Tifa fights like Barret has never seen anyone fight before. Quick and vicious, fists and feet and violence. With cool precision and a fluidity in every movement - creative and adaptable and intelligent. She flows like water and strikes like lightning and all Barret can do the first time she pulls on her gloves and beats a man to the ground is watch in frozen awe.

Until, of course, he's forced to watch her back and shoot down those in the Cluster she isn't already taking care of.

He'd kept Marlene behind him the whole time, ready to take her and run if need be, but he'd stayed for Tifa. He'd fought for Tifa.

And Tifa had fought for him.

She'd fought for Marlene, too, and every day since then Marlene has looked at her like she hung the moon and the stars. Clinging to her and asking for stories - helping Tifa clean up around camp and cook dinner when it's her turn, mellow and soft in the light of the stove as the sun sets behind them.

Tifa fills up the empty spaces of Barret's life and more. With reliable efficiency and a keen loyalty, but most all with her kindness and her passion. Her fire and her loyalty and the gentleness of her touch when she carries Marlene. The softness of her smile and the light of her laugh and the compassionate lull of her silence when they sit together, just the two of them, late into the calm of the night.

Tifa saves him in many ways. She saves him from driving himself to the ground protecting his daughter. She saves him from having to be alone - from fighting a one man battle against the world with a child at his back. Tifa saves him in other ways, too. With furious fists and keen eyes, fighting off the monsters of the night and bringing home supplies he could never have uncovered on his own. But mostly she saves him by just being there and being herself. Always.

Tifa stays for many years after he helps her, through trials and victories and losses - through it all. And every second of every day after he saves her, she saves him right back.

Barret returns from patrol to a spread of food in the middle of camp, Tifa sitting on her knees by their makeshift kitchen as she rummages through bags of food. Marlene is perched nearby on a horizontal log, kicking her legs as she watches with childlike fascination. Barret stays silent for a moment to watch them, Tifa glancing up to nod at him in greeting before returning to her work.

"What do you think?" she finally hums, "Sandwiches and fruit salad?"

"What kinda sandwiches?" Marlene asks, high and sweet as she tilts her head at Tifa, and Barret can't help the warmth of adoration when he sees her wide eyed curiosity. He settles his bag of car parts at the base of a nearby tree and wanders further into the clearing.

"Hmm...how about...peanut butter and jelly!" Tifa waves the can of peanut butter at her invitingly, but Marlene only makes an exaggerated face of disgust. Tifa remains entirely unfazed by the rejection, merely chuckling and setting it aside to rummage through the bags again. "I thought you liked peanut butter."

"I did, but not anymore! It's gross and it makes my mouth all sticky."

"Okay...chicken and tomatoes, then. With white cheddar cheese…and avocado!" Tifa holds up the green food triumphantly to Marlen's wild cheer. She smiles fondly as she sets it aside, sharing a look with Barret over Marlene's head. He huffs out a laugh and sets the rest of his supplies at the edge of his tent.

"Yeah!" Marlene exclaims excitedly, practically vibrating in her seat now, "Sandwiches and fruit salad! What's in the salad, Auntie Tifa?"

Tifa casts a sideways smirk at Marlene as she leans over her supplies and starts to gather what she needs. "That's a secret," she tuts, "now go play with Daddy while I make this."

Marlene's gasp is so loud it could wake the dead, and Barret finally lets out a full bellied laugh as she wheels around to face him. "Daddy!" she yells, teetering on the log with the force of her momentum, "I knew you'd be back soon!"

He catches her before she can fall, setting a large hand on her shoulder and getting to his knees in front of her. "Well, you've always been the smartest of us," he says, accepting her into a one armed hug, "and apparently the pickiest!"

"Peanut butter isn't yummy anymore," she huffs as she pouts against his chest, and he snorts.

"That's okay, we'll just find you something better." He takes her up in his arm, lifting her until she's propped up on his shoulder. "Now, what happened while I was away?"

Marlene chats for a half hour about catching bugs and trying on dresses, how she and Tifa explored the river and raced boats down the stream, and not once does she mention trouble or danger. Not once does she cry or pause to look sad, barely hanging on to that thread of innocence and joy.

Nothing happened, she says, except that she had fun. Lived her life. Talked with Tifa and ran around camp in a frenzy after having chocolate. Nothing bad happened at all, and that's more than a blessing. It's more than he could ever put a name to.

He thinks things might just be starting to look up for them.

Losing his prosthetic is nowhere near losing his real arm, but damn if it doesn hurt like a sonofabitch. It stings with pain and lights up at the worst of times, and when he finally goes to remove it he can only take away so many pieces to relieve the misery. The base isn't something he can just remove, especially now that part of it has been damaged. So they're down one gun and they're down one arm, and to make matters worse, the rest of the prosthetic is quickly becoming a liability.

And of course, their truck is gone as well, because Barret had trusted the wrong damn person at the wrong damn time, and he knows he has nobody to blame but himself. Tifa feels mighty guilty about it in the aftermath, citing the fight they'd had and her defense of the SOLDIER, but he knows she was only trying to support him. Knows she was only trying to make good of a fucked up situation in any way she could.

He'd made a mistake. He'd made many mistakes that day, but that one stings the worst. It stings the most when his arm is stinging too, though, and he remembers all he sacrificed.

Barret vows that the next time he lays eyes on that arrogant piece of shit, there will be no benefit of doubt. Cloud will never see the light of day again.

So he'd better stay far, far away.

Cloud does not stay far away.

He doesn't even stay inches away, because that would be too good - it would be too easy.

No, the next time Barret sees Cloud, he's trapped in one of the stores at the center of a mall, back to a checkout counter and counting the bullets of his handgun. A crash rings out, high and ear splitting as one of the display windows shatters beneath a heavy force, and then he's tumbling over the counter and into Barret's space before he can so much as shout in surprise. Plopping down right next to him, winded and scrambling to regain his footing, until the frantic turn of his head finally sets his sights on Barret.

They both freeze.

Barret's growling at the mere sight of him, teeth clenched and five second away from firing, when the kid actually scoffs and turns his head away.

"Save it until we're somewhere safe."

"'Scuse me?!"

"We need to get out of here first. Your grudge can wait."

Barret laughs at the sheer audacity of this kid. "I ain't workin' side by side with the man who treated my family like dirt and then stole my damn truck!"

"Then you'll die." He doesn't even flinch when he says it, expression the blank, unfeeling mask he'd been trying so hard for back at camp. Acting as if he's recovered already; as if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn't been laid up and grieving the loss of his friend not two months ago.

Barret has to use every piece of willpower he's got left to keep himself from exploding in frustration.

"I ain't gonna die 'cause I actually know what the hell I'm doing. Last time I checked, you were the one on death's door." He regrets bringing it up almost as much as he feels vindictively pleased with doing so, and the way Cloud's lips thin, shoulders tightening, is both relieving and distressing all at once.

Gaia, what the hell is he doing?

He needs to get home to his family.

"Alright." He swallows his pride. Three bullets and one arm. He's been trapped back here for almost an hour now with the infected, unmoving and endlessly persistent. "You got a plan?"

Cloud's face softens for a moment in surprise, and Barret feels a hint of triumph at the expression as the kid's cheeks light with a blush and he turns away again. So much for Mr. Stoic.

While Barret waits for Cloud to speak he lets his head back back, counting out his breaths and pumping himself up for whatever they're about to do. Then he launches himself up to peak over the counter for a second, eyeing the horde of infected through the three remaining glass windows. When he falls back to the ground he exhales loudly, grinning over at Cloud.

"Whoo! Yeah, we can do this! So what- what've you got in mind? You hack and I shoot? Maybe we can give them the runaround and take 'em from behind?"

There's a beat of silence, Cloud staring at him with an indecipherable expression as he fingers the hilt of his blade. He frowns, shaking his head and peering around the open end of the counter.

"That could work."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The kid juts out his chin, puffing up. "It means it could work."

"Well, you've got a plan, right?"

A silence descends between them, as Barret's hopeful expression slowly drops away and Cloud's shifting becomes more agitated. Until finally, Cloud admits reluctantly, "I'm working on it."

"You can't be serious! You were the one pushing for us to work together. I thought you had something in mind."

"Because I thought you had a plan!"

"I've been trapped here for an hour. If I had a plan, I wouldn't be here."

"You're the leader of a gang. I thought you were supposed to be good at this?"

Barret feels like he's just entered the twilight zone, casting the kid an incredulous look. "I ain't the leader of shit! What gave you that impression?"

That makes Cloud falter, his mask shifting to reveal a brief flash of confusion, brow furrowing a centimeter in thought, before it all smoothes over again.

Gaia, but that's annoying as shit.

And all Barret can do is watch as his expression morphs into something cool and reserved, head turning to peer around the counter again in order to consider their options of escape. There's something analytical there, now. Something more self reliant and less trusting that has Barret feeling like he's failed.

Barret pushes it all from his mind, sighing and closing his eyes as he breathes rhythmically to calm himself. When he opens them again he gives the kid a long, assessing look and notices what he hadn't taken the time to notice before.

Cloud looks exhausted. Hair longer than it had been - greasier and dirtier and still flecked with dried blood. It looks like he's washed up at least once since they'd last met, but he's clearly been busy. There are new bruises on his arms and a trio of cuts running down his left cheek. His outfit's been changed, Barret notices, but it's still a SOLDIER's uniform. A thick turtleneck with a padded waistguard and loose pants.

Barret isn't too sure about the shoulder pad studded in nails or the wrist guards holding the same design. It looks like the modern scrap metal crafting members of Camps or Mobs tend to sport.

"The hell are you even doing here, anyway?" Barret can't help asking, frowning at the fresh materia loaded in Cloud's sword.

He hopes to high hell that the stupid punk hasn't joined a Mob.

"I'm on a job."

"Jobs are out in the apocalypse, in case you hadn't heard."

Cloud gives him a scathingly unimpressed look. "Camps still need certain supplies," he says, after he breaks away to look outside the store again, "I happen to need different supplies. We make it work."

"You're a mercenary?!" Taking advantage of citizens in need to further his own interests. Barret should have known. Hell, the kid had taken his truck and left without even a word of goodbye.

"I'm guessing you don't agree."

"I think it's the type of bottom feeding shit you'd get from Mobs and Syndicates," Barret snaps, eyes narrowing, "but I don't know what I expected out of a former SOLDIER."

"Guess you know me as well as you thought you did," Cloud hums, and the dryness of his tone makes Barret's hackles rise.

"Do you even give one shit about the people around you?"

Cloud doesn't even respond to that. He only tenses and tilts his head back, bringing his sword into a ready position at his side.

"More are coming," he breathes, the sound of his voice echoing in the dark corners of the store. The howling outside their windows becomes almost deafening with a thunder of footsteps and falling bodies, and Barret straightens as well. "We need to leave."

"Got any ideas, smartass?"

Cloud doesn't answer, gaze flitting about for a solution, but Barret knows he'll find none. He's spent the last hour checking every possible crevice of this building for a way out.

"What about the way you came in? That window was separate from the other ones, right? You'd have to come in from the top."

The fourth window had been blocked on all sides by solid scaffolding, it had been impossible to enter through. Which is the only reason Barret's certain the infected hadn't piled over the busted window after Cloud came inside. He's still not sure how the hell the merc had managed to do that, but maybe he could somehow reverse it.

Unfortunately, the entire world seems to be against them today.

Cloud shakes his head. "That's not happening," he says, voice chillingly calm, and Barret's blood runs cold, "walls were just shredded."

"Shit! You can't be-" A reverberating crack! rips through his sentence before can finish speaking, and the rise of screams as glass starts breaking has him shooting to his feet alongside Cloud.

There's a beat when he sees the infected - dozens of them - down the sights of his gun. Cloud tensing beside him, sword raised as they spill into the store in droves, and Barret knows they aren't going to make it out of this alive. A cacophony of moans and snarling as demented forms tear over the ground and start at them.

And then there's another crack that splits the air, a rush of fire and debris that has Barret dropping in a second - hooking an arm around Cloud and throwing them both to the ground as a burst of heat rushes through the air above them. The concussive blast has a wave of force following not long after, tinged with red hot sparks and accompanied by the sounds of shattering glassware.

Barret makes sure to press himself over the entirety of Cloud's body when the shards start raining down on them, the hairs on the back of his arm burning when he curls it over his neck to protect himself. He doesn't move - not for anything - while the fury rages on around them.

Then the explosion ends, as quick and loud as it had begun, with a vorping rush and crumbling walls. Yet even as it dies the noises don't.

Flames crackle loudly throughout the store, above them and beside them and all around them. A lull in the chaos replaced by the lingering presence of destruction. It takes Barret a second to catch up, blinking through the burn of smoke and wincing at the sting of glass along his back, and in that time a strong grip comes to tighten around his arm.

The hand is small, barely able to fully wrap around his wrist. Gloved and inhumanely bruising as the body beneath him twists out from under them and hauls them both to their feet. Cloud cuts down one of the flaming, screaming infected near them with brutal efficiency and tugs violently at Barret to get him moving, sword raised as if he's about to charge the whole damn store.

"We've got to move!" Cloud shouts over the din of noise, and Barret growls in annoyance, yanking his arm away with such force it briefly unbalances the merc.

"Yeah, yeah. I got the damn memo."

Despite his better judgement, Barret lets Cloud take the lead. He reserves the last of his ammo for an emergency, instead keeping a look out for any surprises as the merc makes a beeline straight for the doors. He hacks at any flailing limbs that even think to come their way, but in all honestly there aren't many left. Enough to warrant some level of concern, Barret supposes, but he steps over charred remains by the dozens as he crosses to the other side of the room.

It seems as if the bomb was thrown right in the center of the horde, with most infected burnt to barely recognizable crisps. Someone had deliberately taken them out.

Whoever they are, they're a hell of a bomb maker, but he wonders if they'd even known people were inside the building.

When Cloud reaches the door, Barret lays a hand on his shoulder and pulls him back, stepping forward to check out any possible threats that may be lingering in the mall center.

There are more infected scattered about the area. Nearer to the center of the blast, the bodies are burnt and blackened, but along the edges of the horde he starts to notice the sprawling ragdoll effect of an infected shot through the head. Pools of blood spread out from those bodies, but the spatter is too indistinct for Barret to make out where the attacks came from.

"Do you see them?" Cloud asks lowly. He presses against Barret's forearm as if to take the lead again, and Barret doesn't relent an inch as he glares the kid into retreating behind his back.

"Settle down," he hisses, "let me-"

"Oh hey!" It's a woman's voice, ringing out across from them along the upper levels, and Barret immediately snaps his gun towards the source of the noise, feeling Cloud tense against him in preparation.

"Hey!" The woman cheers, waving her arm in the air as she jumps up and down. Barret squints over at her and tries to get a good look through the dirty glass railing, but all he sees is bouncing brown hair in a ponytail and shining metal armor.

She doesn't sound like a threat, but she's certainly dressed like one.

Barret prepares himself to speak, keeping his gun levelled with what he can make of her head, but before he can another voice sounds out from above them.

"What are you yelling at, Jessie? Did you mess up the bomb again?" It's a man's voice this time - deep and edged in humor - with just enough information to make Barret that much warier of the bouncing brunette. Not to mention the steadily growing number of people. If there are two, there can be more, and Barret's beginning to worry that they may have just jumped from the frying pan and into the fire.

Jessie makes a sound of frustration, tsking so loudly it can be heard across the room, and points down at them in a way that has Barret about ready to fire. "No, Biggs! There were people inside!"

"Oh god, there were people?!" Another voice frets, and Barret worriedly places him on the same level as them - on the same side of the building as them - with the sudden knowledge that they are now outnumbered. He has no idea if they're outmatched. He's never heard of these people in his life.

He lowers his arm as he circles carefully to the edge of the doorway, standing just outside of it to allow Cloud through. He nods in the direction of the one closest to them as he keeps an eye on the woman.

"Are they okay?" The nervous one says. "Did we kill them? Oh Gaia."

Barret snorts at the other man's tone, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly at the obvious worry. He can hope these are good people who'd made an honest mistake, but it's best to be wary until he's sure.

"No, we definitely didn't kill them," Jessie says, her enthusiasm waning as she speaks, "but they don't look too friendly either."

"We're friendly enough," Barret finally says, tone casual even as he keeps the gun on her, "but we did almost get burnt to crisps, so forgive me if I'm not exactly falling into your arms."

"I didn't mean to hurt anybody. I'm so sorry!" Jessie calls down to them, and damn if she doesn't sound it. Barret loosens a bit more, gun dipping in a show of peace.

"It's fine. Barely got a scratch."

"Well, at least we didn't commit murder," the man above them says drily, and Barret can't believe his ears when Cloud huffs out what must be a laugh beside him.

"There's always a second time," he deadpans, unfazed by Barret's glare.

The man barks out a laugh in response, leaning over the railing to see them better, and when Barret notices his head poking out he steps further into the mall center to get a better look at the whole group.

None of them have their weapons readied, or appear remotely violent. The one above them is grinning and Jessie has been nothing but cheerful. So Barret makes a decision. Still eyeing them all warily, he lowers his gun fully.

Cloud quirks a brow when he does so, letting the tip of his sword drop to the ground as well, but he doesn't offer up any other fascinating pieces of commentary. Apparently the wisecracks are only for special occasions.

Barret looks up at the two strangers again. "Who the hell are you people?"

"Oh! I'm Biggs," the man above them says, pointing a thumb at his chest and nodding. "That one over there is Jessie, in case you didn't hear. And that's Wedge!" He points over to the third member a short distance away, who's gathered the courage to come out into full view from around the corner. Wedge waves over at them with a smile, and Barret will be damned if these people aren't the cheeriest motherfuckers in the world right now.

Of course, that thought is proved wrong not two seconds later when Jessie's voice rings out nervous and worried through the air. "Hey guys? I'm seeing some movement up here and down the hallways. Maybe we should take this outside."

"Explosion was bound to draw other infected," Barret snorts, "did you guys plan this at all?"

"We planned it enough!" Jessie huffs, moving away from the railing to head toward the stairs, "we were just here to test-"

She cuts herself off with a high, startled gasp as a guttural howl tears through the air. The next moment has her teammates crying out as her upper body collides brutally with the railing, hand hitting the hard glass hard enough to jar the gun from her fingers, and it falls the long distance to the floor with a clatter.

Then Barret's moving, as Biggs races to help his friend and Jessie scrambles at the slick glass to brace herself, kicking at the infected behind her. It claws up her back and raises its head, jaws stretched wide, and Barret curses, firing a round into it without hesitation.

It's throat explodes in a spatter of blood, and Jessie gasps when it's hold only tightens. The thing lets out a keening noise as it thrashes, practically throwing Jessie through the air, and even as Barret puts another bullet straight into its head he knows it won't be enough.

"Jessie!" Biggs skids to a stop at the railing just as she tumbles over the edge, and Barret doesn't stop for a second to think before he's charging across the room. He drops his gun and slides beneath her just in time to feel the brunt of her weight. Catching her around the waist with one arm and feeling her head whip violently back into his chest as he allows himself to drop to the floor and soften her fall.

The collision knocks the breath from his lungs and sends a flare of pain down his back, but all he can do is let out a sigh of relief at the very alive woman in his arms right now.

That had been way too close.

"Oh Gaia! Oh- Jessie!" There's a rush of steps as Wedge runs over to them, and Jessie groans in response.

"It's fine, Wedge," she says, voice strained, "I've only broken every bone in my body."

Wedge lets out a relieved breath, helping to pull her to feet as Barret pushes her upright.

"Whoo!" She breathes, jumping and shaking out her arms before turning to give him a big smile and a playful wink. "That was some fall. Luckily I had my hero here to save me, huh?"

"You're lucky he was there, Jessie," Biggs says, thumping down the steps and coming up to them as well, "otherwise you'd be paste."

He grabs her arm and pulls her into a hug, and Barret chuckles as he pushes himself to his feet as well.

"Glad I could help, but it looks like you've got quite the set of friends here. They'd've found a way to save you."

Wedge gives him a grateful smile, but Barret can see the beginnings of a guilt he knows all too well. He pats a comforting hand on the guy's shoulder and nods.

"You did good."

"We all did good!"

"That's cute and all, but we really should get going," Cloud's voice cuts through the cheer like a knife, and Barret turns to see him coming up beside them with his sword at the ready. He looks unconcerned with the situation, but Barret notices him casting about for potential threats. His eyes linger on a group of infected meandering over from one of the halls, and when he sees Barret looking he nods at them.

"Yeah, I see it. Shit." Barret runs a hand through his hair and bends to pick up Jessie's gun first, handing it over to her before equipping his own.

It slides through her fingers like it's the most natural thing in the world, and her grip tightens around the handle as she grins at them both. "That's no problem! We know a way out."

"A way that isn't riddled with zombies?" Cloud asks, pointing down another hallway. The area is slowly filling with infected, and Barret herds the group closer together.

Cloud stands apart from them, eyeing the infected approaching them with unusual gusto.

"Have a little faith, man! Wedge is the best at this kind of thing."

"Yeah, I've already got a route."

"Then use it," Cloud snaps.

Wedge yelps. "Y-yeah. Yeah! Come on."

With surprising speed and efficiency, he's turning to head down the nearest hall, Jessie and Biggs immediately following behind him and waving Barret along. The easy way they all carry out the plan is impressive, and Barret takes up the rear without question, determined to get these people out of here alive.

What's truly surprising, however, is the way Cloud lingers behind, another hand coming down to grip his sword as he turns to jog toward the nearest horde.

"I've got your backs," he calls after them, "don't wait up."

"Then I'm staying too! I'll cover you."

"Don't bother."

The cold dismissal has Barret's chest heating with anger, but he knows the merc is right. At this point, he'd be more of a liability than an asset.

"You'd best meet us at the front entrance, SOLDIER boy!" He makes it sound like an order, but knowing Cloud it probably means he'll do the exact opposite.

"Good luck!" Jessie throws behind her with a small wave, accentuated by Biggs's own cursory thumbs up, and all Barret hears is Cloud's grunt of acknowledgement before they're turning the corner and leaving him in the dust.

Winding through the building after that is a strange affair. The group he's met are all talkers, chatting excitedly and bickering even in the midst of danger. They're good shots, too. Biggs and Jessie especially, who take up attacking at a distance while Wedge focuses on navigating.

They're quick with their words and quick on their feet, but it's still a shock to the whole group when an infected lunges from a nearby store and latches onto Wedge with a scream. Biggs shouts and staggers back, foot caught in the clawing grip of one they'd thought they downed, and within a matter of seconds the comfortable solitude of their journey is destroyed.

Barret reacts in a flash, shooting the one on Wedge in a throwaway attack, splintering the infected's jaw with a sickening crack as he stomps on the one attached to Biggs with a roar. He hears a series of pops after that as Wedge gets the opportunity to down his attacker, and that's when Barret sees more. Slinking from surrounding stories and halls, slithering along the floors with cracked nails and dripping mouths. Caging them in on all sides.

"Move! Damnit!"

More rounds are fired as the infected close in on them, Wedge spraying the front line in bullets as Jessie and Biggs take them out with headshots and busted kneecaps. An infected manages to get a hold of Barret's arm as he tries bash in its skull with his gun, jaws opened wide as it lunges in for a bite, and for a moment the world stops. Thoughts of Marlene and home and failure burning through his mind until a sword is splitting its head in two, Cloud kicking the body aside as if it's nothing.

He grabs Barret by the shoulder as the shock fades and spins him to face the others. Then blows straight through the group to take the lead, slashing apart the infected blocking their path with an arc of fiery steel.

Gaia, Barret never thought he'd be so happy to see a SOLDIER in his life.

"Let's mosey," Cloud says, and for once the collected tone of his voice doesn't set Barret off.

"You heard the merc! Move!"

Wedge doesn't need to be told twice, rushing forward alongside Cloud as the SOLDIER continues to hack a path through the infected. Barret recovers rapidly, ushering Jessie and Biggs forward as they continue to focus on the infected at their sides.

They turn the corner to see more infected crawling out of the woodworks, but Cloud is relentless and Barret is vicious, the rest of the group pushing forward with the type of determination Barret could only dream of, and for a second he thinks they might actually get out of this scott free.

Then Biggs cries out, folding at the knees as they all pass ahead, and Barret skids to stop.

"Fuck!" The whole party starts to slow as they realize what happened.

"What do we do? Oh, shit!" Jessie panics, and Wedge shakes his head, firing another round into the front lines as he points down the hall.

"It's down there," he yells back at them, "we just need to move."

Barret nods and turns on his heel, racing back to grab the other man before the infected get to him.

"Go on ahead!" He shouts back, waving them away as he comes to a skidding halt beside Biggs. He's grateful when Cloud seems to take the order in stride, already circling around to hold the rear as Wedge reluctantly pushes on ahead.

"Just leave me," Biggs hisses, clutching at the blood soaked remains of his pants. The cut he has along his lower leg is long and weeping, but there's no way in hell Barret's leaving him behind. "Please just-"

"Shut the hell up! Shit-" Barret scoops Biggs up and throws him over his shoulder, ignoring his cursing protests as he waves his broken arm at their exit. "-we're all gonna make it out of this alive!"

He runs for the exit, seeing the rest of the group just beginning to gather outside.

"Heya Jessie!" He calls out, bursting through the doors just as they're starting to close, "got any more of those bombs?"

The grin that lights up her face is absolutely wicked, and Barret steps back with the others as she grabs a grenade from her belt pouch and wings up. With a warcry of "watch the fuck out, bitches!" she launches it through the air.

The ensuing blast is enough to make them all turn away and shield their eyes, Barret realizing a bit too late that he'd lost his sunglasses somewhere along the way, and when they all turn to face each other again it's with wide, triumphant grins. Wedge laughs as Jessie lets out a whoop, and Barret can feel the body on his shoulders loosen with relief. Cloud lingers at the outskirts, but he doesn't look as put out as he usually does, mouth soft with the hint of a smile.

"Good job," Barret says, "I ain't never seen a better team in my life."

"We're a team, now?" Biggs asks, voice lilting and delirious, and Jessie gasps.

"We should be! Imagine what we could all do together."

"I think that'd be pretty nice," Wedge agrees.

Barret snorts, but he doesn't deny it - can't even say he doesn't feel the same way. So he hefts Biggs further up on his shoulders and grins.

"I wouldn't mind working with y'all again, but right now we should probably get him taken care of. How close is your camp?"

"Oh, uh…we don't exactly have one…" Wedge laughs uneasily and fidgets, Jessie crossing her arms beside him.

"It's because we just got here. We drove in from a nearby Camp and we haven't had the chance to get settled."

"But you did have the chance to test bombs." Cloud doesn't exactly sound sold, but Barret's mind has already honed in on something else.

"Y'all got cars?" he asks excitedly, and at their nods he whoops, "aight! We're headin' back to my camp, and you can stay there for as long as you need!"

"You're short on transport, huh?" Biggs sympathizes breathlessly, "we're short on shelter. Maybe we can make this work."

"We're still lookin' for a good house, but we've got tents and a decent cooking station, not to mention we're well hidden from any Mobs."

"You've already got me sold!" Jessie laughs, "follow me and we can load Biggs up."

"Yeah…" Wedge says, tone worried, "he's looking pretty out of it…"

Barret winces when he feels Biggs' weight slacken completely, nodding at Jessie and Wedge to lead the way.

"We should probably get going, then."

Jessie and Wedge grin eagerly, already heading across the parking lot to their cars, and it takes Barret a good few steps to realize someone is missing. He sighs lengthily and turns around with a scowl.

"The hell you doin' back there?"

Cloud only shrugs and walks over to a motorcycle parked not too far away. "Sorry, I've already got a ride."

"Where the hell did you get a bike from?!"

Cloud hums and revs the engine, turning to look at Barret with raised eyebrows. "I sold your truck."

"Wha-"

"It was a nice car, Barret. Shame you let it go!"

Then with a roar he's peeling out of the parking lot, whipping around the bend of the building as Barret stares in open mouthed shock. It takes him a moment to realize what just happened, and when he does the rage that fills him is incandescent.

"Son of a bitch!"

Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie end up staying.

It's almost startling, how they fill up every space like they've never been anywhere else. Bundling their cars along the path and pouring from the doors to greet Tifa and Marlene. They're quick to pull up tents and set up bags, divvying chores around camp with nothing but the barest minimum of playful complaints.

By the end of the week it's like camp has never been solemn and quiet, only broken occasionally by good cheer. Because now it's wild laughter and at least one conversation going at all times, an energetic atmosphere that has Tifa letting the rest of her tension go and Marlene jumping around in the mornings, play fighting with Biggs and watching Jessie build her tools with burning curiosity, helping Wedge to cook and bonding with him over the animals in her picture books.

Jessie helps Barret with his arm, too, in an unexpected turn of events that has Barret almost wanting to cry, Marlene squealing with excitement beside him. Apparently, her and Biggs are both good enough with electronics to attach an advanced prosthetic, and capable enough to go out on their own one quiet night to find him a working one.

It's a metal arm instead of a gun, but Barret couldn't care less. They'd risked life and limb invading a rundown facility to bring it to him, and the level of devotion and care they put into removing the old painful pieces and putting in the new ones is enough to make him love them.

And Gaia, he really does love them all. Wedge with his faithful optimism and Biggs with his rough edged compassion and easy going nature. Jessie with her giggling mischief and boundless support for others. His family.

They stay a long time. They stay months. And it's them that stay behind when Barret goes out with Tifa to find a home. Them that watch Marlene and take care of camp in his absence and them that help the group move into the house Barret finally finds, just at winter's cusp.

When they all spill into every crook and cranny of their new building, claiming rooms as Tifa carries Marlene inside and Barret eagerly stocks the kitchen, he can't help thinking that this time, things are really looking up for them.

This time, things have changed.

Their new home is a two story building. Solid and sturdy and located deep in the forest, with only a winding trail to lead them out. It's what will keep them safe from the Mobs, Barret knows, but everybody takes to the clearing and the surrounding forest with especial interest.

Tifa takes up practicing her fighting out back. She sets up a punching bag in the basement but she hardly uses it, preferring to move under the light of the sun as she trains. It's quite the spectacle. An easygoing, zen-like atmosphere that brings a comfortable blanket of warmth over the winter mornings.

Marlene especially loves Tifa's practice sessions, and it's one of the only ways Barret can get her to wake up on time now. She adores watching Tifa flow through her moves, and it soon becomes routine for her to sit outside and observe, wide eyed with awe and filled to brimming with questions.

Tifa answers them all patiently, laughing along as she practically dances across their lawn, and sometimes Barret will sit too, just to enjoy the peace.

"You can practice as well, you know," she tells him one day, brow furrowed in concentration as she drops to hold a particularly difficult position.

"What would I have to practice?"

"Daddy doesn't know how to fight!"

Barret scoffs with offense. "I know plenty."

Tifa laughs, shifting like water to pull up her leg and punch viciously at the air. "For your arm or your shooting! Maybe you could even practice wrestling."

"Wrestling, huh?" he chuckles.

She snorts. "You've got the build for it."

"Suppose I do."

"Everybody else has joined me before. Wedge has an exercise routine that he works through out here when he's feeling confident, although I think he still mostly does it in the basement. Jessie fiddles with her bombs sometimes, but most of the time she'll let me teach her some moves."

"You offering lessons?"

"Only to those who want them. Biggs occasionally will, but he primarily comes out here to play with Marlene."

"We're reading Madeline! I almost know aaalll the words."

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh! Uncle Biggs says I'm the smartest little girl he's ever met ever."

"Well, of course he did. My angel could run the whole universe if she wanted to."

Marlene giggles and blushes, scooching closer for a sideways hug as the conversation fades. The only sounds for a time are birds chirping and leaves rustling, Tifa's breaths punching from the tight coil of her stomach as she moves, sweat glistening in the sun.

"I'm only saying…" she breathes after a time, "that you could get out of the house more."

"This an intervention?"

"You've been a bit of a shut in lately, Barret. We're all worried."

It's that feeling, the feeling of being worried about - of having people around to care what he does and how he acts - that pushes Barret to take up practicing as well. It's melee fighting, mostly, and physical therapy with his new arm. Working over the throbbing aches in the muscle around the scarring that had gotten fried for months with small shocks.

By the middle of winter, Barret is thoroughly exhausted and pleased in a way he hasn't been for years, at ease with his body and with his family. Spending time with Marlene in the comfort of knowing they're safe and that she's cared for - that she'll be cared for no matter what happens.

So winter passes without trouble. Soft and warm, despite the fall of snow, in the thick of his family and the feeling of being loved.

Springtime rolls around not with a bang but with a whimper. Sliding into their lives on cool breezes and bright, blooming flowers. Falling in on the roll of words and strange circumstances. Endless food supplies and restocked medicines and a new picture book appearing in Marlene's hands that Barret's swears he's never seen before in his life.

He hears about Cloud before he sees him.

It happens first when he's in the kitchen. The fruit bowl is full through no action of anybody in the house. Filled mysteriously for what has to be the fifth time that season, and finally Barret can't take it anymore. So when Tifa passes through the room he takes the opportunity for what it is.

"Hey, Tifa!" He calls to get her attention, "we were out of pears two days ago, right?"

She stops and brushes the bangs from her eyes with a fond smile. "Oh yeah, Cloud brought some back after I told him we were out."

Cloud? When the hell had Cloud come around?

How did he even find them?

"Why were you talkin' with that thief? You know what he did, right?" Barret can count on one hand the amount of times Cloud has betrayed him, but it's still too many.

Unfortunately, Tifa doesn't seem to think so. "He isn't doing any harm, Barret." She rolls her eyes at his scowl. "It was just some supplies."

"Did you pay him for them?" If Cloud has asked for a single cent off of Tifa, Barret's going to put him so far underground he won't ever see the light of day again.

"No, Barret," she huffs, crossing her arms, "I didn't even ask for them. Now leave Cloud alone."

"If he wanted to be a damn decent person, the least he could do is be less of a coward about it and show his damn face!"

"If you want him to stay, you're going to have to ask him yourself. I've already tried."

She walks away after that, not at all fazed by Barret's steaming indignation as he grinds into the empty air, "I don't want him to stay!"

He doesn't.

Nobody answers.

Two days later, it's Marlene who mentions him. She's got another pretty coloring book and a new set of crayons, and Barret forgets for a moment about the whole fiasco until he asks her where she got them.

"Cloud gave them to me!" she exclaims excitedly, pulling open the pages to wave a tiny, shittily drawn pencil flower in his face.

"The hell is that?"

"A flower. Cloud drew it! We drew together!"

"You drew together?! When was this? How long did he stay?"

And how the hell hadn't he noticed?

Marlene puffs up at the question, thinking long and hard before nodding decisively and saying, "Super long! It was like...an hour."

"A whole hour? And this was all he drew? Baby, you got robbed."

It takes an effort to remain lighthearted in the face of this intrusion, but Tifa's right about nobody getting hurt, and Barret is loathe to see the smile fade from his little girl's face.

"I told you he was family, Daddy."

"Yeah…yeah, you did."

Family doesn't leave each other behind, though. And Cloud's left them all twice now.

Unfortunately, the little snippets of conversation about Cloud don't end there. First it's Tifa and Marlene and then it's crutches for Biggs and painkillers when Barret's arm starts acting up, despite the fact that he'd never told a soul. Jessie rambles praises about Cloud's skill out on missions and Wedge offers shy assertions of what Cloud is like as a friend.

It isn't a lot. Doesn't permeate their home or destroy the peace. Yet it still drives Barret mad. The entire team has seen or interacted with Cloud since he left. Everybody has spent time with him or talked to him in some small capacity.

Everybody but Barret.

"He's got a pretty red scarf now," Marlene tells him one day, as they're out picking flowers for the dinner table, "and his clothes are all blue. I liked him better in black." She makes a face and Barret can't help but laugh, though there's a weight settling in his gut that feels a lot like dissatisfaction.

"Well, maybe the next time I see him I'll tell him he looks like a fool."

"No!" she giggles, "you'll make him sad!"

"If he can't handle a little honest criticism, then maybe he deserves to be sad. Hell, his ego could probably use the reality check."

Marlene hums. "What's an ego?"

"It means you...well, having a big ego means that you think you're better than everybody else. It makes you look down on other people and feel like you're the most important."

"Oh…" Marlene seems to mull this over for a moment, and Barret busies himself with finding the prettiest damn flowers in the clearing as he waits. Until finally she hums, biting her lip and toying with the ripped edges of the flower stems clumped in her fist. "I don't think he's like that, Daddy. I think he just wants to be liked."

Barret snorts in disbelief. "Yeah, well he's got a funny way of showing it."

Marlene thinks for another second as she pulls up more flowers. "I like him," she eventually says, small and uncertain, and Barret sighs.

"I do too," he tells her, and the words feel too right on his tongue to be a lie, but he convinces himself of it anyway, "now let's finish this up before everybody eats without us."

The day ends on a peaceful note, with Marlene forgetting about the conservation and Barret pushing it to the back of his mind, but every so often the little things will bring it forward again. Small comments and throwaway lines. The house slowly filling with the presence of not six people, like he'd expected, but seven.

Except their seventh member isn't there. And every day his presence lingers like a shadow instead of a light, Barret finds himself growing unhappier.

He doesn't like the kid, but hell, he'd certainly appreciate having him around.

It's a woman's scream that changes things again. A woman's scream that turns the world around, heard high and frightened over the boughs of the trees when Barret is out on patrol with Tifa.

It's the close vicinity to their home as well as the sheer terror in her voice that makes Barret come running, and he only shares a brief look with Tifa before they're both tearing through the trees. Racing like a fire is licking at their heels as they burst abruptly through the treeline and come stumbling out into a clearing filled with infected.

Barret manages to skid to a halt nearer the trees, but Tifa flies a good few feet further before she tucks and rolls amidst the thick field of flowers and comes to a smooth stop.

It's the high, panicked shouts that has them both looking up to see a girl - large green eyes and soft brown ringlets - standing high on the peak of a boulder. She's surrounded on all sides by a horde of infuriated infected, carrying a basket full of flowers and waving a staff at them with violent intent.

"Stay- Stay back!" She shuffles backwards and gasps when her foot slips, rocks crumbling beneath her weight. Within seconds Tifa is launching over to her, kicking the nearest infected in the head with such force it's sent flying backwards.

"Don't move!" she calls up to the girl, garnering her wide eyed attention, "stay right there and we'll take care of this, okay?"

Barret nods and comes forward, pulling out his handgun to fire an ear splitting round into one that's managed to crawl halfway up the boulder. It falls and crushes a good few of it's friends, and the girl's mouth quickly turns to an 'o' of awe as she watches Tifa punch another one straight to the ground.

"We got this taken care of," he says, taking out a good ten more before reloading with rapid efficiency.

Tifa's a whirlwind of spins and kicks as she tears through the center of the horde, stopping at the base of the boulder for only a second to look up at the girl again, panting and brushing the hair from her eyes as she smiles softly. "You just worry about not fallin' down, okay?" she says, voice warm.

"Okay…" the girl sighs dreamily, standing her staff upright and leaning on it to peer over the edge at Tifa, "my name's Aerith."

"Oh! Uh...nice to meet ya, Aerith. I'm Tifa and that's Barret."

Barret growls and shoots down another dozen, glowering at Tifa's back. "Hey! Fight now, chat later, Prince Charming."

"Right!" She high kicks an infected clean through the jaw and doesn't even pause as she whirls around and drives her heel into another. "On it."

Barret has to reload another time as Tifa covers herself, and she wastes no time in reducing the rest of the infected to a downed pile of bodies. He pops off the last remaining stragglers and heads over, holding out a hand to first grab Aerith's basket and lower it to the ground. Then he raises his arm so Aerith can brace herself against him and slide down.

"You're going to be just fine," he soothes as Tifa grabs her around the waist and lowers her the rest of the way, "barely a scratch on you."

"Oh, I can take care of myself," she sniffs, hefting her staff over her shoulder as she leans down to pick up her basket, "but the first twenty drained my mana quite unexpectedly. Usually I've got better stamina."

"You're a conjurer?" Barret asks, silently offering to take the basket from her as Tifa helps her across the pile of bodies. She hands it to him and nods with a sharp mhm!

"I've been using magic since I was a little girl. There are a lot of spellcasters now who've run dry, but the planet provides all the energy I need."

"She does wonders for us everyday," Barret agrees, cradling her flower basket gingerly. They cross the field slowly, with Aerith at first having trouble stumbling over the infected and later pausing to pick flowers at any given moment.

"Why are you all the way out here, anyway?" Tifa asks her, bending down to pick some as well. She hands them to Aerith with a shy smile and Aerith plucks them from her fingers as if they're made of spun gold.

"This area has the best flowers." Aerith hums and tucks Tifa's choice away behind her ear, holding the other out to Barret.

He chuckles and accepts it gracefully, doing the same with rising amusement as he watches the blush on Tifa's face darken.

"I'm- I'm sorry your spot got ruined," she manages after a time, as they all come to a halt at the treeline, "we have another...another field full of flowers- closer to home."

"You live around here?" Aerith asks, and Barret only feels the faintest hint of suspicion at the question, considering how sweetly it was asked and how strange the circumstances are. He doubts this girl has any ill will toward them.

"Yeah," he says, "down by the river. It's a bit of a clearing in the trees. Far enough away from the roads so we don't run into trouble. We've got a few others there as well."

Aerith's smile turns painfully reminiscent, cheerful eyes going vacant with a painful memory. "I used to have a home like that," she says lowly, looking down at her staff to play her fingers over the rough edges, "it was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen. Ringed in gardens and covered in nature's love; the flowers went on for miles in every direction."

"I'm sure your new home is just as lovely."

"Oh, I don't have a home anymore."

Tifa hesitates, glancing over at Barret in question, and he nods. His heart already aches with Aerith's solemnity, and he wishes for nothing more than to help her.

"Would you like to come have dinner with us?" Tifa asks softly, grabbing Aerith lightly by the elbow. Her red eyes are tender as she catches Aerith's own brilliant green, and she smiles with nothing but sweet compassion. "We'd love to have you."

"It ain't no nature's lover, but it looks mighty fine, if I do say so myself," Barret adds in. His heart lightens when he hears Aerith laugh, and they share a triumphant look over her head as Aerith straightens and pulls Tifa closer, jutting her chin in Barret's direction.

"Lead the way, then. I'd love to see your home."

So Barret leads the way.

The conversation as they walk is mellow, not fraught with anything but the settle of indolent satisfaction, and they bask in each other's company as they gather flowers on the path home.

Aerith beams when she sees their house, utterly delighted. She enters with awe and she sits at their table and she eats with enthusiasm, sharing stories with Barret's family and never once finding fault in them. Afterward, flowers spread across the house throughout the evening's waning glow. As she and Marlene work to place the brightly colored plants on every windowsill, giggling and talking about nature and magic and the flow of the universe, full and sated and happy.

Then it turns dark and the night falls too suddenly, so Barret offers for her to stay the night. She agrees to a chorus of cheers, Jessie snorting and throwing an arm around her shoulder as Biggs and Wedge fight to show off her room.

Barret watches it all happen from the kitchen, lingering by the sink to dry dishes as Tifa washes them.

"Do you think she'll stay?" Tifa asks, in the quiet of the night with the gentle lull of voices not too far away.

Barret chuckles. "Oh yeah, she'll stay."

One night staying over turns to one more day turns to just one more night. On and on until they find that Aerith has, indeed, never left.

And she never does, brightening their world that much more with her radiance.

There are some things about his family that Barret can't fix. Things like Wedge's insecurity and Tifa's shy anxiety - Aerith's stubborn independence and Jessie's proactive dynamo and Biggs's choice to put everybody else before himself. Things that tear them up inside and wring them out. Things that sometimes make them have bad days and good days.

Things that sometimes bring them to him, no matter how much he knows and they know that he can't do a thing about it.

"My father was in a coma," Jessie tells him one day, completely out of the blue. She's tinkering with a grenade and eyeing blueprints, body open and at ease, but there's a tension in her shoulders, tongue peaking out between her teeth. "It was because of the mako in Shinra buildings. He's been like that for years, he- was like that for years."

"I'm sorry, Jessie."

"Yeah? You've always hated Shinra. You probably would have hated my father for working for them."

"That's not true. I trusted them, too, and my home was destroyed because of my mistake," he says softly, taking off his sunglasses to meet her eyes. She blinks over at him and he can see the jump in her shoulders, but when she looks back down at her work again she forces a smile.

"Guess we both got taken in by the big shiny slogan, huh?"

"Yeah." It isn't enough, Barret knows. It will never be enough. So he lets the silence fall as they work, and Jessie opens up again only a few minutes later.

"My mother used to cook these big meals, and she'd always leave the light on in case I ever returned home, but...I rarely did." She pauses and lets a smaller, more solemn smile settle on her lips, and despite the fact that it's that much sadder, Barret's relieved to see that it's a genuine display.

"Wedge would have loved her cooking," Jessie says with a chuckle, "you all probably would. Bunch of starved barbarians."

Barret snorts out a laugh. "You can say that again."

Another silence descends, thick with a mourning Barret doesn't think Jessie's let herself feel for a moment since this started, and he relaxes into a solid and supportive presence at her side; unmoving.

"I think I'd have liked to meet your mother," he offers into the quiet, and Jessie smiles.

"Yeah, she'd have liked to meet you, too."

Jessie...Jessie speaks. But nobody reacts the same to trauma and grief, and the others don't speak so much as let it sink into their lives.

Wedge holds himself together differently than the rest. Always worried and endlessly kind, like a nerve exposed to the cruelty of the world. He's stronger than most of them, Barret knows. He's more powerful than he ever seems to realize. Yet there is nothing Barret can say to help him - no words that can break the cycle Wedge has trapped himself in - so Barret doesn't use words.

He uses action.

Every second of every day. Every time he sees Wedge succeed and power through. Every time he sees him fail and sink into depression. Every time Wedge does anything emotional or physical or just plain simple, Barret is there for him. With honest praise and constant check-ups, showing the man that he is loved and that he has friends.

It warms Barret when he sees the others doing the same, supporting Wedge through his trials and lifting him further when he flies - never giving up on him.

There's a stream of humor throughout as well. Biggs and Jessie's understanding and respect masked as playful jabs. Laughter and claps on the shoulder and sideways hugs; Biggs using Wedge's shoulder to walk as he rambles in his ear and Jessie making his favorite foods after a hard mission; Tifa sharing stories of her childhood with Wedge so he can do the same and Marlene drawing him pictures of flowers and hearts and heroic deeds. Even Aerith, new to their family and still finding where she fits, takes Wedge out with her to collect flowers and occasionally raid old homes for food. Barret doesn't know what they talk about, but they both always come back looking lighter than when they'd left.

The team comes together with their own faults and their own troubles like broken glass, but they don't scratch and they don't break, and Barret has never been more proud to call these people his family.

Barret finds himself the closest with Tifa, though. Even as he settles contentedly into the swirling, chaotically unique lives of the people around him.

Tifa carries the world on her shoulders. Always tense and always angry; rage simmering beneath the surface of calm.

Barret gets that - he understands it.

Tifa's close with everybody in their growing family - especially Aerith, once she pops into their lives - but she spends the most time with Barret. It was them before anybody else, after all. Taking care of Marlene and fighting together. It had been Tifa's heart of gold that had encouraged him to open his life to her and let her in. It had been her steady presence that had allowed him to let in others.

Barret loves this woman with his everything, almost as much as he loves Marlene.

So it hurts when one day, after a failed mission, skin littered in burns and cuts and fists clenched with a rage she could never safely release, she looks at him as if she's failed him, too. As if she's failed the world.

"I'm sorry, Barret," she chokes out, "I'm-"

He catches her hand in his own and soothes the tension, tugging her forward until she's pressed against his chest. When she doesn't pull away he wraps his arms around her, cradling her as gently as he can, and sinks his fingers into her hair.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I do," she cries, shoulders heaving and body quaking, and he gentles her with small movements, rubbing his thumb in light circles and shushing her softly. "I do, I've failed- so many people."

"Not me," he assures her, "never me. And never them."

"We needed that-"

"Not at much as we need you. Never as much as we need you."

It won't fix anything. It never fixes anything. But he holds her as she cries and he lets her know she has a family, and he hopes it's enough.

It was enough for him.

Marlene is able to make him crowns of real flowers, now that they have a true home. They're picked wild from the forest every day, and when spring rolls into summer she finds daisies and leaves and little patches of thimbleweed to weave all kinds of accessories.

It's a decent way to occupy her time, and Barret will often make crowns with her on the back porch when can. Sometimes they'll watch Tifa practice when they do so. Sometimes they even get to see Biggs competing with Jessie or Aerith casting her spells. Most of the time, they try to do it around midday, when everybody is inside and it's just the two of them, cheerful conversations at their back and the stretch of sunlit forest before them.

"Does the planet make flowers because they're meant to be crowns?" Marlene asks on a particularly sunny day. It's distracted and dim - a passing curiosity - but Barret answers anyway.

"The planet makes flowers because they help the world go round," he tells her, " and because they look beautiful."

"She must work very hard."

Barret chuckles and holds out his crown for her, waiting until she's dipped her head with a beaming smile to put it on her.

"Yeah, angel," he says eventually, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. He lifts her chin to kiss her on the forehead and hums. "But it's worth it to create such beauty in the world every day."

"Does she ever get a break?" Marlene asks, eyes wide with worry as she peers up at him.

"Well, I'm sure she doesn't see what she's doing as work, baby. She takes care of us because she loves us, and because the world is hers."

"Oh," Marlene whispers, and he frowns in confusion as she turns her head to study her crown, fiddling with the small petals embedded throughout.

"What's this about, baby?"

"Hm, nothing!" She gives him a big smile, full of a softness and an understanding he's never seen in her eyes before today. She stands and rises on her toes to lift her crown to his head, then, sincere and sweet as honey, "I just think you're a lot like the planet, Daddy."

He blinks at her when she pats him on the head, crushing a stray few flowers by accident, before whirling around with a twirl of her pretty pink dress to head back inside. The door closes behind her with a thud, and Barret blinks again.

"'Like the planet', huh? Well shit," he sighs, "least I don't got mako in my veins."

When Barret finally sees Cloud again, it's almost a full year after they'd last spoken, and with only short anecdotes to let Barret know how the kid's been doing in the interim, it's no surprise that he almost doesn't recognize Cloud when he lays eyes on him. Though when he does, he can't say he's overjoyed.

The first thing he notices is that Cloud's got on the red scarf Marlene had mentioned, though it's tattered and torn now, curling behind him in the light winds as he stands amidst the massacre of the infected all around him. It's stark against the vivid blue of his outfit, but the browns in his boots and the leather straps criss crossing his chest tone the whole thing down a notch.

It's still enough to make Barret squint in disbelief.

"The hell are you doin' up here, merc?" he snaps, drawing the blonde's attention to him in sharp assessment. The hard edges of Cloud's expression fall away when he catches sight of Barret, though, eyes widening for a second in surprise before he's recovering and pulling his mask back into place.

Barret sighs. "Why are you so near to the city? Ya got a job in that hellhole? 'Cause I can tell you right now that no amount of gil is worth it."

Cloud blinks at him. "That's really none of your business."

"It is my business when I've got five people back at home worried about your hard boiled ass," Barret growls, hackles rising at the tone.

Cloud only gives him a condescending once over, turning away in clear dismissal. "Then maybe you should worry less about others and more about yourself."

Barret's blood boils. "The hell did you say to me?!"

"Your sacrifice is award worthy, but nobody's forcing you to bask in my presence. Leave if it bothers you."

"What has gotten into you?"

"Exactly what you expected of a former SOLDIER, or don't you remember?"

Barret frowns at that, gritting his teeth against a cutting response as he lets the merc sit on the words he'd just said. There's a long silence, Cloud's gaze flickering to Barret and then away, face still stoically neutral. He wavers for a split second, hand tightening around his sword, then swallows.

"...they killed Zack."

"What, the SOLDIER?"

"My friend." It's a startling rebuke, but it isn't waspish or clipped at all. Cloud sounds almost empty, teetering on the edge of some unnamed emotion, and Barret has the feeling that he'll never see the kid again if he happens to fall in the wrong damn direction.

Why do I care?

"Are they inside the city?"

For Tifa. And the others.

"No," Cloud's voice cracks on the word, composure crumbling for a second as he struggles to regain control, "they left- they-" His voice breaks again and he falls silent. His shoulders rise and his gloves strain in a death grip around the hilt of his sword, but he doesn't say another word.

"Were you going to kill them?" Barret asks, worried more for Cloud than the assholes that had almost murdered him in cold blood. And hell, okay, so maybe Barret does like the merc after all, but nobody has to know that except him.

"I was going to avenge him," Cloud says, voice almost a whisper. He looks down and burrows into his scarf, shoulders up to his ears with what has to be agonizing tension, and Barret approaches with slow steps as the kid begins to tremble.

"How were you going to do that?"

"By- I don't know- I wanted to…" he swallows roughly, closing his eyes and wrapping both hands around the hilt of his sword. He brings it closer to his chest in the parody of a hug and casts a sideways glance at Barret again. His gaze is split open now, emotions a roiling mass of pain and misery, and he curls his entire body inward as if to protect himself from the world.

Barret's heart pangs, throat closing in something like grief for a man he doesn't even know, and watches as the strongest person he's ever met crumples further with every second he's left standing alone.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting justice," Barret tells him, stopping a short distance away, "You must have loved him a lot."

Cloud nods, short and stilted, bringing the sword even closer as he speaks. "This was his," he whispers, "it's not- it's not mine. I don't know if I could...if I could kill them- with it."

He says it like he's ashamed, and Barret wants to tell him he doesn't have to be - wants to say a dozen things he never could.

"He was a good man?" Barret asks in place of it all, "is that why?"

"Yeah." Cloud's voice cracks on the well of tears this time around, and he hisses as he runs a frustrated wrist over his cheeks, the smooth brown texture of his gloves only serving to smear it further across his face until he hides it in the crook of his arm for a moment, breaths short and panicked.

There's a strong urge to pull Cloud into his arms as he watches the kid collapse in on himself, but he knows that wouldn't be a good idea. So Barret doesn't move to touch Cloud at all, merely sliding forward a bit more on small steps. Settling on the ground as close as he dares in a spot not covered in dead bodies or blood.

"Tell me about him."

The smile Cloud gives him is a bitter thing. "You sure you want to hear about a Shinra lapdog?"

"I'm sure I want to hear about your friend and a good man. Now sit, merc. I'd say you're makin' my back ache having to look up at you, but even sitting down, that doesn't seem to be a problem."

Cloud huffs out a laugh and wipes at his face again, and Barret studiously does not notice the complete break in facade as he slowly lowers himself to the ground.

There's a long silence between them before Cloud starts to speak, but Barret is patient. When Cloud does speak, it's like an outpouring of information. Emotions detached in an obvious effort to remain impartial - even judgmental - and Barret wonders if the kid has had anybody to talk to about this since it happened.

He doubts it.

Asking Cloud to come home now would only push him further away, though, so Barret lets him speak and he lets him leave.

And Barret waits.

Cloud's appearances around the house become more frequent, after that. They occur as often when Barret is around as when he isn't, and Barret finds a sense of contentment in the way their family almost becomes whole every time. Even though he can see Tifa aching and Aerith slumping every time the kid leaves - can see Marlene sometimes sitting high on the rooftop to watch for his bike.

Cloud's absence always makes Jessie huffy. Always engenders a sad understanding in Biggs's eyes, like he knows why Cloud does it and doesn't like it. Wedge is always the only one that's happy when Cloud leaves, merely pleased to have been able to spend time with him at all.

Barret watches their discontent grow with every passing day. Weeks turning to months turning to a whole year of this back and forth; one piece of their perfect puzzle always missing.

But Cloud gets better with every passing day the team gets worse. He's recovering, Barret notices, in agonizingly short intervals. Careful, prodding steps instead of eager leaps, but it's enough. And Barret watches the ratty red scarf and glaring blue outfit turn into another black ensemble. A high necked zip up shirt and a smooth leather shoulder pad. Rich black gloves and a well tailored sleeve. He watches as the battered, stumbling, sleep deprived, bruise eyed look becomes more stable and more healthy - more whole - and he feels proud.

The new look is strange, though, Barret can admit. When he asks Cloud about it he gets a sarcastic evasion, but when he asks Aerith she says he's changed jobs.

"He does deliveries now," she sings happily, "we've asked him to carry quite a few things to the nearest Camp."

"So he's quit being a merc?"

"No, he still does that too sometimes."

Barret sighs. "What a bastard."

But it means the kid is finally getting his shit together, so Barret doesn't feel too bad.

The rest of the team starts to find a rhythm to their lives as well. There's cooking and camaraderie and a simple domesticism, yet there's also supply runs and near constant training. A restless energy that's broken one day when Cloud makes his next visit.

It's when they're all in the house together for once, and he steps through the front door like he owns the damn place, offering them positions in a guild.

"They've got jobs," he says, "gathering supplies for Camps and fighting off Clusters as charity work, all unpaid and free for those who need it. There's even some more...difficult missions that involve espionage and- and taking down big Syndicates."

"Shinra?" Barret's the one to ask as everybody holds their breath behind him, and when Cloud nods in answer the tension in the room snaps with a rush of vindictive glee.

"Hell, yeah!" Jessie whoops, Biggs grinning beside her, and Barret notices Wedge looking just as pleased.

He can't help but return the sentiment, laughing loudly. "Looks like they're getting a whole host of new members!"

"It's mostly going to be helping people, Barret," Cloud reminds him, and Tifa nods.

"Let's not forget the main objective here."

"Oh, I won't. This is just what we need, trust me."

Cloud nods sharply. "Good, then I'll deliver the message."

Barret follows him out of the house and leaves the others behind, a question on the tip of his tongue that he can't shake. Until Cloud sits on his bike, turning to say goodbye, and Barret asks it before he can convince himself otherwise.

"You workin' for them too, merc?"

Cloud hesitates on the throttle, lips pursing for a second in thought. "I'm not a merc anymore," he finally says, and that's all the answer Barret needs.

"You've got a place here, Cloud. If you ever need it or want it."

"...you've already got...something here."

"Not without you we don't. It's killing Tifa, you not being here. And everybody else is miserable too."

"And what-" he blushes and shifts, clearing his throat uncomfortably, "what about you?"

Under normal circumstances, Barret would be rolling his eyes at being forced to say it, but there's something about the way it's asked that makes him think Cloud hasn't been sticking around for one simple reason. It's discomfiting in a number of ways - makes Barret feel like the biggest fool in the world - but he pushes that aside in favor of giving the kid a smile. An honest, caring smile that has him swallowing thickly and looking away.

"I want you here too, Cloud. We all want you here. You're family and we miss you, okay?" Barret huffs and crosses his arms. "So don't keep us waiting, you hear? We've waited long enough."

Too damn long, if you ask Barret.

"Yeah, I'm...uh. I'll have to think about it."

Barret snorts. "'Course you will."

Cloud's lips twitch with a smile, and he revs the engine loud enough to make Barret jump and scowl viciously. "I'm a hot commodity, Barret. I've got a lot of offers!"

"Offers, my ass! You ain't a damn prostitute."

Cloud, the complete and utter bastard, doesn't even sate Barret's curiosity with a response. before he's leaving just as quickly as he'd come.

"Fucking smartass."

In the end, their family comes together in a number of ways. Pieces Barret hadn't even known were missing slotting into place like they were always meant to be there.

Cloud comes home eventually, at the end of another long year, and during that time Barret finds a new purpose in a team dedicated to helping people. They fight a lot more now - entering dangerous situations and watching each other's backs. Yet he makes sure to always spend just as much time - if not more - at home with his little girl.

Cloud gets on with Aerith and Tifa like oil on fire, and the trio quickly becomes inseparable. Likewise, Biggs, Jessie and Wedge seem to form an unbreakable bond as well, though the two groups mesh together whenever they can. Hanging out and laughing and lazing the days away just as much as they fight side by side and conquer any adversity that gets in their way.

Barret grows closer with all of them in ways he'd ever thought he could, and as the years pass their bonds only grow stronger. They take care of each other like a family should. Save each other like a family should.

And in the midst of an apocalypse, misery at the door and the world gone to ruin, Barret finds a haven in the people he's gathered around him. Good people, he thinks, that he could never let go.