#clifa

Marlene glanced up from her book as he approached, a soft smile lighting up her face. "Hey, Cloud," she greeted warmly.

“Where’s Tifa?” he asked.

“Said she had something to do. I’m filling in for now.”

“Let me take over.” Cloud had always been conflicted with the concept of the young girl serving alcohol, but she had been doing it since she was old enough to learn how to mix properly and she never complained. 

“What are you reading?” he asked, squeezing into the booth beside her. 

"It's a story about knights and dragons," Marlene said excitedly, flipping the pages to show him the colorful illustrations. "I like to pretend that Daddy is a knight going away to fight evil dragons."

Cloud’s chest tightened, knowing how much she must miss him. “Are you doing okay? With Barret being away so much?” He wasn’t opposed to tracking the man down and physically dragging him back home.

Her face fell. “I’m used to it,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. “Of course, I miss him. But…” She took his oversized hand in hers. “I have you and Tifa, so I’m okay. He gets caught up in saving everybody and forgets about me, but you two don’t.”

“Your father loves you very much.”

“I know. But lately, you’ve felt more like a dad to me.” 

Her voice was quiet, as if she was worried that he might become angry. He didn’t blame her considering that he had once lost his temper when Denzel called him Dad. He wanted to be better. It wasn’t their fault that he had reservations with that title. 

“I care about you and Denzel a lot,” Cloud conceded. “But I’m still not your father.”

“Neither is Daddy. Not really.” 

Silence fell between them. Then, she jumped up in a showcase of the innocence that persisted through the shadows of her life. “You don’t have to be a dad to act like one.” Her tone was insistent, leaving no room for arguing. 

He shook his head, holding back a chuckle at her forcefulness. “I suppose you’re right.”

She grinned and started running up the stairs. “I’m going to go play with Denzel.”

Cloud’s gaze fixed on the polished surface of the bar, but he saw none of the faint reflections in its gleam. Laughter and the clatter of glasses continued to surround him, but he felt the world still as he lost himself to his thoughts. As a child, he had never been one to entertain grand visions of domesticity. The very notion of fatherhood seemed as distant and alien as the stars dotting the night sky above Nibelheim. He remembered, with an inward wince, how his younger self would recoil from company, his shyness like an invisible barrier between him and the world. Even the simplest interactions were fraught with anxiety, and he became adept at pushing people away before they could glimpse the vulnerability he guarded so fiercely. The idea of anyone putting up with him long enough to become his friend seemed unrealistic; the idea of someone liking him enough to become his girlfriend, then wife, then mother of his child was absurd.

But somehow, he had made friends. First with Tifa, then Zack, and finally their mix-matched band of teammates. His attempts at pushing people away must not have been as effective as he assumed, or else his friends had the stubbornness of a mule. Knowing them, he would bet his gil on the latter. 

And somehow, Tifa was on her way to doing all of those things he never dreamed of. They had this comfortable life together, and he found himself finally questioning what the future held for them rather than hyper focusing on the current mission so as not to worry about misfortune might befall him next. Life had showered him in a shit storm, but most of the clouds had moved aside, allowing the sun to finally shine into his Mako-infused eyes. The future seemed promising for once; a future with Tifa, who never gave up on him, and Marlene and Denzel, who relied on him.

The weight of their trust was a badge he wore with a mixture of humility and determination. Tifa’s unwavering support, her kind smile that could chase away the shadows of doubt in his mind, her gentle touch that spoke volumes in its silent understanding. She saw past the hardened facade he wore like a second skin, piercing through the layers of pain and guilt to reach the fragile heart that beat beneath. The way Marlene and Denzel saw him as someone capable of comfort and guidance. The girl’s infectious laughter and the boy’s fierce determination to be strong like him. They were all treasures he never thought he deserved.

The door swung open, admitting a fresh wave of chatter and the evening's cool breath. Tifa stepped through with a presence that instantly called everyone’s attention. A few patrons raised their glass to her, and one lone man called out a hello. Returning the greeting, her eyes scanned the room, taking in the patrons and the state of affairs with a practiced sweep until they landed on Cloud.

He remained anchored to his seat as she approached. There was a quality to her movement, an eager bounce that suggested she was eager to tell him something. His reflection dissipated, replaced with anticipation for whatever she was about to share. 

Tifa's hand settled on his shoulder.. He looked up, gaze meeting hers, and his breath caught at the clarify of his reflection in her eyes.

"Cloud," she said, her voice brimming with an excitement that spilled over. "I'm pregnant."

Her words hung in the air, earth-shattering, reshaping the entire world around him. The clamor of the bar faded into a muffled backdrop, as if the universe had conspired to give this moment the reverence it deserved. Cloud remained silent, his own feelings momentarily caught in the gravity of her revelation.

His eyes snapped wide at this unforeseen plot twist in his life. leaving only Tifa's expectant gaze and the steady thump of his heart loud in his ears. A myriad of emotions fought within him—fear, hope, disbelief—all clashing into a frenzy that threatened to conquer him.

As the initial shock began to settle, a frown creased his brow. Memories, dark and smoldering like the remnants of Nibelheim's destruction, crept in. He had walked away from the ashes of his hometown with a resolve that had since turned into an unspoken vow: to spare any new soul from being drawn into the chaos and sorrow that seemed to trail behind him like a relentless storm.

The ghosts of his past loomed over him, whispering of loss and the cruel fate that had befallen those he held dear. How could he, a man who had struggled to protect even those closest to him, dare to bring a new life into a world that had shown him so much pain? The very notion clawed at him, a silent scream against the joy that he was supposed to feel.

Yet Tifa stood before him, her presence and eternal strength a balm to his negative thoughts. She carried within her the promise of a bright future—a future Cloud had never allowed himself to entertain, lest it crumble to dust like so many dreams before it.

Once, Aerith had elicited a beautiful fantasy. The Ancient had walked into his life like a rainbow after an endless storm. Her laugh was a melody that could make the slums of Midgar seem like a field of wildflowers. She found joy in the simplicity of existence, in the stray dog searching for scraps or the wilted blossom struggling towards the sun from a crack in the concrete. With every step she took, she rewove the fabric of the world, showing him colors he'd forgotten existed.

To her, hope was a certainty as real as the earth beneath their feet. He used to watch her tend to her flowers, her hands gentle and sure, her spirit unmarred by the shadows that clung to the corners of their lives. Aerith would whisper encouragement to each bud, believing that some part of them could hear her. Cloud caught himself imagining what it would be like for her to cradle a child of her own, to see her pass on that same optimism, that nurturing love, that unwavering belief in beauty despite the evidence of the contrary.

Yet the world was cruel, and fate even crueler. The day Aerith's light was extinguished, something vital within him had shattered. It was a loss that echoed the hollowness he felt when Zack, bright and brash Zack who embodied heroism and honor, had fallen. Their souls too pure, too full of life to deserve falling into the darkness that seemed to ever loom in the peripherals of their lives.

He remembered the weight of silence after she was gone, how the planet itself seemed to mourn. The color faded, leaving him with nothing but the echo of her absence.

Cloud let out a slow breath. The raw edges of those memories dulled slightly with time, but never quite healed. They were scars upon his heart, reminders of what could have been—and of what was irrevocably lost.

Cloud scrutinized his reflection on the table.He saw many things: an introvert, an outcast, a test-subject, a warrior, a protector, a friend, a lover, a hardass, a disappointment. The role of father was one he wasn’t sure he could fulfill. 

"Cloud?" Tifa's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, yet it did little to still the tremor of doubt within him.

"Can I really do this, Tifa? Look at me. I've always kept everyone at arm's length. I'm not exactly a model of warmth and affection."

Her hand found his, reassuring. "You're more than you think you are," she said softly, her eyes holding his with earnest intensity. "You've been there for Marlene and Denzel. You might not see it yourself, but you care, Cloud. And they feel it—your love and your protection."

"But being someone’s dad..." he trailed off, the word alien and heavy on his tongue.

"There isn’t a right or wrong way to parent. You don't have to say much. It's in every action, every time you put their needs before your own." Her smile was gentle, an unspoken assurance that she believed in him more than he believed in himself.

Cloud looked away, his gaze drifting over the familiarity of the bar. Perhaps, in the quiet moments he'd shared with those kids, in the sacrifices he didn't even realize he was making, there was a capacity for fatherhood he had never credited himself with.

"Maybe," he finally murmured, the admission a tentative step toward believing.

The lone man who had greeted Tifa earlier called out for another round. Cloud watched as the woman he loved moved with practiced ease behind the bar counter. The way she mixed several kinds of alcohol creating a new concoction reminded him that he wasn’t a bunch of different things, but a conglomerate of everything combined, hopefully creating something better than any individual part. 

Maybe he could become what this child needed; maybe he already was, in ways he hadn't realized.

When Tifa returned to his side, she leaned against the wall. His eyes roamed down to her flat, exposed stomach. It was hard to imagine that a baby was growing inside. “How far along?”

She smiled, putting a hand to her non-existent bulge. “Three weeks. It will take a while before I start showing.”

Unbidden, the image of Aerith excitement rubbing over her stomach came to mind. She would have been ecstatic, a better reaction than his own doubts. "It should've been Aerith, instead," he said, voice raw. "She... she would have been amazing at this." His gaze dropped to the worn wood of the bar counter.

Tifa's somber gaze lingered on the empty space between them, her eyes reflecting an understanding that stretched beyond words. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Cloud's calloused hand with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the scars of many battles. Her touch was light, yet it anchored him to the moment, to the reality they both had to face.

"Aertih…" she began, her voice low and steady, "She would have been an amazing mother."

With a gentle motion, she lifted his hand, bringing it to her lips. The soft kiss she placed upon his knuckles was not just a gesture of love but also one of shared loss, a silent vow that they would honor the memory of their friend together.

"Neither of us could have had a child on our own. You would have been a part of that miracle, too."

Cloud's heart clenched at the truth of her words, grappling with the weight of a life that might have been, and the life that was unfolding before him.

When he didn’t respond, she continued. "Aerith saw the best in us," she whispered, "in you. She believed in possibility, in the new life we're building now. That belief—it's a gift, Cloud. And it's ours to carry forward."

Cloud watched as Tifa's eyes, often so full of strength, softened with a vulnerability that tugged at something primal within him. Her hand was still in his, her warmth a stark contrast to the chill of his doubts.

"Cloud," she said, her voice a whisper of resolve, "all we can do is try to be the parents Aerith would have helped us become."

He tried to imagine it—himself as a father, bearing the responsibility of nurturing a life, of protecting innocence from the demons living inside his head. It felt like standing at the precipice of an unknowable abyss, but Tifa's presence beside him served as an anchor, grounding him to the present.

Watching Tifa go through labor was excruciating. Her beautiful face contourted in pain, screams falling from her lips, and all Cloud could see was that she was hurting. In his protective rage, he nearly broke the midwife’s arm before Tifa’s calming voice reminded him that this was normal; she would be alright. It wasn’t a certainty, though, and every clench of her muscles caused his blood to boil. 

Over, over, it needed to be over. 

"Deep breaths,” he urged, attempting to sooth her even though his voice was hard and tight. "Focus on my voice."

Tifa nodded through a contraction, squeezing his hand with a ferocity that might have hurt him if not for the Mako running through his veins. He marveled at her strength, even through her contractions.

“You’re almost there.”

As another wave crested, she bore down, her breaths coming in sharp gasps. Her hand crushed his with each push until finally, the midwife lifted up a small mass of bloody pink. 

A wail of new life pierced the silence, resonating deep within Cloud's very soul. He watched, his breath held captive, as Tifa cradled their newborn daughter to her chest. The midwife gently cleaned the infant, and as the baby's features came into view, a hushed sense of wonder fell upon the room.

Cloud stepped closer, his eyes tracing the contours of the tiny face—a mirror image of Aerith's, with the same delicate brow and sparkling green eyes. It was as though time had folded in on itself, and for an instant, he could see Aerith there in Tifa's arms, her spirit born anew.

A sob caught in Tifa’s throat, raw and filled with a love so powerful it threatened to overwhelm the both of them. Tears blurred his vision, each droplet refracting the light, casting prisms across the walls as if the Lifestream itself danced around them.

"Aerith," Tifa whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

The name settled over them like a hymn. Cloud reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the soft tuft of hair atop the baby's head. His heart, once heavy with the weight of loss, now swelled with a joy so profound it carved through the numbness that had long been his shield.

"Hello, Aerith," he managed through the tightness in his throat, his words barely more than a whisper. They were tears of happiness that mingled on his cheeks with Tifa's—a shared testament to the enduring legacy of love they both carried.

In that sacred moment, with Tifa and their daughter by his side, Cloud knew what it meant to be whole again.

The chocobo mobile spun lazily above the crib, its gentle melody filling the small nursery as Cloud stood at the threshold. He watched Tifa cradle their daughter, Aerith's namesake, her soft coos a tender harmony to the music.

"Cloud," she said softly. Her smile held a secret, something shimmering just beneath the surface like the sun glinting off the water. "I have news."

Drawn to her side, his hand automatically reaching out to stroke the baby's cheek. Tifa took a breath, her gaze flickering between him and their child before it steadied, locked onto his.

"I'm pregnant again," she announced, the words lifting into the room like a prayer set free.

He felt the world tilt, a joyous disorientation that left him momentarily speechless. Another child—a sibling for Aerith. His heart, still tender from the birth of their daughter, expanded with a rush of unexpected emotions. It was hope mixed with the ghost of old fears, but above all, it was love—vast and boundless.

"A boy," she continued, watching him closely, gauging his reaction. “Call it mother’s instinct.”

A son. The notion settled within him, both daunting and exhilarating. Images of Zack flashed through his mind—the grin, the easy laughs, and the courage that had buoyed him through darkness. The name came to him unbidden, as natural as drawing breath.

"Zack," he whispered. The single syllable was a tribute, an offering to the past that shaped their present.

Tifa's eyes widened with understanding, then softened with a fondness that made her seem to glow. "Zack," she repeated, tasting the name, embracing its significance. "It's perfect."

She shifted Aerith gently in her arms, making room for Cloud to sit beside her.

"Tell me about him," she said with gentle curiousity. "About Zack. I want to understand more about the man who meant so much to you... and to Aerith."

Cloud hesitated. Zack existed in the worst of his memories, but he existed in some of his favorites as well. Speaking about him was skirting the edge between nostalgia and trauma. But this was Tifa, and this was their future—a son who would bear the name of a hero, continuing to carrying on the legacy Cloud inherited.

"Zack," he began, his voice finding strength as he spoke, "was the kind of person who made you believe in the impossible..."

His gaze drifted toward the window where twilight painted the sky in hues of purple and gold. "He had this laugh," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the ache it brought. "Loud enough to startle birds into flight. He never cared who heard it."

Tifa's hand found his, her fingers curling around his palm in a warm, comforting clasp. "Sounds like he was full of life."

"More than anyone I've ever known." Cloud turned to meet her eyes, their depth reflecting patience and a desire to understand. He took a steadying breath, as darker memories tried to surface. "We were on this mission once, sneaking into an enemy base. Everyone was tense, all except Zack. He just grinned, saying we'd breeze through it. And somehow, we did."

"Because of his confidence?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Because he made us believe in ourselves," he clarified. "Even whenever shit hit the fan, Zack would stand tall, sword swinging, always the shield between danger and the rest of us."

Her thumb brushed against the back of his hand. "What else do you remember?"

"The fact that he was never worried about what anyone else thought–except probably Angeal. He never hid himself. And his sense of humor." Cloud chuckled, the sound more of a whisper than a true expression of mirth. "He used to play pranks on the other recruits and then pretend he didn’t know anything about it. One time he put hair dye in our shampoo bottles, but then acted like nothing was unusual when everyone showed up to training with green hair."

“He didn’t prank you?”

Cloud shook his head, a gentle smile on his face. “He never targeted me. Zack was my best friend, and he knew the other guys… didn’t like me very much. When it came to stuff like that, he’d usually warn me beforehand.”

"I wish I could have known him better," Tifa murmured, her lips curving into a tender smile.

Cloud's heart swelled with gratitude for the woman beside him, for the way she readily embraced his past. "You would have loved him," he said sincerely. "He would have loved you too."

Their linked hands symbolized the connection between their past and future.The pain of loss might never fully fade, but the love that remained with them was a guiding force, pushing them ever forward.

Cloud carefully placed their newborn next to Aerith. Their tiny hands almost touched in the space between their cribs. Tifa gently adjusted the blankets around them, ensuring both infants were cocooned in warmth.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, the couple watched their children with a reverence that stilled the world around them. In the silence, Cloud felt the weight of his past—the hollow echoes of loss that had long resonated within him—begin to fade. 

Aerith's serene face mirrored the grace of her namesake, while Zack's occasional wriggles and soft sighs reminded him of a friend's boundless energy. The sight of two new lives so full of potential and innocence, filled the spaces grief had carved out of him. The void left by those he had loved and lost was now a quiet place of honor as their memory lived on in the bright eyes and gentle breaths of his children.

"Cloud?" Tifa's soft voice drew him back from his reflections.

It took him a moment before he could look away from their children. "They're perfect.” The words were barely a whisper, but his revelation shown through.

Tifa smiled and intertwined their fingers as they had countless times before—a silent reminder that they could get through anything together. 

Cloud squeezed her hand back, silently acknowledging that he would do everything in his power to become the best father he could be. In the stillness of the room, surrounded by love and innocence, he realized that the demons in his head were quiet. His children were what completed his fragmented soul, bringing him back to wholeness. Every battle fought, every heartache endured, had led him to this moment of profound clarity. This was what he needed—a purpose beyond the sword and strife, a love so unconditional it transcended heartache.

“Thank you.”