enters the bar looking completely flabbergasted. "Are you…cooking?"

"Yeah. I'm hungry. Do you want anything?"

His expression doesn't change. If anything, the confused wrinkles in his forehead deepen.

"No…" he says lowly.

"I'm feeling a lot better but don't worry. I'm not gonna push it," I insist as I continue seasoning the pot of soup that has started to boil.

Cloud nods and eases onto one of the barstools.

He's in a white t-shirt and jeans. It's one of my favorite looks on him. His casual attire is very appealing to me simply because he's usually clad in lots of layers of black.

Sometimes I swear this man has gotten even more attractive with age. For the longest time I swore that he actually got better looking while suffering from Geostigma.

I'd be lying if I said that didn't make me a little…self-conscious. Of course, Cloud had been a constant test of my confidence since I found him wandering around the Sector 7 train station lost and confused. Little did I know then that things would only get worse before they got better. Much worse.

Don't go back there, Tifa. You promised you wouldn't.

I wonder if I've aged as gracefully as he has. I sometimes wonder if all the S cells and Mako slowed down his aging too. How could I not think that when he still looks the way he does? However, I do see differences. His face isn't quite as round. It's slightly more sunken and chiseled. He's also picked up weight. He isn't as thin as he was after his bout of Geostigma, but he is still what I'd consider long and lean yet well muscled.

He's also a little…scruffier today. I'm assuming he didn't bother to shave since he currently sports a little pale stubble on his chin and jaw. It was barely noticeable, casting only a very faint shadow along his powerful jawline but it's still there nonetheless. He almost always shaves though. He always says he hates the feeling of facial hair.

His blonde hair, while still spiky, isn't quite as spiky as it was when we were younger. It has dulled with age, mellowed out with his demeanor but it is still arguably his most identifiable feature.

One thing that hasn't changed over the years, are his eyes. Those beautiful glowing eyes have not dulled a bit. They still cut through darkness like a beacon and glow with an intensity that makes my breath hitch in my throat. Even when he is looking at me with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, those eyes manage to glow the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever witnessed. In my personal opinion, no ocean or skyline is prettier than the stunning, unique blue of Cloud Strife's eyes.

Those eyes follow me around the room now but with worry and intense scrutiny as I cook. Yet he says nothing.

"I can hear you thinking," I say, my eyes not leaving my soup.

I feel his smirk against my back.

"You always do."

We are nothing if not in tune with one another now. Our time in the Lifestream was no doubt responsible for that but years of living together and putting our lives back together with two young children had attributed a lot too. At this point, it came as easily as breathing but I'll never take it for granted because I still remember what it was like to be completely at a loss when it came to Cloud.

"I just don't want you overdoing it. That's all."

I can't see him but I hear him tapping at the countertop. He's anxious.

I finish making the soup and sit next to him. We sit in contented silence as I eat.

I'm 27 and I still love just being near him. I love it as much as I did when I was 18. The quiet used to bother me. I used to think it meant that he didn't want to talk to me but I've learned that sometimes, this is how he wants it, that we can enjoy the quiet together. It is one of his unique ways of showing that he enjoys being with me and there is a strange intimacy that accompanies these quiet moments together now that I understand them. Just being near me is enough for him and the mere thought of that is heartwarming.

He watches me eat and steals a few of my crackers.

"I think you should go back to bed," he says as soon as the last of the soup goes into my mouth. I don't even have time to blink. He is already taking the bowl away and putting it in the sink.

Spoon still in hand, I glare at his back. For a second, I seriously consider throwing it at him.

I feel fine. I don't want to go back to bed. I've been in bed all day and I think I'll go stir crazy if I just lie there.

"I'm fine. I promise I'll take it easy."

I can tell by the tightness in his mouth that he doesn't like my answer.

"I'll lay back down if I start feeling bad. Okay?" I add in an attempt to reach some kind of compromise.

That seems to pacify him even though I can tell he still isn't crazy about the thought of me being up. He doesn't trust me. He knows that I'll probably do too much if I am given the opportunity and I'll admit that he isn't wrong. If I'm honest, my overdoing it is probably why I got sick in the first place.

"Did you talk to Barret?" I decide to change the subject completely.

"Yeah. We talked it out with the kids. I'm gonna take them to meet him once they get back." He begins washing my now empty soup bowl.

I nod but before I can say anything else on the matter, the front door opens and I hear the familiar clatter of backpacks hitting the floor. Seconds later, Denzel is approaching the bar with Marlene on his heels.

He eyes me curiously and waves meekly once he deduces that I am lucid and not in the throws of fever.

He's getting tall too and his growth is much more obvious than Marlene's. He's rounded features are starting to give way to more a more angular appearance and he is almost twice the size he was when Cloud crossed the bar's threshold with him unconscious in his arms. I'll never forget the sight of that little boy curling up in agony as black ooze leaked down his face from the Geostigma wound on his head.

There were times I honestly thought he wouldn't live past the tender age of 9. He'd been so sick but now he is a tall and lanky 13-year-old. His physique honestly reminds me a lot of Cloud's when he was around his age. I can't help but swell with pride at the sight of him. I'm proud he's grown this old but it also hurts some. He probably won't need us much longer. When Cloud was around his age, he'd already left to join SOLDIER.

"You any better?" Denzel asks and he looks genuinely concerned. Worry rests in the creases of his eyes and I know that he is probably thinking of all the caretakers he had before Cloud found him that died of Geostigma.

"Much better. How was school?"

He rolls his deep blue eyes. "Fine, I guess. As good as school can be."

If it were up to Denzel and Marlene, we'd still be homeschooling them. But when Reeve and the WRO finally got schools up and running in Edge, Cloud and I agreed that it would be best for them. They disagreed but we eventually won that particular argument.

Marlene elaborates about her day a bit and Denzel complains about how much homework he has. Cloud simply tells him to take it with him to Corel so he can work on it over the weekend. Denzel makes a face, wrinkling up his handsome features before he goes to his room to pack.

Marlene stays with us a bit longer, asking me questions about my mystery illness. She's clearly still concerned and determined to diagnose me to the point that she seems reluctant to leave. She even offers to get some medicine from the new pharmacy in town but I (of course) insist that it isn't necessary and that the home remedies we have around the house will suffice.

"Do you ever think it's hard for them to take us seriously? You know, because we're so much younger?" I ask Cloud once we're alone again.

Going to the school and school-related functions was always an interesting experience. We are usually half the age of the other parents, which gets me a lot of looks and underhanded, snarky remarks. They either think I had Denzel at the tender age of 12 or that I'm the worst choice of adoptive parent ever. They might be right about the latter. Cloud and I were in a dark place when we brought him into our lives but there is no going back now. Just like with Marlene, we'd needed him and he'd needed us. Cloud even thought Aerith meant him for us and I still believe that he was right. Taking in Denzel helped us to cope with our role in what happened to Sector 7.

Cloud shrugged. "Maybe. But I think they've turned out okay."

"It's gonna get harder…" I whisper and take a few sips of the water he has shoved my way. "They're gonna want to start doing…teenage things…"

He grimaces.

"We'll have to have the talk… Well, another talk. I know you've already talked to him about some of the…guy things." It's my turn to grimace. Denzel isn't supposed to do guy things or even know about guy things. This parenting stuff was a lot easier when they were wide-eyed and innocent. Then again, they'd both been through a lot so they weren't as innocent as most children but I always thought it was appropriate since we were significantly damaged and broken ourselves.

"I'll handle Denzel just please, for the love of all that is Holy, don't make me talk to Marlene about…girl things…"

I laugh and shake my head. "We're in over our heads."

"Probably but we've been through worse."

He's right. We've been through a lot worse. We've saved the Planet three times if you count Sephiroth's return and the Deepground conflict. Not to mention all the emotional turmoil and relationship issues we had to battle through.

If we could get through all that, surely we could get through Denzel and Marlene's teenage years.

The thought of them actually getting through those years makes me wonder what we'll do once they're grown. What will we do when they want to move out? We'll have an empty nest in our thirties!

I suppose we could adopt again. We'd talked about that a few times in the past. We'd even talked about fostering but I can't think about any of that now. I won't have to worry about any of that for a while. I need to focus on enjoying what we have now…and on getting rid of this weird stomach bug so I won't have to call Yuffie in to help run the bar tomorrow.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading!

Oh, Tifa! You have no idea what's coming your way! Ignorance truly is bliss…for now! He-he!

Anyway! I'm probably crazy for starting another story this soon but I was honestly pretty excited to start this one. I've had this idea for a while and I haven't seen that many post-relationship Cloud and Tifa stories out there so here we are! This work will be what I see as the next step in the FFVII universe. It will consist of short stories and drabbles but there will be a running plot. And like I said before, this is a somewhat-sequel to my previous FFVII works but it should still be newcomer friendly. However, it probably wouldn't hurt to read the others since there will be similar themes, topics, and all that jazz. But I digress!

Thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!