Chapter Text
Kalm hadn’t exactly been living up to its name so far.
The town looked lovely from what Aerith saw in the fading evening light, sure. The hotel even reminded her of home with all of its wood furnishings and cozy charm, which both warmed and stung her heart.
But the tensions between their newly-formed party hadn’t faded at all since being chased out of Midgar. Everybody was still on edge, and Cloud - master of reading the room that he is - had decided it was the perfect time to tell everybody about the burning of Nibelheim.
Including Tifa, who had nearly died on that fateful night five years ago.
Aerith couldn’t help stealing glances at her throughout the whole story. Schooling her face into careful neutrality, the Brawler tried to hide her reactions, but from Aerith’s vantage point sat beside her? Her stiff shoulders and locked jaw told a different tale.
No sooner had their spiky-haired swordsman finished his story than the flower girl broke out into a loud yawn and stretch, making up an excuse for them all to escape this awkward conversation. Her back hurts from the journey, she says - not untrue, but definitely played up a little. Truth be told, they all needed their rest, not to be worrying about Sephiroth after everything they’ve been through today. Not even Barret put up any resistance to calling it a night - though he did complain boisterously when Red stole his bed.
Tifa had insisted that Aerith take the bathroom first, saying that a nice hot shower would help loosen up her joints. She felt honoured to be gifted such a luxury, knowing how much the brawler valued them herself. That, and with the stress of today, she knew her friend could use that relaxation just as much right now; so she kept her soak speedy.
“Shower’s free.” Aerith states breezily, as she pads out of the bathroom in just her dress; hair hanging loose and damp along her back. “You were right, I feel *much* better!”
When Tifa makes only a quiet hum in response, the mage pauses. She flicks her gaze over to her new roommate, watching her root around in her bag with a determined furrow in her brow.
“Can’t find something?” She asks, a frown on her lips and a tilt to her head.
Finally looking up at her, Tifa sighs, slumping against the headboard in defeat. “I just… Thought I packed more of my meds, that’s all.” She scoops up a small vial from the covers beside her, swishing the dull yellow liquid around the base and watching it with a frown.
“Oh, shit. That sucks, I’m sorry.” Feeling the creak of the old bed beneath her, Aerith climbs up to be closer to her friend, pulling her knees up so she can lay her arms and head atop them.
There’s sort of an unspoken rule in the slums that you don’t ask about any medication people are on. Most at least take vitamin D supplements, given the lack of a sky and all. But plenty of folks have all kinds of other needs, ailments, vices. You don’t ask, you don’t judge. Everyone does what they need to survive, and it’s rude to pry into something so personal.
So Aerith doesn’t ask about the curious yellow liquid, even as she watches Tifa uncork and down the vial. She swallows it with a grimace, and pretty green eyes flick to follow the bob of her throat.
“We could head to the pharmacy together tomorrow morning, if you want?” She offers.
“Huh?” The fighter seems surprised, blinking at her.
“I need to pick up some stuff too. I didn’t exactly get to pack anything.” She shrugs one shoulder, feeling the strap of her dress slip down her arm at the movement
“Oh, right.” Tifa’s traitorous gaze is distracted for a second by the movement, sliding over exposed collarbone. She schools herself quickly, blinking fast and wrenching her eyes back up. “I’m sorry, we should’ve asked your mom what we needed to take with us.”
“Tifa, it’s fiiine.” A flap of the flower girl’s hand shoos her worries away. “I was probably running low anyway. Besides, this means neither of us need to feel awkward going alone, right?” She grins, and seems to catch the other woman in her enthusiasm, because a light smile spreads across her face too.
“Right. Honestly, there’s a few other things I’ve been thinking that we need to pick up before we leave Kalm too, so I-“
“Then WE-“ The interruption comes with a teasing poke at Tifa’s leg. “Should get an early night so we can get up and go shopping, huh?”
Tifa is taken aback by Aerith inviting herself along on the errands, but chuckles softly through her disbelief. “It’s not exactly gonna be a trip topside.”
“So what? I can have fun with anything, try me.” Aerith’s smile shifts into a mischievous smirk, daring Tifa to take her up on the challenge.
The fighter just shakes her head, pushing herself up onto her feet. “I believe it.” She nudges Aerith’s shoulder playfully as she walks by. “I’m gonna take my turn in the bathroom, okay?”
“Okay~!” Aerith beams, and she’s glad when Tifa glances over her shoulder at her, the most beautiful smile slipping onto her face in response.
For a moment frozen in time, she’s caught by Tifa’s ruby red eyes, the soft curves of her lips, the subtle shift of the muscles in her back.
The bathroom door clicking shut snaps her out of it, and Aerith has to blink hard a few times to dismiss the image of a toned midriff, burned into her retinas like staring at the sun. She misses it when it’s gone.
With a flushed face, she gets ready for bed, never fully able to wrest her mind from thoughts of water trailing over defined muscles and silky hair just metres away.
The local pharmacy is a quiet affair - cozy, not clinical, with a creaky wooden floor instead of polished white tile. Still, Tifa finds herself anxious.
Aerith had gone up to the counter first since she actually had a prescription, which left Tifa browsing the shelves idly. She knew she wouldn’t find what she was looking for here. Back in Midgar, she’d had to go through more… Niche outlets, to get what she needed.
So really it was just a case of pre-occupying herself to try not to eavesdrop on the other’s conversation. Tracing her finger over labels, scanning through homemade herbal remedies, Tifa stops for a moment at the familiar sight of Vitamin D supplements. Huffing a small laugh to herself, she picks up a bottle to examine.
Funny how people still need these out here, even with a clear sky above them.
She’s sure their ragtag group will be getting plenty of sun in the upcoming days, that shouldn’t be a problem. In fact, maybe sunscreen would be a good thought…?
Tifa is mulling over the prices of different SPF values in her head, weighing how much they might need versus how much they can afford to spend, when the voice behind the counter happens to catch her ears.
“And your name, please?”
Shit.
She freezes, gripping the bottle of sunscreen tightly.
What if Shinra already has a bounty out for Aerith?
Chancing a look over her shoulder, she tries not to move too fast and draw attention to her reaction.
Cetran eyes meet hers, wide with apprehension. Similar thoughts, then.
But Tifa’s aware of the clinician’s expectant gaze. Clamming up now would just draw even more attention. What’re the odds that an average civilian takes note of bounty boards, anyhow?
She nods subtly at Aerith, curling her fists at her sides. A gesture she hopes says: “Go on. I’ve got your back if it goes wrong.”
The tiny smile that creeps onto the mage’s face tells her that she understands.
“Aerith Gainsborough.” She answers, turning back to the clerk.
“I’ll be right back with that for you then.” The lady chirps, then heads off into the back.
Both women breathe a sigh of relief. Aerith catches her eyes again and giggles.
“Close one.” She whispers, mirth playing on her features.
“Shh.” Tifa scolds her, expression playful even though she’s serious. It’d do them no good to get caught acting suspicious.
The flower girl mimes zipping up her lips, then spins on her heels to face the counter again. She clasps her hands behind her back, rocking back and forth on her toes, like she has too much energy to stay still.
Too late, Tifa realises she’s staring, and quickly turns back to the shelves with a blush on her cheeks. There’s a dumb, fond smile that she can’t seem to wipe off of her face. It only grows when Aerith starts humming to fill the silence.
“Here you are, sorry for the wait.” The pharmacist says as she brings a small cardboard box out with her from the back, the quiet clink of glass inside. She sets it atop the counter. “So that’s two months’ supply, at 0.1 millilitres a week. Do you need any needles with that?”
Needles? Tifa peers over her shoulder once more with a concerned raise of her brow.
“Shoot, I guess I do.” Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Aerith struggles over the idea, knowing they don’t have much wiggle room in their budget.
Bringing two bottles of sunscreen with her, the fighter joins her friend at the counter. Their shoulders brush as she settles at her side.
“Disposable syringes, if you have them.” She asks the clerk, silently affirming that the purchase is okay. More than okay. Whatever Aerith needs, she’d find a way to accommodate.
“We have a box of ten for 100 gil, and I can throw in a sharps bin for 50 if you buy them together.”
“Is the sharps bin travel safe?” Aerith pipes up. A solid question.
"Yep!” The clerk fetches it from one of the shelves behind the counter, a garishly bright yellow box with a warning sticker on it. “The lid locks in place with a click, see?” She clicks it shut in front of them, then pops it back open again.
Tifa hums, satisfied. “Alright, how much for all of this?”
“Wait-” There’s a touch on her arm, vibrant green eyes gazing up at her with a confused tilt of the head. “What about your stuff?”
“Oh, uh.” Tifa feels shame and nerves coil into a tangled mess in her guts. She tries very hard to act normal as she looks back to the pharmacist, clearing her throat. “Do you have any Aconite blend?”
“Aconite…? I’m sorry, no. I’ve never heard of it, to tell the truth.”
“Th-that’s alright. We’ll just take these, thank you. How much?” Moving them along quickly, the brawler tries to ignore how she can see Aerith watching her worriedly in the corner of her eye.
They get ringed up at 250 gil. Really, Tifa should have haggled down - They could have gotten it for 220 at least, maybe even 200 - but she just needed to get out of there.
The hairs on the back of her neck are still prickled by Aerith’s lingering gaze, the weight of the words she’s not saying.
Things are unusually tense between the two of them for a while. The easy chemistry they’d had so far, the teasing and laughter that had become their norm since they met, feels far away. It’s not until they’re in an entirely different store, deciding between their selection of camping tents, that Aerith speaks up on the matter again.
“… Are you going to be okay without your medicine?” She asks carefully, quietly.
Tifa looks at her, sees the open concern on her face and hates that she can’t reassure it away easily.
She forces a tight smile, and speaks the truth: “I’ll have to be.”
Aerith tacks one extra shop onto the end of their trip: The Bookstore.
She refuses to let Tifa pay with what little remains of the party’s meager budget, and instead spends the last of her flower-peddling earnings on something that will help them all in the long run.
“The Herbalist’s Guide to Foraging and Alchemy!” She rattles off to Tifa, holding up the book for her to see. “Look, there’s a lot in here about surviving in the wilderness, even recipes for potions and stuff. We’ll save a lot of gil if we can make them ourselves, right?”
The brawler’s eyes widen as she glances over the pages, flicking her gaze between them and Aerith’s face. “That’s… Really thoughtful, actually. I wouldn’t have come up with that. Are you sure it’s safe?”
“One way to find out, right?” A cheeky grin. When Tifa’s face turns pale, she snickers. “I’m kiddiiiing! Of course it’s safe, I’m sure they wouldn’t have let it get published if it wasn’t.”
“I guess so…”
She still doesn’t sound convinced, so Aerith leans in with a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll give the first batch to Cloud.”
That manages to coax out a laugh. Success!
Aerith flounces over to pay at the counter, grinning to herself. The potions and other remedies will be a fine boon, of course, but what she’s really buying this book for - what had made her think to go out of their way for this anyway - is that she hopes she might be able to mitigate the loss of Tifa’s meds.
… She just needs to figure out how to ask what they’re for.
It’s on their second day of travel through the grasslands that Tifa feels something is… Off.
Her mind feels much slower, like somebody poured treacle inside of her head. Soon enough it’s seeping out, flowing down her whole body, gumming up her joints and weighing down her limbs. She starts to lag behind the rest of the group, and the conversation they were having fizzles out to a staticky hum in her head.
When there’s a sudden increase in volume, her head snaps up.
Wolves.
Barret’s gunfire pounds tinnily in her ears, making her flinch as she raises her fists and tries to focus. Cloud has locked down one, leaving one- no, two- running around trying to flank Aerith and Barret, who are pelting them with fire from a distance. Red has fallen into a defensive stance beside them, intercepting when one tries to rush in for their squishy sorceress.
Tifa should be locking down another foe, like Cloud, making for less variables to keep track of. Her legs feel like they’re made of concrete now. She puts a tremendous amount of effort into just lifting one leg, only to have her step end prematurely because her whole body has decided to quake like a newborn chocobo. She realises that most of the sounds of battle have faded out, replaced by her own pounding heartbeat and heavy breathing, ringing in her ears, all-encompasing.
Her vision swims, black creeping in at the edges, with everything still left in her view splitting into double. Is all that grass suddenly getting closer?
She hits the ground with a muted thud, realising too late that her legs have given out on her. Oh. That’s not good. She can’t feel them at all, actually.
Through the fog of her senses, she thinks someone shouts her name before her consciousness slips away.
“TIFA!” Aerith screams, panic flaring through her whole being as she sees the other woman collapse.
She tears away from Barret and Red, heart pounding in sync with her footfalls, sprinting for her fallen friend.
One of the wolves has made a break for Tifa too - downed, defenseless, easy prey - She won’t let them touch her.
Aerith throws herself over Tifa’s body, casting mid-fall to conjure up a barrier. It forms just in time for the wolf to smack against it, claws scrabbling against the surface and jaws dripping saliva as it snarls just inches away.
There’s a loud BOOM, and the wolf yelps as it’s hit with a heavy slug from Barret’s gun.
“Get the FUCK away from our girls!” He shouts, and the wolf obliges, scarpering as soon as it can stand again.
Breathing a shaky sigh of relief once the immediate danger is gone, Aerith allows herself to tune out the tail end of the fight and focus on her unconscious friend.
“C’mon, c’mon, wake up, Tifa…” The flower girl jostles her shoulders, pats her cheek. She gasps at the unexpected warmth there, eyes widening. Moving her fingers to Tifa’s forehead, she finds more searing heat beneath the fighter’s skin. Her cheeks are flushed, sweat coating her brow.
Fever.
Aerith slips her pack off of her shoulders, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she searches for her water bottle. Soon, she plucks it from within, unscrewing the top and bundling the edge of her dress up in her other hand. She pours some water over the fabric, then applies it to Tifa’s forehead. Ideally this would be cooler, but if lukewarm water is all they’ve got then it’ll have to do for now.
After a few minutes, there’s a knock on the outside of the barrier. Aerith looks up to see Barret peering in on them both, concern clear on his face. With a couple seconds of concentration, she dispels the magic, the shell around them dissolving with a shimmer of light.
“How is she?” Barret asks, much quieter than usual, like he’s afraid speaking too loud might make things worse.
“She’s burning up bad.” Aerith says with a grimace. “We should get her somewhere shaded and safe.”
“We could try the ranch.” Cloud suggests, standing a few feet away and trying not to look too bothered. The worried pinch in his brow betrays him.
“Best place we got. I’ll carry her.” Barret rumbles, kneeling down. He waits patiently for her to wipe Tifa’s brow, then scoops up the brawler with his one arm. Aerith helps him to position her and he smiles softly, grateful.
They turn around, heading back to the ranch they’d just visited a couple of hours ago. Nobody complains about their lost progress. In fact, they’re all pretty quiet, worried about Tifa above anything else.
Aerith can’t stop looking at her sleeping face laid upon Barret’s shoulder. Florid, brow twinging in discomfort, looking so small and frail compared to her usual strength.
"You’ll be okay." She promises, silently. "I’ll take care of you."