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

A/N: Hello! This is a canon drabble/one-shot made up of some of the additional, mature content from Harmonies for the Haunted that didn't make it into the story itself. It's basically an extended cut of the flashback in Chapter 17 (Part XVII) that I wrote for the readers interested in naughtier content. That said, this is rated M for a reason! It takes place almost immediately after Final Fantasy VII (WAY before On the Way to a Smile and Advent Children). It probably isn't required that you read Harmonies for the Haunted before tackling this but it is DEFINITELY recommended since this will follow that story's rules, interpretations, implications, etc. Anyway! Enjoy!

Harmonies for the Haunted:

Hollow Hymns

"It sounds plausible enough tonight, but wait until tomorrow.

Wait for the common sense of the morning."

- H.G. Wells

Rain had begun coming down heavily as he made his way through Sector 8 towards the fountain where he was supposed to be meeting up with Tifa and Barret. It wasn't a gentle rain. This was a powerful storm with bits of hail in it. Luckily, he'd managed to finish most of his tasks for the day before the storm hit.

During the day, Cloud, Barret, and Tifa busied themselves by helping out around Midgar. They'd split up to help with communication, to get the needed materials from one place to the next. It sounded simple, but after Meteor, that kind of thing became really important, critical in fact. They were key to rebuilding lives and homes.

It wasn't much, but it kept them busy, which was a good thing. They had to stay occupied to keep the past, their sins, and their guilt away. Barret said that they should live on and give back, pay back for all they'd done. If that was what it took to be forgiven, then Cloud would do everything in his power to do it, but living and giving was much easier said than done.

It was probably one of the oddest points in his life. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. He had a new start. He could finally have a new life. There was promise. There were opportunities, but he (and probably Tifa and Barret too) had no idea how to go about seizing any of that.

Walking against angry sheets of rain, Tifa made her way towards him.

"Where's Barret?" she called over the pounding rain and the crackling of hail popping on hard cement. He couldn't help but notice that she didn't smile at him.

Like him, Tifa had to be kept occupied so she wouldn't dwell on things and depress herself. He was a victim of this type of behavior. It was nothing new to him. That was who he was, but that wasn't who Tifa was.

It was painful to see her like this. So, he would often do everything he could to lift her spirits, to bring the old Tifa back. He needed her, and he tried to encourage her to remember who she really was whenever he could.

It was strange. Their roles had temporarily reversed. He was now the one urging her on. He'd kept playing the role of noble leader even though Tifa and Barret were all that was left of his party. He'd stay strong for them. He kept fighting his mounting, negative feelings. He kept pushing their group forward even though he didn't know the destination any more than they did, but he had to push on for something. If he didn't, he would get down, and he wouldn't be able to get back up.

Of course, Tifa never stopped being his support system, but she was different now that it was all over. She was troubled, but Cloud challenged anyone to find someone nowadays who wasn't.

Cloud caught himself putting all his plans for the future into Tifa. Hell, he was just dependent on her in general at this volatile point in his life, during this period of uncertainty. He'd told himself and even her that he would be able to get through all this because of her. If he had her, everything else would fall into place, somehow. He could get that new life that he'd always wanted. He was going to live and by living, he would be forgiven.

They had convinced themselves that all they needed was each other. They were all that they had, and being together would somehow make everything okay. It was an immature, naïve notion, but Cloud was just desperate enough to believe it.

"I haven't seen him since we split up this morning." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards one of the many deserted buildings nearby. "Don't worry about it. We'll call and meet up with him tomorrow. He probably wasn't going to come back tonight anyway."

Their rendezvous point was underneath a plate that had been dubbed dangerous. It was basically their home at the moment. Even though it was rumored to be on the verge of collapse, they slept under it every night. However, there were days when they would get sent out of town or wouldn't make it back to the plate before it got dark. So they would have to stay the night elsewhere. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence with all the running around they did to help what remained of Midgar's population.

With all the rain and the intensity of this particular storm, Cloud doubted he and Tifa would be making it back to their plate anytime soon.

They searched several crumbling buildings nearby and eventually found an abandoned apartment of sorts. It wasn't much to look at, but it had a bed and a busted TV stacked on top of a bunch of broken crates. More importantly, it was dry.

To keep from getting pneumonia, they stripped down to their underwear and tried to air dry. Cloud wasn't sure when what remained of their modesty finally flew out the door (probably under the Highwind), but any and all forms of modesty were non-existent now. It suddenly seemed…trivial. There were much worse things, after all.

As soon as he sat on the bed, his eyes glazed over, and he was immediately lost in the thick, muck lurking inside his head.

It was worse at night. It was worse when it was quiet, when he finished all his little goals for the day. His days were so busy that he didn't have time to think about…things, but once everything slowed down, it got harder. It was harder when there was nothing left, but his thoughts, his regrets, his sadness, and his pain.

Cloud had accepted a while back that he just wasn't normal. He just didn't function like a normal human being, so it wasn't that surprising when he didn't grieve like a normal person. He suppressed things. He bottled it up and pushed it down and down and down hoping that it would lessen, subside, or dissolve, but it never did. It just stayed inside him and festered.

It had to come to a head sometime, though. Right? It would catch up with him eventually. For Tifa, it had been when they'd gone back to the Forgotten City before everyone split up and went their separate ways. She'd fallen to her knees and cried and cried…and cried.

After his second round of Mako poisoning, after he'd retrieved most of the pieces of his former self, emotions were even harder than they'd been before.

He always had a cap on his emotions. They could never make it past his exterior even though they were very much alive inside of him. He felt them now.

Now that the day is slowing down…

Now that my thoughts have the chance to rally together and get louder…

He felt a hand graze across his cheek and flow into his hair.

Cloud looked up to see Tifa gazing down at him with eyes that reflected his own silent sadness, his regrets.

He didn't want to be seen this way. Tifa needed his strength now more than ever, and he didn't want her to see him without any, but once it started, it couldn't be stopped. She saw through his empty stare, his lifelessness. She knew what it meant. She saw the pain rooted deep inside. She knew he was grieving in his own unique way.

Silently, she crawled onto the bed and leaned against him. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, and her arms weaved though one of his own.

He gravitated towards her until he was lying on top of her. They disentangled only for a moment so they could get close to one another again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was weak and gentle as she ran her fingers along the edge of his hair and across his cheek again.

He shook his head.

"Good. I don't want to either."

How long he lied there on top of her like that, he didn't know. He was only semi-conscious of not completely crushing her with his weight. She wasn't complaining, so he assumed his weight wasn't too much. That, or she was as drunk on grief and pain as he was, which was a strong possibility.

When he finally sobered and became a bit more lucid, he pulled back, balancing himself over her by shifting some of his weight to his forearms. Silence – aside from the rain pounding away outside — engulfed the space as they stared at each other.

She truly was a beauty that could bring any man to his knees, even when she was waterlogged with dark circles under her eyes and worry wrinkles in her brow.

Moving purely off instinct, he kissed her and did his best to position himself comfortably against her.

Even though they were scantily clad and he was settling between her legs, the kiss was innocent, much more innocent than their actual first kiss. It was chaste but passionate, almost like they were kids trying to figure out how kissing was supposed to work in the first place.

Her hands were on each side of his face, her fingers subtly curling against his hairline. Meanwhile, one of his hands was against her neck, feeling her pulse and gliding down the length of her body to rest lifelessly on her hip.

They'd successfully learned how to lose themselves in each other. It was a crutch, a form of denial. It was a way to forget the world outside, to forget all the damage they had caused, and all the lives that had been lost. It was another way for them to fight against the mounting odds against them, but this time, they didn't have a clear foe. Sephiroth was gone. There was no one left to fight, no one left to hate…except for themselves.

Cloud got lost in kissing her, in feeling her lips against his own, her hands in his hair, his hips against hers.

Kissing Tifa had the same effect as drinking Corel Alcohol with Barret, but he liked this better.

He absorbed every precious detail into his memory: how soft she was, how she smelled like sugar-filled rain, how her pulse would quicken when he kissed her a certain way, when his hand would move to touch her back or graze his fingertips along her belly, when his mouth would leave hers to venture down her throat, or even when he brushed his parted lips against her collarbone, his breath trickling across her skin…

Kissing her drug on and on, but of course, impatience eventually proved superior and, he shifted, his hips threatening to grind into hers.

Her hands glided down his torso as if she'd never seen it exposed before, and he shuddered as if she'd never raked her hands down him before.

Breathing a bit harder than normal, he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

It both amazed and terrified him that she could coax this kind of thing out of him so easily. He was all worked up in spite of himself. His skin felt hot. No, his blood felt hot, and that heat was radiating out of him in merciless waves. He went from being almost completely numb to feeling everything.

Tifa's fingers were curling against his scalp, shoulders, and the back of his neck, holding him close. Her breathing was heavier too, and her lips were swollen and red from the prolonged kissing. Her legs were lifted, resting against his sides while her belly subtly trembled against his.

He couldn't decide if he wanted to calm down and back off or if he wanted to push himself to the limit then hurl himself over the edge.

His body ached. His fingers itched. He was twitchy with want.

The more basic instincts inside of him took hold. Together, they silently yet unanimously decided it would feel much better to go over the edge, to go to the point of no return. The bliss there would be fleeting, but it was still bliss, and they both needed it desperately.

She tasted good. She felt good. She smelled good. There was so much good in all of this that he could no longer think of all the bad and that was probably what he was really high on.

He wanted to forget. He wanted an escape. He wanted to feel good for a change.

Did she know? Did she know how out of his head he was? Did she know that he was being selfish? Even if she did, he realized he was beyond the point of caring. Even if she did, he could make her forget too. He could make her feel good — at least for a little while.

Cloud gripped Tifa by the hips and yanked her lower body to his.

She made a lovely noise. It wasn't quite a moan but not really a grunt either. It was a sexy combination of both. He liked that noise and wondered what it would take to get another one out of her.

Clumsily, he began pulling her bra straps down and kissing at the skin underneath so she'd get the message that he wanted this article of clothing gone. It needed to go. At this point, it was a nuisance. It was just in the way.

Getting the unspoken message, she sat up a little, unhooked her bra in the back and tossed it to the floor. Once it was gone, her arms were around his neck again, pulling him back down and on top of her.

He pressed his chest to hers and groaned. He couldn't help it. It came out low and feral and husky. Who knew skin on skin contact could feel so good? It burned him to the very core, but it was the best kind of burn.

More. He needed more. With one high fading he was eager to move on to the next before anything bad or negative could take its place.

Tifa's legs wrapped around his waist, replying to his groan with a little whimper of her own.

Cloud kissed her lips, her jaw, her pulse point, then her neck. He went down and down and down until he was at her navel.

Her stomach was shaking, trembling beneath his lips and his hands. He didn't know if it was nerves, anticipation or some weird combination of both, but he got off on it.

Hooking his hands into her underwear, he continued planting kisses around her stomach and hips. His eyes locked onto hers, and a beautiful static surged between them, filling the room with something similar to the lightening popping outside. Her face was red, and her chest heaved, but her eyes we lidded and brimming with want.

Tifa helped him pull her underwear off, and he was suddenly blushing. Under the Highwind, he hadn't had the chance to get her completely naked. Under the Highwind, everything was clumsy and fast-paced. There had been a lot of fondling around through clothes and layers. That was part of what had made it so good, but it was almost animalistic at times, a lot of groping and holding things in place.

This was different though. There was a different atmosphere, a different pace. There was time to drink her in, and she was stunning. She didn't disappoint. In fact, his imagination hadn't done her justice.

His eyes were distant as he stared. He didn't want to stare long. He knew it would be weird or awkward, and he was weird and awkward enough as it was without staring at her too long.

Tifa didn't falter under his gaze. Her eyes locked onto his face and didn't move. She didn't try to cover herself. She was confident enough to lie there and let him eat away at her with his eyes, but her cheeks and neck were flushed and her breathing was uneven. The latter he liked. He loved the way her breasts rose and fell with every shaky breath she drew.

He crawled up her again, needing the contact, needing to kiss her.

Cloud paced himself a bit longer. He kissed at the newly exposed skin, ran his fingertips over her goosebumps and grazed his lips along her neck and collarbone. He took his time toying with her, making sure she was ready, making sure she really wanted to go through with this even though he doubted he could stop. Not now.

When he could take no more, he began fondling the elastic of his boxers, trying to ease them off with much social grace as Cloud Strife could muster, which wasn't much.

He kept going slowly to give her the chance to tell him to stop. He wanted her to have ample opportunity to say no without asking her outright if she wanted him to stop. The way she moaned and pulled at him led him to believe she wasn't anywhere near asking him to stop. If anything, she wanted him to speed up.

So he did.

Once he successfully got his underwear out of the way (he tried to kick them to the floor, but he was pretty sure they were still dangling off the foot of the bed somewhere), he crawled up her and began lining himself up.

Like always, Tifa was cooperative. She shifted her hips when he took them in his hands and held her head to the side so he could bury his face in her neck.

He sucked in a huge drag of her scent as he pushed his way into her.

"Mm…" Her lips pressed tightly together as her back arched.

His breath came out as a satisfied groan. The moment her back arched, he couldn't keep from flowing with her movements and driving in to the hilt. It was too easy, and he was too greedy. She felt too good, and he wanted as much as he could get of her, which also meant getting as close as humanly possible.

He buried his face in the junction between her neck and shoulder, lightly kissing at the tender skin there. For the first time in a long time, he felt content. In that moment of bliss, he was content just waiting for her to adjust. And for a while, he wasn't even that eager to get moving again.

Tifa shifted her hips up again as her back slowly lowered until it hit the mattress.

The haze lifted and he realized that was his cue to move.

Cloud pulled away from her neck so he could kiss her. Their lips met and he began trying to build friction.

Her mouth opened against his. Her breath was warm yet sweet as it slipped through his teeth.

His breathing became rhythmic, matching the pace he was setting between her legs.

Tifa was clinging to him. That was the only way he could describe her movements. Her hands moved up and down his back, squeezing and gripping at his skin whenever he thrusted forward. Her legs were up, tucked back but pressed firmly at his sides.

Cloud, on the other hand, couldn't decide where he wanted to keep his hands. They mainly fisted the covers on each side of Tifa so he wouldn't lose his rhythm or his power, but he couldn't keep from touching her either. His hands flowed from her face, to her neck, down her shoulders, down her sternum, over the curves in her sides, across her hips and even daring to slip between her legs.

The noises leaving Tifa's lips were getting louder, coming from somewhere deep inside her. Cloud realized he wasn't really being that quiet either. He caught himself grunting and breathing hard, blowing air out of his mouth in random bursts.

Greed filled him again. He took hold of her hips, angling her up so he could force himself deeper.

As if reading his mind, Tifa began moving more and matching his thrusts with little upward motions of her own.

She was just as lost as he was. They were here, but they weren't really here. Sometimes it felt as if he'd left his body and was watching from overhead, watching this pathetic shell of a man empty his pain into another human being so that he wouldn't have to feel it anymore.

Tifa was in the same boat. She wanted to escape from her sins just as badly as he did. She wanted peace without the sting of guilt hammering away at her heart.

They were one and the same. And the thought of their similarities, how they suffered from different strands of the same ailment urged him forward. He went harder. He got faster.

He dug his hands so far into the bedding he knew there would probably be tears in it. He gripped hard and drug it down as he pushed himself closer and closer to that invisible ledge where things would feel better than they already did.

Trailing kisses from her jaw down between her breasts, he hauled her up off the bed and into his lap.

She moaned. She was limp as a rag doll as he lifted her. Only when she was positioned upright did she become sturdy again.

Her beautiful brown eyes opened as she settled atop him. However, they were no longer moving. Time had groaned to a halt as she brushed his hair away from his damp brow. She took his face in both of her hands, pressing her forehead to his in a moment that was so intimate that it sent shockwaves of pain though him.

Something passed between them. Something he couldn't put his finger on, but it was strong. He'd felt it a handful of times and every time it had been with her, but it was too much for him now. He was too broken, too full of grief and guilt and pain to process it properly, to accept it, to hold it in the deepest parts of him. No, those places were occupied, already brimming with negativity, confusion, and darkness. There was simply no room for whatever this was. But damn did he want it, and in that moment, he could touch it. He would know what it felt like. He could experience it and all of its glory in this fleeting yet somehow magical moment.

Her still wet hair was everywhere. Those thick, black tendrils now covered her shoulders, chest, and arms. He reached up and brushed them back off her shoulders. He didn't want anything between them now. Nothing was going to get in the way of the closeness that he wanted. Right now, there was nothing but Tifa, and life was better when he was filled with her. Life was easier. And ever since they'd started fooling around in this room, he'd felt none of his usual pangs.

Tifa's calloused yet somehow delicate fingers curled against the back of his neck as they began moving again.

Thunder rumbled outside as she moved against him, trembling up and shuddering all the way back down until their hips met.

Cloud's hands were restless again, but they favored her back now. They loved flowing up and down that beautiful, curvy, creamy expanse that was Tifa Lockhart's back. But when she built up momentum, he couldn't keep himself from clamping onto her hips.

The sensations were too much. She couldn't maintain their eye contact. Her eyes closed as she hurled her arms around his shoulders, gripping desperately at the nape of his neck as everything drew closer and closer to the boiling point.

Tifa's moans were against his neck as she held her head over his shoulder, and he knew she could feel his grunts and groans vibrating through her chest just like the thunder outside vibrated through the walls of the building surrounding them.

Little bits of silver began twinkling behind his eyes, and he was suddenly not close enough.

Taking handfuls of the back of her thighs, he lifted her and shoved her onto her back, plunging her into the mattress. Once he'd regained dominance, he was arching himself into deeper grooves in wild, blind attempts to get even closer to her and utter heedlessness.

Briefly, he wondered if it was too much, if he'd gone too far, if he was so deep that it was painful for her, but when he pulled back from the crook in her neck to see her face, there was nothing but pure bliss nestled in every crease in her features.

Tifa molded to him. Her arms looped under his, her hands gripping at his shoulder blades with a desperation he'd never felt before. He'd never felt this needed, like he was this vital in someone's existence, as if him creating even more than a centimeter of distance would be too much for her to bear. Her legs wrapped around him until her heels dug into the small of his back.

Shit…

His knuckles were white from the intensity of his grip on the bedding. His palms almost hurt from the force, and his fingers were starting to tingle.

Then, all at once, the tether holding Tifa to this world with him snapped. Her back arched as she cried out and unraveled around him. She chanted his name like a spell, and he followed their melody like a man possessed. He stroked his hips into her once, twice, three times more before he hit his climax so hard that he couldn't see straight.

Gone. He was completely gone. He could feel her little hums of contentment as carnal sounds shuddered their way out of his tight throat. He could feel her drawing lazy circles between his shoulders with one hand and gently pulling at his hair at the base of his neck with the other. However, everything else was lost on him. He just hoped he hadn't crushed her with his weight when he collapsed on top of her.

Slowly, he came back to and planted weak (and probably clumsy) kisses along her chest, neck, and collarbone until he made his way up to her mouth again. He couldn't kiss her for long, though. He was still trying to regain proper breathing patterns.

The room stilled. His head was no longer spinning. The silver specks flickering behind his eyes were fading as he rested his ear over her heart and listened to its erratic beating.

Thunder continued to wail outside, but her heartbeat was louder, maybe because it seemed to be in sync with his. It felt like one big heartbeat moving though the both of them.

He was falling from his high rapidly, and he suddenly felt lower than he had before they'd started.

Now he had this to feel guilty about.

For a while, he stayed buried inside her. He didn't want to lose the connection. He didn't want to leave her feeling cold and empty. He wanted to stay this close to her forever because ever since they'd left the Lifestream, it felt like she'd been slipping away, like he was slowly losing her. That was the downside to their time there together. They'd been so close that leaving that state created even more distance that wouldn't be felt otherwise.

He could no longer hear her thoughts. He could no longer feel what she felt. He could no longer sense her wants — at least not like he had before.

Cloud shifted a little, getting ready for the inevitable moment where he'd have to carve his way out of her.

"Wait…" she whimpered.

She knew. Her pains were coming back too. She knew him pulling away would bring everything back. They'd remember that the world outside was real and raw and rough. They'd remember all the uncertainty in their lives. They'd remember what they'd done, what they'd lost, what they'd caused.

Her eyes were wild, desperate.

"I'm not leaving," he murmured, his voice low and rough as sandpaper.

She shook her head. She even looked like she might cry. "That's not what I meant…"

He gave her a bemused look. She knew better than to be vague with him. Cloud Strife.

She reached up and ran her fingers over his lips. "Cloud, I…"

Cloud looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him what she needed, but she couldn't get it out.

That was okay. He probably couldn't give it to her anyway.

In the end, he did slip out of her. She grimaced, and he probably did too. But he stayed close as he shifted onto his side. He didn't even get up to find his clothes. That could wait until morning.

Tifa nuzzled in next to him, and he let her. He held his head back so she could get as close as she wanted. He owed her that much.

His eyes were heavy, and he longed for the embrace of sleep now that he was slipping further and further away from contentment. And he knew sleep could be merciful. Sleep after sex was usually thick and deep, the kind of sleep that he needed, a sleep that even dreams from his wounded subconscious could not penetrate. The nightmares wouldn't torment him in those depths. He wouldn't wake up in a cold sweat unsure of what was real and what wasn't. He wouldn't have to seek out Tifa to comfort him and his insomnia.

For tonight, there could just be him, her, and the darkness behind his eyes.

The light of morning was unforgiving. It was too bright. Groaning, he rolled onto his stomach to hide from it.

As he moved, he felt other limbs tangled with his.

Tifa.

Once his eyes adjusted to the intensity of daylight, he saw her next to him — bare and vulnerable…and beautiful.

Damn. How many times had he wanted to be in this exact position with her? Too many times to count, but he'd never wanted it…like this. Of course, he'd never expected to get the hand that life inevitably dealt him. He hadn't expected to get Mako poisoning. Twice. He hadn't expected to assume another man's identity. He hadn't expected meeting her. And he certainly hadn't expected what ultimately became of her…

Thoughts of her still made him physically ill. He'd get sick, almost to the point of dry heaves.

Too much. It was all too much.

Cloud longed to go back to the vast emptiness of sleep. But it was already too far gone and out of his reach. His mind was already churning away, and he'd already thought of her.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his feet hitting the coldness of the hardwood floor. Resting his elbows on his knees, he stared out at nothing, something he was making a nasty habit of. He rolled his head and rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling very rested. It had been a while since he'd slept that good, that hard. But unfortunately, all good things had to end.

Quietly, he rose to his feet, found his pants and hauled them on.

He eased over to the nearby window and looked out at what remained of Midgar.

It was a stunning day outside, cool and crisp. It was the kind of unnaturally clear, perfect weather that only followed a storm. The sky was all blue. No clouds. Birds flew around overhead, using the gentle breeze to weave through the clean air. But below all that was the destruction, the orphans, the homeless, the sick, the starving. He could already see the kids roaming the alleys in search of food that may or may not be lurking in the garbage cans.

Guilt rose in this throat like bile until he had to look away.

How was he ever going to have a life after all he'd done? How could he ever find forgiveness? How could he ever learn to live with himself?

As if on cue, Tifa stirred. She tucked her arms under her pillow and looked over at him. She smiled and his mouth twitched.

"Morning," he said.

"Good morning."

Before anything else could be said, Cloud's phone began buzzing.

He sighed, looked at the screen and saw Barret's name flashing against the glass.

"It's Barret," he said flatly.

Tifa climbed off the bed and wriggled into her clothes. "He's probably wondering where we are."

Cloud watched out of his peripheral but didn't look directly at her. He'd give her privacy. Plus, looking would probably make this harder and more awkward than it already was.

He could already tell how it was going to be. It was going to be like it was the first time they'd done this under the Highwind. They were going to act like it never happened. They would go on like they always did, taking their relationship day by day, and it varied day to day. They were nothing if not inconsistent, but he already felt guilty. She probably regretted this.

This wasn't fair. She deserved better. This should have meant something. At the very least it should have meant more.

Cloud adored Tifa. She was this bright, glistening gem in his otherwise bleak life, one that he cherished in the very core of his heart. But he wasn't what she wanted him to be, what she needed him to be. He couldn't be what she deserved, not now, maybe not ever. He still wasn't worthy of her, and her father would roll over in his grave if he could see them now. He'd probably even tell him to his face that Tifa was too good for him.

And he'd be right.

He had nothing to offer except pain and suffering. He was a burden. But for some reason he could never fathom, she wanted him anyway. She wanted him burdens and all even though everything on the Planet screamed that he was a downright horrible idea. She could do better. She deserved better.

Funny. All of this started with him wanting to be good enough for her, and he was still trying. He was still running up that proverbial hill towards some unobtainable goal.

If he was ever going to work to be worthy of her, now was the time to do so. They had a new start. They had options. They had opportunities. This was his chance but…

Not now. They needed each other in a different way now. They had to pick up the pieces. Then, maybe but that was a very tentative maybe. He had no idea what his capacity was now. At this point, he doubted he was capable of deeper feelings.

Too broken…

They needed to get moving. They needed to meet Barret and start doing chores around Midgar again, but he didn't really want to leave this room. It was as if staying might allow him to forget everything, like staying might somehow fix things or make them better. Or was he thinking that avoiding everything outside would somehow miraculously make it go away?

Tifa leaned against the windowpane next to him, her eyes going from the view to him. She looked unsure and lost and vulnerable, but he found that he couldn't look at her long. It was too hard. He felt too much when he looked at her, and it was all confusing and grey and complicated. Like everything else, it was too much.

I'm sorry, Tifa…

She sighed and walked into him. Her arms didn't envelope him, but her forehead pressed to his sternum.

"Everything's gonna be okay, right…?" she whispered.

He blinked, his eyes not leaving the sleek glass of the window. "We'll be okay."

Tifa tensed before pulling away to gaze up at him. "We…?"

Cloud blushed from his cheeks to his neck. "Yeah… We."

There was an implication there, and he knew that, but he meant it. She knew how he felt about them being together through all this. They both knew they needed each other, that they were still a team, but that was honestly how he wanted it.

"It'll be hard, and it'll probably take a while, but…I think we'll get there."

"Where?" she asked, bemused, her tone lathered in disbelief.

He paused for a moment. "To where we want to be…"

"And where's that?"

Cloud snorted and shook his head. He had no idea, but he figured they'd be there together. After all, that was the only certainty they had left.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading!

I've said this before in author's notes for other stories but I feel that it bears repeating given the content/subject matter…

I am a hardcore Cloti fan/activist, so I choose to believe in the Highwind theory. I chose to believe that they had sex. Whether or not they actually did is still up to interpretation and people will probably argue about that until pigs fly. But for MY interpretation/story, I am choosing to enforce that what was implied in those scenes, actually happened. When writing my FF VII stories, I went from the game standpoint of Tifa having the most affection points. That's why I am enforcing the naughty Highwind interpretation (both scenarios occurring as a result of Tifa having the most points). So, since I chose to believe that they got it on before the end of the game, I find it hard to believe that they would quit cold turkey. Am I saying they went at it like rabbits? No. All I'm saying/implying is that two individuals in their early twenties who have had sex before, would be more tempted to do so again. Especially if they were going through what Cloud and Tifa were going through. Granted, there is a VERY small window of time where I think a sexual relationship would be happening (shortly after Meteor but before they move to Edge). Once Cloud got worse (before/during On the Way to a Smile), once he and Tifa started drifting apart and fighting, those particular intimacies would have stopped. But again, these are just MY interpretations. Don't freak out if you don't agree or don't like the content. Like I said, this was mainly for fun and for the readers out there who'd asked me for mature content! But if you DID like it, you can check out my other Final Fantasy works (Broken Hearts and Maladies/Harmonies for the Haunted). They explain the Cloti relationship presented here in more depth and with less ambiguity.

Thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!