After Party

The mission hadn’t gone well—at least, not for Cloud.

He’d barely made it through the reactor. The Protect materia fizzled at the worst moment. His strikes were slow, his balance off. Then came the explosion—sharp, sudden, and loud. One second he was charging ahead, the next he was on the floor, ears ringing, sword gone, blinking at the ceiling like a stunned rookie.

Jessie and Tifa had handled the rest.

Now, Cloud was sore, limping, and smudged with dirt. His bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat. His voice had gone small, half-mumbled responses barely louder than the reactor hum they’d left behind.

“You still with us, sweetie?” Jessie cooed over her shoulder.

Cloud didn’t answer right away. His feet shuffled, dragging slightly.

Tifa looked back, concerned—but with a hint of amusement too. “Cloud. Eyes up, sweetheart. We’re not carrying you the whole way.”

But they practically were.

Jessie sighed dramatically. “Okay. Baby mode it is.”

She turned around, grabbed Cloud’s wrist, and draped it over her shoulder. Tifa mirrored the motion on the other side, and suddenly he was being walked like a sleepy child between two mothers.

“I can walk,” he mumbled.

“Sure you can,” Jessie said brightly, “and chocobos can fly commercial.”

Tifa patted his side gently. “We’ve got you, Cloud. You were very brave.”

He closed his eyes. His legs felt like gelatin. His pride? Long gone.

They guided him to a hidden corner in Sector 8—an old decommissioned train car Jessie had somehow turned into a cozy little lounge. Blankets, soft cushions, and dim lights glowing like fireflies. It was warm, safe... and humiliating.

Jessie helped him sit down—actually, more like lowered him, gently and deliberately, like he might topple over without assistance.

“There,” she said. “Nice and soft. Just the way babies like it.”

Cloud flinched. “I’m not a—”

“Shh,” Tifa said, kneeling beside him. She dabbed at a scrape on his cheek with a warm cloth. “You’ve had a long night. Let the grown-ups handle things now.”

Jessie appeared with a water bottle and slowly, mockingly, unscrewed the cap. “Open up, big guy.”

“I can—”

She held it to his lips anyway. He drank, cheeks red.

“You did your best,” Jessie said, ruffling his hair. “Even if your best meant falling down a lot and squeaking like a baby duck when that pipe hit your side.”

“I didn’t squeak,” he said faintly.

Tifa gave him a long, knowing smile. “You did. But it was cute.”

They sat beside him, flanking him like caretakers with a tired toddler. Jessie rested her head on his shoulder. Tifa gently untied a bit of frayed strap on his armor, tossing it aside with a sigh.

“You’ve got to stop trying to carry everything on your own,” Tifa said quietly. “Let us do the heavy lifting once in a while.”

Cloud was slouched back, face warm, legs tucked slightly inward. Not a proud mercenary. Not an elite ex-SOLDIER. Just a tired, bashful mess being looked after by two women who clearly had it all under control.

Jessie reached into her bag. “Now… for the surprise.”

She and Tifa exchanged a look.