A/N: The idea to write this story came to me after hearing Tracy Chapman's song 'Fast Car'. It reminded me of Cloud and Tifa for some reason or another and I couldn't get them out of my head. This is the first time I've written anything so I was excited to give fanfiction a shot.

Feedback is always welcomed. I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 1: SIGNS OF SPRING

"Clap hands, clap hands 'till Papa comes home! Without him I feel oh, so alone! I want to see him comin' on the wagon way! So he can rest his feet and play with me all day!"

Tifa Lockhart sat at the kitchen table, snacking on apple slices and swinging her feet in time to her little song. Watching Mama baking bread at the wood stove was only fun for so long and she was growing restless. The mountain winter had been long and the bitter cold kept everyone inside for the better part of five months—much too long for any adventurous child to bear. Now the days were getting longer and the smell of thawing earth was irresistible to the young girl.

"Mama, may I please go outside? I want to play in my sand pit!"

Mama shook her head as she continued to work her mixing bowl, "Hmm, I don't know. It's still chilly outside, love. "

Tifa slumped in her chair, pressing her cheek to the table top. She wouldn't get sick, she was a big girl. Papa always said so—she was four years old after all! Tifa was tired of playing with her doll, tired of looking at her picture books and even tired of playing with the little wooden horse Papa had carved for her. She almost didn't remember what it was like to play outside—it had been so, so long!

Mama's long dark hair swayed as she turned to look over her shoulder and sighed, "Oh, alright. Fetch your jacket and your hat."

Spirit renewed, the little girl straightened and grinned. Tifa popped the last apple slice from into her mouth, slid the chair back from the table and hopped down to run for the foyer closet. She hurriedly pulled her arms through the sleeves while Mama worked at the brass buttons, bouncing in excitement. Shoes on and hat securely on her head she raced away.

"Thank you, Mama!" she called as the screen porch door banged shut behind her. The cool air felt good on her cheeks and she laughed with the excitement of freedom from the confines of the house. There was still snow on the sand pile and Tifa was displeased to find the sand underneath was heavy and wet. Disappointed, she wandered to the old oak tree on the far side of the yard.

Hanging from a low branch was the tire swing Papa had made for her last summer. She was too little to mount the swing, and Papa said she mustn't try to climb on it herself, so she settled on pushing the tire and watching it rock to and fro. The rope was taut and stiff from the bitter cold of winter, but the rising temperatures of mid-March made were beginning to loosen the fibers. Papa would be home soon and he could push her higher and higher!

... ... ...

Cloud sunk further into the worn wool blanket he had pulled from his bed. He felt dizzy and tired, but insisted on remaining perched on the window seat in his bedroom. It was much better to watch the birds fly across the grey sky than to lie in bed with nothing to see except the cracks in the uneven ceiling. A spot of color and motion drew his blue eyes downward and into the neighboring yard. He let out a breath as he watched Tifa race around the yard before stopping to dig in her sand pit. Cloud wanted to play, too. But he felt shy and sick.

He inhaled slowly and his chest felt tight. His lungs were always weak, Mom said. She told him it was because he was born too early and his lungs didn't have time to get strong. When he wondered why he got sick so often, she'd tell him his body was weak because it wasn't ready to be born when it was. Cloud wondered how such a thing could happen and when he asked, Mom would just smile and tell him it was because she was so excited to meet him that he came out of her belly early.

That made him feel happy—there weren't too many people he knew who got excited to see him. Sometimes the lady at the dry goods store would smile at him until he felt his cheeks heat up and he'd hide his face in his mother's side. Mrs. Lockhart next door would tell him he was a handsome little man before giving him a cookie and patting his head. One time, the milk man had tipped his hat to Cloud as he sat on the front step next to the empty glass bottles. Cloud was back inside before the man got close enough to speak to him.

Although he was little, he knew that people looked away when Mom held his hand and they walked about the town. When Cloud asked her why that was so, she'd given him a funny look and said, "Sometimes people don't know what to do when they see us without Daddy."

He looked in her eyes and nodded, but did not understand.

To him, daddy was a shadow in the part of his memory where everything blurred and faded. A deep voice and large hands that would throw him up into the air and catch him again. Daddy was a lump in the bed that stayed very still in the dim candlelight. Daddy was in the big wooden box with flowers of pink and white and yellow on top. Cloud shifted to rest his feverish head on the window, closing his eyes at the comfort of the cool glass. It made his head hurt to try to remember things so far away and fuzzy in his mind. It wasn't important, anyway.

What difference did it make if he was here or not?

His eyes felt laden with sleep and he wasn't sure how long he had closed them before the familiar creak, creak of Tifa's tire swing reached his ears. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards and warmth flooded his chest as he watched the raven haired girl push the tire and twirl it so that it spun and spun.

Tifa was always excited to see him never turned her face away or pretended she didn't notice when he looked her way. She told him he was a nice boy and always knew just what game to play. Cloud would get so nervous when she'd tug his arm to lead him away or grasp his hands to teach him how to clap to a nursery rhyme. He spent so much time alone that he didn't always know how to play with someone with boundless energy and an unlimited imagination. Often times, he'd find himself growing breathless from the exertion of a romp around through the grass on Tifa's hobby horse or after chasing the old leather ball around the yard.

Cloud liked it much better when she was content to sit in the sand pit with him or play with the colored marbles on the Lockhart's back porch. It was easier on his body, but he couldn't let her know that. If she knew he was weak and sick, maybe she wouldn't want to be his friend anymore. And oh, how he wanted to be good enough to be her friend! He didn't know what he would ever do if she became one of those people who ignored him as he passed her on the street. He swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought. It was getting hard to fight the heaviness of his eyes as he watched Tifa bounce around the side of her house and disappear from sight. Exhaustion overtook him and he slipped into a gentle sleep, slumped against the window.

... ... ...

The clip-clop of horse hooves on the cobblestone of town square made Tifa gasp with excitement: Papa was home! She raced around the front of the house and through the open gate to greet her father. Mr. Hansen's old mare, Dot, slowed to a stop in front of the Lockhart house, happy for rest from the heavy load she'd been pulling. Wood and assorted other wares were piled high onto a wagon.

"Papa!" Tifa cried with a grin as her father climbed off the wagon and bent to scoop his daughter into his arms.

"There's my little sweet pea!" Brian Lockhart laughed as he tickled Tifa under her arms.

Mrs. Lockhart appeared at after hearing the commotion, leaning on the door frame and wiping her hands on her apron. She smiled as her husband blew a raspberry on Tifa's cheek, earning a giggle from the little girl.

"It's about time!" she teased. "You had me worried! " Brian swung Tifa onto his hip before grinning at his wife and closing the space between them.

"It wouldn't have taken half as long if I wasn't so afraid to come home to your cooking!" he teased. His wife gasped in mock offense before claiming his lips with her own. Mr. Hansen cleared his throat from his perch on the wagon and Brian grinned sheepishly.

"Lia, I'll be in after I unload some of the lumber into my woodshop." He handed Tifa off to his wife before turning to help Mr. Hansen take armfuls of cedar and pine planks to the back door. Tifa bounced in her mother's arms when she was taken inside and smelled the aroma of her mother's vegetable soup. Spring was coming which meant long walks in the woods with Papa, planting the garden with Mama, and warm days in the sun with Cloud!

Cloud fascinated Tifa: her reclusive neighbor with unruly golden hair and pretty blue eyes that reminded her of the open sky. The boy who never looked like he wanted to play but always did when he was asked. He reminded her of the squirrels she would feed with Mama during the long winter months. While sitting in the snow filled yard with stale bread in her hands, Mama had explained to Tifa that if she set out a path of food and then sat very, very still, the animals may even eat out of her hands! It had filled her with such a thrill when a little squirrel hesitantly took the hunk of bread from her plump little hand. Cloud was quiet and flighty, but if you were patient, he'd come if you waited long enough. Every time it filled Tifa with that same sort of thrill.

Content with the thoughts of all the fun to be had, Tifa let herself be carried inside.