Chapter Twenty-Eight: "I Made a Decision"

Celes appeared from her room that afternoon, completely exhausted. Her mind was in shock from everything she’d learned—her entire life was kept within the pages of some lab assistant’s documentary. She could no longer deny that she was an experiment, a test subject in the game of a cruel and twisted science. She was Jenova’s servant; said correctly, Jenova’s replacement. She had the Lavos spawn in her now, and when her birthday finally came…

Her birthday. The tenth of March. It was already the beginning of that month, and she was running out of time.

She wanted to find Locke. He would take care of her like he always had. From the moment they’d met it felt like he was protecting her, and her instinct as a leader had given her a sense of protection toward him as well. She’d always comforted men—more than a general she was a mother to inspire and reassure. It was second nature. And she wanted to help him in particular, because he was so full of pain that lay hidden.

But he was also different from the other men she had known. Whenever she was with him she didn’t know quite how to act, when before she’d always been sure. What did he want from her? What did he think of her? Somehow that mattered most of all.

Celes finally came to the room that had been staked out by the men. Cid, Locke, and Sabin were sitting around a table playing some card game with Cait Sith cheating for all of them by peeking over their shoulders. Cid was smoking, as usual, and several empty beer flasks lay strewn across the floor. She entered hesitantly. "Locke?"

"Ha! Beat that!" The treasure hunter slapped his cards on the table, and his partners groaned. "Gotcha again. New game!" He noticed the general then. "Hello, general. Welcome, welcome!"

"Don’t mind him," Cid told her as she came forward. "He’s just drunk. Poor kid can’t handle alcohol."

"I ain’t drunk," he objected with slurred language. "I’m perfectly clear."

Sabin laughed, and to Celes’s amazement he drank from his own glass. "Sure, Locke. Sharp as a tack."

Celes stared at him. "Sabin," she said quietly, a bit disturbed, "I didn’t know you drank."

"He doesn’t," Cait Sith replied for him.

Then Cid added. "Obviously. He can’t handle it either." He exhaled smoke, then replaced the cigarette in his mouth so that he could deal the cards. "New game, fellas. Gin."

"Damn, I’m terrible at that," Locke muttered, setting his feet up on the table. "Youker’s the game we want. Play with us, Cait Sith."

"But it’s so much more fun to help you guys cheat."

Celes watched them for a while. She hated seeing men drink, and that Locke would resort to it seemed out of character. It was almost frightening. "Locke, are you all right?" she asked. You’re not like this…"

"Like what?"

"Well…"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You mean the drinking? Is it so terrible?" He laughed bitterly. "I f***ed up the last three years of my life—one day won’t hurt a thing. Besides, Cid convinced Sabin to."

Sabin grunted, looking over his cards. "Sure. Hell, what do I have to lose?"

Celes felt her anger rising. "Cid, why did you have to get them to do this? This is so stupid. Have you got nothing better to do than get drunk like pigs?"

"Every man needs to relax," said Cait Sith.

"What’s so bad about a little fun?" Locke chipped in.

Tifa entered and pulled up a chair for herself. "Hey guys," she greeted half-heartedly, seating herself in the chair backwards. "What’ve you been doing all day?"

"Relaxing," replied Cid. He scowled at his hand. "Shit. Tifa, I don’t suppose you know Youker?"

"I own a bar." She gathered the cards and received complaints from Locke and Sabin, who had been doing well. "Me and Cid vs. Sabin and Locke. Bar room rules." She tugged on Cait Sith’s tail. "And no coaching from the cat."

"Hey, what’d I do?"

"You look tired," Sabin observed, helping to sort out the unwanted cards.

She snorted. "Yeah, well, watching the happy couple and their newborn wears you out."

"Especially when you’re hot for the daddy," Locke added drunkenly.

Sabin shot him a hard glare, and Tifa stiffened. "Hey, I’m just saying," the treasure hunter defended himself. "I mean, we just heard all this stuff from Sabin about—"

The chair was kicked out from under him, and Celes leapt back to avoid being hit. Locke slammed his chin against the table and fell to the floor. Cid started laughing, but Sabin’s face was cold. Tifa stared at him incredulously. "Sabin…"

Celes helped Locke up, who began to laugh as well. He touched a hand to his face. "God damn, cut my lip." He stared down at the blood on his fingers and laughed harder. "Whew, nice hit. Sure showed me."

Sabin chuckled, which soon escalated into uproarious laughter. Cid and Locke followed suit while Celes and Tifa exchanged glances. But soon even Tifa was affected by the humor. The general sighed. "I’m going to find some sensible company," she said, sitting Locke back into his chair. She knew by now that getting angry with a drunken man led to nowhere. "If you get sober and want to talk, come find me." She waved to Tifa. "Good luck." And she left.

"It’s okay, I’m used to it," she muttered, but it was obvious that she wasn’t used to Sabin’s behavior. She was watching him with an almost accusing glare—how could he do this? Sabin wasn’t like this. He was supposed to be the stable one, the sensible, optimistic one. Why was he acting so careless now?

"Come on, keep dealing," insisted Cait Sith. "I wanna see some card action."

Cid poured fresh drinks while Locke continued to wipe his mouth. Cait Sith lifted his glass in a toast. "To Cid, whose birthday we all missed."

"Cheers!"

"Robot cat’s can’t drink," Locke objected.

The cat scratched his head. "Oh, I wouldn’t say that." For a moment he remained still, and then he sighed. "There. I just did."

The three men looked to each other, not comprehending, until Locke laughed and they joined in. Tifa shook her head and finished dealing as she’d been asked. Their laughter was beginning to lift her mood, however, as it reminded her of the Seventh Heaven and the customers that were also her friends. She wondered where they were now, and what they were doing; after all, even though they were deadbeats and alcoholics, they were basically decent human beings in her mind. Not one of them had ever put her down. She missed that.

A glass was set in front of her, and she looked up to see Sabin watching her pleasantly. She was glad to see him smiling at her, as they’d avoided each other during the past several days. "You still look tired," he said. "Take a drink?"

Tifa stared at him, then the beer, and downed it in one breath. "Fill it up next time," she replied.

He laughed and did so. "Glad to see you’re doing okay."

"Sure. Let’s just play."

The room was darkened by shadows. To some it may have seemed solemn and lonely, to others deviously suspicious. A man sat at the edge of the bed. His crocked form was bent over, and his chest heaved with pained breath. His bony hands sought the vile that forever stayed at his side, but then he paused. His fingers brushed against the cool surface of the glass and shuddered with the undulations of power in it. Something was stirring. The Reunion…it was happening. And he forced himself to wait a while longer, for even if the pain continued, he had to witness the conclusion for himself.

Several games—and hours—later, the five decided they’d had enough. Or rather, Cid and Locke fell asleep over the table, and Cait Sith, the closest to being sober among them, declared the tournament over. He curled up next to Locke and shut down for the night. Which left Tifa and Sabin.

"We autta sleep, too," said Tifa, thoroughly intoxicated. "Lotsa stuff ta do, ya’ know? Tomorrow…"

"Uh-huh." He led her out of the room, and laughingly they half stumbled back towards Sabin’s room. She’d spend the entire afternoon with them, drinking and sharing stories—ones that, in any other state of mind, she would not dare divulge. The liquor had loosened her tongue quite effectively. By the time they reached her room she was babbling.

"Oh—bed." She flopped on her back, causing the springs to bounce. They bounced again when Sabin dropped as well, lying on his side with his arm propping up his head. "God, I’m tired," she muttered, letting out a deep sigh. "What a day." She laughed. "Never seen ya’ drunk before, Sabin. Entertaining."

"Ditto." He watched her, the gentle rising and falling of her chest as she breathed. Her hair flowed about her. Just the sight of her, lying there, tightened his throat. He swallowed hard. "You know, Tifa," he said, clumsily reaching out to touch her cheek, "you’re beautiful."

"Yeah. Beautiful." She didn’t seem to notice the touch, as her eyes were unfocused and cast to the ceiling. "Who cares. Cloud doesn’t think so." Her voice dropped, and she continued to not notice him even as his fingers probed over her face like a wandering blind man’s. "He’s the one that matters." Her body began to tremble as she contained the tears. "Why was I so stupid back then? I didn’t know… I didn’t know, and I lost him. Now he doesn’t think I’m beautiful anymore."

"I do."

"How can that happen?" This time she wasn’t successful in holding the tears in, but Sabin quickly stole them away once they’d fallen. "Feelings aren’t like toys; you can’t get bored and throw them away. Why doesn’t he love me anymore? He can’t just change his mind, can he?" She closed her eyes, drawn inside by the rejection and the loneliness. "Can he?"

"Tifa." Sabin’s voice was very low then, and deep, filled with such sincerity that she had to open her eyes to make sure it was him. His worn fingertips touched her lips. "I won’t ever change the way I feel about you, Tifa," he whispered.

Tifa stared at him, his face blurred by the tears. He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. She didn’t resist, as she didn’t have the strength to. Was it so terrible to want to be loved? She kissed him back. Perhaps the alcohol had impaired her judgement, or perhaps it was her heart. Her love had to go to someone. And was it truly such a crime? Because his body was warm, just like Cloud’s was; so much alike, in fact, that she could almost imagine he was there. And his hands were as strong. And his lips were so sweet, just as she’d always imagined Cloud’s to be…

Cloud opened his eyes. He thought he’d heard his name being called.

He threw the covers aside and stood. Everything was dark in the room, and the only sound was that of Crono breathing in the next bed. Crono was asleep, not that he expected him to the be one calling. So then, where was the voice coming from? He strode to the door.

He followed the voice out of the room, down the rock-walled hallways, aimlessly drifting like a lost wind. Then he went outside, and gazed up at the pale white moon. It was a strange thing for him to do—to just stare up at the moon, not appreciating or enjoying. It looked very far away. Could such a distance ever be traveled? If he started for it, would he run out of time? He could never reach that brilliant orb.

He made a decision. He was going to reach for that moon, not caring of the time and the space that separated them. He could reach it. It was there, in his grasp.

Cloud left the village. The rocks were hard on his bare feet, and the wind cold against his back. He knew it was time. His body was ready, his mind was waiting, and whatever else lay inside him ached for release from the madness. No more ungodly voices, and memories that weren’t his. He was returning to himself, the Cloud Aeris had promised him she’d find. Aeris…she had made the decision for him.

Sephiroth was there, outside the village, waiting. His eyes glowed like demon stars, but Cloud wasn’t afraid. "I made a decision," he said, words that both rejoiced and cried on his lips. "Tifa…Sabin can take care of her now. She isn’t mine anymore. I want to protect Aeris’ happiness."

The silver-haired being nodded. "I know you do. So, you’ve finally decided?"

"Yes." He didn’t know what exactly it was that he had decided, but it was a choice made by his heart, and it could not be ignored even if he didn’t understand it completely. "Tifa is the one who’s supposed to kill me; that alone connects us. But there’s something else. I want to know what that is."

Sephiroth came forward. "Your mind has many secrets, Cloud." He reached out slowly and tapped the man’s forehead. "Many valuable secrets that only you can unlock. With your mind freed by your decision, things will be easier for you to understand. Things about yourself. I’ll tell you my secrets, if you'll tell me yours."

Cloud nodded. After hearing everything the night before he was ready and eager to understand the rest. He could reach that secret place within his own heart, and awaken the mysteries. He would never hurt again.

"Tell me once more," Sephiroth instructed. "Tell me."

Cloud closed his eye. Only the slightest bit of doubt remained, but then an image arose in his mind: Tifa, proving that she wasn’t his. It was enough. "I don’t understand what’s going on," he said quietly, for once speaking the truth. "I know I’ve made the right decision, but I don’t know what it is."

"I’m trying to give her up. I’ve been trying, fighting, for a long time. My mind has been running in circles."

"But she’s not mine anymore. She…she never was. So I’ll give her up."

"I…" He licked his lips. "I’m giving Tifa up."

Sephiroth smiled darkly. "Splendid. You’ve done the right thing. Now maybe progress can be made."

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