Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I hate it when the phone wakes me up.

What time is it? It's still dark outside, who the hell is calling me?

Phone? Phone, phone, phone, knock something over, phone, phone…

Phone!

"Hello?"

I nearly drop the cellphone when I hear its Tifa. She sounds… distraught to say the least.

"Tifa? What's wrong?"

She says there's been an accident. Something bad. "Vincent," She says, "I don't know what to do." Asks if I'm sitting down. I guess it's early morning in Midgar. Wutai time is…

Where's my alarm clock? How did it get to the floor? Oh, right. I knocked it over.

I pick it up, the time is 4:10am.

"An accident? Is everyone alr-"

Barret. It's Barret.

He's dead.

Chapter Text

We had just come back from the funeral. I'm exhausted.

Things were a mess when I first arrived. Cloud, upon hearing the news, rushed to Black Flower and the oil fields therein to find out what happened. He promised he'd be there for the funeral.

I had to refrain myself from commenting.

Now we're sitting at the table, pretending to have lunch. Marlene had gone straight to bed. We are assuming she continued crying until she fell asleep. Poor kid.

"I thought the ceremony was nice." Tifa says just to fill the empty air. It's only me and her now. Everybody has lives to go back to. At least they came.

What are we supposed to do now? We're just supposed to move on. We're supposed to put it all aside and continue living. It's been a week since the accident. A week since I came here. It's been crazy.

"It was nice." I say. I didn't think the ceremony was nice, but I'm not going to go into it with her right now. She cried a little at funeral, but she stayed strong for Marlene, which I admired. Now she looks drained and listless. The last week was hell for both of us; Calling everyone and trying to make arrangements. Closing the bar for a week is something she had been trying not to think about. The financial ramifications are going to be grave.

Barret wasn't the most responsible person in the world, and left many things undone. Not that I mean to say bad things about the recently deceased, but he didn't make it easy for us.

He also left a kid. I guess Tifa's adoption of her is now complete. I saw her signing the papers. It was strange; she didn't fill the 'spouse' section of the form. I guess she waiting for Cloud to do it.

"It was nice of Cloud to call." She says as though noticing I was thinking of him.

"It was?" I meant it as a statement. It's none of my business.

"It was ." She re-affirms with a dangerous glance at me from the top of her eyes. I'm sure she's thinking what I'm thinking. I keep my mouth deliberately shut.

Cloud should've come.

Or maybe she isn't thinking it. Maybe she's content with him the way he is. She must be, since she's in love with the boy.

There's a pause. All I hear is the scraping of her fingernails against the glass. I follow her fingers as their trace the bar's logo on her drink. I'm pretty sure not everyone can hear this type of sound. I hear her breath hitch. I look up.

She's not crying, but she wants to. Wants to let it all go.

But she knows this isn't the time for it, that there's so much still that needs to be done. Maybe she doesn't want to cry in front of me. Probably knows that she can cry into her pillow without anyone hearing.

I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to hear it.

I'm staying on the sofa on the first floor. Not much of a choice. Denzel's room is still waiting for him whenever he has leave from WRO boarding school. The guest room is a mess after Cid's stay in it.

He told me to take care of her, and gave me this look I didn't need. Took me aside one night and said that Cloud will probably not show. I told him I knew that. Said then that Tifa's "gonna need some help, if you know what I mean."

I don't know what he meant.

Of course I'll help her. I was insulted that he thought he needed to tell me.

Besides, what else do I have waiting for me? A small house in the middle-of-nowhere-Wutai.

"—cent. Earth to Vincent, helloooo?"

I snap out of my reverie with a started, "Sorry?"

I blink at her a few times. Was I staring at her the whole time? I don't know. How embarrassing. Her hand is near me, she had waved it in front of my face.

"I said: What are your plans? When are you heading back to Wutai?" She has a faint smile on her face and her head is tilted just so. She withdraws her hand back to her lap.

Heading back? I haven't thought about it. I guess it's all over now, there's no need for me to stay. Everybody else buggered off, why should I be the only one to stay in the center of sorrow? Dealing with a devastated Marlene and a struggling Tifa. The easy answer is to leave, and to leave soon. I hate grief. I'm soaked in it. I'm so tired of it. Having hardly slept in the last week, I'm just tired of everything.

I proclaim that I shall be leaving in one hour:

"I'll stay as long as you need."

What?

Did I just say that?

She's just as surprised as I am, I'm sure.

"Don't you have things to go back to?"

Yes. I do. Millions of them. All lies.

"Nothing that can't wait."

Damnit! Mouth, why aren't you cooperating?

"I couldn't ask you to stay." She looks suddenly shy and little irritated with herself- with everything. "It's just going to be harder from here. I need to pay a lot of attention to Marlene. Her summer vacation ends in a few weeks." She looks around, her eyes weary with all she sees, "The bar's going to take most of the time I don't spend with her, so it's not going to be a very entertaining time."

Is she saying she won't be a good hostess? That I'll just be in the way? I guess I will be. I'm not good with children, nor am I good with bars. I like consuming the alcohol, not giving it to other people. When I was a Turk I even thought that the glass was an unneeded middleman between the bottle and my stomach. My CO once laughed and said I should continue cutting middlemen and just dump the liquor down the toilet. She continues,

"Not that I don't want you to stay or anything, but there's only work ahead, and you've done so much already…"

"Tifa." I draw out her name a little to make sure I have her attention. "What is it you want me to do? Stay or go?"

Oh, whatever. I'll stay a week or two extra if she needs. I've nothing urgent, nothing better to do. She gives me this little-kid look, full of hope and wonder. I grimace.

"Vincent, could you please stay a while longer to help me? I know I'm being selfish, but I could really use your help. I'm sure Cloud will be back in a week or so, so…"

"Of course."

Damn.

A small part of me was hoping she would say something along the lines of 'no, I couldn't possibly ask you' and then I could leave.

But if it is only until Cloud comes back then that's fine.

She gives me this big smile, one of relief and gratitude. Maybe staying isn't such a bad idea after all. I mean, if it helps her, then what's a couple of weeks between friends, right?

Her hand lashes out at the speed of light to put her fingers on the ones of my claw. Only in the absence of the sound do I realize that I've been drumming my claw-fingers on the countertop. Her face is pleading, almost irritated. I apologize, she grins.

It's not going to be easy living with someone in such close proximity. Between the grief and the pain it's just going to be a whole pile of fun.

Cloud, come back soon.

Chapter Text

I woke up this morning with a hangover, and I wasn't even drinking, so that's not fair.

I had agreed to stay yesterday, haven't I? That's why I spent the rest of that day washing dishes.

Tifa had to leave the kitchen because she said that the sound of my claw on the dishes was giving her goose bumps. I can't believe I was cleaning a kitchen for 5 hours. That has to be a record for me. Neither of us dealt with the dishes during the week before the funeral.

My human hand got all wrinkly and now it's all dry and itchy. Let those be all my problems.

Tifa had to go grocery shopping to open the bar today and left me to be here in case Marlene woke up. I nearly begged her to let me go in her stead, but she mentioned wisely that I haven't a clue what is needed to run a bar and that I should finish cleaning the kitchen.

Now I'm sitting here in the living area behind the bar, praying that Marlene doesn't wake up.

My relationship with Marlene is a peculiar one: While most adults avert their eyes from me and are afraid to meet my gaze, she as unafraid of me as I am terrified of her.

It's the way she looks at me that scares me: She has complete trust in me. She has some inexplicable faith that I wouldn't hurt her.

She treats me just like she treats anybody else. It's… unnatural.

I like her, don't get me wrong. There was a time I would not have cared a fig if something were to happen to her but now that time is passed.

The time of pondering is passed as well, because a shrill wailing pierces my ears. She's awake, and she's crying.

Of course she's crying. She's just a kid, and her second dad died. It must be terrible for her. I know how she feels, and I know there really isn't anything anyone can do to help her. The pain won't go away, but you can learn where to put it so it only hurt when you breath.

I hear her cry.

I didn't care when my father died. I knew him by name and nothing else. Mother never spoke about him, he never came to visit. When I was recruited by ShinRa I was introduced to him, but our relationship never had a chance.

When he died I didn't care.

I wish sometimes I got to know either of my parents better. Marlene will never have that chance, either.

I shouldn't say that; Tifa's her mother in almost every way. Now if only Cloud would step up and be the father she needs…

She keeps on crying. I cover my ears and close my eyes.

I want it to stop.

Tifa comes back a while later. Marlene, I assume, fell back asleep, because she stopped crying a while ago. I tell Tifa this and she slaps my arm.

Ow! Does she have any idea how strong she is?

"You didn't go to her?!" She seems incredulous. What is it she wants me to do?

"No." I rub my arm. I just told her I didn't. I can't take care of kids. I don't know what to do. She shouldn't have made me stay.

"Why didn't you go?" She seems honestly upset with me. This is not a good start for my stay here. I blink at her, but I know I need to answer.

"I… There would have been no point." I say, "I can't bring her father back."

Tifa rolls her eyes, continuing to put away groceries.

"You gotta be kidding me." She says, more frustrated than vexed, "you, of all people, should know she just needs someone there."

Hey, that's not a fair comparison. It stings.

But it reminds me of that one time… Where Marlene had helped me. I didn't know it at the time, but her presence… it helped me. It feels ages ago, now. I had forgotten about it. Tried so hard to forget about it...

"Sorry." I say, trying to add a bit of softness to my voice. Tifa gives me a look. I think it's supposed to be comforting.

"I'm sure they'll be plenty of opportunities for you to redeem yourself when you're taking care of her tonight."

"What?" I snap to attention. Please tell me she's joking. She didn't ask me to stay just so I could be her live-in babysitter, did she?

"Well," She finished putting the last ingredients away and leans with her hip on the counter, "I need to open the bar tonight. I have rent to pay." She looks too tired, too grieving. I don't think she's ready. "And someone needs to look after her."

I grimace.

"Can I help with the bar somehow?" Anything but to take care of the sad little thing. I don't want to look into her grief. I don't want to hear her sobs. Please. My heart stings like someone's poring acid on it whenever I see her like that.

"Can you mix drinks?" She knows the answer.

"No."

"Can you chat people up?" She knows the answer.

"No."

"Can you clear tables?"

"I suppose?"

"Well, I can do that just fine, thank you." She gives me this condescending little smile, tilting her head just so. "I guess you're taking care of Marlene, then." She knows the answer.

"I don't know how to do that either." I protest.

She's grabbing a cloth. To clean tables with, I assume.

"You practicing how to interact with children doesn't cost me costumers if you fail." Just costs Marlene emotional fortitude and me patience. She smiles again. "And besides," She starts going from table to table, wiping while I lift the chairs from atop them. "Besides, don't you like Marlene?"

I want to say something mean just to get off the hook, but I choose honesty instead.

"I do."

"That's all she needs right now. Attention and care."

I don't agree. I didn't want attention or care when Lucrecia died. I just wanted to die. I wanted to disappear off the face of the earth. I wanted…

Oh, never mind.

If it's just until Cloud comes back, I'll do what I came here to do.

"Fine." I try not to pout.

"There you go." She nods, "That's the attitude." Then she snickers, "Did you put up this much of a fuss over chores when you were a Turk?"

I find it strange that she should bring that up. She always very deliberately stayed away from the topic of my past.

"Should I look at this as my mission, then?"

"If it'll make you suffer less doing it, sure."

I frown.

"It's not what I meant." I don't want her to think that she's twisting my arm into staying. I don't want her to be in any more pain than she already is. I'm here, so I should do what I'm asked quietly. "Sorry."

She stops for a moment and gives me a half-smile, half sigh.

"No, I'm sorry, Vincent. I'm so used to having to do everything myself… I didn't mean to force you—"

That's exactly what I didn't want.

"You didn't." I cut her off a bit stronger than I intend, "I'm here to help." Softer.

We stare at each other a moment. I'm trying to give her a serious look, but it's hard to keep a straight face around her kind eyes.

"That's probably the expression you used on missions back then." She muses.

What? Where did that come from? Is she suddenly worried about my history? Is she concerned that I'll be a threat to Marlene? No, she never cared before, then what…?

She scrutinizes my expression for a long moment before averting her attention to the bar.

"Do you think it looks alright?"

Change of topic much? I look around;

Chairs neatly on top of tables. Color schemes of grays and browns, mute enough to allow her patrons their own brooding. Old pictures of various places and of Avalanche on the walls. The furniture has seen better days, and the floor shows the scuff marks of countless shoes. The place looks a little like Tifa right now, tired, grayed out by too much people coming and going from her life. She's still beautiful, though. She's still Tifa. It's just like… There's a layer of dust on her heart.

Her brown hair is a little frazzled, but standing beside her I can see it's softness and richness. He face is softly lit by the windows facing the street, while her hips are casually cocked. She seems to take a lot of pride in this bar of hers. Her endeavor to support the children. Her life's work. Her place. I'm proud of her, for what that's worth.

"Looks good." I look at her and not the bar. She notices and her smile widens,

"Liar."

Chapter Text

I help her with the bar until it opens, then she shoos me away into the back part of the building, the house part.

"See if Marlene wants something to eat. There's some left over chicken that Reeve brought."

The door closes behind me, and I call to her though it, saying, "What time are you off?" But she doesn't answer. I blink at the door a few moments before realising it's supposed to be sound-proof. It's not, really. But I guess its sound-proof enough for Tifa and Marlene.

With determination born from lack of choice I climb the stairs to the sleeping area.

I stay standing outside her door a moment later, my determination draining with every inch that my hand approaches the knob. So much for that.

What am I doing here? I don't want to face Marlene. I don't want to see her crying face. Of all people, why me? I'm the worst person for this task. I'm always like that. I'm always running away from pain. Can you blame me?

I'm just a friend. This is a job a family member should do.

Cloud, come back quickly, will you?

I never claimed to be strong. This is a task for a strong person. Someone like Tifa who can smile and cheer and show people that life continues. Life doesn't continue with me. It had stopped a while ago. Now I live in Wutai, doing the same things everyday because I don't know how to move forward.

I twist the knob.

She's in bed. At least I think she is; all I see is a pile of blankets. Her stuffed toys are arranged about the bed like an army of fluff. They're supposed to look cheerful, but they seem so forlorn right now. A couple of bears fell on the floor.

I don't like the stitches on them.

"Marlene." I say. Maybe I should try and wake her up? She's been in bed for days.

Has she eaten? She probably touched a couple of sandwiches, but not much beyond that.

Thinking about it, what have I eaten? A couple of sandwiches, nothing more. Tifa, too.

I need to cook a big meal for these people. But first things first.

"Marlene." I repeat.

"Go away." I hear her from underneath the duvet.

"No."

There's silence here now.

This is painful.

"Marlene," I try again, "Do you want to eat?"

"No." She's sobbing again.

"You should eat."

"Go away."

Silence.

I sigh. Why am I even here? I feel giant in the room. Out of place between her toys and her pink sheets.

"Marlene," My voice is less forgiving now, "You have not eaten properly and its making you feel worse."

"No! Go away."

This is getting nowhere fast. I'm getting a little impatient. I want to turn and leave. She'll come down when she gets hungry enough.

I'm about to turn around and head downstairs when these thoughts strikes me:

She thinks she's not hungry because the pain in her heart chases everything else away.

She thinks it's the end of the world.

She thinks she's alone in the world that has no one that cares for her.

She thinks that the pain will never ever subside and that it'll be like this forever.

I'm gritting my teeth. I know what she feels, and I know I was left alone. She's just a kid. Hell, I was an "adult" when she died and it nearly killed me.

My fists clench and unclench. I shift my weight, feeling the floorboards give a little under my heavy, artificial feet.

I need to help her. Her leg is sticking out on one side of the pile, she still has shoes on, and it seems she's still wearing the clothes from the funeral.

Even if she hates me for it, even if she doesn't understand why I didn't leave her alone, even if I'll put the shards of her hope someplace safe so she can reassemble them when she has the strength…

"You are coming down to eat."

"No."

"That wasn't a question." I say firmly.

She stiffens in her shell. I hear her sob. It's been over week, and really, we didn't have a whole lot of time to spend with the person who was hurt the most by all this.

I'm not so much feeling guilt as irritation. I don't want to see her like this. I don't want to go through all the painful parts. I just want to be past all this, far, far away.

Downstairs the not-really-soundproof door bellies sounds of an active bar. Good. Tifa mentioned something about needing the money.

She stays silent, maybe wanting to make me think she's fallen asleep again, but I can hear her minute, trembling breath.

"Get up, or I'll drag you up." Not the best threat, but hopefully efficient against a six year old. Wait, six? Maybe she's nine or ten. I don't remember. Are threats really the way to go? Well, it's too late now. She starts sobbing worse,

"I don' wanna get up! Go Away!" She cries, "I want my daddy! I jus' wanna be alone! I wanna die!"

That's it . She's getting up. She's been cooped up in her room for a little over a week, and she's getting over this if I have to drag her through caltrops for it.

"You'll have the rest of your life to be alone," I reach my hand into the bundle and grab her arm, she yelps in surprise. "Much to your dismay you have people who care enough about you right now." I pull her out with a "Too bad for you!" The blankets go everywhere.

She hanging from her arm in my grip, her face not too far from my own. She looks terrible. Dark circles under her eyes, pale cheeks. Her clothes are rumpled and frankly, she smells.

She attacks me.

I have to admit I wasn't expecting that ferocity. Clawing at my hand that's holding her, kicking at my chest, trying to bite me… She's sparing no energy to defeat me, all the while yelling "Let me go! Let me go!"

Am I doing something wrong? Am I hurting her? She looks angry, hurt, devastated. I think this is for the best. I think I have to do this. She's too angry to cry, at least.

She's drawing blood! She's a tough little cookie. I switch my hold on her to my claw. Scratch through that, you little wild cat. Holding her far away enough from my chest (her kicks are surprisingly effective against ribs), I start my way downstairs. I'm not strong, but I'm strong enough to carry her.

I drop her at the small kitchen table. She tries to get up the moment I let go of her hand, so instead I place a firm claw on her shoulder. She's not going anywhere, but she gives me a glare to be proud of.

This one will have a death-glare yet. As Cid says: "a Vincent-grade death-glare".

For now, though, my own glare keeps her in her seat when I let her go.

Begrudging silence falls between us as I prepare her food. Spin, microwave, spin.

I still use my stove back home, though. Microwaves are for special occasions and I do not own one. Coals go in, heat comes out. It gives me comfort.

She gives me another glare when I put the food in front of her, and she makes a face.

"Eat." I command.

"Don' wanna." She snubs the food and pushes the plate away from her. You can bring a Chocobo to the water, but you can't make it drink. I'd glare at her, but she's not looking at me. Her arms are not stubbornly crossed in front of her chest, her chin joining the tangle.

"A lot of the anguish you're feeling is due to insufficient food." It's true, "You'll feel much better if you eat a little."

"I don' wanna eat. I wanna die and be with daddy."

"That's very selfish." I didn't mean to say it, I meant to think it. Her head snaps towards me and she looks furious again.

"No it's not! No one cares about me but daddy. I could die and no one would care. You can't make me eat."

That strikes a button. I feel anger flash against my heart, flooding my mind. I stop what I was doing, I lean on the table and bring my face above hers.

"Really." Growl at her. She looks up at me.

Stupid kid. She has no idea what Tifa's going through, no idea that her father went out and died to secure her future. She meets my death glare with her own. With instruction she'll be a pro at that glare.

"Yes. What are you gonna do about it, suck my blood?"

She's grown up to be quite the brat while I was away. Well done, Cloud and Tifa.

"Listen to me-"

"Why should I?" She barks, starting to rise from her chair despite our proximity. I put my claw on her shoulder again, gently, not forcing her down. I try to control my anger. Who does this pipsqueak think she is?

"I know what you feel."

"Oh, right. I'm so sure, uh-huh." I assume that's some sort of new-age sarcasm. I glare at her again, the muscles under her eyes twitch, but she gives nothing else. Tough kid. I flex the fingers of my claw on her shoulder. I hate that arm.

"Yes. I know."

She swallows hard. I guess that was a little intimidating of me. Just the combination of my voice and my expression gave more than I expected.

"Alright." I say, still not letting her gaze wander from mine. "Kill yourself."

"Really?" She seems surprised. I'm just pulling your leg, kid. There's a flash of fear behind those brown eyes. You're no poker player.

I nod gravely, "Under one condition."

"A-alright." She stutters. I don't think she has the guts to go through with it, but I don't want her even thinking about it.

"The condition is this:" I inhale dramatically, "You look into Tifa's eyes. You imagine what she'll look like at your funeral. You imagine how you'll destroy her. You imagine her tears, her pain, and the fact that she'll probably never love anyone like she loves you. Because the pain you'll cause her will be so great, because she'll feel that she failed you, because she'll feel she could have done something instead of watch you suffer." I had to forcefully stop there, and not only to draw breath again and swallow.

I never had people who cared enough. I never had a reason to live until now. I'm still a little confused about the whole thing. The anger inside me melts a little with the slump of her shoulders as her own anger shifts into pain again.

I'm sorry.

It had to be done. I had considered the unthinkable on more than one occasion, I must admit, but that image… that of the few people who knew me hurting… I couldn't stand it, and neither can she.

She eats a little, still obviously against her will.

After a few forkfuls, as the food settles in her stomach, and her pain becomes tears and anguish. I sigh. She looks so pitiful; her eyes are bloodshot, her face is ashen.

I take a step towards her. I may have to go to extremes and try giving her a hug. This is something I want to avoid.

I'm not very comfortable with the idea.

No one touches me and I don't touch people unless I have to. Violence is my physical communication's extent.

She's sobbing into her little hands and I find I cannot stay impassive in the face of such suffering. This time I put my good hand on her shoulder just to have it smacked away.

"Don't touch me!" She yells at me, wrath back in her face, "Whaddo you care?!" I'm taken aback; her eyes are torn between fury and grief.

"You didn't' even cry at the funeral! You're heartless! I still have feelings, even if you don't anymore!"

And she runs back upstairs, crying and wailing.

I'm a failure. I didn't even help her a little.

I want to just run away from this scene.

I hate this.

...Cloud, where are you?

Chapter Text

When I first started traveling with Tifa and the others, there was an incident.

We were attacked by these demon-like dogs. Their red eyes glowed with a fire the seemed to be spawned from hell itself. I had been firing at one of them when one flanked me, jumping to bite. I tried to defend myself, but its teeth closed on my flesh arm, knocking me over.

Effectively disarmed, I remember staring at that beast, almost point blank. Me on my back, that hellhound atop me, struggling to reach my throat. All I could was stare.

I saw myself in those eyes. That red glow, that cold determination not born of anger, but of the simple need to kill because that's all it knew. Tifa yelped my name, snapping me out of my stupor. Cid was the one who cleaved the monster in half.

I was shaking afterwards. It was the first real brush with death I had that trip, though it was far from the last. Even so, it was the one I remember most vividly.

Tifa tended to my wounds. I objected at first but she made her point by putting the small bottle of disinfectant in my claw.

My fingers closed around it, big and clumsy. The bottle dropped from my friction-less grip.

She pulled me down to sit so she could tend to me.

Why do I remember it?

Because while she was tending to me she mentioned that I was reckless, and that it's ok as long I don't get myself killed. She said they were worried about me, since I always threw myself into the fray.

I answered that if I died, I died.

She looked up into my eyes, then. The first time we really talked, the first time she really looked into my face. We hardly knew each other, but she said "You're heartless." In half-joke, half-seriousness. I remember I looked at her, then, wondering what she meant, wondering why I should care.

I'm sitting now across from where Marlene sat before. I don't know how much time had passed, or when I cleaned up after her, but I know it's very late when Tifa comes in.

She looks dead on her feet. She greets me with a smile nonetheless.

"Hey," She says, undoing her apron and draping it over the chair. She sits down heavily.

"How was business?" I ask. My throat is a little parched. The scene with Marlene playing in my head over and over. It had upset me, I must admit. My utter failure. The knowledge this is far from over. That I have to wake up tomorrow and deal with this. I hate this.

I didn't expect to fail so amazingly . It's going to be a lovely stay, between the workaholic Tifa and the emotional berserker Marlene.

I envy Cloud for being able to have the cake and eat it. He has a beautiful woman waiting for him, and the ability to make himself scarce the moment things get hairy.

"It was alright. Everybody was happy to see Seventh open again." She gives a tired huff, "If every evening was like this I wouldn't have to worry. And since Cloud isn't on delivery he's not sending anything..."

I offer to heat her up some food. She agrees.

As she's eating she asks,

"How did it go?"

She knows I know what she's talking about. Cid probably tipped her off that the 'Vincent Approach' works both ways. Cid claimed to hate it when I asked half questions, but picked up on it himself when we traveled together. When the question is obvious, little needs to be said to get an answer.

"Not too well." I say diplomatically. Should I tell her what transpired? No, I guess there's no point. She's either get upset at me for dragging her, or she'll get upset with Marlene for saying those things. Either way it's just more stress for her.

"Oh?" She raises a curious eyebrow at me, "Anything specific?"

"She didn't want to eat."

"Oh, poor sweetie." She sighs.

"I made her."

Tifa now looks surprised, then glances back at her dish, then back at me.

"You made her eat? Really? How did that go? Neither Cloud or me could ever make her eat."

I shrug,

"She ate more than I expected. I think she'll feel better in the morning."

Tifa looks relieved,

"I'm glad, then. I need you to make her breakfast, too."

I resist the urge to cringe. She explains,

"Usually I wake up with her at about ten to make her breakfast, but if you don't mind… I'd love to sleep in."

"Of course." I swallow hard. I don't want to be yelled at again.

Next morning I wake up to hear scuffing of little shoes from upstairs. Did Marlene never change?

With a heave that makes me feel old and heavy, I get dressed in the washroom upstairs (right across from Marlene's room) then knock on her door.

"F%$k off." She spits. I blink a few times at the door. Cid, you're in trouble. Good thing for her I'm not Tifa.

I open the door.

She's sitting on her bed, still in the same clothes since the funeral. That has to be bad for her. They're crumpled and she's a mess. She's clutching a teddy bear in her arms.

"Breakfast." I order. She gives me another dirty look. "Are you going to argue?" I challenge her. She remains wisely silent, but defiant. All it takes is a raised eyebrow from me, and she gets up and I follow her downstairs like I'm escorting a prisoner to death row.

I hate this. She's sulky, I'm tired. I hate it. I want to leave.

After she's done I say,

"You're taking a shower and changing out of those clothes." She ate all of her breakfast cereal, so I'm pleased. I'm worried what the marshmallows are made out of in those things.

"What do you care?" She mutters. I'm not sure if I was meant to hear it, but I reply,

"That's not your concern." I had no better answer, "Your only concern is to get back on your feet."

"I don't want to." She slumps in her chair. My heart goes out to you, kid, it does. I know you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. You can't even imagine a time where the pain will be gone. But sooner or later you catch yourself going minutes. sometimes hours without remembering. Then days, then the memory is just a pain in the back of your head. A pain you can deal with and live with and even, sometimes, laugh with.

"Did I ask if you did?" I ask, washing dishes, "But sometimes life's tough and makes you take a bath." Her lower lip quivers with anger. I just had to push it, "Life stinks when you don't bathe."

Oh, I just had to.

Some people called my humour dry. Cid called my humour non-existent, said I reminded him of his grandfather's jokes. I answered that I've probably met his grandfather. Neither of us expected me to be right.

"I'm going back to my room." She chokes out between anger and tears.

"You're going to the garden."

" What ? I thought I was supposed to take a shower?"

"Go to the backyard and play." She needs some fresh air. Staying in one stale place just makes you brood. I know it all too well. "Bath afterwards."

"I don't wanna play!" She protests. "I never want to play again!"

"I could find you some garden work, then, if you prefer."

She goes outside. She hates me. I can tell by the way she looks at me. But her parents taught her pride, and my dragging her was a great insult. She will not have me do that again.

I've seen her interactions with Tifa, and while I think Tifa's a wonderful mother-figure for her … she's too soft for my taste. Then again, I know I can be a little… cold.

When Tifa wakes up I serve her tea and make her breakfast.

"Where's Marlene?" She asks, looking around, "She's not in her room."

"Backyard."

"What's she doing there?" She looks surprised again, she sips her tea and twists her nose, "Bitter."

I give her sugar.

"I believe I instructed her to 'play', but she's just sitting on a tree branch."

Tifa pops her head beside mine, peeking out the kitchen window.

Marlene, sitting forlorn on a tree branch about 6 feet off the ground. Still in her funeral clothes. The sun's out and it's a nice autumn day. I can hear some kids playing behind the fence. Marlene notices but shuns them.

"I guess that's good." Tifa blinks, going back to her tea. "Things sure are different with you around."

I join her with my own tea and breakfast, raising my brows for her to elaborate.

"Well, as I said; I'm so used to doing everything myself… I'm not used to someone doing things differently than I would. Cloud would have just left her alone."

I frown at my tea,

"Life goes on. The best way to do that is to see it with your own eyes."

"You're the expert." When my gaze snaps to her, she flushes and apologizes.

"It's alright." I tell her, "If my… experiences can help her, at least they were good for something."

She chuckles bitterly,

"That's so something you would say. I wonder how you got to be so… Fatalistic."

She's been saying these strange things in the last couple of days. I wonder what's causing these.

"Is there a problem?" Trying to figure Tifa out sometimes can be tricky. She's an open book most of the times, but on certain things it's like the books has many pages overlaying each other. It's hard to tell which of her conflicting emotions she's going on.

"No, not at all." She pays attention to her housecoat's belt. Never a good sign when she start fiddling with things.

Yes, there is something amiss. Now I'm concerned. She doesn't want me here? Maybe I've outgrown my welcome already? Maybe she disapproves with the way I've been taking care of things. I wouldn't blame her. I'm sort of 'flying by the seat of my pants' as I heard Cid say.

I continue to look at her.

She smiles, but says nothing.

I pull out the big guns: I raise one brow. She breaks.

"It's just… well…"

I wait. A knot forms in my stomach. The only thing I hate more than taking care of other people's emotions is talking about things to do with me.

"I don't know you, you know?"

She doesn't trust me?

"It's like I know you but I don't know… you . I've known Cloud since we were kids. But you..."

I'm confused.

"I know what you'll do, and I can figure out what you like and don't like, but its, like… I see only what you let me see. Cid had spent so much time with you... I sort of envy him. He probably knows you better than me."

She's lost me. She remembers something and points her fork at me with renewed zeal,

"You still owe me a story about you."

"Owe you…?"

"Remember? You said I could ask you things about your past? And then I said I will? Remember?"

"No."

She seems disappointed.

"Well, I do." She pouts. She's looking better today. I'm pleased. "I'm going to ask you questions and you'll have to answer them."

"But not now." I relax into my chair. I guess I tensed up. Marlene's coming back in. Tifa turns to her when the door opens.

"Good morning, sweetie." She smiles at the sulky little cat.

"Mornin'" the cat mumbles back, then she looks at me with that defiant look again. That's actually kind of cute. "Can I go to my room now ? I was outside like you told me."

"Yes, but you're taking that shower first." I can smell her from here.

She looks like she's about to argue, but I lower my head just so, challenging her to go against my orders. In front of Tifa, no less. She shuffles upstairs with a huffed, "I hate you so much." That I know only I heard.

Tifa turns to me, astonishment at Marlene's obedience. I sip my tea and pretend it's just that easy.

"What happened to your hand?" She points at the hand holding the teacup. Marlene freezes on the stairs.

Oh, the scratches. I heal fast, but not that fast. They're clean, but they still look like my hand tasted like catnip for some wild cat.

I nonchalantly scratch it with my claw, as if to show Tifa how I got it scratched up. I did it, see?

Marlene continues up the stairs in a jog, and Tifa looks concerned. She scolds me and says that she'll get me a scratching stick, and that maybe I should consider filing those points down.

Cloud, come back .

Chapter Text

When I called her to lunch and dinner she came without argument. Good, she's learning. Doesn't like me, but she knows that I'm serious. Tifa's in the bar, and I can hear the buzz of activity from beyond the door. It's a little distracting. She's outside now, on that branch.

I'm starting to remember things about leading the Turks. What I learned from my superior and what I learned through experience. She reminds me a little of some of my charges at the time. The only way they could know the limits was to cross them. So I would very clearly define the limits and they would cross them anyway.

Consistency is important. If a line is drawn it is not crossed. You don't punish them one day and let them off the hook another for the same transgression. The response needs to be predictable for them to learn to trust you.

Marlene certainly doesn't trust or like me, but she knows that when I call her, she comes.

I'm impressed by her. The way she's learning to carry her pain. When she is perched on that branch, legs dangling, you could think she's just like any other child out there, but upon closer inspection…

Her profile is striking. She's going to be beautiful. More than that, her eyes have an intelligence in them that I've never seen in a child.

…I like her. I want to see her get better. It's sort of a scary realization. A string that goes from my heart to her. A thin one right now, but there nonetheless.

I'll be the thing she can pour her hatred into, her antagonist, if she wishes. So she can concentrate on getting better and blame me for whatever she wishes.

Until Cloud comes back, that is.

At least we've established some sort of uncomfortable routine:

I wake up when she does and make her breakfast while allowing Tifa to sleep in.

Then she goes outside and finds it harder and harder to pretend to sulk. Every week she finds it harder and harder to ignore those kids playing next door. Summer vacation is coming to an end. The days are getting colder.

Every second day she has a shower before being allowed to go and do whatever she wants. It used to be just sitting in her room, but in the last week she started watching television. At least she's getting some sort of stimulation.

She usually comes in from the garden after Tifa wakes up, and today, while we were having breakfast together Tifa says,

"She's looking much better." There's relief and a pleasant ring to her comment. Tifa's looking much better too. The color's slowly coming back to her cheeks, her eyes have regained much of their lustre. When she's content her eyes seem lighter in color, almost like honey-wine. When she's upset they seem more chocolate brown. Her casual flower-print shirt hangs over a frame that has lost some weight since all this began. Personally I like curvy women, not that it matters anymore.

I've taken to cooking for them. I'm not a very good cook, but I've learned to make a few things. Everything I know how to make is from scratch, so we're saving money as well.

Yes, of course I'm participating financially. I eat her food, might as well pay for it. I actually had to argue with Tifa about it the other day.

"No, you're not repaying me!" She seemed insulted.

"Half of this grocery order. Here." I handed her the gil according the receipt.

"No." She batted my hand away weakly.

"Take it."

"No."

"Why not?" I was getting irritated with her. Pride is one thing, but another mouth to feed isn't cheap.

"Because you're a guest here."

"I've been here almost four weeks, now."

"It's ok, Cloud-"

"-You said it yourself: He's not on a delivery. He's not actually making any money right now to send you."

"You're still a guest." Her footing is slipping in this argument, "Besides, you're here to help."

"Exactly." I handed her the money again.

"Huh?"

"Am I here to be a burden or to help?"

"…To help." She knew where I was going with it.

"So take the money, so I'm not a burden."

I'm not rich, but I have a few gil set aside from Avalanche days that didn't go into Edge or Kalm or Midgar. She took it, but seemed offended. I had hurt her pride, but she said she was having trouble with money. I wasn't going to be another thing for her to worry about. It's the right thing to do, all pride aside.

Back here and now, I wanted to tell her that she's looking healthier, too, but the phone rang, and she went to answer it. An unspoken rule was that either she or Marlene answered the phone. It would be rather awkward if Cloud called and I answered. He's apparently… protective.

Speak of the devil, or as I heard Cid say, "Speak of Palmer and the lard arrives", it's Cloud on the phone. Tifa's face lights up like nothing else could. She takes the cordless quickly to the living room, leaving me to wash the dishes. She always thanks me for doing the dishes, like I'm doing it for her. They're dishes. They need to be done.

"The investigation? –Going well?" I hear her despite myself, so I turn the water on stronger. It doesn't help. The living room wall is to my right, and she's just behind it.

"Oh, oh? They ran? Hm-hm…"

Scrubbing the dishes doesn't make enough noise, dammit.

"You're coming ba- What? Oh…" Her cheerfulness dropped about 150 percent. "I see. Yeah- no- I mean—" She pauses to listen. I ran out of morning dishes and turn off water. Damn, she sounds down. I was working so hard to cheer her up! Cloud, remind me to kill you when next I see you.

"Yeah… No, no… we're all ok here." She laughs, but if the idiot on the other end believed it for a second then he's… well… an idiot. An undeserving idiot.

Why do good girls end up with such sods? I guess because all men are fundamentally brain dead. We can't help it, I guess.

"No, that's fine. You go and figure what you need to figure out." There's a pause, and answers with a placating, "I know you're not doing it for yourself, I know. I didn't mean it like that, but…" She takes in a shaky breath. Me? I'm leaning on the counter, in front of the clean dishes, drying them.

"But… We kind of need you here, you know?" She's speaking softer now that the water stopped running. I have no excuse now, I'm eavesdropping. Deliberately. I could leave the kitchen, but her tone indicates the conversation is about to end. I'm surprised to hear an edge of anger in it,

"Right. No, no, it's alright. We'll talk about it when you come back. Bye."

And she hangs up. I hear her lean on the wall to my right, just on the other side. I can just see her in my mind's eyes.

She's leaning, phone clutched to her bosom. She's looking up, trying to blink agitation from her eyes and look like she's fine when she rounds the corner. I know her. Know her habits. Before I really think about it my good hand is softly touching the wall just where she's leaning on the other side. I wish I could help...

I wish I could do something. I'm just a temporary fix.

Cloud, why? Why aren't you here to take care of your family? I would do anything to have what you so callously ignore. It is a dream to me to have what you take for granted. Why?

She comes around the corner now, slapping a smile that no one would believe. I raise a brow at her, straightening before she sees me. I can see her forcing the corners of her lips up as her smile falters.

"How is he?" I ask conversationally. Eavesdropping is bad, but telling the person that you've been listening is worse. If you're outrageous enough to commit villainy, at least have the curtsey to keep it to yourself.

"He's fine." She says shortly, squeezing past me to put the cordless back in its place. I think she doesn't want me to ask her about the conversation. I continue to look at her, expecting my approach to yield more information. She's leaning on the counter where the cordless base is. I can get this sort of technology. It's kind of like radio, right? A little like our PHS? Her face is no longer smiling, mouth drawn into a thin line, lines of impatience between her brows. Her eyes are stormy and dark.

"What?" A little snappish.

"His return?"

Tifa glances at me, then away. Her face refuses to surrender to the pain in heart, "You can't wait to leave?"

"Tifa…" I'm warning her. I need to know.

"I don't want to talk about it, ok?" She's aggravated, doesn't understand why I'm pushing the subject.

"I need to know."

She gives me a sceptical look. She's so engrossed in her problems… Poor girl.

"All due respect," I tell her, letting a bit of amusement reach my voice in an attempt to disarm her agitation, "Unless you want me to walk around naked, I need to go back home and restock for a day if I am to stay longer." I guess I could have been more tactful about it, because she drops the glass of water she was preparing. I catch it and return it to her. Not a drop spilled. Damn reflexes.

"I'm- I'm sorry, Vincent." She scowls at her glass, at herself. "I'm so selfish. Yes, of course you need to know."

I just wait for her to continue,

"He said… He might be a while longer."

"How long? Did he say?" Cloud, you bastard .

"I don't know…" She shakes her head, still not looking at me, "Maybe a couple of…"

Days? Weeks?

"Months."

" What ?" escapes my lips before I can stop my own astonishment. Cloud, what the hell is wrong with you? Have you even spoken with Marlene after the incident? Why are you running away? These girls need you, dammit! She scowls deeper.

"I'll understand if you want to go back home. You've done so much already." She cannot sound for placating and accepting if she had actually meant it.

I've done nothing. I compose myself.

"No. I said I'll wait until Cloud comes back. That is what I promised."

"But-" She's surprised. One would think she'd know me better than to leave.

Wait, she said she doesn't know me, didn't she?

"But I'm sure you have things you need to get back to, right?" Perhaps I've imposed for too long?

"Not really," I shrug, heading to my bed-couch. "A day back there would see me attend to all I must. That is, if you wish me to remain here." I head to the living room and my makeshift bed.

"I really can't ask it of you." Tifa follows me, watching me with concern as I fold my blanket and put away my pillow.

"You're not asking. I'm offering."

I see her torn between wanting my help and not knowing how to accept my offer without scruples. It feels good to know she may yet want my company. It feels good to know that because of me she's sleeping in. Because of me she worries a little less. I've never really felt like that before...

...Needed.

"Tifa, I made a promise to you a couple of years ago." I remind her. "That I'd come if you needed me."

She blushes,

"I remember," She nods, "But you already fulfilled it when you came to help us against Bahamut Sin!"

I raise my brow,

"I only get one shot? Did my promise indicate a set amount of times I can help you?"

A smile creeps unto that charming face, she can't help it.

"No, but… Your promise doesn't mean that you're my slave forever, I hope. I don't want to be a burden on you."

"You're never a burden, you're my friend." I quote something she used to chirp at me all the time. Her smile wins and spreads like sunshine on her face. To my surprise she throws her arms around my neck in a hug. My shock makes my knees weak and I plop down unto the couch. She doesn't let go. I can hear her heartbeat and her breathing. I can certainly hear my own heart racing. She smells like orchid flowers. I assume it's from her shampoo. I imagine an apple orchid somehow, with her standing there, looking divine. Her hair is pressed against my cheek. It feels soft and I can feel the warmth from her body. Her smell fills my nostrils and my heart is doing flip-flops.

"Thank you." She whispers.

My mouth goes dry, so I don't reply.

"When are you headed down to Wutai, then?"

Please let go of my neck.

It makes my stomach contract,

And my eyes burn

And heart roar

And my arms tingle.

"Ah...As soon as possible, I suppose."

She lets go. Doesn't seem to think about what she just did. Contact between us has always been rare. I've seen her give Cid and Barrett affectionate hugs and light, heartfelt touches, but never me. I was never really that much on the friends list, I guess. I guess she doesn't know me, after all. I don't like physical affection. I don't really understand it's applications or usage, but I like the feel of her hand on my arm. I like the warmth she has. I can't really explain it. I just feels... Safe.

I say nothing.

I can breath again, though my heart doesn't really slow down. She seems afraid to disappoint me when she says,

"Oh… Could it perhaps wait just a little? Marlene starts school again tomorrow."

"I do not see why not."

"I'm sorry! I'll wash your clothes for you and everything!" She promises. I'm not allowed near the laundry because of "girly concerns" as the girls say.

It's not like I've never seen bras or undergarments before.

She apologizes too much for everything. She really needs to just understand I'm here to help. It's probably because I complained earlier. My fault she's uncertain that I'd help her or that she things its a bother for me. Damn, I'll have to make it up to her.

I want to say all this, but she gets up in a hurry and heads to the back to do as many loads of laundry as she can before she needs to work.

Later I find Marlene folding the warm clothes. I can smell the strong anti-static sheet and feel the warmth the moment I walk into the living room. Marlene has the television on as she is working garment by garment.

There's a pile for Tifa's shirts, pants and undergarments. There's a similar pile for Marlene's clothes. Mine are on the floor in a heap. I pick them up. I can fold them myself, but putting them on the floor was a little uncalled for.

"Thank you for bringing them in." I try.

"F^%k you." Is her reply. I sigh and turn to leave.

"Why do you even try?" she says, I can hear she has stopped folding. Her gaze is boring into the back of my neck. I'm a Turk, I can tell these things. Sometime I can even tell where they're looking.

"Try what?" I turn to her. Everything about her stance in confrontational, her little hands fisting into a shirt.

"Don't give me any of this crap. Why are you still here? You're not Cloud, you're not related to us."

I don't say that Cloud is no more related to her than I am. But instead I say,

"Why does it concern you why I stay?"

"'Cause you suck. I hate you. I wish you'd go away already."

I find myself tilting my chin up, my way of raising to a challenge. Her gaze shifts to the television as a small concession to what I hope is a piercing gaze, but I know she's not really watching its flickering images.

"You care for Tifa, yes?"

She nods. I explain,

"I'm here because she needs help."

"We don't need you. I can take care of myself. I'll quit school and go find work."

Brave kid.

"That is not your choice to make. Neither is my staying or going."

Before she objects I say, "You're starting school tomorrow. You cannot avoid it."

Chapter Text

This morning was pretty tough on all of us. Tifa's re-opening popularity faded slowly and stress over money resurfaced.

Marlene was sobbing all morning. Vacation time was over. I could understand her distress. She was still heartbroken, she didn't want to see laughing kids coming to school with their parents. Didn't want to be made to concentrate on studies when her heart was still busy mending. I personally think it'd be good for her, but what do I know about schools? I had never gotten an education. Tifa quit school when her town burnt down and her father died.

Still, Marlene performed admirably, took her backpack and still sobbing, headed out without a word. Tifa walked her there. I know the little wildcat would have liked thinking I won't be here when she gets back, but she would get no such luck. Not until Tifa says so.

Speaking of which, now that she's back in school, do I really need to stay? She'll be taken care of for the better part of the day, and it would return to a regular time, like Cloud is just on delivery. I might ask her about it when she returns.

It feels strange to be here all alone, now. The bar is empty, the house is empty. I've been here over a month now and this is the first time the house has been empty. It feels bigger.

After a few minutes of sitting in this stillness I decide I must do something, so I start cleaning. I've gotten used to it in the last month. I was never much for cleanliness in my life, taking the steps required to be clean for the sake of being clean. This is different. This is cleaning for others. Cleaning so that Tifa doesn't have to and so that her costumers can have a clean environment to drown their sorrows in. I always considered Tifa's a cheerful sort, so I find it a little peculiar that this sombre bar is her choice. She loves helping others. Is a bar honestly helping? People can run away from their problems, but it's no long term solution. It's not one for her, either. It's running her ragged.

What have I been up to the last year and a bit? Well, after the Jenova War and my subsequent mental breakdown I traveled with Cid. Now, you may ask, who in their right mind would travel almost a year with Cid if they appreciated their sanity? I would. I don't have much sanity left, nor is Cid really that bad a person upon closer acquaintance. He and I are what you would call 'friends' now, I guess. He believes in brute honesty, and I learned to respect that.

After our trip with its few adventures I decided to go back to Wutai and try to locate some people I knew. I didn't get very far with it. I didn't know anyone who could even help me start looking. I was thinking of asking for Reeve's help, but the information he would have on Wutai would be minimal. Wutai itself has few records of births and deaths from before the war. Fire and war erased my time from the history books. Now all the people I knew would be categorized as the pre-war Wutains and nothing more will be said about them.

All my friends, family and neighbors reduced to a footnote.

I should be thankful, then, that it was not my fate as well. I guess I should go to Hojo's grave and thank him for letting me survive the worse that could happen to any man: To be forgotten.

Someone once asked me if I could go back, would I have still done things the same way to end up here. My answer was, and is, no . I like it here. This is a good place and I wouldn't have been fortunate enough to meet Tifa and the others.

But… if I had known then what I know now… I would never have had the courage to face that pain all over again. I couldn't. But I've decided a while ago that that sort of thinking will get me no where, and that I must learn to make the best with where I am now.

The bar is a mess.

The floors are scuffed so bad that all the finish is scratched and damage, with residues of alcohol sticking in the scratches. Edge is relatively new, but Tifa had once mentioned that this building was used to house refugees during and after Meteor. It had seen much traffic.

Dirty and clean towels are tossed in a pile on the bar-top. Washed glasses and mugs await their return to the cupboards. Some chairs, now stacked back on the tables are missing some supports on their legs. The tables are dinged and stained with marks that need more than just a wet cloth to remove.

This place needs help.

So I start where I can.

By the time Tifa comes home I would like to believe that the place looked a lot better. Much to my dismay, though, she says 'hi' and proceeds directly to the back of the house.

No comment.

Not even a nod.

I feel my shoulders sag and my anticipation dissipate in an unpleasant way. I didn't do much, but I felt it was noticeable. She's probably pre-occupied, but a part of me had hoped for an acknowledgment of my work. I wanted her to be happy that everything is cleaner now. I had imagined her smile. I shouldn't be so petty. There's something wrong?

"Tifa." I call after her, only to remember that sound-proof door that's soundproof to everybody but me.

I follow after her.

She sitting in the kitchen, looking rather dejected.

"Vincent," She says quietly.

"Mmm?"

"I know you two weren't close, but… were you sad when Barrett died?"

I don't want that question.

I hesitate, hoping she will continue talking. She looks at me, I look at her.

"Well?"

What do I say to that? The truth? Do I lie? I do not want to be a burden on her. I don't want her to worry. I'm here to help.

"Does it matter?" I inquire quietly. I want to avoid this topic.

"Will it kill you to answer a straight answer?" She says with half a smile. She didn't answer my question, but I didn't answer hers, either.

Well, here goes.

"Yes." I choose honestly, still standing by the door. "I was."

She looks at me, looking so sad and tired. She needs to get better. What can I do? I want to see shining eyes again. I want to hear her laughter. I think there's some relief in her eyes that I answered her. Maybe she knows I'm being honest, maybe she's just glad I gave in.

"'I was'? You're not anymore?"

Here I need to be careful,

"Not for him. I am now sympathetic towards Marlene."

"Sympathetic?"

"Correct, I was never close to Barrett. I am sad to see a companion go, but…"

She nods, I don't continue.

"Marlene talked to you." I say instead.

She gives a start.

"Ah, no, no, no. It's just, ah-"

"She talked to you."

"…Yeah. She asked me to tell you to leave."

She shifts in her chair uncomfortably. I can see her brain trying to find a way to make amends.

"Are you going to?" I can't believe how much it hurts to even think...

"What? Holy, no. I'm so sorry about her, Vincent..." The anguish in her face is oddly soothing. Is it wrong to want to feel needed? Is it wrong to feel good that fear for my feelings affects her? I'm selfish.

"It's alright." I interject at the pain she's displaying, "It's alright."

She purses her mouth, clearly displeased with the situation, so I decide to clarify,

"I want her to hate me."

"What? Why on planet would you want that?"

Thinking about how to put it into words is strange. It's something that Cid tried to beat into me. It drove him up the wall when I'd have something to say and not say it. He used to say that if I needed time to phrase myself, then I should just take it. The people who knew me would understand. And the people who didn't know I wouldn't be talking to anyway. So I take my time now, studying appliances that have become so familiar in this smallish kitchen. I do take my time, and Tifa gives me the space I need to form words.

"I want her to blame me for now, for everything." It's difficult to say. My words come slowly, "I want her to be able to throw everything at me. Her anger, her pain… whatever she wants. I want her to know that I would not ever retaliate, nor hurt her. If she'll be happy, then I don't mind."

I internally cringe at that last part. It didn't come out exactly how I meant. She doesn't notice, but a strange, melancholy look washes over her face.

"You're too good to us." She mumbles. I'm not. I'm selfish. Sometimes I'm afraid I'm not really to help them at all. Sometimes I'm afraid that a part of me craves this. Not the drama, no, but the feeling of... What's it called? Family? Belonging? I'm selfish. Selfish, to desire being needed by her. Conceited of me to think I can actually help.

"I could say the same."

When she inquires I explain,

"To have invited me to this home, it is kind. I have little back home, and can offer only little help here." Maybe I shouldn't have said it. I don't want her to feel obligated to me. "Holy knows I'm no great conversationalist and provide little in the way of entertainment or food." When Cloud comes back I need to leave without a fuss, because that's all I came here to do.

She smiles at me. I am in heaven. I add,

"Let Marlene think what she will."

"What about me?"

"Hm?"

"Should I think what I want, too?"

I blink at her. What is she talking about?

"Are you putting up a face, just to help me?"

My mouth opens to answer, but I have nothing to say. What answer does she expect?

"I'm here to help." I quip. She doesn't seem anymore satisfied with that answer than I am. She changes the subject,

"Cloud said it was sabotage at the oil fields."

"Oh? Any leads?" Perhaps I should press her on the previous topic, but I'm finding myself a little apprehensive. What is it she seeks from me? I don't understand. I am what I am. To ask me what I am would be akin to asking me what color the back of my eyes is. I cannot see myself. What must I seem to her?

"Yeah," Her voice is heavy, but she masks it well, "Apparently some dissidents who don't appreciate the sacrifices of leaving Mako energy. He's tracking down their hideout."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

The conversation tapers off at that point.

Maybe Tifa doesn't know who I am, but how can two people really know each other? By growing together.

By seeing people in their worse, in their best and also in their calm. What we have right now is not even companionship, we don't have time to talk to each other enough for that. We're either busy with Marlene, or she's busy with the bar.

Cid and I... I guess he does know me better than she does. We had traveled. I had seen him in some rough spots, and he would deliberately irritate me to "see what it was like to piss of Vincent without being eaten".

During the Jenova War Tifa and I would speak very little. It was only in the celebration afterwards that I've learned more about her, and she about me. Isn't that strange? I trusted her with my life in combat, and would have thrown away my life for her, but I hardly knew her. Now that I've grown to know her better nothing seems certain anymore. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? She was the only one amongst the group to see me without my cape during the war. She would tend to me. I remember she would talk to me about whatever it was she was thinking. Making conversation more than anything. I would rarely reply, if at all. Heck, I barely even listened. Now I wish I had paid more attention. How was I to know where things would take me?

I wish I knew her better to know where I stand, what she thinks of me. I wish I could be comfortable with myself enough to not dread going back to the solitude of Wutai.

I'm here to help. Not the other way around.

We're not in any sort of relationship. This is plain and simple a mutual benefit situation of two professionals.

I can't be here for anything else.

I'm just here until Cloud comes back. Even if I've been here a month, I can't think anything else.

He should be back soon.

Cloud, please get back before I get attached. It'll hurt too much if you take your time.

Chapter Text

A couple of days pass without event. I am in charge of Marlene at night while Tifa's tending the bar. The wildcat refuses to talk to me. She eats her dinner, does her homework and sometimes watches television. I have nothing to say to her and she to me. What would we talk about? Her school? Her friends? What concern is that to me? Why would she ever wish to confide in me, whom she believes devoid of all proper emotion? Here and there she would barb me. Saying things like "I'm surprised you eat anything other than flesh." or "it's a full moon, don't you need to run out and transform instead of bossing me around?"

I never retaliate, though a million retorts jump to my lips. Her acidity towards me hurts sometimes, I admit. She was a sweet child before all this. Before me, perhaps? There is always the nagging doubt that I am harming her and not helping at all...

But tonight...

I was taking a long shower. Marlene had been in her room most of the afternoon. She had eaten her meal in a satisfactory manner (her appetite returned with force once school started) and retired. I need this shower. It felt like I've removed a layer of tiredness, my limbs feeling strong again. That is to say, my arm feels better. My legs have long been replaced by complex mechanical pegs and my arm I must remove while I shower. I fell into a pond once in Avalanche with the thing on and it went on the frits for two days until the interior dried off. It also doesn't help that I sink like a rock.

I pull the curtain, grab the towel. Rub one side into my hair. Maybe I should cut it short again. It takes forever to dry.

My arm.

It's missing.

What ?

Panic grips me for a flash, but after a few moments I have to think logically. Had I taken it off in my room, instead of the bathroom? I do that sometimes. No, today I was not wearing a buttoned shirt. I could not have removed it here comfortably with one hand. The door... I notice now its been opened. I know I locked it... Did someone jimmy the door? Because it's not locked now...

Would Marlene do this? Does she have the skill to sneak in here without me hearing her? I woke up last night because a fly was smacking its fat body against a window. She couldn't have... Could she?

I dress in a hurry, and with my hair still wet I burst into Marlene's room. She's not here. Glancing out the window I see her in the backyard. My arm is in her hands. I don't know what she plans to do with it, but it's the only arm I've got. I hate my artificial limbs, but I hate being a cripple even more. The technology that created... me... is lost. If that arm is wrecked I'll be forever stuck with something made out of plastic, or a hook or something. Even the man who worked on Barrett's arm has passed from the world last year...

I rush down the stairs and out into the backyard from the kitchen door. She's standing there, looking smug. She doesn't have the arm anymore.

"What are you doing?" I demand, perhaps letting on a bit more of my anger and apprehension that I meant. She must have noticed my distress because she grins at me. "Is your heart made out of the same stuff as your arm? All crumbly and cold?"

Did she break my arm somehow? I glance around frantically, but in the darkness- even with my enhanced vision- all the fallen leaves are the color of the metal.

"Where is it?" I demand. "It's not a toy."

"I know it's not a toy! I'm not a child, you know! I'm ten years old!" A precocious ten-year-old, but a ten year old nonetheless. "I threw it away."

"What?" No, no, no... It's my arm. I need it. It's not the greatest thing in the world, but it works and it's mine and I hate being a cripple. It used to hurt but Cid fixed it and it reminds me that there are people out there who may give a shit about me. I don't want to lose that damn, cursed thing.

"You love it so much, why don't you change all of you to metal? You already changed your heart to stone!"

"Where is it?" I ask again, taking a step towards her, she takes a step back, but her face loses none of its confidence or jeer.

"What are you going to do, huh? Hit me? Eat me?"

I stop in my tracks. Is that what she thinks I'm going to do, or is she merely goading me again?

"You will give it back." I state in the coldest, most authoritive tone I can. I will not have her playing games with me. She crossed a line.

"Or you'll what?"

She's challenging me, testing me.

"Tell you what," She says, "I'll give it back if you promise to leave." She's hoping she found a weakness of mine and she's planning on exploiting it to get her way. So she could go back to the time where people felt sorry for her and let her get away with things. Back to the time where Tifa didn't have enough energy or time to watch her like a hawk. When no one made sure she finished her food and did her homework and took her showers.

"You've taken something that does not belong to you. You will return it."

"No!" She stomps her foot. "You're not my dad! You can't tell me what to do! I hate you!"

I take another step towards her. She takes another step back, now more concerned with my sternness than her little game, perhaps. "Go away! You can't just tell me what to do! You're not my dad!"

"That is truth." I say. "Yet this does little to entitle you to my possessions." I only own a handful of things. If it were anything else, I would let her have it, but this is irreplaceable. I take another step forward and she backs up again. She seems honestly scared of my hurting her.

Asking once more, "Give it back. I need it."

"You don't!" She spits, backing away out of my reach. Anger is all she sees right now. Have I pushed her too hard the last little while? Have I been a dictator? Have I driven her past hate into something darker than grief? "You don't need anything! Your creepy and mean. You don't cry when people die. You don't cry when you're hurt. You never smile and you never laugh. You're a robot! A monster! You're not human!"

I wait, she has her hands balled into fists at her sides. She's screaming at me, her face flushed. I feel the cold of the night on my scalp through my wet hair. I feel the lightness of my left arm without the hand. I feel like a half a man without the heavy thing. I resist the urge to reach with my good hand and cover the metallic base in the limp sleeve. I resist the urge to grab her and shake her until she gives it back.

"You're not my dad!" She repeats. "You're not my dad! Daddy would never grab me, or force me to eat or scold me or drag me!" She draws in breath. I want her to get better. Am I hurting her? It certainly does not look like I've had any positive influence on her right now...

"Daddy and Cloud love me! You don't know what that word means! You hate me! All you want to do it hurt me and tell me what to do!"

"That is not true." I defend but she doesn't listen.

"You don't love anything! You're just cold! You're just here 'cause Cloud isn't!"

I have nothing to say to that last accusation. It stings.

"Daddy would never say mean things or glare at me or-"

"Barret's not here, I am !" I burst. Did I just yell? When's the last time I yelled at someone? I must look as horrified as she does. The poor kid's been passing between father figures like most people move from home to home. "I'm not trying to replace anyone." I force evenness back into my voice, rolling my shoulders to ease some of my built-up agitation. "I'm not trying to pretend I'm your father."

"Then why are you here? Why won't you go away and stop being an asshole?" She demands.

I take a moment to think about it. I haven't gotten this agitated in a long time. Why now? Why her? Certainly I've faced more agitating situations with Cid and kept my cool. Mostly.

"I guess... I care." I say, not looking at her.

"No, you don't! I hate you! I hate you forever! Hate you! Hateyouhateyou!" And she runs past me into the house. I hear her rush up the stairs and slam the door to her room.

...Great.

Looking up after a moment I see her at the window, looking down at me standing here like a chump. She's crying, but her face is quite sombre. I wonder if I should get her down here. I still don't have my arm. No, I don't think she'd help me.

Looking around; there's a gate to the alley, the tree and a whole pile of leaves underneath. There are two tin garbage cans in the corner. Lifting the lid, I don't see my arm there. I can only assume she buried it in the leaves. Dejected and irritated I start kicking my way through the leaves, walking in lines so that I might not disturb the same area twice. I am only left to hope she didn't toss it down the alley or into any of the garbage cans out there.

It takes me about an hour and she watches the entire time. Eventually I kick something metallic. Pushing aside the leaves, it's my arm.

It's hideous.

It looks like a monster's claw, severed from some demon of bronze. How can I help her? How can I help Marlene or Tifa? How can I do anything when only half of me is me?

Marlene herself once told me that it didn't matter which arm was metal or flesh. As long as I controlled them, they were both mine, both me. Looking at it now, disconnected and dirtied by the leaves and the mud, I can't help but feel disgusted by my situation. I snatch it off the ground, looking up at her. She's looking back at me, face impassive. Her anger drained and soothed by the time it took me to find it. We lock gazes for a long moment, and I twist the arm back into its place with a grimace. It used to hurt, now it just feels like I hit my funny bone. The feeling passes quickly and I flex my fingers, glancing at them to make sure they're all still functional. When I look back Marlene is no longer at the window.

Chapter Text

The next day Marlene comes home from school to find me raking the leaves I've disturbed yesterday. She gives me a glance from the kitchen window and turns away to do her homework. We talk even less (if possible) this day. It has been tense. I think she's expecting some rebuttal or repercussion from yesterday's event.

Cloud, please come back quickly.

When I'm done I walk in and place the rake in the utility closet. I've become quite well acquainted with the locations of things in the house.

"How did you get into the bathroom?" I ask her calmly. Her furious pencil scribbles stop for a moment before she answers with attitude,

"If you life the door the lock snaps open."

...And how did she discover this? I don't want to know.

"You're very good at sneaking." I tell her. Seriously. It's one thing to sneak up on an ex-Turk, it's another to do it to a paranoid-augmented-ex-Turk-from-hell.

"Yeah, so?" Daring me to scold her.

"Please don't take my arm again." I say sternly, but not angrily. "I need it. I can assure you I'll never steal any of your limbs." Perhaps a touch of humour to lighten the situation?

She drops her pencil then, turns to look at me with a sort of angry expression that I don't entirely comprehend.

"That's it?" She asks, "That's all? You're going to ask me not to do it again? You're not going to spank me or ground me?"

I blink at her a few times.

"I am not your father, Marlene." I say, not sure what it is she's looking for, "I would never dream of humiliating you or myself by spanking you, and you've proven sneaky enough that I cannot see the point ground you." I pause, then add honestly, "Do you wish to be grounded?"

"No."

"Then please never steal it again."

An awkward pause, then she mumbles, "You didn't tell Tifa."

"Should I have?"

"Cloud always told on me when I did something bad. Then she'd ground me or send me to my room."

I find myself sighing. I don't know how to deal with children. What do you want from me, Tifa? How long do you expect me to do this, Cloud?

"This disagreement is between you and I. Tifa is aware that we do not see eye to eye, but it is up to us to resolve our disputes. I would not turn to her unless you asked me to."

"Please don't!" There's worry there, in those giant brown eyes. "I'm... I'm sorry."

I want to grin, but all my smiles are sarcastic. I just can't seem to smile with both sides of my mouth at once. It just looks like I'm bearing teeth. Cid laughed and said that I look like I just was just mimicking human reactions. The bastard.

"Apology accepted." Even if she's just saying it to make sure I don't tell Tifa.

We haven't gotten any closer, but at least this is resolved. She goes to back to her homework.

Lunch comes around the next day, and Tifa's complaining that I do too much by cooking. I think she's just tired of my spaghetti and sloppy Joe. Today I'm making my variation, sloppy Joe and rice.

She interrupts herself with a gasp of surprise while clearing the kitchen table. I turn.

She's holding a little tin box with a handle on top. The box has a very poor print of the WRO logo on it with a lot of happy colors.

"Marlene's lunch…" She mumbles sorrowfully, "poor sweetie! She's going to be hungry. Their lunchtime starts in half an hour. I'll go get it to her."

Marlene's school is about a 15 minute walk from here, towards the outskirts of Edge. The residents didn't want their kids to grow up in the shadow of Midgar.

"I'll take it to her." I say before I can think it through. A part of me wants to get along with Marlene. A part of me wants to say 'never mind' and go back to cooking. A part of me that I am starting to hate wants to help her and see her grow up to be the amazing person she's going to be. That same part wants her to like me. To get to know me. That part I'm really beginning to dislike. I can't think like that, but I can't help it. It's going to hurt.

Cloud, come back!

"Really? Are you sure?" Tifa's look is just adorable, a mix of coy and forward. She's handing me the box.

The past few days were rough, but there was something there. I dunno how to explain it. She took my mechanic arm for a reason, I believe. To see what would happen, how far I can be pushed. Maybe... To see if I'd leave... If I'd leave like all the others before me.

Tifa's waiting. Her eyes a light honey color, her face illuminated just so by the cheap light in the kitchen. She's at home, comfortable. She's not pretending to be anyone else around me. She's natural.

Maybe I should try that.

Why did I take it? Why am I on the way to deliver a forgotten parcel to a little girl of no real connection to me? One that hates me, no less?

Because it feels good to be with Tifa and Marlene. Because no matter what happens in the future I want to be able to say that for a short time, I was a part of a family, too. Even if it was just in my head. Arguments, spats, and those little moments like watching her sit on the tree branch...

My family…

The last family I had was the Turks. We were close, before my CO Aleonde left. He was the glue that kept our small family together. We looked out for each other, laughed and hurt together. Aleonde was… my family. He was what I imagined my father would be like, except for the ambiguous flirtations part.

And he left.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. I'm at the school. It's a simple building, recently constructed. There are some kids playing soccer in the field, and beyond one fence is the vast expanse of the wilderness, alive and lush. On the other side there's the city, with its busy streets and coffee shops and whatnot. It's a nice place. I'd study there.

I walk up to the guard at the gate. His job seems to be very dull. He perks up when I approach, though I don't like the look he's giving me.

"Sir?" He steps forward to greet me. Or maybe to stop me.

"Hello." I try smiling, it doesn't work. The suspicion on his face is too obvious. My claw finds a hiding place behind my thigh. "I'm here to bring Marlene Wallace her lunch. She has forgotten it." I show him the box as indisputable proof.

"Are you family?"

"No. I'm a friend of the fam-"

"Sorry, sir. Can't let you in."

I stare at him.

"Why not?"

"How can I be sure you are who you say? Do you have ID?"

ID? If course I don't have one. I never thought of getting one. It wouldn't make sense if I did, since my birth date will either have to be faked, or be absolutely illogical.

"No."

"Then, sir, I'd ask you kindly to leave. Now."

I think of arguing, Marlene's hungry in there. Lunchtime is supposedly starting any minute now.

I close my mouth and leave the man.

I know it's because of how I look. It's as obvious as I am. My claw, my eyes, my black clothes.

Damnit! What a useless man I am.

Hmph, I'm not going to give up so easily. I was given a simple mission, and what kind of Turk would I be if I didn't do my best to complete it? All that stands between me and my objective is a fence and a dimwit guard. I do believe that my Turk training gives me a tiny bit of an edge in this situation.

Jumping the fence was too easy, but sneaking past all attendants and students was a completely different story. Its early afternoon, and break time, at that.

I forgot the exhilaration.

My heart is thundering in my ears, my breath hastens even without activity, just from the adrenaline. I'm in so much trouble if I'm caught here. I'll be arrested for certain. It just means that I can't let myself be caught, that's all.

After the fence there's a large open grass field before the building's shade. I need to get there without being spotted. Teachers are minding their business and the children are just starting to filter out of the building for the mid-day break. If I stay here any longer I'll be spotted for certain. I'm wearing black, my long-sleeved shirt only hides the claw to the wrist. Anyone catches a reflection of light and I'm caught. Keeping low to the ground I start my dash to the building's shadow. There are bushes lining the back of the building. I could hide there for a bit as I catch my bearings. Halfway between the fence and the bushes a pair of teachers come from around the building. With a mad roll I throw myself behind an central electric unit jutting out of the ground on a slab of cement. The exhilaration is just so much fun. I have no idea if I'm smiling or no, but I'm having a blast. The parcel is still clutched in my claw, loosely through the little plastic handle. I've delivered many a parcel in my time, but this is by far the most benign.

As the teachers walk by I dash again to the building.

I'm crouched with my back against the building, between a few bushes, just catching my breath and trying to figure out where Marlene could be when I hear her voice from a window above me.

"You don't have lunch?"

"No, I forgot it."

"Awww… Want some of mine?"

"No, thank you. I don't like avocado."

She sounds sad to me, still.

The window, right above me. Convenient.

I grab the window sill and a have quick peek inside.

She's sitting right by the window. Convenient.

She's looking away, so I slip the food unto her desk and duck away when she looks back. No one noticed. My heart is filled with pride at a successful mission, despite the ridiculous circumstances. It's been too long since I've done anything like this. I forgot how much I loved being a Turk, sans the killing, kidnapping, torture...

"Wha- I thought you said you forgot it."

"I… I did!"

"Then what's that?"

"That's- that's my lunch. How the hell…?"

I hear a chair shuffling, and then Marlene is peeking out the window down at me.

"Hello." I say, a stupid caught expression on my face for certain. I can't seem to stop it. She looks happy to see me. I think.

"I saw your claw." She whispers to me, making sure no one sees her talking to me. "What are you doing here?!"

"I brought you your lunch. You had forgotten it." I state the obvious.

"How did you get here?"

"I walked." I state again.

"This is the third floor." It's her turn to be Miss Obvious. I look down to makes sure no one notices me hanging here from my claw. The coast is clear. My feet are dangling.

"I'm aware of that."

She smiles at me, then. The first smile she's given me. I smile back. Her smile falters when grief kicks back in, and she doesn't meet my eyes when she asks,

"Can you… Could you please wait for me?"

"Pardon?"

"No, never mind."

Wait a moment.

"Do you want me to wait until you're off school?" That should be in about 2 hours, if I'm not mistaken.

She nods, still not looking.

"…There's that little café place right across the street. You… You could wait there." I wonder if Barrett used to wait for her there. It seems to be important to her.

"Very well." I say, "I'll meet you there after school."

She smiles a little again.

"Thanks."

"Marlene!" I hear a grownup voice, "Who are you talking to?"

Marlene spins around quickly,

"No one!" She calls back, her fingers behind her back nimbly prying mine off the windowsill. I fall silently into the bushes below. The window above me closes.

Mission complete and I even got a smile for my troubles.

I call Tifa and let her know that the sortie was a success, she laughs at my mission report. I didn't tell her about sneaking in.

Now I'm sitting right across the school gates, slowly sipping some spicy chai tea. The guard keeps on giving me dirty looks and is pacing back and forth in a self-important manner, as if to say 'You're not coming in'. I already have, idiot.

I resist a childish urge to stick my tongue out at the jerk.

A couple of hours later the bell rings and kids spill out of the building like water out of a bottle.

So many children… So many futures. It's hard to believe that each of them has a story, has a family waiting at home. I guess I should rephrase that. This is Edge. Many of these children probably don't actually have parents anymore. Still, the atmosphere is that of hope and promise. Of a day just beginning and a life of choices and opportunities.

As I watch, I understand Marlene's request better.

The street suddenly bursts into life as families in cars are driving to and fro. So many of the children are picked up by family at the gates. Some are picked up by elder siblings, legal guardians and grandparents. Kids are scuttling this way and that, playing with each other and hurrying home. I buy a chocolate bar for Marlene from the café and wait for her as she comes out. She parts from her friends with fond waves and then she notices me.

I can see from here, across the busy street, that her eyes are tear-filled. I don't know if it's because she had a bad day, or if it is anything to do with me.

She runs across the street, and I almost yell because of the traffic, but she reaches me safety and slows down in front of me, as though not sure what to do now that she's here. I give her the chocolate. Her eyes light up and she wipes the tears away.

I know that Tifa doesn't like her to have candy before dinner.

"It's our secret." I mutter as she takes it, "Let's go home." She looks up at me, mouth full of chocolate, and nods eagerly.

Chapter Text

Life isn't bad like this.

It's a lot harder than most people think it is, to care . For some people it comes naturally, but not to me.

Am I strange that way? I don't know.

For some people caring is just something they do, for some it's something they do too often and too easily. That is not the case for me.

My mind resents my heart every time I care, because it is my mind that needs to get my heart out of the dump when I'm hurt. I don't find that caring comes easily. But I learned something important not too long ago:

The memories of good times are something that can never be regretted. No matter what life throws at you, at the end of the day the good memories are all you have.

I'm sure I'll always remember the feeling of Marlene holding on to my claw, as I'm carrying her bag. She's going through the chocolate bar. The sun's shining and for a moment it feels right, it feels good, to have her beside me. It doesn't matter that we are disagreeing. It's me beside her, and no one else. Just me, Vincent Valentine, to walk a child home. I'm a part of her life, whether for a short while or no. She might remember me, growing up. I might affect a small part of her large picture. A tiny footnote somewhere in her story where she will remember that "one day, Vincent walked me home."

I'm afraid of the pain at the end of it, I am.

But on those long, empty nights that are to come I want to remember these moments, these feelings of family. So foreign. I'm hungry for them.

It's better to have something to miss than to have emptiness. Nothing's worse than the emptiness.

The emptiness is a bottomless pit of loneliness, where no light can reach.

A WRO police car stops beside us. We're beside a park and some clothing stores, still on the outskirts.

I hope everything is ok. I look around, but can't find anything amiss. A few school kids are enjoying the park's amusements. A young teenage couple in love are having a moment on the bench. A mother is walking her baby in a stroller.

It takes me a moment to realise that the cops are out of the car and are pointing…

At me.

"Let go of the child!" They are screaming at me.

What the hell is going on?

I'm sure this is a misunderstanding.

"Officers, what seems to be-"

"I said get away from the girl! Now!"

Marlene is clutching at my pants. She's scared.

"Put your guns down." I scowl, "You're scaring her."

One officer shuffles forward, gun still trained at me. He's young, maybe mid twenties. His gun form is acceptable. He knows what he's doing. The goatee he's sporting is pathetic, though his eyes are intense. I had so many guns pointed at me that I'm not even slightly bothered by this.

I look at Marlene,

"Let's do what they want so we can clear this up, alright?"

She nods and bravely steps away. I raise my hands in a placating manner. They start and almost shoot me.

One of them grabs Marlene's hand and takes her to 'safety'.

Holy, I hate everything right now. With arms up, my gun in its holster is visible under my jacket.

I guess my claw isn't helping, either.

The moment they take Marlene away they charge me. They're efficient, and quick.

Should I resist? Should I fight back?

No, Vincent. Keep it cool. They are WRO, they are the good guys.

Ouch.

They grab my hands and force them behind my back. Their hands are rough against the skin of my healthy hand, the elbow above my metal hand screams pain in protest. My muscles tense all by themselves and resent the rough treatment. I hear Marlene yelling at them, though it's hard to tell what she's saying.

They take my gun and do their best to cuff me. My claw wrist gives them trouble. I hear them call it a weapon.

Oh, they're going to pay if they mistreat her.

Holy, I can't do anything right.

Three hours later I'm still in the interrogation room.

I'm thirsty, I'm tired of this. They took away my PHS, and I don't know if Tifa was notified yet. She's going to bust down the door if she thinks Marlene is kept here against her will.

I don't know where she is, I don't know if they're keeping her here as well, or is it just me who get this sterling service.

"I told you," I say after taking in a deep, calming breath. "I was taking her home."

"How would you know where her home is, huh?" It's the same young man with the goatee. My eyes keep being drawn to that tuft of hair, because it is so unbefitting his square face. "The school-guard said he ain't never seen yous there, buddy."

I've been the interrogator countless times. I know their work better than I know how this end needs to react. I assume keeping my cool isn't really helping, because I'm still here after three hours. I've been interrogated before, tortured even before Hojo, but never by the good guys. I could escape if I wanted to. I just don't know what to do when these are the guys that I'm supposed to be helping.

"I'm a friend of the family." I repeat for the umpteenth time. It's hard to keep my patience with these imbeciles, goatee boy and deaf/mute boy, who hasn't spoken a work since he came in, but intermittently looks between me and a pile of files.

Probably trying to find out who I am. The name Vincent Valentine doesn't bring up anything logical.

Goatee paces back and forth, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What did you say your name was, again?"

"Vincent Valentine." He immediately snatches a file from his co-workers hand and slams it on the desk in front of me. It says 'V. Valentine' on the top. It looks old.

He flips it open.

How long has it been since I've seen that picture? Decades, it feels like. Maybe I should cut my hair short again. And boy, did I make that suit look good. I wasn't so ugly back then, I think. I was supposed to be frozen with that face, so what changed that it looks so hideous when I look in the mirror these days? I guess Hojo couldn't keep me from changing.

"Says here that Valentine died over thirty years ago, buddy! Better start telling us the truth."

Don't call me 'buddy', kid. I was interrogating people before you were even an idea, before your father was an idea, possibly.

I look through the file quickly.

Died in action in Nibelheim. Date of birth so far back that Goatee's grandparents were probably kids at the time. A million witty comebacks spring to the tip of my tongue and I have to purse my lips to prevent any of them from coming out. It's the last thing I need. I just need to wait for Tifa to be notified and arrive.

How embarrassing.

It's strange to look at myself like this. It feels like I was someone else then, but then again, how was I to know where life would take me?

It's also strange to see my own date of demise. Damn you, Hojo. I'm sure you're laughing right now. An unexpected way for you to make my life miserable.

Goatee slams his hand on the table, snatching the file away. I find myself following it with my eyes- I wanted to read that.

"We have you busted red-handed for identity theft and trying to kidnap that girl, pervert!"

I scowl at him.

"Better start talkin', or you'll be tanning that pale ass of yours in jail for the rest of your life."

That could be a very long time.

"I told you the truth, gentlemen." I lean on the table calmly, leaning my cheek on my palm, "I don't plan on lying to you to make your story fit."

He slams the table again. It's really loud to my ears. The table's metal.

"You want us to believe that a freak like you was just walking her home?! The guard said he saw you scope out the place!"

I comment nothing about the freak part, but say,

"Correct. I was waiting for her. This does not disprove my story."

This seems to anger Goatee, and he kicks at my claw.

Since they found out that this 'weapon' of mine cannot be -ahem- disarmed (that would indeed dis-arm me- a pun, you know), they settled on cuffing my claw to the leg of the chair, just under my seat. The cuff barely fits around the wide wrist. I was glad when they removed the handcuffs from my human hand, though. I don't like things around my wrist. I don't like the feeling of being bound. It's enough to remind me of my four 'special' friends.

"Start talking, you pedophile bastard!" He yells, and walks around my chair, to which I am attached, "You're going to be here until you 'fess up!"

This isn't going well.

What can I do? Nothing I can say can convince the convinced. I look like a creature from another place. I don't dress like other people. Tifa had made fun of my outdated fashion sense.

Maybe they're the fashion police? Bad joke, and I've no time for them. I need to find a way to prove who I am.

I hear Tifa's voice. Thank goodness. I don't think I'm supposed to hear her, because the guys make no indication that they can hear anything that's going on outside.

By the way they're behaving; it seems they can't hear anything being said in here, either.

It sounds like she's right behind that mirror. Why do they have a mirror in here, anyway? I squint, and know that I'm not supposed to see her, but I do. Is it really a mirror?

I hate my eyes, it hurts to look through that glass. Maybe it's not a mirror after all, because it looks to me like Tifa's staring right at me. She looks worried.

I'm so glad you're here, Tifa. I look at her, and see her talk to the cop beside her.

"Yes, that's him!" She exclaims. Half through hearing her and half through reading her lips "Please let him out. He's not a criminal!"

"Hey, buddy!" The cop slams his hand again, snapping my attention back to him. I wonder if his hand hurts by now. "Look at me when I talk to you! No one's behind that mirror!"

"It's not a mirror." I answer calmly, turning to look at him. Do you want to tell me he really can't see through it? Either way he seems unnerved, "Tifa, my friend, accompanied by one of yours." I pause, then finally add, "And don't call me buddy ."

The door unlocks my salvation. Tifa walks in, her prior concern replaced with fury.

"What the f$%k do you think you're doing?!" She steps up to Goatee and yells an inch from his face, "You can't just go around arresting people because they look different, you asshole!" He tries to talk, but Tifa won't let him. Go, Tifa, go! I love seeing him squirm.

"Do you have any idea who this is?" She points at me, "He's Vincent Valentine! He helped save the world, you ungrateful moron!" She stepping forward as he's stepping back, hands in front as if trying to placate her. "He's a good friend of Reeve, too. You know Reeve, right? He's your boss ! I don't think he'll be very happy to find out how you treated his close friend!" The color drains from Goatee's face. "If Cloud was here he would have whooped your f%^#ing ass! You're lucky it's just me in a good mood!" I can't help the smug smile on my face. It's good feeling to be rescued sometimes. I'm starting to feel a little sorry for Goatee, though.

"Tifa." I say. As much as I'm enjoying this, and I am, I really want to go home. "Is Marlene alright?"

Tifa finally acknowledges my presence,

"Yes, she's fine. She was worried. Are you ok?"

"Yes." I nod. "They were just letting me go when you came in, right?" They both nod silently. I can see the gratitude spreading in their eyes. They were just doing their jobs. "So why don't you unhook me?" They blink at me and then the silent one approaches and releases my claw. "Thank you."

I get up. I catch myself rubbing the metal wrist, just out of reflex. No, it doesn't hurt. It's metal. It's dead metal that's partly responsible for getting me in this mess.

"Can we go?" I ask her, she says yes even without checking with the cops. Tifa's just awesome.

Oh.

I take the file with me.

"I'm borrowing this," I tell Goatee on the way out, tapping him on the chest with the file, daring him to object, but add "You don't mind, right, buddy ?"

Helplessness is beautiful on his face.

On the way home we talk. All three of us.

It's late twilight. We talk about our eventful day, and we even make a joke of it. I even chuckled. Yes, me. It is such a great feeling. One of the rottenest days I've had in a while turned out, after all, to be one of the best.

By the time we get home everybody has a smile on their face, even little Marlene.

When I first came out of the interrogation room I apologized for ruining her day. She replied simply by throwing her arms around my waist.

"I won't let them take you away." She said and confessed to have called Tifa secretly when they thought she was being distraught. This kid would have made one hell of a Turk.

I was surprised by her statement and gesture and I still am. Could it be that she doesn't hate me anymore? I haven't done anything to make her like me. Certainly one lunch cannot turn hatred into affection?

I suppose she was just scared.

Chapter Text

Excited, and very tired, Marlene went to sleep. School must be very exciting for young people.

The next morning Tifa wakes up well after Marlene headed off. I made Marlene some lunch, and she twisted her nose at my choice of broccoli and spaghetti and sloppy Joe. I mentioned that at least it's better than popcorn for lunch, as I had to feed her once. She didn't complain after that, but gave me a hug before she left.

Tifa's sipping on her half-a-kilo-of-sugar tea, and I'm drinking it like normal people should, with no sugar at all.

"What did you want to be when you grew up?" She dares. It feels like she was gearing up to ask it.

"Where did that come from?"

"I dunno." She shrugs with one shoulder, playing with the rim of her cup. I can tell she's ready to go on the defensive if I get angry for the personal question. It's probably part of her problem of 'not knowing me'. "Did you want to be an astronaut? Or maybe a mathematician?"

"Nothing so fancy." I admit, "Space was not something that was achievable, and I wasn't scholastic enough for math."

"Then what did you want to be?"

"Does it matter?" Why would she want to know these things?

She frowns a little. Honestly, my life is not that interesting. I was never a good, noble person, just a thief and a killer.

"No. I guess not." She says, but the edge of anger in her voice is hard to miss.

"Tifa?"

She meets my gaze and now the irritation is obvious. How do I manage to upset everyone around me? No wonder I live alone.

"Right." She spits, letting her true emotions through "What does it matter? It's not like we've known each other for years." Her sarcasm is hard to miss. I sigh.

"Tifa, I-" I didn't meant to offend her. I just meant that my past is of no consequence, that's all. Who I am now is an order of magnitude better than the person I've been.

"I don't pry." She says in self-defence to accusations I wasn't even thinking, "But I honestly don't know a damn thing about you."

"There's nothing to know." I'm trying to placate her. It's not working.

" Right ." Now she seems just plain sour. Sipping her tea more to make a point and to do something. Why am I in this situation now? "'Cause you joined us when you were thirty and you had absolutely no past before that."

I cringe despite myself.

"I'm twenty seven." I correct her only to receive a glare at the effort, "And you know how I ended up where I was."

"So that was your entire life?"

"No, of course not."

There's a pause. Does she expect me to elaborate? Does she want me to tell her everything about everything since I was born? It is not interesting. If she wants...

"I- What is it you want to know?"

She gets up, fills up her cup from the tea pot again and leans back against the counter while it cools.

"Don't just do it to placate me."

I sigh. What does she want? Displeased if I don't tell her and displeased if I do? I think she sees the slump of my shoulders because she turns to leave.

"You know what?" She raises her hands in a small fan in front of her, shaking her head, "Forget I asked, ok? I'm sorry I brought this up."

She's walking out of the kitchen.

What does she want? To know me? My past isn't who I am. I am who I am now. I've worked hard on accepting my past and moving on. I thought I was doing alright.

Think, Vincent, think.

What do you know about her? Some. She grew up in Midgar. Her mother died when she was young. Her father was killed by Sephiroth during the purge of Nibelheim, right above my head. She has a scar from when she confronted him. She's the bravest, most beautiful woman of my acquaintance. Cloud and her are childhood friends. They made a promise.

What does she know about me?

My name is Vincent Valentine. I'm six feet tall and have about six inches of fat combined on my entire body.

Umm... What else does she know?

"Rich."

She stops at the door to the entrance, half-turns to me. That frown is still on her face. I'm sorry, Tifa. Let me try again. Let me try and behave like a person who wants companionship, because I do. I want you to know me. I want you to be the only one who does. Because you know what? It might bore you to tears and you'll beg me to change the subject. But... If I know that you know more about me than anyone else in the world, it makes you special to me.

I think. I've never really...

"What?"

"Rich." I get up, pick up her forgotten tea cup and place it on the table. Please accept this as my invitation to sit back down and be bored to death. "That's what I wanted to be when I grew up: rich."

She approaches the table warily, as if uncertain of what it is I'm talking about. As if fearing I'll bite her.

"That's it?"

"That's about it. I had low expectations for myself." I sit in back down, leaning forward to put my elbows on the table, "All I wanted was for me and my mother to live comfortably." To my delight she sits down again, fingering the handle of her cup idly, as if trying to convince me she's not really interested.

"You mother?" This seemed to peak her curiosity. Oops. I guess I have to tell her at least a little more. What's too much?

"What was she like? A stunning beauty of Wutai?"

Tifa has a strange imagination.

"She was… damaged." I carefully start, thinking back to that woman I never really learned to know, "She never really knew we were there."

I have Tifa's rapt attention. It's a little strange. The more I think about it the more I remember about her, about that short time I was at home. I haven't really thought of my mother in a while. Not since the house... "I don't know what was wrong with her."

All I remember her doing is staring out the window. I think she was waiting for something, but I don't think even she remembered what. "She was just… disconnected."

I remember not so much what she smelled like, but more how that smell affected me. No matter how exciting my day might have been, walking into our home meant quiet, almost reverence. You never ran around, you never yelled or laughed too loud. Crying was something she didn't have patience for, and one would be put outside the house until you decided to be quiet again. She spoke, but only when something was happening. She never... chatted.

Tifa braves, "What about your father?"

"As a child I knew he was in Midgar, but that was all. He sent us money. Not much, hardly enough for two children, but we didn't starve." This man whom I am supposed to be so similar too, but will never have the chance of knowing. "I met him a couple of times after I became a Turk. The only reason I knew he was my father was his last name. He died a few years later in a lab accident. We never became close." I conclude.

"You have a brother?" This seems to stun her, and I can almost see her imagination running away with her.

"Older." I confirm. If he yet lives he must be very old. Take that.

Tifa seems thoughtful, she says,

"I guess I never realised that although my dad died… at least I had all those good years with him, huh?"

I nod.

"I suppose that's a good way to look at it. I never really had a family, so I'm not entirely sure what I'm missing." I try for lightness in my voice even as I feel jealousy rise. I'm pretty petty sometimes. Damn you, Cloud.

"Then we can be your family." She says cheerfully. A flash of anger builds and I say-

"At least until I'm replaced."

-before I can stop myself. The hurt in her eyes cuts me deeply. And my anger faded with that one accusation. I'm an idiot. "I'm sorry."

After a few moments to collect myself and resist hitting my head against the table, I look at her. Her brows are scrunched together, her mouth pursed into a thin line of displeasure. She's looking towards the window.

Even though they're not biologically related, I can see similarities in those two. Both striking profiles filled with strength, beauty and pride.

"Tifa." I try. She sighs, looking down at her feet, fingers still fiddling with the handle of the cup. "I'm sorry. I did not mean it like that."

"But you thought it?"

I swallow, unable to find an answer. I just want to feel as though...

She sighs again,

"That impassive face." She mumbles, then says loudly, "No, I'm the one who should be apologizing, Vincent." She looks at me. I can see in her eyes that she's struggling. She has a family that's not really a family and Marlene lost two fathers who never really built her a family. She's trying to build one on a man that's not there to be the foundation. It's a mess and I can't blame her.

"You don't have anybody, and here I am playing with your feelings."

I could say that it's ok, but then I'd be lying. I just… It's hard to think of oneself as a replacement for something. I don't just want to be here because Cloud is gone. I don't just want to be a quick fix and then forgotten. I don't want to be optional in anybody's life.

I don't want to be second priority for anybody. I wish sometimes... Sometimes... That I'd find someone for whom I was... Important. I wasn't lonely there in Wutai. I was content. When I go back I will learn to be content again. That doesn't mean it won't, or doesn't, hurt.

"I don't think you should apologize because I chose to care about you two."

A small smile breaks through, and she averts her eyes from me. I continue,

"I know that Cloud is-"

"Let's not talk about him."

"Huh?"

"Let me act like Cloud for once and be selfish and ask you not to talk about him."

"All- Alright."

An awkward pause.

"Sorry." I repeat. She shakes her head to clear the doubts that lingered in her expression and then changes the subject to simpler, less charged topics.

Damnit, Cloud.

Chapter Text

We finish breakfast in silence. She has so much on her mind. I feel guilty to have added to it. I keep on telling myself not to encumber her, to do things silently and obediently, but time and comfort make me lax, and make my tongue looser. I don't want to complain, but I find myself feeling more than I'm used to, and sometimes my temper flares. I wonder if she would laugh if I told her I have a temper. Cid made fun of me once that I had "verbal and facial constipation".

I'm no longer quite the Turk I once was. I seem to no longer have that degree of self control I had then. I don't know if that's something I should be proud or ashamed of.

The days go by differently than the summer-break routine. The fog of tension doesn't really lift, but after a while we manage to ignore it. I'm a creature of habit, and it's strange not to have Marlene in the house. My relationship with her remains peculiar. There's a clear wall of distrust there, I think, but it's as though I passed some sort of test. I am now no longer an enemy to attack.

The days fly by.

I am threatened under pain of death to cook something other than spaghetti and sloppy Joe. We buy a few cook books.

As we're leafing through them (that is Marlene and I- Tifa is working), Marlene turns the book to me and points at a picture,

"How about this?"

It's a chicken dish with potatoes and carrots. Looks good. I read the ingredients. It seems we have all of them from yesterday's grocery order. Sure.

"Can I wait up with you?" She hops off her chair and follows me as I start pulling out things from cupboards. It's Friday so I acquiesce.

"Can I help?" She dares another question.

"Can you cook?" I've never seen her making anything more complex than cereal.

"I've never tried." She admits, giving me Tifa's pink apron. It's the only one in the house and I wear it because I have no choice. I still haven't gotten replacement clothes from home and need to be careful with the ones I have.

"Pull out the vegetables." I tell her, and we set off to work.

Between the two of us the recipe can be defeated, I believe.

Half an hour later we're still struggling with it when Marlene yelps. I turn to see she had cut herself while cutting the last of the potatoes. She looks hurt, but more irritated than about to cry. I quickly take her hand to inspect the damage, kneeling down.

"I'm sorry. I'm not good at cooking." She says. She seems so dejected suddenly, like this little cut means she has failed on some level.

"Battle scar." I tell her, trying to dismiss her concerns. She smiles, her worries abated. A clean cut into her knuckle on her index finger. Not especially deep, but it's still bleeding. I pull her towards the sink and turn on the cold water. The girl cringes, but doesn't whimper or complain. Quickly we band-aid the situation and all is well again. At least, until she's pointing at me with the injured finger, waiting.

"Yes?" Do I have something on my face? I touch my face, but don't feel anything. I think it's funny that I always move my claw as well for things like this, like it could somehow help.

"Kiss it."

"What?" Marlene laughs at the incredulity in my voice, and then deigns to explain to me in small words.

"That's what dad used to do when I got hurt. It helps, you know."

I'm aware that saliva has certain medicinal properties in the healing of your own wounds (hence people's instincts to put an injured finger to their mouth) but a kiss ?

"Don't look so disgusted," She says, "I don't have koodies." I have no idea what those are, but I say,

"I don't think I'm entirely comfortable doing that." She laughs again, thankfully withdrawing her finger. We get back to work, but I can't shake the feeling that I just missed something.

I'm suddenly struck with the idea of the act itself. I mean, a kiss—It's not something I've done in… in… decades. I'm pathetic. Do I even remember how it works? Oh, I don't think I can forget… These are not thoughts fit to have near a child, so I concentrate on the chicken.

When Tifa walks in we are already waiting for her with the meal. She seems so tired these days, the poor girl. She hasn't stopped working a single night in weeks.

"Wow! This is good!" She exclaims after the first bite. Marlene and I exchange a victorious glance. Tifa picks up on it and gives us a curious grin,

"What? Marlene, you helped?"

"Helped?" I declare, "She practically made it all herself." The girl laughs and dismisses it, quick to give me some credit. "He put the chic peas in." She allows me that title. Vincent 'he-put-the-chic-peas-in' Valentine.

"I thought you hated cooking!" Tifa exclaims, delighted but still a little surprised.

"I never said that." The child retorts.

"Well, you never help Cloud cook." Really? She never? A sense of gratification and glee settles in my stomach. Take that, you bastard. A small victory to take home with me.

"All that Cloud ever makes is jambalaya."

"So?"

"I hate jambalaya." Tifa rolls her eyes at her daughter's attitude, but drops the subject.

Then Marlene points up to show her the bandaged digit, "Look, battle scars!" She laughs again, and Tifa gives me a look.

Afterwards Marlene has gone to shower and sleep. I'm doing the dishes and Tifa's munching on some desert cookies.

"She cut herself?"

"Yes. It was a dramatic fight against the potato. She won by the skin of her teeth."

Chuckling, she comes to stand by me. "We don't usually let her by any knifes."

I just shrug, working hard to not make those noises that give Tifa the chills with my claw. A short while ago Tifa gathered some discarded wine-corks and suggested I put them on the fingers. I did, and my already large hand became humongous. It was completely ridiculous. We both agreed to drop the idea.

"How do you expect her to learn to cook, then?"

Tifa's expression tells me they haven't thought that far.

Chapter Text

Today I'm heading out for Wutai. I've been running dangerously low on clothes and essentials for myself. I've a few personal matters to attend to in town. It's Friday. I should be back by Sunday morning if I leave tonight. If I catch the midnight Chocobo across the ocean I'll be back in Wutai at the break of dawn. With little sleep I should be able to make good time. If I catch the very first chocobo back home- I mean- back here on Sunday I should be here by mid-day.

As I prepare my small duffle on the couch Marlene walks in from school. In her little overalls she looks a little like a miniature construction worker with butterflies pins in her hair. She sees me with the bag and I swear she almost faints. She freezes, her face goes white. Silence as thick as butter and as tense as rubber fills the space between us. I haven't a clue why.

"I'll be back in a couple of days." I spew for some reason, dumbstruck by her pallor. She shakes out of it, but before I can inquire what just happened, Tifa walks in to greet her. She asks her of her day at school and all the usual stuff, but Marlene's gaze keeps on shifting to me. After a short while even Tifa notices Marlene's unusual tenseness.

"Marlene, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Tifa gives her a look, so Marlene mumbles, "...He's leaving?"

I hadn't thought about that. Between two fathers that are never home, it must have been hard. People always leave her. I wonder if I've gone mad when I hear myself utter,

"Why won't you join me?"

Both Tifa and Marlene are staring at me as though I've fallen from space, then the child's eyes light up like nothing I've seen before. Has neither Cloud nor Barrett ever offered her to join them?

"Can I? Really? Can I?" Her youth shines through as her gaze darts between Tifa and myself. With that look on that kid's face, even Sephiroth would have given her what she wanted.

"Ah, but…" Tifa's fighting those puppy-dog eyes, I'll give her that. She looks to me, "Are you sure it's ok? Cloud always said it's too dangerous out there for her."

"I'll take care of her." I promise. "It's only for a couple of days."

I don't think she hates me as much as she did. I want to learn to know her. I want to help her grow up to be all that I see in her.

It's so strange.

"Oh, alright." Tifa breaks into a toothy grin while Marlene squeals with pleasure, "But what about your homework?"

"She can do it on the way. It's a long trip." I suggest.

Tifa agrees with a dismissive gesture. "But you'll have to leave earlier." She says, and I can see the remainder of her concern, "Marlene can't stay up as late as the last chocobo."

We agree that we'll leave post haste and travel through the day. We're at the door, I grab the handle. Cheer is in the air. Marlene receives a heartfelt hug and kiss. She promises to behave and her energy level is the highest I've seen it since her father died. She runs ahead down the street.

Tifa then places her hands on the sides of my face and without thinking kisses my cheek.

No, almost the cheek, almost the lips.

Electricity shoots through my body, tingling at my fingertips and bringing heat to my face.

A little peck, like you would a boyfriend, like she would Cloud before he leaves.

Right where my smile would go.

I stare at her, unbreathing.

She wasn't thinking. She pulls back a little, still smiling.

When the realisation of what she's done and to who hits her she freezes. The blood drains from her face just as mine rushes to redden mine.

She wasn't thinking.

She is used to give a goodbye kiss to the leaving.

She gave one to Marlene.

She had given one to Cid when he left, and to Shera and Yuffie and Nanaki- right on the smooth fur on the top of his head. It doesn't mean anything more than goodbye to her. I haven't felt lips on my face since...

Now I'm just staring at her, and she's staring at me. Her eye brows are up and slightly arced in worry.

I want to act it down, pretend that it didn't happen, but my mouth opens and only hot air comes out.

Her face still close to mine, I can hear her breathing. Her eyes dart between mine, so close we are. She's trying to gauge my reaction? Her eyes are mahogany.

I don't even remember how to produce sounds. Only wordlessness comes out. My heartbeats are probably loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

She closes her eyes briefly in frustration with herself.

Her hands are still on my cheeks, as though moving them would somehow aggravate the problem.

There is no problem.

She wasn't thinking.

She croaks out an apology in whispered anger with herself and steps back. The place where her hands were feels so hot it's freezing.

She wants Cloud here, not me.

She wants Cloud to be taking Marlene out on a trip, not me.

I'm just here until he comes back.

She wasn't thinking.

Marlene's head peeks around the corner to ask if I'm coming. She's bouncing off the walls.

A couple of days away will do me a world of good.

I don't usually travel mid-day. Tifa promised to make a nice dinner for us upon our return. We will have to travel mid-day back, as well.

"Tifa loves you very much." I comment on the way to the train station. The streets are filled with people about their business. I feel oddly exposed. Having a child following me isn't making me any less self-conscious after what happened last time. Marlene only replies by giving me this little look that knows too much already.

The train will take us from Edge to the Coast Chocobo Company station along the shore. From there we rent a golden chocobo to Wutai. It's quite the trip. That day almost a month and a half ago when Tifa had called me I made the trip in record time.

We're on the train now, and it's chugging along so loudly .

The train is packed, with people and children and babies in their mother's arms. The weekend brings out all the people and the weather had stayed nice so far, so people are going out to the beach. Soon winter will settle in and the beach will be a bad idea.

My head is pounding.

I want to sink into my seat, or cover my head. The noise of a hundred different conversations is assailing my poor senses, and there's nothing I can do about it.

"-did he do-"

"-can't tell you what he said-"

"-she wanted the-"

And the train just dislodged a large pebble from the metal wheel just under my window-

"-good sunny-"

"-always like that, after all-"

"-when do we get-"

"-you alright-"

"-Just like his mother-"

I think one of them is Marlene's voice, so I look to the chair beside me. She's staring at me.

"Sorry? Did you say something?" I croak out.

"Are you ok?" She screeches, and I cringe despite myself. She was just trying to overcome the commotion, I assume. She puts a hand on my shoulder, very much mimicking a gesture I've seen Tifa do a million times to others, never me. Her touch burns through my haze of sensory overload.

"I'm fine." I say. I think I'm whispering, but I can't tell anymore.

Everything is painful.

Everybody's talking. All words clear to me and none of them make sense.

I can hear fake leather seats shift under overweight patrons, I can hear the breathing of everyone within arm's reach. I can here my own heartbeats. The guy sitting in front of us leans back in his squeaky chair. The metal tangs holding the bottoms of the seats grind against each other.

A couple laughs, their friends around them join in ear-bursting mirth. Someone clears their throats, someone coughs, another person sneezes, sniffing loudly.

Our train car has sets of three wheels on each end, I hear each one, each piece of gravel unsettled by each one.

A baby squeals, and this time I can't help but bring my good hand to an ear, just in the hope that it'll help, even just a little. It doesn't, of course. My eyes are almost watering.

"What's wrong?" Marlene yells.

"Please speak quietly." I beg her. Every heartbeat hits my head like a punch from Meteor.

"Are you ok?" she asks again, this time softly, "You have a headache?"

"I have very good hearing. Too good."

She looks interested. She says,

"I'm hardly even whispering. You can hear me?"

"As though you're screaming." Not really.

Everyone else is screaming at the top of their lungs, it feels.

"Can I help?"

"Yes," It actually helps that she's talking. I can concentrate on her soft voice and try to tune out the rest. I hate these types of headaches, they're the worst. They pound and pound and then when they leave my ears ring and that just makes me wish I still had Chaos around so I could rip someone's head off. "Let's just talk."

She nods.

"Ok. But you'll have to talk louder. I'm just a regular kid."

I smile weakly at her, and we talk for the rest of the train ride. Nothing important, nothing soulful, just talking. She tells me about her school, about her friends and classes. About Denzel and Tifa and how they all got together.

Just… talking. Some other riders give us strange looks, she's barely talking above a whisper, I'm guessing, and we're having a conversation. I'm half-listening to her to drown the rest and half reading her lips when the noise is too much. Either way, it's a great relief.

It was the nicest mid-day trip I've ever had, even through the head-pounding pain.

Chapter Text

The chocobo ride was long and Marlene slept through most of it. I woke her up when we got to Wutai and we made it straight to my house.

As we walked in I felt a little self-conscious at the sorry state I left it in. Everything seemed a mess. Or maybe it was because I was here with a guest. The first guest in this house, for a matter of fact. I told her that, and she seemed pleased. Then I politely asked that she remove her shoes. She does, but ask me if I'm going to. Smiling, I say "No can do."

Then she asks,

"How long have you lived here?"

"Just a few months before I came over to Tifa's." I pour us a drink. The trip was long, it's late evening already. We're both tired enough to go straight to sleep.

"Is that why everything's still in boxes?"

"No. Everything that's mine is actually already out." All three things, I joke to myself, "All this used to belong to the former owner of the house." The house is a one bedroom house with a modest living-room slash dining room main area. It has an entrance from the road and an undefined back yard pointing at nothing but wilderness and Wutai mountains. It has a fair amount of windows which makes my paranoid self uncomfortable.

"Who was that?"

"My mother."

Marlene pauses, then inquires,

"She moved out?"

"She passed away."

Her shoulders sag, her expression darkens. I guess she can sympathise.

"When?" She's not looking at me, but at the glass of water in her hand.

"Five years ago. About a year before I joined Avalanche."

"I'm sorry." She mumbles. I assure her its fine. In my timeline (The one that wasn't aware of the passage of years) I haven't seen my mother in over 15 years. That's a long time even before you add the 30 years of slumber.

"Do you have good memories of this place?" She looks around. I packed up the water-damaged pictures and the little trinkets and threw out the dead flowers.

"No." I answer honestly. "It's a very pretty area of Wutai now, but it was very poor when I was growing up."

She asks me to elaborate, so I do, leaning in my chair and looking at a ceiling that now seems more foreign than the one of Tifa's living room. I wonder if I'll have to repeat all this to Tifa. Wonder if I should say this to a child. I'm going to use her as practice. See if she gets bored with it. I need to be more open. I wonder why these girls care so much about ancient Vincent history. I'm practically ancient history myself. Vincent history: Vinstory?

"We were very poor, so I ended up joining the yakuza to make money."

"The yak-who-za?"

"Yakuza. The Wutai mafia; organised crime."

She gives a start.

"You were a criminal ?!"

"Yes. A very petty one." I smile at her. Not that I ever stopped being a criminal. Joining the Turks wasn't a step up on the morality scale. From there to a vigilante with Avalanche.

...This is before you count now two cases of liking someone else's girl.

I've hadn't led the most lawful of lives, have I? What's next? I'm almost afraid to ask.

"But that's wrong!"

I chuckle,

"Marlene, I didn't have your smarts. I didn't think it was wrong- I couldn't even read. They were better to me than any of my foster parents ever were."

"Foster parents?" It seems it's just another hit after another for her.

"I treated them poorly and for the better part, they were the instigators of my foul attitude."

"So you didn't have a happy family?"

"Not one as nice as what Cloud, Tifa, Denzel and yourself share."

She saddens again when I mentioned Cloud. Maybe I shouldn't have. She doesn't answer.

That night she gets my big bed, and I will sleep on the couch again. Seriously, I haven't slept in a bed in over a month. My back's starting to hurt. I never expected guests over.

I'm getting old.

Wait, am I? Or am I just becoming more spoiled?

At least it's not a coffin.

As I'm tidying the bed for her and making sure she gets clean sheets she asks,

"Why did you and my dad not get along?"

I pause only for a fraction of a second. I wasn't expecting her to bring it up. I guess it shows that she's getting over it. He was away all the time. Maybe it's the same as my father and I. I take a couple of deep breaths before starting with,

"I respected him."

"But you weren't friends. Not like you are with Cid or Nanaki."

"No."

"Why not?"

She's going to insist until she gets an answer?

"Are you sure you want to talk about this?"

"Yes. You're my friend, but you never talk."

Huh? Isn't that what Tifa was complaining about? I wonder if it's hereditary. Oh, right; not related.

I'm not that interesting, Honestly! That's why I don't have much to say. It's really not a matter of me being secretive or anything. I just have nothing to say.

Cid used to say I was like a can of sardines, "Plain on the outside, but a whole lot of crazy shit when you finally manage to pry it open". Then he'd usually make a joke about similarities in the smell. Cid has a way with words.

Another sigh, and I turn to sit on the bed. She's sitting in the over-stuffed chair that's across from it. It was one of the few things I kept. My current room used to be my mother's. My brother and I had cots in what I'm trying to make into a living room. This is not a large space, not by a longshot. It's only somewhat larger than the bathroom at Tifa's. It contains an old armoire, a nightstand, the bed and an overstuffed armchair. I had to bring candles in for Marlene. I never signed this place up for electricity.

"No, we weren't friends." She's trying to be strong, I can see that.

"But, why?"

"You know what I did before you guys found me?"

"Sleeping? He didn't like you 'cause you're lazy?"

A smile twitches up.

"No. Before the sleeping."

"You were a Turk."

"Right."

It takes her a moment, and then she asks with some disbelief,

"He didn't like you because you used to be a Turk ?"

"It's more believable to think that he didn't like me because I was lazy?"

"That's not what I meant." She says, embarrassed. She fidgets in her seat. "But it's just that you were a Turk a long time ago, right? Are you sure it wasn't because you were lazy and a criminal?"

"Yes, I'm sure ." Alright, that was sort of cute.

She seems uncertain, so I try it this way,

"Think about it; what do Turks do?"

"Sneak around and steal shit."

"Cid told you that, didn't he?" My expression probably says it all.

"Yes." She's adequately abashed.

"Who do Turks work for?"

"Oh, I get it now." She nods gravely, "He projected his hatred of ShinRa on you and you saw him as one of the threats you used to face."

I'm impressed.

"More or less on the button." I confess. "Although neither of us would have admitted it at the time. Now go to sleep. We'll keep on talking tomorrow."

She climbs in my bed. She had already changed into her pyjamas while I was looking for clean linens for her. I carefully give her the blanket.

"Promise?"

What a strange thing to ask.

"Yes."

"Alright. Good night, Vincent."

She snuggles into it and for a moment I'm envious of how comfortable she looks. She's grown a lot since I've first met her, but she still seems dwarfed by my bed. I had it specifically delivered. I'm much, much taller than my mother and the old mattress was too far destroyed.

"Good night."

She waits for something.

"Yes?"

"I have a secret to tell you." She indicates I should move forward. I do.

Grabbing my face gently, she turns my head and gives my cheek a small peck. Very different than Tifa's. She blows out the candle, knowing full well that I can find my way out.

I guess she doesn't hate me anymore, and I can't stop this pleasant feeling that's bloomed in my heart.

Chapter Text

The next day we go to the market. Saturdays the market is extra extravagant to cater to the many tourists. I get her some sweets and I get Tifa an assortment of the local goods. I get myself some things I required, and we spend the rest of the day just enjoying the area.

It's the beginning of winter for the Wutai continent. This cold will soon sweep across the Western continent, and finally catch up with us in Midgar on the Eastern continent. I wonder if I'll be here or there at that time? Cloud, you moron.

Marlene asks a lot of questions about the place that I don't mind answering. It's a nice feeling, to know all these things that are a complete novelty for her. Makes me feel smart.

A merchant asks me if she's my daughter. I say no. Luckily it was spoken in Wutain, so she didn't understand it. I don't know how she would have taken it.

Later on that day when we're on the way back home I dare and ask her,

"I thought you hated me."

She looks up to me, holding a light brown paper bag with some presents she bought with her allowance. Her expression is thoughtful, like she's still thinking about it and still coming to terms with something.

"I did, you know." She starts. She shifts the bags in her hands and continues, "I thought you were totally heartless."

"I am."

"No you're not." It's a statement, not a question, "I know I was wrong, and Tifa said something to me when I talked to her about it." I hope Tifa didn't tell her too much. Marlene seems embarrassed then for a moment. She quickly adds, "Not that I told her anything much... Our problems are solved between us ." I give her an approving look. A sense of pride settling somewhere in my upper chest. Marlene continues, "She said that people cry from different things, and that the more bad things a person sees and experiences, the less he'll cry. Usually." She nods gravely, "I thought about it, and I remember I used to cry if I scraped my knee on my bicycle, but I don't anymore because it's not really that bad. I've had worse since then. It's kind of like that, right?"

"Similar, yes."

"Then I figured that whatever things you saw must have been terrible to make you not cry when someone dies. It made me feel sad for you."

I chuckle,

"Don't trouble yourself over me."

Marlene shakes her head,

"That's exactly why I feel sad. You don't have anyone to feel sad for you. I remember that only time you were very, very sad." I'm still trying to forget that time, when I broke down and only Marlene saw me in shambles, "And then I thought that whatever made you that sad must have been really, really bad."

"I wonder what Tifa thinks about this." I muse out loud. We're in the winding streets behind the really old parts of town. The parts I grew up in, the parts that when I was Marlene's age I was ten times dumber than her.

"Tifa says you're really strong inside. She really likes you." She says smartly. Did my heart just skip a beat? That's not happening. I can't afford this right now. It's not like that, anyway.

"Why are you making that sour face? You like her, too."

She's either really perceptive, or seeing what she wants. Maybe I'm seeing what I want.

"What do you mean?" I keep my voice impassive. She looks at me like I'm the stupid one,

"You know what I mean. Like, liking liking her."

"It is impossible."

Marlene thinks for a long while, and the alleys stretch on. Should I try and change the subject? Should I tell her it's not her business?

"What's impossible? You liking her or you two getting together?"

In a way it is her business, I suppose. Cloud and Tifa are her parents now, and she needs a good family. She deserves more than what Cloud gives, in my opinion. I'm not good for Tifa. I'm not what she needs. I haven't the foggiest what to say to her inquiry.

"I guess she is waiting for him ." She admits, thankfully not waiting for me to reply, "But that doesn't change what you feel, does it?"

The question is asked innocently enough, big eyes trained on me. It's my turn to answer with honesty,

"I suppose not."

I always liked her.

I don't know if I love her. No, I probably don't.

It's a big word that means a promise. A promise to try hard, to give it all. A promise never to let go.

So I can't say that I love her because I cannot promise her those things.

She is the type of person I enjoy being with. I am physically attracted to her, but what man wouldn't be? This is Tifa we're talking about.

Being of strong will, shorter stature and dark-haired… Not to mention, being in relationship, puts her entirely in my type.

That doesn't mean I'm in love with her.

Not yet.

Damnit.

Damnit, Marlene! I was trying not to think about any of this. I'm just there until Cloud comes back. Nothing else really matters other than her happiness.

What I feel towards her perhaps could grow into love, but it's not there yet. It's mutual respect. Could I live with her forever? I don't know. She is a little overbearing for my private lifestyle. She has different rules and standards. Some I don't understand. Heck, we hardly even really spoken to each other since the funeral. She's been busy with the bar, me with Marlene.

It will not grow into anything because I will not let it. Admiration is where it started and where it will end. I know that there are things you can't fight, but if I nip it in the bud I'll be ok.

There's no need to complicate things.

It's impossible. It's not me she's waiting for. It wasn't me she kissed goodbye, not really.

"You're scowling." Marlene notes.

"I'm aware of that."

"Is it because of what I said?"

I look at her, her calm demeanour, her wise eyes. Precocious .

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." She looks down, arranges the bags in her hands. No, she's not sorry.

"Just be thankful that nothing is really there, or else your life will be a lot more complicated."

She gives me this strange look then, just like the ones that Tifa gives me when she knows something I don't. She's smart enough to drop the subject.

When we got back to my house I made Wutain cuisine not involving any spaghetti, much to Marlene's pleasure. She promised she'd try whatever I make, as long as it's not spaghetti.

After we're done she pulls out a doll she got herself. It was a delightful doll of a girl dressed in classic Wutain kimonos. The dress is black and has pink cherry blossoms on it. It gives me the nagging feeling I'm forgetting something. Either way, it's very pretty. She looks at it, frowning slightly as she scans it top to bottom.

"Something the matter?" I inquire, drying my hands as I finish cooking. I seems to be doing more house work than killing lately. I think I approve of this change. Vincent the Grease Killer sounds a lot better than Vincent the Turk.

"Hmm…" She muses, pursing her lips in thought and what appears to be dissatisfaction.

"You don't like it after all?" We could probably return it. The stall owner knows me. Maybe knows of me is more accurate.

"It's not that." Marlene says, then explains with a tilt of her head, much like Tifa. "You know the dolls I have?"

I wish I didn't.

"Yes."

"The pink bear is called Medeel, the koala is Junon and the polar bear with the ribbon is Icicle."

"You name them after towns?" Unusual.

"It's where they're from. Where Dad or Cloud got them for me."

Each doll is from places she's never seen by people she'd see only rarely. Each doll is a symbol of her being left behind. Of fathers who leave and come back only to leave again.

I look at the doll in her hands. Pale face rouged at the lips into a smile. She had gotten it herself.

"You won't call her Wutai?"

"But I'm here." She says, as though it explains it. I wonder how many places she only has dolls from, and not memories. "What was your mother's name?" She asks all of a sudden.

What a strange thought, all of a sudden. "Mitsuko."

"Hello, Mitsuko." She grins at her doll, then looks at me, "You don't mind, do you?"

I chuckle despite myself.

"No, I don't mind." What do I care? I barely even remember her, the poor woman.

"Do you miss her?" She asks then, giving me a long look.

"No," I admit. "I don't."

Marlene just looks away, her brows furrowed in thought. I wonder what she's thinking? I don't have the nerve to ask her. I'm worried she thinks I'm heartless again. I don't miss my mother. Does she? I don't think she remembers her.

What would my mother say, seeing me again? Would she know who I am? Would she talk to me, or merely treat me with the same distance she always did? I don't know if she knew I grew up or that time passed. When I left home to the first foster family she had asked me "will you be alright by yourself?". I told her yes. It was one of our longer conversations. I remember I was quite moved. It was the reason I came back to visit her. My brother never came, the bastard. He was gone to his schooling and never said another word to either of us. Was ashamed to know me, a lowly criminal. Was ashamed that his mother was not like other mothers.

Damn, memories are a potent thing. I never really thought about it, living here. Even when I packed up the boxes and the pictures and the trinkets. They were just things, but now I remember...

Before I know it I'm beside a particular box, opening it. Marlene is beside me, clutching the doll beside her, curiosity winning on her face.

"What's in this box?" She asks.

"My things." I answer, "Before I was sent away."

"Why were you sent to foster care?" She sits down on the wooden floor, "'Cause you were lazy?" She smiles.

I give her one of my sarcastic smiles. I'm still learning how to smile with both sides of my mouth at once, remember? I answer,

"No, not for laziness." I pause, removing some of the newspapers I used to cushion the contents, "When ShinRa started getting involved in town they started enforcing some of the more... Western ideas, like foster care." I start removing the few objects from the box, laying them out of the floor beside me. I don't know what I'm looking for, I don't know why I'm looking through this... I just remember suddenly. Every item seems to hold an image. I thought all these were lost to me in the messed-up depths of my mind, but now I'm finding the rush of nostalgia touching, stirring.

A small, cracked mirror. I used to look at myself sometimes when I'd get angry. I clearly remember my red eye repeated in the cracks. I would look at it and blame it for my troubles. I remember the fractured red looking back at me. "They took me away because they thought my mother was unfit." Other kids used to call me names for my eye color. They used to call me an Oni, a demon. Ha, funny, isn't it? To shut them up I learned to fight.

Today I simply set it aside. Marlene picks it up carefully, glancing at me as if to silently ask if it's ok. I let her. I doubt my self-deprecation of the time would linger in the mirror. She thinks about what I said, then asks,

"Why would any mother be unfit? Moms love their kids. What's unfit about that?"

My grin is there despite myself. "I don't know." I lie. "I was little."

"Was your new mommy better?" After studying it for a bit she puts down the mirror and picks up the next item I place down.

A small box with a few rocks in it. They're polished by the waterfall on the bottom of the Dao Cho.

There are five rocks in total.

Marlene examines each one, passing her small hands over their smooth surfaces.

"No. None of them were." I say. I don't know why I'm still talking. I really don't. I remember I collected each rock from the spot I'd go to when I was upset. I'd pick up one every time they moved me to a new family. The talking brings back memories. I've put these memories in a box with no problem, no associations. Now the images are as vivid as any other. My life rushing back to me like the contents of a broken wine bottle, drizzling and oozing all over my consciousness. "I would run away from each family." I explain, "Always running back here." Mother would greet me like I never left, glancing in my direction with a smile a million miles away.

'Hello dear.' she would say, then look out the window again.

'Hello mother.' I would answer. Then she would ask if I had dinner already and suggest I grab something from the cupboards to eat. It didn't matter what time of day or night it was or the fact that the cupboards were always empty. The house would smell of dust and the air outside. On the table where she sat a few leaves would fall from the open window. If it was spring the cherry blossoms would litter the floor. Her black hair would be dropping around her shoulders, never put back or tamed. Her eyes always out that window, even on the rare times she'd look at me. She'd look but not see. I remember how other houses in the neighbourhood would have sounds coming out of them in the evenings. Laughter, the clanging of dishes. Song, music, conversations. Our house was always just my mother and her silence.

"I didn't get along with other people." Is all I say. I pulled out an old shirt, mostly destroyed, one tabi sandal with a broken string and an old picture in a wooden, uncovered frame. Marlene picks it up.

"Is that you?" She points at the young boy in the picture. He seems about nine. The picture is badly damaged, bent until the white shows and faded by water stains and sunlight. It's black and white and a little brown.

"No." I take it gently from her in my claw, pointing with my good hand, "It's my brother. That's my father, I think." I point at the older man whose face has been faded into everlasting obscurity, "and my mother." I point at the short woman. She must be a head and a half shorter than the man, and thus was saved from the growing faded area. She's smiling. Her eyes are clear.

That's the mother I always imagined. That's the mother I would lay at night in all those strange houses and dream of. I left the picture at home only because I've memorized every detail of it. It used to be in a whole lot better state.

That's the mother I missed, and I never even knew her.

My brother had all the luck, to have known her before...

Marlene is now holding the broken sandal. It looks ancient. She studies it intently, then her gaze is drawn to my feet. She looks between one and the other. I find myself actually chuckling. The sandal is hardly the size of a single metal plating on my now-giant feet. I was a child when I broke it.

She picks up the last item from the box.

A slingshot.

My slingshot. Made out of a string and some leather. I would knock down pigeons from roofs and cook them. She pulls the leather, jokingly trying to shoot nothing. The old, worn string breaks under the light pressure.

"Oh, holy!" She yelps, dropping it and meeting my gaze, terrified, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!" She has tears in her eyes.

"It's alright." I sigh calmly, picking up the old thing and turning it in my hands. "It was old."

"I'm sorry..." She sobs near tears. It's some string and a leather patch. String can't stay strong for 30 years. It was bound to disintegrate sooner or later. I rather expected it sooner, myself. The thread was run so thin in places, and it fees dry between my fingers. The leather patch is still in good shape, although the center, where the stone would lie was rubbed into a smoother patch.

"I didn't mean to break it..." She cries.

"It's alright." I say dumbly again. Why is she so upset? I could get a rubber band for it these days, if I wanted. It would be much more elastic. Hell, I have a gun. Who needs this old thing?

I carefully reach out and place a hand on her small shoulder, barely putting any pressure. I've no problem grabbing her if she's misbehaving, but I have no idea how to comfort her. I don't even understand her distress.

"I broke it. It was your toy and I broke it."

"It just an ugly old thing." I say again.

"I liked it." She says into her hands.

"You want it?" I offer it to her in my claw. It's so tiny compared to it. Anything is tiny compared to it.

She looks up, surprised. "What? Really? You're not angry?"

"Why would I be angry?" I ask with half a smile.

"You were angry when I took your arm." She mumbles, looking away and at the slingshot.

"I was angry because you deliberately stole a limb of mine. I need my limbs." I try to sound neutral, if not amused by my own words. "You didn't mean to break this." I gesture it towards her, urging her to take it. She does, careful now.

"We could fix it, if you want." I suggest. "You just need to be careful not to break any windows."

"I don't know how to use it." She admits, calming down and wiping her face. "Are you sure you want to give me your toy?"

I shrug, scoffing, "It has to be at least forty years old. If you want it, it's yours." I don't expect that smile that shines at me. She looks positively delighted. Why?

She thanks me and asks me if I could teach her how to use it. I agree.

We get a new piece of string and she watches me as I fix it up behind my house. The leather patch is a little tough and rough, but still usable. It was a good quality piece that I've stolen from the leatherworker in town. I've set up a few targets on the side of the house that faces wilderness. I target practice here, not that I need the practice. I do need to occupy myself, though.

She asks questions about fixing it, and I explain. When I'm done I give it to her. She beams at me again.

The afternoon turns into evening as I teach her the basics of sling use. It's hard to learn but with practice...

I borrow the sling from her at one point. It feels familiar between my fingers, it takes a moment or two and suddenly it's as part of me as any gun of mine. The milk bottle never saw it coming. Marlene claps for me, and promises to practice with it.

"If I get really good will you teach me to shoot?"

I blink at her a few times. Did she just mean...

"...Shoot? A gun?"

She nods enthusiastically. "Yeah!"

"Ah..." I need to think about this: This is Marlene, looking young and innocent. Why on earth would she want to learn to shoot? Well, I suppose that she's grown up amongst fighters and warriors. She was raised by people who more or less saved the world with violence. "As long as Tifa and Cloud don't mind, then I will gladly teach you."

Her face drops at this.

"They'd never let me." She kicks at a rock, then picks it up and places it in the sling. "They think I'm just a little kid." She slings again like I taught her. The milk bottle is knocked over, though not broken. A hit, just not a direct one.

She's good.

No, she's damn good. All pride aside, she snuck up on a paranoid ex-Turk. She is strong-willed and intelligent. I step over to the targets, replacing the remaining milk bottle on its perch.

"You break it in one shot," I say, looking at her intently. "and I teach you. How about that?" The way I see it, if she breaks it, it means she has an amazing eye for accuracy. If she doesn't I've given her a fair chance and all's well. She grins viciously, propping the string between her fingers and swings.

Chapter Text

"This is the chamber." I explain, pointing at the dismantled Quicksilver pistol on the kitchen table. It's pretty late at night and we're heading back tomorrow morning. "That's where the bullet casing gets ejected from after you fire."

"The casing is the part of the bullet with the gunpowder?" She's leaning on the table with her elbows, studying the parts with delighted attention.

"Yes." I answer. I've never taught anyone how to shoot before. The Turks I've trained came from basic SOLDIER training. I've certainly never trained a child before. I'm wondering if I'm doing something wrong, but see no harm in education. It's not like I'm teaching her to kill. "The slide moves back from the recoil and exposes the chamber. Then the casing flies out."

"I wanna shoot." She chirps happily, turning large, bright eyes at me. As I heard Tifa say 'she's pulling a cute'.

"Not until you can name all the parts by heart and dismantle and reassemble it."

She pouts. I finish up explaining, then reassemble the gun. I check and lock it. Holy, it feels good to hold it. Makes me feel like I have some semblance of control over events. It's an illusion, but one I've come to depend on. She's disappointed that there'd be no shooting a gun tonight, but is hopeful for things to come.

"Are you all packed up?" I ask as I usher her into bed.

"Yup! How about you, did you get what you came for?"

That and a whole lot more. "Yes."

"Did you get Tifa something?"

"Pardon?" I tuck her in.

"You got me a toy. Tifa will be envious."

A pang of panic stabs my heart. "I've gotten her some fruits and vegetables."

Marlene laughs, a carefree sound that I realise I haven't heard in years. "That won't do. Look through your old stuff. You have to get her something other than food or she'll be jealous."

"Why would she want any of my old things?"

"Trust me." she winks at me. I raise an eyebrow. Did the eleven-year-old just try and give me advice on how to treat Tifa?

I don't know if I should feel silly as I rummage through old boxes filled with bits and pieces of my past. Why would Tifa want a broken skillet? Or a rusted fireplace tong? I make a mess of the living room late into the night, finally finding the one thing I assume she would like. That's why the doll seemed reminiscent of something…

I don't know if she's into this sort of thing. It was in a box in my mother's room. I hope Tifa likes it. I am fortunate it's still in such good shape, I suppose.

The next morning we leave.

The trip back is a lot less painful then the trip there. We take it nice and slow, renting the gold chocobo and catching the train. Marlene asks me why we can't take my chocobo. I tell her I don't have one. She asks me why I don't have a cool motorcycle like Cloud. I tell her I don't have a driver's license. When she asks why I explain that there weren't cars when I was young. If I tried getting one these days I'd get killed. I think you need some sensitivity in your feet for it. Besides, the ID issue comes back to bite me.

"You're like a time traveller!" She exclaims then, although it was probably a whisper. We're on the train.

"A what?"

"A time traveller. You, you know, travel through time, but now you're stuck here."

"I guess." I never thought about it like that.

"Did you ever want to go back?"

It's a tough question. One that haunted me many nights.

"Yes. A lot of times."

Marlene seems thoughtful a long while, then she says, "I guess I understand. Even though now things are ok I still want to go back to being a kid sometimes."

"You are a kid." I state. She pouts at me.

"I mean a little-er kid."

"'Younger' is the word you're looking for."

"Yeah." She doesn't like being small and helpless. I can't blame her- she's surrounded by the most powerful people Planet has seen. "Back when I thought dad was invincible and there was no doubt that you guys would have won against Sephiroth."

I crack a grin. Growing up is a heartbreak after another. "So I guess I'm a time traveller, too!" She laughs. "I just travel in the same speed as anyone else. I'm not as cool as you."

I chuckle.

We walk in just before dinner as we promised. Marlene can't wait to tell Tifa everything about everything. She bounds inside in a total state of elation. Tifa greets us both with hugs, although I must admit mine was shorter and lighter than Marlene's. Tifa seems both happy to see us and worried. She mentions that we haven't called her. I didn't know I was supposed to.

"I made dinner!" She gives Marlene her eighth kiss on the cheek, "Go get cleaned up and we'll eat."

Marlene giggles, squirming away from Tifa's excessive attentions, "Is it ok if I take my shower after dinner?"

I'm surprised when she's looking at me, and not at Tifa, for approval.

"Yes." I answer, and notice that Tifa is just as surprised as I am. The child runs to wash her hands.

"Hey." Tifa stands up from her attentions to Marlene, giving me a large smile that has a bit of sagacity in it.

"What's so amusing?" I ask her.

"You."

I pause to look at myself. I've dropped my duffle at the entrance. The clothes I'm wearing are not unusual for me. A slate-colored turtleneck sweater and black jeans. Over it all I have my favourite maroon jacket. I take it off and hang it while asking, "What is amusing about me?"

"You're smiling."

I notice it and because I do, it fades. A natural smile. Just being pleased. "I suppose I was." I have to admit it felt good. "It feels good to be back."

Something passes on Tifa's face- some painful emotion. Have I spoken too much? Have I taken too much liberty? She feels guilty that I'm here. Perhaps Cloud is coming back?

I admit the very thought of it twists my stomach. It makes every cell in my body cry. Before I can ask she speaks, "I hope Marlene wasn't too much trouble?"

"Not at all." Is my answer. It is the truth. "She behaved perfectly."

"Good. I was worried. I never thought you'd... well, invite her to go with you."

I have nothing to say to that, I never thought I would do that, either. So I change the subject,

"I brought back some produce I thought you might want to try."

She thanks me and goes to finish preparations for dinner.

I'm left alone in the foyer.

This isn't my home, but it feels more one than the one I've left this morning. It's going to hurt. By Meteor, is it ever going to hurt.

Why? Why am I doing this? Because a part of me craves this. The same part that went to the box full of small, silly memories. It's selfish of me to want to be a part of this family. I'm only here because Cloud is not. I'm only here because they need the help. I need to remember this. I'm taking advantage of them. I'm drawing on their warmth and hospitality.

Tifa wants her drifting Cloud back. Marlene needs a steady father. I'm just here...

Just here...

Because he's not.

"Vincent! Are you coming to dinner, or what?" I hear Tifa's voice from the kitchen. I enter.

Dinner's lovely.

Marlene is talking all throughout the meal, telling Tifa of so many things that for me were completely mundane.

"And all the doors go sideways!" She exclaims, gesticulating wildly "And they're made out of wood and paper!" She talks about everything from my house to the market. When dinner's over (I'm not sure how much of it she actually tasted, and not just inhaled) she brings the doll and shows it to Tifa.

"This is Mitsuko." She introduces her, "Isn't she pretty?"

Tifa agrees.

...Maybe a doll named Mitsuko is really all she was.

"And Vincent gave me a toy, too!" She pulls out the sling. Tifa takes it from her.

"What is it?" She turns it in her hands, looking at it this way and that. I suppose she's never seen one before. Marlene tells her what it is.

"At first I thought it was an eye patch!" Tifa laughs. I haven't heard her laugh in a long time. I think seeing her adopted daughter in such high spirits helps. "It looks really old."

"That's because it used to belong to him when he was little, which was really a long time ago."

Marlene keeps on talking, but my eyes are on Tifa. Something from what the child just said really shook her up. I know not what it was. She keeps on glancing in my direction and in her eyes something I can't place. Is everything alright? I keep on fearing Cloud called while we were away. Is she scared of my past? Is she worried that I've given the kid a weapon? Did she just realise how old I really am? I don't know. I'm just sipping my tea, listening to the pleasant natters of childhood and excitement. After an hour or so I remind her of her yet-to-be-had-shower. Not losing any of her exuberance, she promises Tifa to tell her all the rest tomorrow and runs upstairs.

"It used to be a huge fight to have her shower." Tifa muses, then sits down across from me. "Were there really squashes as big as her in the market?" She grins.

"A squash needs to be but squash sized to be as big as her." Tifa's grin spreads at that.

"She's not that small anymore."

"No, I suppose not."

There's a long stretch of silence. The water in the washroom upstairs starts up. Should I ask about him ? I don't want to ruin the evening, but I'm wondering if she's alright. I suppose there's always the direct approach, I don't think the 'Vincent Approach' will work in this situation.

I start speaking the same instant as her. We both fluster and pause. It's still a little awkward. I need to never think of the silly little goodbye kiss again. Of the hug that made my knees weak. Of that beautiful shine in her eyes even now. I implore her to speak first.

"I wanted to thank you for taking her with you." Her eyes are on the sling on the table.

"It was no trouble." I take another sip. She's looking at me when I lower the cup. I know they're not related by blood, but I do believe there are many similarities between these two beautiful women. And I do believe Tifa is sort of 'giving me the cute' right now, looking a little shy and uncertain, her eyes large and dazzling.

"I know you two haven't really been very close-"

"-I think we're getting over that." I assure her. She seems relieved. Her eyes dart to the sling again and again.

"Was it really yours?" She asks before I can renew my concern for her wellbeing or say whatever it was I was going to saw earlier.

"Yes. When I was... ten? Maybe younger."

She picks it up to turn it in her hands, this time there's a sort of reverence there. It's an ugly old thing. Why are both of them make such a big deal out of it? Was Marlene correct? Does she envy that I've given Marlene something and hadn't brought her anything?

"I..." It's sounds silly in my head when I say, "I brought you something, too."

Her eyes immediately light up. I think Marlene was partially right. I certainly cannot imagine Tifa being jealous of a trinket like that sling. Understanding wordlessly that's she expecting it right now, I get up with a heave of old-ness and go to my backpack.

I come back to the kitchen with the square box. I think it used to be pink, but now it's awfully faded. Like most things in that house, like most of my memories of the time.

I place it on the table in front of her and turn my attention back to the tea. I can't believe I'm actually nervous if she'll like it. It's such a silly thing. Why should it matter?

I think she starts to say 'oh, you shouldn't have', but she gets distracted by examining the box. It's wooden and plain. It's a little splintered now in some places. It never had varnish on it.

"How old is this?" She looks about as excited as Marlene was. She hasn't opened it yet.

"I'm uncertain." I look at it, trying to conjure any memories associated with it. "I was probably about fifteen, I think." I had given it to my mother… when? "It must be about... forty-seven years old more or less."

"...Holy..."

She opens it and repeats the utterance, this time adding, "Vincent... It's..."

She pulls the toy soldier out. It has not been destroyed by time. A wooden doll slightly larger than a hand. He used to have a uniform, but it was too old and ratty. Now he's just a naked series of wooden cylinders, connected loosely by strings so he can flop around like a person.

"You like it?"

"Oh, Vincent..." She laughs, "I love it! Are you sure it's alright for me to have it?"

"Yes." What will I do with it?

She gets up, rounds the table and gives me a hug while I'm in the middle of my tea. She pats my back as I cough it back out.

"Sorry. It's just so... so wonderful!" She holds it up like Marlene did while trying to decide Mitsuko's name.

"What's wrong with its face?" She asks.

"My fault." I admit, a little shamefully, "It didn't have a face so I tried to carve it one. I failed."

"You can sort of see a face." She tries to make me feel better, "But it looks a little sad." She then turns her attention to me with a beaming smile.

"I'm glad you like it." It's impossible not to return the grin.

"Tell me more about it." She demands, her eyes glinting with joy and her fingers can't seem to stop playing with the floppy arms. The only reason why it's still in such good condition is the fact that it was left in the box all this time.

"I made it." I start. There's not much to say. She interrupts me before I can continue- "You made this?"

"Yes." I sip my tea, "Why else would it be so mangled?"

She blinks at me, then looks down at the toy.

"I think it's lovely, this little mangled soldier." Her grin is divine. "Thank you."

Marlene, now out of the shower, calls out to Tifa to tuck her in for the night. I can see she has so many unasked questions, but I'm thankful when she leaves. A tenseness I haven't even really thought about leaves me as she climbs the stairs.

Why would it matter how old something is or where it is from? I was surprised when I found the house I grew up in to still be standing, I admit, but it did not bring a tear to my eyes. The stuff inside it mostly just stuff . It links to a time only I remember. Does it matter? I had nothing valuable. I care more for Cerberus than those old things. Cerberus and I had been together through tougher times, and at least I could protect people with it. The time before I was a Turk I was nothing, not even a son. So petty a criminal that the very organization I worked for was willing to dispose of me, but didn't think I was worth the effort of dirtying a blade or the cost of a bullet.

That broken mirror was my prize possession. A mirror in that day and age was something to boast indeed. Had my mother sold it we would have had food for several weeks. It was probably worth a small fortune.

Maybe I wouldn't have been taken away.

...But she never looked at it. I had snuck into her room one day and took it. I didn't understand the meaning of it at the time.

...I guess I still don't.

Exhaustion settles on me as I sit there in the kitchen alone.

I clear the table and go to the couch, my bed. The sheets and pillows are missing. Maybe she put them in the wash?

Heading upstairs I pass by Marlene's closed room on my way to the guest bedroom where linen is kept. I can hear her clear as anything, chatting and telling Tifa more of the trip and the chocobo and the food and the mountains. The guest bedroom is clean when I pass by it, and I see my night shirt and pants folded neatly on the blanket. Those she had washed. I can't help the smile on my face as I bring my bag into the room and close the door.

I've smiled much today. It felt good, but the stone in my stomach saying that this is all a dream to be snatched away... It does not leave, and neither does the knowledge that the tension between Tifa and I must either be resolved or I need to leave.

Cloud, you cause me nothing but grief these days, you fool. You damned, damned, lucky fool.

Chapter Text

The next day Marlene is back to school. She begs to bring her sling with her, but we convince her that it's a bad idea.

"What if the teacher thinks you might hurt someone with it and takes it away?" Tifa is urging her out the door without it.

"But I'm a really good shot with it!" She protests, pointing at me, "He taught me to shoot and said I'll only get better."

"Do you want to risk the teacher confiscating it?"

"...No..." She mumbles, grabs her lunchbox and heads out.

When I turn to her Tifa has this look . She has her hands crossed and she's tapping her foot. The look is from the top of her eyes, and it's not pleased.

"You're not serious." She tells me. That was a quick change. From smile to scowl in point-zero-two seconds.

"Pardon?"

"You taught her how to shoot ?"

"Not yet, I'm just showing her the parts for now,-"

" What ? I was talking about the sling! You're talking about a gun ?"

"Not yet, no. Just the sling for now. I am merely showing her the parts of-"

"Are you out of your ancient mind?"

Hey. That's low.

"No, there's nothing wrong with shooting a sling or a gun."

"It's a gun !" Like that explains it. Has she forgotten who she's talking to?

"Yes, guns only fire forward and have no sharp edges."

"Don't give me that condescending tone." She intones dangerously, her hands fisting up. I think she's upset with me. Just a guess. There's nothing wrong with any weapon, if you learn it carefully.

"You'd rather she learns martial arts?" I ask innocently. What is this really about?

"No! No violence! What are you thinking ?!" She flicks two fingers from her forehead, as if to imply I've lost my mind.

"I'm thinking she wants to be like the people who raise her."

"You're saying it's my fault?" She takes a step towards me, raising a dangerous finger. I'm no fool. I know she can kill me with just that much.

"It is no more your fault that it is Cloud's." I state. I've done nothing wrong. I don't think I deserve this sort of treatment.

"Cloud would have never put a gun in a child's hands! I know you have different standards but-"

Alright, what is that supposed to mean? That I condone children fighting? That I'd have Marlene kill? That's I'd turn her into someone like me?

"To teach her how to use a sling has no harm in it." My voice is getting calmer. I have to keep it controlled. Always always keep it controlled.

"Except that now she wants to carry the sling around! What if she wants to learn how to shoot with a gun, next?"

"I see no problem with that."

Her hands are at the sides of her head, gesturing as though her head's exploding. "You don't see a problem with an eleven-year-old shooting people?!"

"Learning to shoot and shooting people are two different things."

"She's a whole lot less likely to shoot anyone if she doesn't know how to use a gun!"

"You'd rather her think that punching people solves problems?"

"What did you just say?"

Oops. I meant to think it, not say it. How did I get into this argument? I haven't done anything wrong. Tifa continues furiously, "I can choose if I want to kill with these," she shakes her fist in front of my face. "A gun is just for killing, it can't do anything else!"

This is starting to hurt. My voice gets edgier despite my attempts at dissolving my own rising irritation. I say, "She wants to learn to defend herself, like you can."

"Then we'll teach her how to fight with fist and sword!"

"Swords aren't much better than guns." Is my retort, "Like it or not she has the making of a good marksmen."

"I don't believe you'd even say that! She's ten !"

"Her age is irrelevant. She has steady hands-"

"-Good for a fighter! Cloud would never want to see her with a gun."

"He'd rather she'd be up-close to enemies?"

"He'd rather she not fight! That's why he's out there right now! You want her to go out and fight people?"

"I want her to know how to defend herself. She wants to know."

"Cloud and I are here to protect her! He's out there protecting her right now!"

"I-"

"Cloud would never put her in danger! He would never put a gun or a sword in the hands of a child! What the hell were you thinking ?"

"I'm thinking I'm not Cloud! "

.

There's silence.

Her face is startled, hurt.

I've taken a step forward towards her.

My voice has been raised.

My fist is clenched at my side. My claw open.

My brows are furrowed. I consciously unclench my fist, relax my face, take a deep breath, roll my shoulders down.

My breathing is a little quickened, so I take another deep breath.

"I-" I don't know what to say. I've lost my temper for the second time. It's not helping the tension, is it? I'm not helping them at all, am I? The feelings of my inadequacy overtake me again. What right do I have to get involved in her upbringing? I'm here as a friend, as help. I'm not helping anyone. I'm just doing what I think is right, and what do I know about children or Marlene? I've trespassed on family ground and overstepped my rights.

"I apologize."

.

Before I know it I'm up in the guest room, breathing hard and trying to get a grip on my emotions. How dare I raise my voice at her?

How can she say that? How can she say that guns are just for killing? I can disable someone far quicker and cleaner than any swordsman can. Yes, guns can kill, but a fool with a sword can kill just as easily.

A gun is a statement, a sword is an argument.

She never complained about my methods when we were in Avalanche. How can she think that between Cloud and her that their child wouldn't want to learn how to fight? I wouldn't be surprised if Marlene has some notion that she must find a way to fight to prove herself to three parents who made their fame fighting.

I am no killer.

Not anymore.

I thought her over it. I thought she of all people saw past my actions as a Turk.

There's a knock on the door.

"Vincent?"

Who else would it be? Take another calm breath, Vincent. Don't let her see. Steadying myself, I open the door.

"…You alright?" She stands there with obvious discomfort, her white blouse loosely fitting her form. Jeans sitting low on hips that are more than a little distracting.

I'm still breathing with a little difficulty, "I assure you I've learned to control the transformations."

"I know." She says. "That's not what I meant." She seems to have calmed down. Her hands are clasped over her bosom. It reminds me of something I used to see Aeris do. I step aside, letting her in if she wants. I assume she wants to mend bridges. I sit down on the bed, massaging my temples and wishing that I wasn't so quick to anger and slow to relax. Another deep breath, Vincent, you can do it.

"I apologize." I repeat. "It is not my place to enforce my opinions on your family. I can leave if-"

"No." A little stronger than I had expected, "Please don't." She sighs. "I'm sorry I said some mean things. I was just..."

"I know how much Marlene means to you." I interject, looking up at her. Please forgive me, Tifa, "I know you love her as though she was your own daughter. I know she loves you like a mother."

She sighs again, sitting heavily on the bed beside me. I can feel the unspoken words behind her reservations. I don't think she trusts me. I don't think she would want me here if she could have anyone else.

She wants Cloud to be here. Not me.

Not me.

Come back or don't at all, you rotten, spoiled child.

Chapter Text

The next few days are a little more tense. Marlene notices, but doesn't say anything. When one night she asks me if we can continue practicing, I give her the excuse that it's become very cold outside. She looks as though she knows that's not the reason.

"Look," I try, "I cannot go against Tifa's wishes in her own home."

"You've been living with us for almost three months now." She states, a little dubious of this excuse as well.

"I'm only staying until Cloud comes back."

She twists her little nose, so I quickly add, "Which I'm sure will be very soon."

I think she sees right through that, but it makes me feel better to have tried. Uncertain how to proceed, we both drops the subject.

Next day's dinner Marlene suggests, "We should go out and do something fun."

Tifa, a little taken by the unexpected suggestions stutters a "Shu- Sure. Yeah."

Marlene nods decidedly, "Yeah, we need to do something fun like going the beach or something."

"You want to go to the beach in November?" Tifa chuckles. Marlene looks a little embarrassed, but snaps back,

"We should do something ."

"I think you should concentrate on school and the upcoming Christmas!" Marlene's face lights up with the word Christmas like someone just said 'free presents'. Oh, I suppose it's the same thing. I doubt Cloud would stay away for Christmas with his family. Then again, I would have never thought him capable of skipping on the funeral to 'not let the trail get cold'.

I eat.

Christmas will be strange this year. Last year I actually spent it with Cid and Shera. Cid had gotten me a box of colourful scrunchies as a joke. I gave him a knuckle sandwich in return. Shera had gotten me nice cologne. She said that 'it would help me find someone 'special' and she gave me this smile that made me want to hide under a rock.

Apparently the conversation continued while I was zoning out. I hear Tifa say,

"Well, we could go to the pool." It seems the idea had grown on her as she seems actively interested in finding an activity.

"I'm good at that." I mention. Tifa looks at me a moment, then corrects me, " The pool, not snooker."

"Oh." I can't swim.

"You could use a tan." She chuckles at me. I just look at her from my plate of food.

"Just don't expect me to go in the water."

When she looks at me oddly I just rap my claw's fingers on the table. They make a distinct clicking noise she can't stand. I have a nervous habit of drumming my fingers and she wanted to throttle me every time I do it. It's her turn to say "Oh."

"We haven't been bowling in a long time." Marlene suggests.

"I love bowling!" She looks at me again, "Are you any good at that?" I suppose she's thinking of my healthy hand. The claw would never fit in a bowling bowl, nor does it have the grip to hold it. "I used to be alright at it." I admit, "But if you girls want to, I'll stay here."

"Aww," Tifa punches my arm playfully, "I won't make fun of you if you come dead last."

"I doubt they have size eighteen shoes." I say into my food, feeling a little more than stupid and awkward. They would never let me on the polished wood with these feet of mine. Tifa's face falls, and Marlene is trying real hard not to laugh at me. That's very generous of her.

"Umm... How about..." She looks at me thoughtfully and I can practically see her eliminating fun activities because of my disabilities. I hate this body. "Well, we could always..."

Don't try so hard, it makes me feel worse. I can't do anything.

"Snowboarding? No." Feet, feet and more feet. That's what I got.

"I am honest in my stating that you two should go without me. I limit your options and would only draw attention. I'm not even technically part of-"

"How about karaoke?" Marlene interrupts.

Both Tifa and I stare at her, she in delight and I in horror. I have no excuse for that.

"Yeah!" Tifa's smile is terrible, because she's thinking what I'm trying not to. "I've never heard you sing, Vincent!"

"And thank your lucky star for that." I say, quickly finishing up the meal so that I might run away. "I have no intentions of making a fool of myself and destroying your eardrums."

"Oh, whatever," She laughs, patting my hand fondly. It's been strained between us for the last little while. This gesture is the first of its kind since our argument. "You'll do fine." She looks back to Marlene to talk about location and times. As far as she's concerned the topic's settled. I'm doomed. Unless I can manage to develop a bad case of pneumonia or strip throat before the terrible date, I'm doomed. Hah, if I'm really lucky Cloud will come back before that and then he could squawk with the girls.

...And I'll be in my boxed up home, on the other side of the world, remembering how nice it felt to be included in someone else's life.

Ugh.

The nights have been getting substantially colder. The terrible date is set for the end of this month. It's long enough away that I still have hope that Cloud will replace me. The days so far have been teetering on the freezing point, but still sunny. Tonight, the beginning of November, the first snow falls. I'm sure in Wutai the winter started a while ago. I hate walking through the snow. These legs aren't built for it. What are they built for? Good question. They're great for perching oneself on the roofs of buildings. I suppose they're made for urban environments, but what on earth possessed Hojo to make them about two times the size of someone my height? Oh, right! The man was insane and evil !

With the cooling weather the bar's clientele grows. The colder it is the more eager the people of Edge seem to be to warm themselves with the drink of fire. And as it approaches the holidays more and more people need to drown their cold loneliness, as well. Such is the way of alcohol.

With an increase in the amount of patrons so does increase the workload for their patroness and her co-worker. With increased workload for patroness comes...

The flu.

She's sitting in the living room now, huddled in a blanket on the couch after a hard night's work. The TV's on, tuned to no specific channel. She's not really watching. She's watching her tea instead, with all the milk and sugar one could ever desire. Marlene is asleep. Tifa's sniffling is quite pitiful, and so is the red state of her rubbed-raw nose. Her cough is wet and throaty.

It's snowing outside, I can see that through the living room windows. Heavy flakes seeming to move one way up close and the other way farther back. Why does snow always move like that? It's quiet bright outside on account of it. She sniffles again, and I approach her.

"Hi." She mumbles. She works herself ragged, this woman. I seat myself across from her, on the opposite couch. "Rough night tonight. Ugh. The cold medicine wore off." She blows her nose again, I pass her the garbage can so she may deposit the soiled napkin in it. She does, and when I try to set it back it sits crooked. Upon inspection over the armrest of my couch I notice that previously she had just tossed the tissue in the can's general direction. Many a crumpled bundles litter the floor.

"Hey, stob dat." She mutters, waving one hand weakly in my direction as I pick them up to put back in the bin. Giving her only one reproachful glace I carry on. "It's gross." She protests.

"If you say so." I answer.

"Seriously, Vincent, stop it. I'll take care of it when I wake up tomorrow morning."

"Firstly," I say to her honest indignation of my cleaning after her, "The time you wake up cannot possibly be called morning. Secondly," I finish and place the bin back in its place, "I'm here to help." Besides, I used my claw so I can't actually feel anything. I clink my claw fingers together. They make a small metallic sound. They're clean; picking up most light things with it reminds me of that game I saw Yuffie play once with a little hanging claw and some toys. Yuffie was surprisingly good at it, but I suppose I shouldn't have really been surprised at all. I tidy the coffee table, making sure the tissue box is within her reach.

"Ugh." She scoffs, scowling into the blanket and wrapping it tighter around herself, "Can't you just sit still for ten seconds? You godda do something all the time?"

I settle down again. "This coming from the girl who hasn't really taken a day off in months?"

"Girl?" She seems offended. Is it not the right word? "Who you callin' girl , gramps?"

I chuckle. "Apologies." I raise a hand in a placating manner, "I meant woman ."

She considers it, then chuckles too. "Right now I'm just a bile of snod. Bery sexy!" She laughs a little in a self-reproaching sort of way.

"Tifa, I'm afraid there is not a thing in the world you could do that would make you unappealing."

She stops her sniffling and chuckling to give me a stunned look,

"Is that a compliment? From you?"

Why seem so shocked? I think the world of this woman in front of me...

"Yes, that was the intention. Was it ill worded?"

"No, no no no..." Is she blushing? It must be the illness. Speaking of which... I get up to get her more cold medicine. "I just don't think I've ever heard you give anyone a compliment before."

That must be incorrect. After all, I am the most incompetent person in this world. Each and every person has something on me.

"I only say what I mean." I come back with the pills, hand them to her. She accepts them and drinks them down with her cooling tea.

"So that means that until now you didn't think anything nice about me?" I know there's a glint of humour in her eyes, but I'm not sure (after the last little while) how delicately I should tread.

"No, I mean yes. I mean, of course I have been thinking only good of you."

"So you don't actually speak your mind."

"I never said that. I only said that I meant what I said."

"Oh."

There's an awkward pause. She stares at the milk swirling in her teacup. How do I get myself in to these situations?

"I like hearing you say nice things," She says then, more to her tea than to me, "'Cause if you say them then they must be true." I smile sarcastically, but she continues without a hit of sarcasm, "I mean, you have this deep voice, and you have a certainty in your voice when you say things. I like it." She finally looks at me, giving me this big cheerful smile. She looks delightful, her nose rubbed red, her entire body hidden in the folds on an ugly old plaid blanket. I wish I knew how to express this swell of comfort. I wish I knew how to tell her how much this time with them meant to me.

But I don't know how. I'm sit down across from her and we just... sit together.

A short while later we hear a snowdrift fall outside, something snaps and crashes and the lights go out.

I hear no scuffle from upstairs, so Marlene probably was not awoken by this. Tifa, on the other hand starts and yelps.

"Vi- Vincent?" She calls out, eyes wide and pupils dilated.

"I'm here." I assure her, watching as her gaze runs through me and past me. Can she not see me? I am but five feet away from her on the couch. I haven't moved. The room is darker now, with some light filtering from the large window behind her couch. The TV has gone dead, and the stillness breathes new sounds into the night. The call of the neighbours to each other, trying to figure out who's out of power. A branch fell on the power lines, they say. One of them called the WRO. They should be here within the hour. I convey this information to Tifa, who seems impressed. She looks at no where in particular, blind.

"I should light a candle or something. Ugh. Maybe I'll start the fireplace." She gets up, teeters and almost falls. I'm at her side in a blink, supporting her elbow. She gasps and jerks away.

"Holy crap, Vincent." She breaths, putting a hand to her bosom, "Don't scare me like that! I didn't even hear you move!" Even this close she seems to have difficulties making me out. She smells like vapour-rub and tea.

"Sit down." I help her, "I'll get things started with the fire."

I hear her draw in breath to ask if I can see, but she lets it out in a huff instead, sitting down. Of course I can see.

I navigate the living room; making my way around the separating wall and into the kitchen. The window seems so bright here, looking over the back yard. The tree Marlene likes to sit on is snow-laden. It seems somehow lonely. I procure what I need and return.

"Here are the matches." I hold them up even though she can't see me. Her face snaps in my direction. I still startled her. "Sorry." I add. I try to deliberately drag my feet a little more to ease her nerves.

The fireplace cooperates and soon she can see me. The blaze fills me with a sense of warmth and comfort that no radiator or electric heater can. Slowly and sickly she moves from the couch to sit by the fire. I perch myself on the floor beside her, watching the fire take hold of the logs. How slowly, but how surely do they take in the kindle? How can you go back once you've been taken in by the fire?

I catch her attention at the corner of my eye. She's looking at me.

When I'm about to ask her what it is she needs, she looks away to the fire.

"Thanks." She mumbles, wiping at her nose. Then she turns to me again with a smile, "I should put a bell on you!" She laughs, "You're way too quiet. I don't mind it when it's light 'cause you're way to tall not to be noticed, but in the dark...? You're terrifying!" she laughs again and it turns into a coughing fit.

Hesitantly, I reach out my good hand to rub her back, just barely even touching her through the blanket. She feels very warm through the cloth. Does she have a fever? Not much I can do. Her coughing calms down after a moment. The medicine should kick in soon.

"Oh, man. Running the bar tomorrow is going to be hell."

"Should you perhaps consider not opening? You require rest."

"No way." She smiles reassuringly beside me, "I need the money."

"Is it really for the best?"

"Oh, yeah. I worked through worse! That was not fun." She seems entertained by this for some reason. Does she see it as a test of strength, perhaps?

She pauses, tenseness in her countenance. Then she eases into a question,

"Vincent?"

"Yes?"

"Are you gay?"

…

There's silence punctuated only by the crackling of the logs. I think I was stunned speechless for a moment, though I couldn't tell you how long.

"It's just that-" She starts, worried, "-I'm totally alright with it if you are! You travelled with Cid for so long and I know Cid's bi. And whenever you and Reeve meet there's this vibe…"

I think that loud snort came from me. Only when I hear myself making little choking sounds do I understand that I'm laughing. Looking at her stunned expression, I cannot help but let it out in an incredulous bark of laughter. It's almost half a cough, like it gets stuck in my throat. When's the last time I laughed? I don't remember how to do it anymore, but I'm amused by my own voice.

I am not offended in the least, though I cannot fathom where this question would come from.

"Why…" I steady my breathing, "No, I am not so inclined. Why do you ask this?"

I suppose the answer is only half-true. There was that incident with my old Turks commander, Alleonde… But I am willingly attracted to women.

She blushes profusely,

"Well, you don't… Umm…" What? Hit on women? "You don't look at me… like other men do."

I have no answer for that. Silence again falls into the fire. I don't want to go into this conversation. I don't want to end up saying that the most probable reason I don't look at her like other men is that I have long gone beyond being attracted to her on a purely physical level. I want to change the topic;

"If I may ask a bold question..."

"Oh, don't be so stuffy. Out with it. Heavens knows I wasn't sensitive a moment ago!"

I refrain from a joke on who is the stuffier at the moment, instead asking,

"Why run a bar? Is it what you want to do?"

I suppose the best description of her expression at the moment is 'wonderment'. It changes slowly into a frown, then a grin again.

"...Isn't it funny? I haven't really thought of that." She looks at the fire, the scowl intermittently returning as she's mulling this over. "I know how to run a bar. That's about it."

"You could go study something." I suggest off-hand. Her gaze snaps to me and there's perhaps a little vexation there. Not at me, I hope?

"And how will I eat?"

"Ah..." I'm a little worried to mention him... "Cloud could-"

"-Cloud's delivery service hardly makes enough even on a good month. It covers his gas costs, food and lodging. That's about it." She scoffs, poking at the burning log with the poker. I suppose it's really just an excuse for him to travel.

"Perhaps he could stay here and work while you study." I suggest. After all, it is my understanding that any long-term relationship must be built on balance. She scoffs again, poking viciously now,

"Like that'd ever happen."

Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything.

An ember falls on the hardwood, I pick it up and toss it back in. Tifa jumps again.

"I'd never get used to that." She sighs. Luckily she won't need to worry about it. I won't be here much longer, I'm sure. I should be happy, thankful for this time together. I shouldn't be feeling this anger at him. I shouldn't be dwelling on the parting when the now is good, should I? I'm selfish. Speaking of which, how do I prevent her from working tomorrow? If she indeed has a fever she needs to rest.

"I still recommend that you rest tomorrow."

"I can't afford it." She repeats.

"You don't have workers or a favour you can call in?"

"I have one server, Marry. There's no way she can run the bar on her own." She looks at me, her expression sour, "And I called all my favours in for the funeral." Back at the fire with her attention, and she mutters, "I can't believe it's been four months now…"

"What about… Marlene?" I was told she knows how to run a bar all on her own since she could barely walk.

"No, it's a school night. The bar's usually open until two aee-emm."

Don't say it, Vincent. Don't you say it, Vincent. Don't you dare-

She glances at me while I'm looking at her, her little nose so red. There are also advantages to my condition. I can see the details others cannot, and sometimes it makes things even more beautiful. Her eyes… I can count the flecks of red wine in the mahogany of her eyes. Her lips are chapped and her pallor is pale. Her nose is flaking slightly from rubbing it with tissue paper. She is the single most beautiful thing I've seen. To say that the light coming from the fire illuminates her in gold would be like trying to paint the sunset with children's crayons. There just aren't adequate words to explain why she's so special. I will never meet another Tifa. I will never meet anyone this courageous, this good .

"Call in Marry early." I hear myself saying despite the part of me that's rushing to the word floodgate before I can finish the sentence, "If she can mix drinks I could serve them."

Tifa's sickness-shine eyes become impossibly wide, then she throws her head, laughing sarcastically. I rub her back until the coughing subsides. Then she slowly realises-

"You're serious?" She seeks to confirm.

"I'm not the joking type." Is my answer.

"You hate beoble!" she sniffs, still unable to process the offer. I may hate people, but I—

Don't go there, Vincent. She's not 'people'. I don't hate her. That's enough said.

"That's irrelevant." I tilt my head, gesturing dismissively. "It's the only way for you to get an evening off tomorrow."

She stares at me then for a long, long moment. Then her brows slowly land on top of her eyes. Her expression is decided.

"No. No way."

"I know I won't be able to help much but-"

"No."

"I don't want you working tomorrow." I try, firmer this time. I don't expect her reaction.

"You don't want? You don't want ?" She gets up, throwing her blankets off and looming over me. I can only blink at her. There is anger there that, as usual, I do not understand. And again I pissed her off. Seriously, I don't know how to deal with people.

"You don't want ?" She repeats again, as though it is the greatest insult. I have assumed too much. Who am I to tell her what to do? No wonder she's angry.

"I- I'm sorry." I say. "I apologize. I should not tell you what to do."

Now she throws her arms in the air, making a very angry growl. The blanket falls from around her shoulders. When her gaze returns to me from praying to the ceiling, she's quite furious.

"For the love of crap, Vincent, stop it!"

Stop what?

"Stop doing things just because I say so! Stop it! Just say something! For the love of—" The coughing fit nearly knocks her off her feet. I am quickly standing, trying to put the blanket around her shaking shoulders. She shrugs it off and backs away from me like I'm poisonous. I start and take a step back myself.

"Are you listening to me?" She demands, her voice hoarse.

I take a moment to look at her face. Is it the fever talking? I don't think so. I admit I am pretty much at a loss as to I manage to anger her so much. She must be pretty sick of me by now. I've been here for months. Even when I was travelling with Cid, the Highwind was much larger and we didn't really live in such close proximity. Besides, there's no fooling anyone to think that I care for Tifa the same way I care for that drunk pilot.

She puts her frazzled head into the palm of her hand, trying to control her obvious agitation with me. What have I done? Some help I am.

"For the love of… You need talk, Vincent. Use words. Speak. Enunciate. Verbal communications. I can't hear the hamster in your head."

I just need a moment.

"I…"

She looks at me expectantly, but it's clear that I need to give the right answer to a question I don't even know.

"Please…" I try, "Sit down. You're not well." Before she snaps at me I say, "I'll answer whatever you want if you just sit down." She's practically wobbling on her feet. She plops down on the carpet. I remember once she snuggled into my cape (I was not wearing it at the time, of course!). She looked tiny in it. It stuck in my head because I always thought how strange she looked in it. It meant a mask to me; it was odd to see her hiding in it. She never hides anything. Not well, anyway.

I make sure not to touch her as she might start or flinch again, but I drape the blanket over her.

Finally I sit down and give her my full attention.

"I apologize." I say again. She sighs with obvious vexation.

"Stop apologizing." She snaps. "Stop backing off all the time!"

I blink. She continues,

"Stop making me feel like shit!" She demands. My eyes must have gone wide, because she explains, "How do you think it feels knowing that you're probably dieing to go home, but you're staying 'cause I asked you?"

What?

"How do you think I feel that you're here day after day for four months? Four months!"

I still have nothing to say. I don't know what I'm in right now. Have I done something wrong?

"Have I… Offended you?" I ask, uncertain. She huffs out air, her face becoming flushed from anger despite her illness. I really shouldn't be working her up like this. She rubs her temples.

"Vincent. You haven't said a thing all these months. Not 'honestly, Tifa, you ask too much', or 'I can't', or even a 'I don't feel like it'!" At my uncomprehending face she practically yells, "You're not my slave! You're not a robot!" Her voice is controlled enough that it (probably) won't wake up Marlene. I swallow hard. "And now you, Vincent Valentine, are offering to serve drinks at my bar! I know you hate people! I know you'd rather be anywhere else than living here !"

"I never…" I need to say things right, and I don't have enough time to think. Think, Vincent, think! "I did not mean to make you feel like that. I want to help."

Tifa takes a few more calming breaths. She shakes her head.

"Gods, Vincent." Eyes closed, she turns her face towards the fire. She must be cold. "You've been nothing but good to us, but I just can't stand it sometimes… you're so…" She opens them to look at me. Do you know what it does it me, Tifa, when you look at me like this? "You're in your own little world. It's like you don't care if you suffer or if you don't feel like doing something. It's like I could tell you to jump off a cliff and you'll do it without even a twitch of your brow." She pauses to take another deep inhale, "Living with you is almost like not living with another person at all."

Somehow that breaks my heart a little. I don't know why.

"I am not suffering." I assure her. I find my good hand reaching to put on her shoulder. I want to make my point. I retract my hand before I touch her. It would not be welcomed. At her searching gaze I repeat, "I am not suffering, Tifa. Quite the contrary, really."

She crosses her arms. Doesn't believe me.

"I enjoy being here." Careful, Vincent. Don't make it worse. Watch your words. I can't reveal too much. It might make her afraid to kick me out when Cloud comes back. I'm sure she never has this sort of argument with him. "I really have… have fun." I try smiling. She cracks a grin.

"That's an awful smile, Vincent." She says softly, almost apologetically. "I don't believe you. It's been hard and messy since day one."

And I wouldn't trade it for the world right now. I love it here, Tifa. I…

"No, it's been... interesting."

"Interesting is just another word for dreadful. It's alright, Vincent." She gives me this sad, sad look, "It's just that you never talk. At all. It's... frustrating. Don't you talk to people you trust?"

Scrunching my brows together I tell her,

"Tifa, I don't even talk to myself. I just don't- don't know-"

"How to be human?" Though my gaze snaps to her I remember that this is something Cid used to say. He made fun of me a lot of times in our travels saying, 'To you being a person is something that happens to other people. You just look at'em and judge them silently in your head'.

"I trust you, Tifa, and I enjoy staying here as long as you would have me." I infuse my words with as much feeling as I can, but it still sounds the same to me.

"Prove it." A tilt of her chin. Did I pick that habit off of her, or did she pick it off of me? I don't recall her doing that before…

"How?"

She thinks a moment.

"Tell me one thing you want . One thing you really really want, Vincent." She interjects before I have a chance to speak, "And if you say anything along the lines of 'I want you to be happy' then I swear I beat you black and blue."

I hear the 'click' of my teeth as my mouth closes. She chuckles, but shakes her head. Something I want? I am quiet content.

"There's nothing-"

"There has to be something," She warns, "Something that you've wanted but didn't mention 'cause you thought—I dunno what you thought." She's quiet wild with her gesticulations, "Anything, Vincent. I 'm sure there's something you want."

I think.

"If… I…" I try again, "If I say this, and you believe me, will you take tomorrow off?"

Putting her face in her palm, and her elbow on her knee, she says,

"Only if you can make me believe it's not just another one of your silent suffering things."

I'm not entirely sure what she means. There are things I'd rather avoid in life, but if I can't avoid them it's really not the end of the world. Isn't like this for everyone? There are things in this world I want but can never have. I cannot ask for them for they are fruitless, but there's something else that has caught my fancy...

I take a breath and admit,

"There's this bakery on the way back from Marlene's school."

Tifa waits, looking at me intently.

"I… I like dinner rolls."

They're so soft and moist and they smell so good…

I don't think she can help the smile on her face right now. She blows her nose and shakes her head,

"You're ridiculous. Of all things to say... Why didn't you just say something?"

"Dinner rolls are expensive. I think I am the only one who likes them."

"I like dinner rolls, too. You should have asked."

"I would not assume to-"

A knuckle raps on the side of my head. Not painful, but enough for me to flinch.

"Idiot." She says, but without venom.

Rubbing that spot I apologize again, only to have her give me a warning glare.

"Alright, alright." She rubs her eyes, blows her nose again, "You're something else, Vincent." Not really. I'm the same thing only damaged. It's like calling a car that fell off a cliff 'something else' because the dents are where you wouldn't expect them.

"It would be bad if this developed to pneumonia." Maybe I just have different ideas as to what is 'suffering'? I don't think of anything I've done here so far as tortuous with perhaps the exception of those first few weeks with Marlene.

"If you promise me that you won't do it again if you don't like it, we can try it."

Alright. It shouldn't be too bad, right? Just serve drinks? Make sure they don't fall, and make sure the costumers get the right drink when it's ready? I've visited enough bars in my time to know what sort of service I've come to expect. I honestly don't think of it as some great sacrifice. No, I don't like people much, but mostly because I freak them out. And then they talk to me and expect me to talk back. I don't like that part.

Oh, will this be my first honest days work? I think it will be the first time in my life I will earn my keep in an honest way. How novel.

Chapter Text

The night is especially quiet without electricity. I can hear people milling about outside, crunching the snow. I hear a small animal sniffing around, on route to somewhere else. Sometimes I miss the quiet of my home. I can see fine in the dark or in candle light, why would I ever mess with electricity? It buzzes, it fizzes and it crackles. The big transformers make a racket.

The next morning I get an unexpected phone call from Reeve. The power hasn't come back, and the house is a little cooler for it.

"Vincent, good to hear you." He says. I cannot help but think of Tifa's words. There's a 'vibe' between us, apparently?

"Reeve."

"I heard about your little tangle with my boys. I apologize."

"They were just doing their jobs."

He chuckles, "Well, they're lucky to still have said jobs. I heard you also took your own file with you?"

"Ah, yes." I had forgotten about it. I really ought to look through it. "You need it?"

"No, not at all. I have it on the computer, anyhow. Which brings me to the reason I called."

I wait, hear him click on the keyboard on the other end of the line.

"I was looking into your file in hopes of finding a good way to give you an ID." Oh, that would be useful. "Wouldn't want that happening again, would we?"

"As nice as their hospitality had been..."

He laughs, "I heard they cuffed you to the chair. No, not good-" He stops, then gladly continues, "I've issued you some ID with special clearances."

"Clearances?"

"Well, anyone who will scan it will be notified that your date of birth is unusual, but correct."

Is it really a good idea? But I guess that if I lie I will have to continue lying and lying. This way at least I have nothing to hide.

"Alright." I say. He clears his throat,

"Which brings me to the next issue..."

"Yes? Is there a problem?"

"Not a problem, per se... But do you know what happens to a bank account if left alone to accumulate interest for over thirty years?"

"Pardon?" What bank account?

He laughs again,

"You're rich, old boy." I hear him adjusting the phone against his ear, "Your salary was cut when you were declared dead by Professor Hojo, but your accounts were left to collect interest for a next of kin to clear out."

"Oh. I see." I guess my brother couldn't even do that much for me. I wouldn't want him to benefit from me in any way, the traitor.

There's a pause on the other side, almost an imperceptible sigh,

"I guess it was a fool's hope to think you would be excited by these news. Ha, I guess I need to remember my audience, eh?"

"I am glad to hear it." I say. Rich? Me? Tifa could go study... Maybe open a business she wants. No more worrying about the bar and the future... Marlene can go to whatever college she wants… "Thanks, Reeve."

The smile in his voice is audible,

"You're welcome, old friend." A pause. He's the only one who calls me 'old friend'. "I was thinking of coming to visit," He continues, "bring you the financial files and the ID personally. I could charter Cid's services. You still live in that house you bought in Wutai?"

"I am not there at the moment." For some reason I suddenly feel self-conscious about the duration of my stay here. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. I'm just here to help. "I'm at Tifa's at the moment."

"Oh?"

I don't plan on elaborating, he doesn't press it. Maybe there is something about Reeve and I, but it's not…

"Yes. We could use the electricity back."

"I heard about that. It should be back sometime tonight."

I respect the man, I understand him on some level. Our relationship has always been one of ease and honesty. He treats me like an old friend and I treat him like the intelligent man that he is. It works for both of us.

Cait Sith, on the other hand, I want to punt.

He asks me to let Tifa know about his plans to visit, I agree and we hang up. I have little time to dwell on it because I hear Tifa welcoming her friend and worker Marry downstairs.

Squaring my shoulders, I make my way down the stairs. This could be a tough night, and the last thing I want to do is chase away her costumers. The place will be lit with candles, we spent most of the day setting that up.

After Tifa promised to go to bed early, I was introduced to Marry. It was hard to miss Tifa's apprehension. I am not known to be a people's person.

Marry is younger than Tifa, maybe just after highschool. She has bleached-blond hair and brown eyes. A quintessential girl just leaving her teens, still trying to learn who she is. Her shirt exposes her belly, but her jeans are practical and well worn, but low enough to expose a string of underwear.

"Vincent, meet Marry. Marry, this is Vincent."

I shake her small, well manicured hand. "As I said, he'll be doing your job tonight and you'll do mine."

"No way I can do you justice, Lockhart." She chirped. She (so far) doesn't seem flustered by my appearance. At least that. She then proceeds to shoo Tifa off to rest. She still looks obviously ill.

When only the two of us remain she takes a slow, critical look over me, top to bottom. I am given the impression that in her mind I'm not wearing much. I admit that had not happened to me in years. Am I blushing?

"Wow." She starts, placing her fingers on her chin as though appreciating a car instead of me. "She didn't mention you're a cutie." Cutie? Did she just say this about me?

There's a moment of silence.

"She did mention you don't talk much."

"Did she mention that I have no formal experience tending bars?"

"Yeah, she did. Although you got me on the 'formal' part. How do you 'formally' tend a bar?" I follow her past the soundproof doors into the empty bar. There's still about an hour until it opens. "I'll see what I can teach you before opening, but the rest you'll have to learn on the fly." Her explanations are simple and straight forward. I think I got a hang of it.

"Allow me to say how swell I think it is that you're doing this for her. I'm sure she appreciates it."

At this point I don't know anymore what she likes or does not like. I do not reply. She continues rambling on, interrupting herself with a very blunt,

"How'd you get that arm?"

I give a start, thought I don't think she can tell. My claw? That's a rude question, isn't it? Still, I'm doing this for Tifa, and I should be polite to her workers. Polite. A million sarcastic answers fly through my head. Polite. Polite.

"Someone didn't like me." Is all I can come up with. She laughs a little carefree laugh. She's just a normal girl, huh?

"Look, very few people come here to have a conversation about life or philosophy. They want to feel better about themselves, you know?"

Yes, I guess I do. I used to come to places like this, too. I nod. "And I have an idea about that arm of yours." She chirps, reaching over the counter. She brings back a nice serving towel and gesturing me to extend my arm, drapes it over it. "Now you look like a proper server, you know?" She seems happy, so I take her word for it.

My heart was beating fast the last minute or so before the bar opened. Nervous like I was before a mission for the Turks. Somehow it felt like the stakes were higher this time. The worse that could have happened in the Turks is that I died. Here… Tifa might get mad at me.

Already there was a patron outside, his collar high against the snow. A flash of fear went straight to my heart- what if it was Cloud? What if Cloud walked in? What if—

"Alrighty!" She chirped again, reaching to unlock the door, "Good luck, new blood!"

It was not Cloud.

At first there were only a couple of guys. They asked Marry where Tifa had gone- it was the first time she was not at work in Holy knows how long. She politely explained to each patron that she was sick and that she was filling in for her. The guys gave me a suspicious look.

"I imagined Cloud to be… I dunno… blonder." Said a patron, not drunk enough yet to excuse this mix-up.

"That's because it's not Cloud." She patted him on the arm like a small child. I gave him his brandy and water. I need to remember what Marry said. No glaring. Tell people your name even if they don't ask. That way they don't have an excuse for yelling 'hey, you!' if they need you.

"Vincent."

"Oh? One of them people who saved the world?" Asks the man. He must be in his late forties. "Even heroes need day jobs, I suppose…"

"I'm just helping out for tonight."

Awkward pause. I excuse myself to go back to the bar and pretend I need to arrange the glasses. I notice Tifa's ledger. It's open on the counter. No electricity means no cash register, either. Transactions are to be jotted down. I note that Marry calculates the change on the corners. Can she not do it in her head?

Throughout the night people come and go. It gets busier and then it ebbs a little. One girl notices me and picks up her PHS. Is she going to report me to someone? I still don't have ID and I still scare people.

When I mention this quickly to Marry during one of the rushes she only gives me this crazed grin, like she was hoping this would happen.

If every night is so busy (almost all the tables were full), then why is Tifa struggling so much?

Chapter Text

Only half and hour later am I privy to Marry's secret reasoning. I don't know how on planet she could have predicted or hoped for this, but now the bar is almost entirely populated by women. It's a 70-30 ratio.

I had never been stared at by so many eyes at once. I find it very unnerving. Still, I stick to the game plan. I tell them my name if they ask. I am polite and I don't glare. The place becomes pretty noisy, and I have to take a break.

"Marry, can I sit down for a moment?"

"Sure, go ahead, hon. You've been running around a lot."

This is hard work! My short term memory is good, but I feel like I've been taxing it. So many orders, so varied and so specific. I think I've gotten them all good so far. Change calculated and given, tabs ran and paid. Tips set aside for Tifa and Marry. Conversations pummel my ears, dozens of fragmented conversations make no sense and adds to my overwhelmed brain.

I find the tall barstool at the back of the little kitchen and sit there for a moment, out of sight.

Catching my breath, I suddenly am overtaken by my age. For some reason the bar is filled with girls, all chatting and chattering and giggling. They're young, beautiful things, and here I am, completely uninterested. A rock unimpressed by hummingbirds.

Holy, I'm old.

Cid laughed at me once, saying that it rotted and fell off from disuse. That man has a way with words. To me they all look like children, laughing at things I cannot begin to understand. Their lives are simple, their pasts unchallenged. Did you know you could type words into the PHS? It can send letters, but all the letters I saw in it were complete gibberish. Just a garble of some secret shorthand I don't understand.

I cannot feel a connection to a person who sends letters on their PHS. I'm sure each of them has had hardship, but it's not the type of hardship I can relate to. Cid once told me that people who grow up as I have usually have a hard time relating to people. He said he was proud of me for not turning into some maniacal psychopath. I told him I was one. He gave me a strange look. Then he punched me in the arm, told me to stop being a "damned idiot".

I go out there and finish the night without any terrible accidents. I did drop one glass, but caught it before it hit the floor. I receive a short round of applause for it. I can't help catching things, it's reflex.

I really don't understand why Tifa's having money problems. The place is pretty busy! And it was a week night, no less.

I help Marry clean up and close. It was more work that I ever had to do in Avalanche. Serving people and keeping one's cool while being talked at is very taxing. I don't mind being shot at, I'm used to that, but this?

"You did great!" She exclaims as I'm wiping down tables.

"Thank you." I reply. "You did very well, I think. No one got the wrong drink." She gives me a toothy grin,

"Tifa's been teaching me real good, you know?"

"You show great promise." I say in way of conversation. What do I know about bartending?

"If you say it, then it must be true!"

Why would she say that? She continues without my asking, "I mean you, like, saved the world, you know? You gotta know what you're talking about!"

I keep from correcting her. Let her believe what she will. Weirdo.

We finish up and she counts the till. "Good numbers!" She gives me the 'thumbs up'. She leaves.

I lock up, look at the bar: It's showing the signs of its use. I'll have to do something about that. Picking up the ledger, I pass the soundproof door to the living area.

Tifa is asleep on the couch in front of the dead Television. She's wrapped in a blanket and has a stone-cold cup of tea on the coffee table.

I walk slowly towards her. She stirs.

"What? Oh…" She rubs at her eyes. "Hey." She smiles at me sleepily.

"What are you doing out of bed?" I scold her. Her smile fades a little.

"I…"

"You weren't waiting up by any chance, were you?"

"Umm… A little?" She has the dignity to look sheepish. I scowl at her, and she grins again, "How did it go? You godda tell me!" She coughs a little, and I'm tempted to simply usher her to her bed and talk about it in the morning. But she looks so anxious, and for her to stay up all these hours just to hear how it went…

"It went well." I confirm. What, she wants to know more? I don't know what to say. "Apparently it was a good night for business."

"Really?" That alone seemed to cheer her. "It's Monday. That's odd."

"It must have been an event or something." I say, "The place was full of women."

She starts muttering about not hearing about anything and how women actually hardly ever come in when she looks at me and starts laughing.

Another coughing fit, but she laughs almost through it.

"You can't be that dense!" She croaks.

"I can." I am still scowling. She really should be in bed.

"It didn't occur to you that you were the reason they were there?"

"It did." It actually did, but I refuse to believe it. "But that cannot be the case. It was one of those things, Tifa, nothing more." Before she can protest or say anything else I sternly say, "Now off to bed with you. You must get better soon."

"Did you suffer?" She looks back at me as I'm handling her to her room upstairs. She's tired, woozy and slightly feverish.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow. I'm going to paruse through your ledger and look at the numbers if you don't mind."

"Not at ah!—"

She trips on a step leading up.

I catch her.

She's inches away from me, I have her by the arms to steady her.

I can feel the heat radiating off of her. I can sense her breath, caught in her throat.

So close that I can see the blemishes of her skin, where old scars are long gone. I can see the moisture in her eyes. Her eyes are clear and conscious.

I steady her. Then mutter something and go into my room, breathing hard.

Cloud, come back!

The next morning I bring her breakfast to her door. Electricity had returned during the night and her electric stove is now available for the making of tea and eggs.

"It's me." I say.

"Come in." She coughs. I open the door. This is my first foray into her room since I've started staying here. It's a little messy, but in a lived-in sort of way. There're a pile of her work clothes covering the one chair in the room. The floor is scattered with a few bags of knickknacks she purchased and never unpacked. The summer sheet is in a heap against the wooden dresser. If it weren't for the queen-sized bed, one would never even guess that there's another person who's supposed to share this room. A picture of the two of them with Denzel and Marlene is on the bedside table where I assume he would sleep.

I lay the tray at on her knees as she sits in bed.

"How did you know I was awake?" She smiles sleepily at me. Her digital clock says it's 11:30. I hate digital.

"I assumed you'd be up."

She gives me a 'that's unlikely' look.

"I heard you." I admit. She chuckles. "You started sniffing." I explain then.

"You can hear me sniffling from the guestroom?"

"You're sniffs are very… you." She chuckles again. I turn to leave. She stops me when my hand is on the handle,

"Vincent…"

I don't turn. There's a softness in her tone, and I don't want to see her face. Call me heartless, but I can't bear it. I can't stand the idea that it's all just temporary.

"How did it go yesterday?" I get the feeling that's not what she was meaning to ask, but I answer,

"It went well." I say, but she knows as well as I that's not what she asked, "Did you… like it? Was it fun?"

Fun? No. Different? Yes. I have never done something like that before. It's not really what I'd like to continue doing. I don't like exposing myself to people. Serving them, answering their questions, having their eyes on me…

"It went well enough." I repeat and leave her with breakfast.

I am just here until he comes back.

I'm here to help.

I'm only here until I'm replaced.

I might not even be here. "Living with me is like not living with anyone".

Just suffer it a little longer and then it'll be over.

It'll all be over.

Cloud, I'm not impressed.

Chapter Text

Towards the evening she's feeling a lot better.

I need to be careful or else I'll fall. I'll fall and fall and who knows where I'll end up. Last time it was torture and a coffin in the basement, this time could be worse.

To pass the time today (It's just noon) I've decided to go and buy wax and then wax the floor. I was educated at the shop that there are machines one can rent out to do the job, instead of rubbing the floor on your hands and knees.

Once the boy at the store started explaining about Watts and what-nots, I decided to buy the manual verity and use my hands and knees with a cloth.

When Tifa finally (some hours after I started fixing up the floors) came down to the bar, she seems rather surprised.

"Wha- What's all this?" She asked, looking a little better, still with her blanket around her and her cup of tea.

"I'm waxing the floor." I answer the obvious. My sleeves are rolled up and I'm wearing an older pair of pants. Wiping some sweat off my brow, I shake the waxing rag to loosen whatever had gotten stuck in it. A small piece of sand or something had gotten itself lodged in there, I think. I'm seeing scratches every time I turn around.

Sitting down on my ankles and catching my breath, I take a look at Tifa. She's standing clutching at her blanket. Marlene had left early this morning, something about a day trip out with her class.

"How are you feeling?" I ask her.

"Better…" She answers distractedly, looking at my handiwork, "What are you doing?"

"Waxing the floor." I repeat. Was it not obvious the first time I said it? "It was getting a little… worn."

Tifa blinks at me.

"There are machines that do it, you know. You don't have to use a rag." Her eyes are slowly following the mess I've created, the pile of wax-stripper bottles on one side of the room. The wax itself beside me. I'm almost done, actually.

"The man at the shop was saying something about Watts, amperage and Volts." I say. "I'd rather understand what I'm doing than."

"You really don't like machines, do you?" There's humour in her voice.

I continue scrubbing, instead of answering her I say, "I am just trying to get these thin scratch marks off the wax before it dries completely. I think the rag's defective." After scrubbing a section I look around. There, where I just finished scrubbing before Tifa came in there are scratches on the wax. Damn this rag! The area I just cleaned looks good, though. I don't understand.

Turning around on my knees, I scrub that area, again. When I'm done, I take another look. Did I miss anything?

The area I just finished a moment ago. Scratches. Damnit!

Tifa notices my irritation because she asks why I returned to the place I just finished. I explain the case the mysteriously appearing scratches. Instead of offering help she just laughs so hard she has to lean on the floor.

"First of all, Vincent, I never told you to rewax my bar." I blush a little, I'm sure. Have I made another mistake? She's holding her stomach, the blanket loosely around her shoulders. "Secondly, it looks great." She calms down a little, looking down at me. "Thirdly, you're probably the only one who could possibly see the scratches." Now she leans real close to my face, scrunching hers to try and discern the blemishes on the floor. When she sees one of them, she looks at me. "And fourthly…" She chuckles again, "You're an idiot." She looks away, and I follow her gaze.

She's looking at my feet.

The points are pointing down. I am on my knees and hands.

I am scratching the floor! I've spend the last forty-five minutes of what was already a long job cleaning up the gouges my own feet had left! Running in circles after my own footsteps!

Tifa's howling with laughter again.

Embarrassment is something I used to, ridicule, however…

"I…"

She's doubled over, grabbing her stomach and laughing so hard that she has no more voice. There are tears in her eyes.

"I was just trying to help!" I hop to my feet, "Laughing at me is very unbecoming!" Damnit! How could I have been so foolish? My face feels hot.

She puts a hand on my shoulder to keep her balance, still doubled over. A few hiccupping breaths later and she manages to utter,

"You should have seen the look on your face when we noticed your shoes! You looked so shocked!" And she's gone again, laughing hysterically. I stalk off to the living room, wanting her to calm down. I worked hard all day for to get move the furniture, clean and remove the old wax from the floor. I worked hard! I'm tired and irritated. Walking out of the bar would have probably been more impressive if I hadn't nearly slipped on the damn new layer of wax!

After fifteen minutes of my sulking in the living room Tifa walks in and I feel the burn of embarrassment all over again. Damnit. What an idiot I am!

She has a big smile on her face, a sort of smugness.

"Hey,"

I turn away, looking at the blank television. I don't like watching it, the images flicker constantly and I can see the lines they're made out of.

"Oh, don't be like that!" Tifa closes the distance between us quickly, sitting on the couch beside me. She puts her hand on mine, and I draw it away instinctively.

"It was really funny!" She protests, "I didn't mean to laugh so hard, I'm sorry." The smile is still in her voice, and I can't seem to remain angry. I was being pretty stupid, after all. "I was…" She starts, then rephrases pleasantly, "I think it was really sweet that you wanted to do so much for me while I was feeling sick." She coughs a little, still not completely over it, "Thanks."

I look at her. She's sitting beside me, hand on the couch and just not touching me. Leaning towards me with sincerity all over her features. "I think I want to keep those miniscule scratches! It's not like anyone can see them." She chuckles again, "I wish I had a camera to take a picture of your face!"

At my expression she says, "Oh, come on!" She shoves my shoulder playfully, "Take it easy! It was funny!"

I sigh. Hearing her laugh… It sure beats hearing her cry. So I suppose I'll tolerate my mistake for that.

The next couple of days are more work for me. She insists she can go back to work, but whenever I ask her if she's not worried about infecting her clients by sneezing/coughing on them, she backs down. You can always depend on her to worry about others.

It's getting later in the month. Karaoke is only a couple of weeks away. Holy help me. I don't sing, it's not really something I've ever done. I hum, I tap my foot, but I don't sing. Even in the Turks when I'd get totally smashed I still wouldn't sing!

Tifa had gotten better and after only three more days of my serving took over the bar again. She got many compliments for the polished floors. I took silent pride in that. Marlene thought the place looked just fine before and didn't see the point in a new polish job. Oh, well, you can't win them all.

It was on just another day, while Tifa and I were having lunch that she got a phone call. I did my best not to eavesdrop, but the second I detected alarm in her voice I rushed to the divide between the kitchen and the dining area.

"What? Is Marlene ok?"

Marlene? Had something happened to Marlene? I can hear the other side of the conversation through the headset at Tifa's ear,

"She's fine, Ms. Lockhart, just a broken arm. She fell while playing soccer outside. We took her to Edge Memorial Hospital."

Tifa finishes the conversation and rushes to grab her things. I grab my keys as well and we're off to Edge Memorial.

The Hospital is sickeningly white, and the second we walk in I want to walk out. Why did I even think that I should come here? The smell of it all nauseates me and nearly makes me stumble as I follow Tifa's frantic step to the reception desk.

Tifa learns her whereabouts and we're off again in near trot. Marlene, are you ok?

The nurse at the entrance to her room says "Dear, your parents are here to see you." I take note of that and open my mouth to speak, but Tifa just grabs my arms, thanks her and rushes us both in.

I want to get out of here.

Marlene seems ok, sitting on the medical bed and pouting. Her eyes are puffy and her expression more disappointed and annoyed then scared or hurt. As I breath in and out I notice it. I notice that I want to throw up, that I want to run yet my arms and legs are leaden. I notice that my breathing doesn't seem to actually convey any air to my body. I feel like I'm dying.

I want to get out of here.

"I want to get out of here." I hear myself breath. Never intended to say it out loud. But I have become somehow more relaxed in Tifa's presence. Things that would normally get caught in the net of words slip through. Tifa's attention, until now completely on her young charge snaps to me. At first her brows scrunch, then shoot up as she looks at me and realizes.

"Yeah, of course! Sorry- Why don't you wait for us at home? I think Marlene could use some food and a nice comfy bed."

I don't remember leaving the building but I find my senses outside the front door and across the street. The smell fades, my heart rate comes back down from the sky.

The walk home feels lonely and surreal, like I had just woken up from a dream to find myself inside another one.

In this dream I'm walking along at sunset to a place I can finally call home. It's not really my home, but you know how dreams can convince you that what you're going through right now is so real?

Only when I enter the house through the back door that leads to the kitchen do things seem real again. Common smudges, dishes that are my responsibility to clean. Small real things that make life what it is.

I take off my coat and make sure that my feet don't leave wet or muddy trails.

Chapter Text

Marlene is asleep after eating and taking the home dose of painkillers. Tifa and I are sitting at the bar, a perfect recreation of that morning after the funeral. The idea of something happening to Marlene sends shivers down my spine and I gulp down my shot of scotch. Tifa sighs. We had finished the dishes and my cooking seemed palatable to all present.

"She'll be fine in no time." I assure her pointlessly. She smiles genuinely at me.

"Thanks." She says, "What would I do without you?"

I frown at this, and she stutters a moment before conversation turns elsewhere by her; "I wanted to apologize for taking you into the hospital. That was really thoughtless of me."

I try and interrupt, but she silences me with a look. She's starting to know me, I fear.

"I won't let you turn this to somehow be your fault. I'm really glad you told me you wanted to leave instead of suffering. But I'm sorry nonetheless that I didn't think about your feelings." She paused, frowns and continues, "You like to pretend you're not really there, you want people to not notice you, but you can't live with someone and not show your hand eventually."

Then she looks me in the eye and with severity and sincerity that truly touches me says, "You like dinner rolls, you're not a very good cook. You prefer to watch from the sidelines and you have a wicked sense of humour. Vincent, I think you're awesome and I think I've only seen the tip of the iceberg."

I stare at her, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth and I don't try to stop it. It's just Tifa and I here, and it's nice to hear it from her. It really is nice. Maybe I'm not so invisible after all.

"I'm not perfect." Is all I can muster. She snorts, "Hell, no, but neither am I." Then unfortunately, she goes on to elaborate;

"You're hopelessly afraid of attention, you have no self esteem, you tap your fingers and you let people treat you poorly and push you around." Then she repeated, "But I still think you're awesome."

"I..." I am surprised when it's not hard to say it, "I think you are awesome as well, Tifa."

We chat about unimportant things, life and day to day. I go to sleep that night feeling oddly full, as though I've had a massage or a really good meal.

Cloud, never ever come back. Not in a million years.

But then she'll be sad.

I'm selfish. I want all of her smiles just for me. It's not just about being lonely, it's about her and Marlene. I want to see Marlene grow up every day.

It's not always pretty and it's very rarely glamorous, but I want it. I want it so bad that I couldn't explain it to you if I tried.

And I know I'm just on borrowed time, just trying to remember as much of this as I can before it's all over.

Her happiness is...

I get dreams, sometimes. It started a couple of days ago and it's been getting more common. Dreams, perhaps you could call them nightmares.

Cloud comes back in most of them. In some of them we get a call and he's dead.

In some of them he kicks my ass for staying around to help.

It's usual for me to have nightmares that make sense. Nightmares about something specific and not just a concept or an idea, like being chased or tied down...

I don't like them. All the ones about Cloud coming back are so real. I wake up with my heart pounding and fear gripping me, this terrible sense of loss. They're so real that I always have to take a moment to reorient myself and assure myself that he's not back yet. He's not back yet.

The sick thing, and the reason that I'm starting to hate these is that I know it's just a matter of time for the real thing.

Cid, Shera and Reeve are coming to visit us today. It's Saturday and all three of us are cleaning the house in the morning before their arrival. It's amazing how much dust gathers in corners, how many receipts gather on the desk, and how much all these details mean to me...

Marlene is just coming down from her room after placing all her toys back when the doorbell rings. Tifa answers it and the room erupts into cheers and hellos. Hugs are exchanged between them and when Cid notices me he comes round and throws his arm over my shoulders, forcing me to stoop closer to his height.

"Hey, there, Vince!" He announces, "You replaced your gun with the far more deadly feather duster. I like it."

I release myself from his grip and put the duster back in the closet.

"Good to see you, too."

"Ye, gads! You're smiling!" He gasps, mockingly mimicking 'The Scream' painting. I all I can do is roll my eyes.

Reeve and I shake hands and Shera gives me a hug I have to nearly double over to return. Shera is very... motherly. Nerves of steel, though.

I have never understood how people I had observed can meet and immediately start chatting and laughing and greeting. It's like 15 different conversations between only 5 people. Astonishing.

"You're looking well." Reeve comments as we were adjourning to the living room. Marlene has been given a large share of the hugs available. I think most of our friends aren't entirely sure how to treat her. This is the first time they've seen her since the funeral.

She's adorable and intelligent, so it doesn't take long for conversation to revolve around her. There's also the matter of getting all the attention over her broken arm. Reeve speaks to me while everyone else is distracted.

"What you're doing is very kind." He says softly, looking earnest. For a double agent the man is surprisingly honest. Sometimes I wonder if they had just asked Cait Sith if he was a traitor, would he have simply told us the truth.

And, of course, being the head of WRO means he knows everything. I cringe internally.

"Don't worry, it's not common knowledge."

Maybe that's the vibe Tifa mentioned. This understanding between us. He passes me an envelope.

"Since I've reinstated you as being alive, inside this envelop is the breakdown of your finances and your ID. I hope you'll find both satisfactory."

I nod my thanks as I peek into the envelope. After a moment at the kitchen table I sign that I have received it.

I guess I am rich. It's not a bad feeling. It's not longer what I dream to become, but I internally give a nod to young-me. There you go, young me, one less thing for you to worry about.

What I am trying to work around now is how to get Tifa to accept any money from me. How to set up an education fund for Marlene that wouldn't be too awkward when Cloud comes back. I'm not really part of the family. I'm not.

Reeve, perhaps sensing my insecurity, places a friendly hand on my back.

"What ShinRa had done to you cannot be rectified with money, but paying you back is the least I could do." He leaves me then to stare at the financial figures as he goes to chat with Tifa.

Tifa must have felt the same apprehension as I when discussing how long I've been here. She gracefully sidesteps and talks around it. Cid, however slow he may seem, is no fool. He stares right at me, then invites me to keep him company as he has a smoke.

He's trying to quit. Again. But this time it's not me on his case, but Shera, so he has a much higher chance. He's down to a stick a day, which is a nice decline from more than two packs a day.

We stand outside under the small cover the roofs provides. The back yard is just a pile of snow. The tree bare and stickly, looking for all intents dead. I know come spring it'll burst into life like always. I can see my breath, and Cid lights up, letting the smoke travel up leisurely as he chooses his words.

"So, no Cloud."

"No."

Another long pause. For once, I break the silence,

"He calls from time to time. Asks how things are and gives a status report."

"F^%k. What a moron."

A way with words.

"You've been here all this time?"

"I've gone back to restock on essentials, but yes."

"Always were a sucker for her."

I can only purse my lips. My human fingers are cold, so I stuff my hand in my pocket. "So, you two get anywhere?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." I play dumb. It's a rude question to ask while she's in a relationship. Such as it were.

He just chuckles, letting out some more smoke. He looks well these days. Shera encourages him to keep in shape and less smoking means less irritability. His hair is a little longer, too, and it makes him look younger.

"I'm sure you don't, you old stiff." He looks at me, and his blue eyes are their usual piercing brightness, "I'm sure you've stuck around just 'cause you're a goddamn saint."

"Hey." I say, offended, "I'm just here to help. Nothing's going on between us."

He shakes his head, putting out the butt of his cigarette in the snow. "I'm sure there's lots between you. Neither of you have done anything about it, that's all."

"She's waiting for Cloud."

"She's not that dumb."

"What?"

He pauses, puts his hands in his jackets and we're both leaning on the wall outside. It's easy talking to him sometimes. He listens. That's big. This time I'm listening to him;

"It's been how long since he left her high and dry? You sure she even wants him back?"

"It's not my place to ask." I answer sternly. It isn't. I had never really considered it. I've always been a little obsessive, a little hard to let go. I assume everyone is like me. Maybe she isn't? She never spoke of it, so I doubt it. She would have been very upset had she set her heart against Cloud, and I would have noticed.

Would I?

"She let you stay here for how long...?"

"It'll be six months at the end of the week." Same day as Karaoke. I don't tell him that. The last thing I need is a larger audience. He'd make a point to come and invite all of AVALANCHE just to see me squirm.

"You in love with her?" He bluntly asks, looking square at my profile. I was sort of expecting him to ask it, but I still tense up. My enhanced hearing can detect no sign of life within earshot, so I square my shoulders, stick out my chin and answer,

"Irrelevent, and none of you business." Too quickly, though, and too much edge to it. He laughs.

"I'll take that as a Vincent 'yes'."

"Shut up."

Here he just throws back his head with a laugh, not in the least offended. He puts his arm around my shoulders again. "You poor idiot." Then he takes both my shoulders in his hands so that I face him and his expression is sympathetic when he says, "Go for it, man. The worse that can happen is that you rock the boat a little."

I open my mouth to speak, but he continues,

"I know that in the World of Vincent that's like asking you to shoot yourself in the balls, but you don't get what you don't chase after."

I raise a brow. He smacks me on the side of the head,

"Cloud's not Hojo and after this stunt, everyone will cheer if Tifa ends up with a good guy like you. He can go to hell."

He goes in.

I blow a large huff of air in front myself, waiting some time before going in to cool my ragged nerves after this discussion. I hate talking about things concerning me. I hate it.

Hate this complicated situation. Hate the drama.

Hate rocking the boat.

Hate me for getting myself in this. Had I left right after the funeral...

Then I'd be all alone in Wutai, life going nowhere. I would have never seen Marlene's smile, nor Tifa's laughter... Huffing out the last of my agitation I walk back in just as Cid had finished some quip or other and they all burst into marry laughter, with Marlene's smile indicating it was probably an adult jest she only understood half of. They invite me into their conversation, and I find myself actually participating a little, much to everyone's surprise and my hidden pride.

Chapter Text

I don't know how to approach the money issue. I can't very well just give her the money. It is hard enough to pass her groceries money, let alone tuition and living expenses for whatever it is she may want.

Marlene asks me when I had short hair, like in my ID. I say this was me over thirty years ago. Both girls seem pretty impressed.

"You look the same!" Tifa exclaimed, glancing up and down from the card to my face.

"Hardly." I answer.

"You should try cutting your hair again, it's really cute short."

"Hmm..." I mock contemplate, "Cute you say? I will make sure to burn this picture."

Marlene laughs, says there's nothing wrong with 'cute'. I tell her that's because she's a girl.

That evening, a day before Karaoke, I try to confront Tifa over the money.

Wish me luck!

"Tifa." I start. Bad start, because she looks at me like I'm going to scold her or something. We had just finished cleaning after dinner. Marlene is in the shower preparing for bed.

"Yeah? What's wrong?"

"N- Nothing's wrong." I reply, putting the dry dishes in the high cabinet Tifa has trouble reaching.

"You never stutter. Something's wrong."

Damnit. She's getting to know me.

Or is this a good thing?

"I wanted to speak with you about something." Too formal. I cringe even as I sit back at the dinner table with the evening herbal tea.

"Oh, boy." She smiles mournfully, sitting adjacent to me at the head of the table. "This can't be good."

"No. I mean yes- it is good. It is nothing bad, is what I am trying to say."

"You haven't said anything yet."

I blow air towards my loose bangs, and she gives out a laugh, knowing how easily frustrated in conversations I can get. She's goading me.

"I want to talk."

"Nothing's stopping you!" She laughs again. "Besides, I know what this is about."

"You do?" I'm pretty sure she doesn't. Unless Reeve had told her before he left of my windfall?

"Yeah. You're heading away, aren't you?"

This again.

"No."

She stares at me a long moment. I divert my gaze from her honey-mead eyes to her tea. Similar color, steamy.

Did I tell you I had another nightmare last night? Cloud had come back. For some reason I was doing laundry, even though I never do. I was holding all the warm laundry and in he comes. I don't speak in this dream, He just yells at me and he hates me. He kicks me out, but I still have the laundry in my hands and I want to return it...

"I want to give you a present." I say. Perhaps I should have thought of this conversation first. Perhaps I should have played it out in my head instead of flying by the seat of my pants.

She smiles at me, uncertain why I am so serious.

"I like presents." She answers, "But you'll have to give one to Marlene, too, or she'll be jealous."

"It's not that kind of present, and I'm not certain how to convince you to accept it."

"I don't entirely understand. What kind of present can it be that I—"

"Money."

There a long moment of silence.

"I don't get it."

"I have received... back pay from ShinRa." She's looking at me, studying my expression. Her smile has faded, now she wants to understand. I continue, "I want to give you a present of education of a business, of a future safety for Marlene."

She starts to protest, raising a hand and shaking her head, "Vincent, I—"

"Please, let me finish explaining."

How often have I had the guts to tell someone else to be quiet? It's because it's Tifa, and maybe at this point I know she'll understand and won't be mad. She snaps her mouth shut, but I can see by the set of her chin that she's going to take a lot of convincing.

"I've been thinking about this. This isn't a rash decision. I've no use of money, especially not that much money. I want to do this. You keep telling me to say when I want something- well- I want to give this to you two."

Taking a breath to make sure I'm done, she says,

"I really couldn't, Vincent. The problem isn't whether or not you have a lot of money. It's..."

"You're worried about strings attached?" I try, "I'm not that kind of person."

She shakes her head, her haphazard ponytail wiggling behind her.

"Let's leave the whole 'how do I explain this to Cloud' thing out for a moment, I can't take your money. It'd be taking advantage of you. I don't think you're going to stay here forever, and after you're gone..."

"I will never ask for the money back." I assure her. If I can convince her to take it, I really don't want Cloud enjoying it. But that's not my business, I guess.

"But you might regret giving it to us." I frown, and she tries to explain, trying to be nice as she turns it down, "Maybe not right away, but who knows how long from now you might want to do something that you won't be able to because you gave us- people unconnected to you, really- the money you could have saved for yourself."

"Then a long time from now I will smile at myself and wonder how you girls are doing and give you a call." Is my answer, to which I add, "And I can't possibly think of anything that I might want to do that would make me regret letting you study or do what you want. No regret can come of that."

"You're too good to us." She shakes her head, but it tells me her answer is unchanged. "Besides," She laughs again, bringing levity back to our serious discussion, "I still don't know what I would study!"

"And then there's Cloud." I say, refusing to let the issue drop so quickly. It's important to me. If Cloud is a hindrance to her decision then let's face it. He has been a taboo subject between us. The only times he's allowed to be mentioned is when he calls. Any other time he is to be sidestepped and talked-around. Her gaze snaps to me from her shoes.

"Well, he is... I mean..." She fumbles around for a moment. Yes, I understand. How do you explain to your absent lover that you've received a large sum of money from another man? More money than he could hope to provide from his business?

"I wish to invest in a venture I know will yield massive dividends," I try to crack a smile, "I want to invest in you girls' futures. Would he mind?"

She looks away now. Brow twitching with who-knows-what thoughts about the blond.

"I guess it wouldn't matter if he minded." She mutters. I don't know what she means, or if she had even meant it for my ears. My heart thumps in my chest and I blink at her. She recovers quickly, ending the conversation with a firm,

"I'll think about it, Vincent. Thank you either way. You're truly a good person."

Hardly. Had I been that good I would have known not to bring up Cloud.

Never come back, Cloud.

Before I know it the dreaded day arrives. No Cloud to save me from going to the Karaoke bar. I had hoped the snow would block us in, but Tifa's massive strength cleared the entrance to the bar in record time. I am very bad at shovelling snow, as she discovered. I'm fast, not strong.

The bar is closed since there's too much snow for most people to run around. Tifa knows the owner of the Karaoke place and they'll let us in as a special favour. Just us, at least. No strangers, no uninvited guests.

"So you're promising me that Cid won't be meeting us there?"

She laughs, looking for her snow mittens in the pile of clothes and shoes and scarves by the door,

"For the last time, dummy, I wouldn't do that to you!"

"And no recording devices anywhere in the proximity?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake, no!" Her smile is radiant. She's not thinking about it. It's just there. She's happy because we're going someplace. She gets to relax. She gets to see her daughter smile and laugh. I make a face of distrust and she laughs again.

Tifa assures that I'll have fun, but I doubt it. Can you imagine me singing? Neither can I. I'm sure I'll be off key and I can't imagine how stressful that would be to just have Tifa and Marlene looking at me, expecting me to sing. I freeze up when people want me to talk , let alone something like this...

We're getting ready near the bar entrance, the easiest way, especially on a snowy day like this, to get to the main road. I'm going to insist that I'm not going to sing. No amount of prodding, moping, or even cattle prodding, is going to make me sing.

"Are you going to sing?" Marlene asks me, as if reading my mind, tying her big winter boots on. By 'big' I mean only compared to what she usually wears, of course. I don't have to worry about things like snow boots because my shoes are welded to my shins. Try it sometimes. Saves you a lot of money.

"I'll consider it. It'd take a lot of bribing."

"Or alchohol." Tifa chirps.

"Or both." I shrug.

"A little belt of liquid courage?" She winks at me. That's Tifa, not Marlene.

"Something like that. I'm not really a brave person."

Here Marlene starts on the other shoe, nonchalantly asking,

"Didn't you jump off the Highwind to save me one time?"

"Yes, but-"

"And didn't you duck in front of the Tonberry knife for me once?"

"That was the Cover ma-"

"And didn't you save the world at least once?"

"All that isn't brave. It's more..." Vague hand gesture here- think of something- "Stupid."

They just stare at me like I'm joking. Then Tifa asks, cocking her hip just so,

"You're saying people who save the world are stupid?"

"No, I-"

"You're saying that jumping to save me was stupid?"

"No! I- I just-"

"You know what, Vincent?"

I give her a helpless look. Between these two I have no chance,

"Stick to what you're good at, and it ain't talking."

I feel a smile tug at my lips for her attitude, "And what's that?" I dare her.

"Three things;" She counts on her fingers, "One, looking handsome."

Wait, what?

"Two, getting things from high places."

Well, yes. I suppose, but what's this about the first one...?

"Three, managing to always be at the wrong place at the wrong time."

That is a truth if I've ever heard it. My only response is a roll of my eyes.

"Are we ready?"

"I can't find my scarf." Marlene had just finished putting on her shoes and is looking at the box beside Tifa. The latter rummages through the contents and pulls out a purple wolly one.

"You can use mine."

"I don't like it." Marlene answers with a pout, "It itches."

"Where did you leave it?" Asks the mother.

After a moment's thought she remembers, "I came in through the back door in the kitchen. I think it's hanging there.

They both look at me expectantly.

Left only to roll my eyes again, I set out with my clean feet-shoes to retrieve the wayward item.

It's right there, hanging on the hook by the open door.

An open door?

And Cloud.

Chapter Text

He's just taking his shoes off, looking as normal as anything. Just looks at his laces as he picks at them. One of his hands has a set of jingling keys to the house with a scratched up yellow chocobo keychain. The other is holding the doorframe for balance.

A large, beaten up old duffle bag is resting on the floor near the door, a small puddle forming where the snow on it melts. One of the zippers is broken. Cloud's face is slightly unshaven, like a day had gone by since it had seen a razor.

His winter jacket is well worn and snow has gathered at his shoulders.

For a moment I'm stuck speechless.

This must be another dream.

His boots are heavy, his stance weary, but relaxed. He's home.

He's home.

His home.

It's a nightmare.

"Cloud." I breath, as I do in each of those dreams.

The great guillotine in the sky has fallen on the strings that hold up my heart, and it plummets to my artificial feet. His head snaps up and he has a hard time making me out in the dim room. He drops his other shoe and fumbles for the light.

"Vincent?" Once he sees me. "What are you doing in my house?" He's not angry, just... surprised. I want to scream, I want to turn around and leave with Tifa and Marlene and they'll never learn that he was here. Foolishness, of course.

He's going to start screaming at me, accusing me of things I wanted, but never actually did do.

They're at the bar entrance, the one facing the street. There's the soundproof door between us. They won't hear him. I could run.

I could leave without them knowing. Have him distract them in the bar as I run away and never answer my PHS again in fear of breaking down.

Coward.

He's still waiting for my reply, but he's used to my silence. He steps closer and pats me on the shoulder, smiling.

What does he know of the Vincent who answers? Of the Vincent who smiles? What does he know about who I am now?

"Good to see you, man." He greets me, "I admit yours wasn't the first face I was expecting to see." He chuckles to himself. "Where are Tifa and Marlene?" He looks around eagerly.

He can't see into my heart. The rage, the pain, the fear...

For one intense moment I hate him more than ever thought I could. All my respect for our fearless leader in the days of AVALANCHE reduced to this one moment where I wish him to have never existed. To have never returned, to have never taken me out of the coffin.

"They're..." My voice cracks a little, he pays it no mind, "They're in the bar. We were heading out."

"Good thing I got here when I did!" He exclaims cheerfully, rushing past me to the soundproof door, "I have good news!"

The door opens, gasps of surprise, the door shuts, and from all the way here, all I can make out of their conversations are the high notes of exclaimed reunion. Snippets, not enough to make out tone or content.

I'm rooted to my place in this dream-state. Rooted with despair and disbelief. A nightmare. I'll wake up soon for another day of this wonderful mundane heaven.

I knew this day would come, as I had in every dream, but I still can't handle it.

Was never good at handling. Heavy feet start moving, my breath shallow. I feel like I've been shot. Lungs suck in nothingness in a burning chest.

Torn between going to my room- I mean- the guest room and packing, and going to see how the reunion is going.

Torn between running and walking, both feel like they'd kill me. Can't walk- must escape... Can't run- can't make feet listen...

A real grief, unlike what I had felt when Barrett died.

The door opens and it's Tifa, looking out of breath and worried. Her eyes are wide and they find mine immediately. Maybe she knows how much this is killing me. Then again, maybe she doesn't.

"Vincent." My name, just like that. There's nothing to say. Nothing she can tell me.

She can tell me that I'm sleeping in and then I'll wake up to another day. Another hour. Just give me another second ! I'm not done... I've not had my fill...!

So, so selfish.

It has always been his life, his home, his family. I've been living what it's like to be Cloud. If he was here, that is.

"I'll-" I find my throat dry, "I'll go pack." She opens her mouth to speak, but she doesn't say anything. Presses her hand to her bosom like Aeris used to do and looks away.

I climb the stairs, good hand trailing on familiar objects. I want to remember what they felt like. I want to remember every detail, so that when I'm back there I could maybe close my eyes and be here again.

I pass by Marlene's room. The door is cracked open. My eyes drink in the messy floor, a few items of clothing on the floor, her weekend homework on her desk. Mitsuko by the lamp.

My room. The guest room. My duffle from the corner. It's empty. Soon objects start going into it with a numb hand. I've done this in my nightmares before. Leaving.

Leaving.

Maybe when I'm back there and this all fades away the pain will subside. I just need to keep on forcing my muscles to react until I can breathe again, think again.

My toothbrush from the bathroom, a couple of books I had bought here. A couple of guns. Clothes next, but the duffle gets yanked from my hands and ends up on the floor.

"So you're just leaving?" Marlene demands, standing with her feet apart, like Tifa's fighting stance. Her tiny face is furious. She's wearing a jeans dress with a sweater underneath and denim pants. Her favourite purple butterfly pin is keeping some of her bangs out of her intelligent brown eyes. She's still wearing her winter boots. She's tracking old mud through.

Not my problem.

Not my house.

Not my life.

I stare at her.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask, just above a whisper. "This isn't my home." I reach for my duffle but she grabs it and tosses it with her one good hand away from me, back to the corner. Some of the smaller items fall out and scatter under the bed. She doesn't care.

"It's more yours than his!" She exclaims emphatically.

"It isn't my place." I tell her, my voice has no inflection, and my heart is too alive to handle, so I pretend it is dead to all observers.

Always hiding.

Not my house.

Knew this day would come.

"Cloud is home. Aren't you happy?"

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" She demands, stomping a little foot, "You can't just pass me to other people! I get attached! I want you here, not Cloud!"

"But Tifa-"

"Have you asked her?" She yells. She's brave. Brave and sweet and I would love to hug her goodbye, but what if what she says is true?

"It would be wrong of me to press my wishes onto her. It's Cloud she had been waiting for and Cloud has returned."

"What's wrong with pushing your wishes on others?" She asks, intense and determined, "You did it to me to help me. You made me realize that I can't just feel sorry for myself, so..." She cocks one hip in a perfect imitation of Tifa, "Are you coming down with me, or do I need to drag you?"

I honestly almost smile. She's amazing, but there's no hope, no chance. I will burn this bridge if I do this...

But what do I have to lose? I can't... How selfish would that be? I would never see Tifa or Marlene again... They'll hate me...

"Her happiness is... Is what's important to me." I say, placating. Please understand that I can't. It's wrong. I hate the way the phrase comes out.

"He was gone for six months." Marlene gesticulates in the general direction of downstairs, "You think she was happy with that? That I was? He—" She changes her mind, says instead, "Well, I will be extremely unhappy if you don't go downstairs and at least say whatever it is you want to say!"

I am interrupted before I can retort,

"I know you love her! I can see it! So if you don't go down there and tell her then I'll be unhappy and then you'll be unhappy 'cause you care more about other people's happiness than your own!" She pants after this run on sentence.

No, I cannot tell her. I cannot. Life isn't as simple as that, Marlene. It's ugly and messy and complicated and love makes it ten times worse.

I will go down and say my farewells. I cannot leave Tifa... I cannot leave Tifa without saying at least goodbye and thank you.

I'm in a haze. My heart's pieces are rattling in my feet and each feels like a ton. In contrast my head feels light, like I'm running out of blood.

It is in this sorry state that I brave the soundproof door open to the bar. The handle feels freezing in my human hand. They're talking. Tifa has her hands cross across her chest. Cloud is talking emphatically. He's explaining how the saboteurs were well organized and well financed. He's finishing explaining that had he rushed it the financier would have ran and then he would have never caught him. Then he notices me. Tifa's facing away from me, so I cannot tell her expression or mood. Cloud approaches me, reaches out his hand.

He needs a break from talking to Tifa, it seems. She's rigid in her spot.

"Hey, man." He starts, passing his other hand through his hair. What a tell. Does it when he's uncomfortable, when he's bluffing, or when he's frustrated. I wonder which one it is now. I feel cold.

"Hey, Tifa told me you were helping." He looks up at me, "That was a really cool thing to do, and I really appreciate you looking after them." I don't take his hand. He'll assume my usual taciturn nature and I'll continue assuming he's the planet's greatest fool. I haven't said anything yet. Don't know what to. I wish I could see Tifa's face. "I can give you a ride to the Coast Chocobo tonight if you need." He says, looks around at the clean floor of the bar. "I hope you'll consider visiting for Christmas?" Then his brows scrunch together and he speaks over his shoulder to Tifa, "Hey, did you polish the floor? It looks good!"

Marlene walks in after me, her face set in displeasure and distaste.

Cloud's cheer turns lopsided, looking back to me from her, "She's mad at me." He shrugs, as though accused for something beyond his control, "How do I explain I did it for her?"

She stops beside me, grabbing on to the hem of my shirt as if to make sure I say what it is she wants me to. I can't.

You did it for yourself, Cloud.

"You did it for yourself." This is Tifa. She half turns to him. She's not been crying. No tears of anger nor tears of joy. Just a hardened expression of disappointment.

"Tiff..." He pleads with her, still smiling. Like this was a minor offense. Like she's overreacting.

I think I might be overreacting.

She looks at him and her expression softens a tad. He scratches the back of his head, then says,

"Look, you want me to prove that I'm sorry I wasn't here? You want me to show you how much you two mean to me?"

And then, before our eyes, he kneels down.

My mouth is hung ajar.

Marlene's fist in my shirt cloth tightens and her eyes go huge.

He pulls out a small box. Starts presenting it to Tifa. His expression sincere and yearning.

"No."

It's me. My voice. My step forward. My madness.

Mad is right.

"You don't get to." I tell him. He, she and the little one are just staring at me in shock. If my mind was here, I'd be doing the same thing. It's a dream. I can control it. Too real and too surreal all at the same time. My mind clearing for the first time this evening.

I cannot see this. I cannot even let him ask the question!

"Tifa's answer is her own." I tell him, for some reason my voice stern and clear and loud. Confident, that's the word. I guess because I know that I'm at the break point. I either do this or hold me piece forever. I either do this or forever regret inaction, and I've done that once before.

"Tifa can say yes or no, that's her choice, but I will not allow you to proceed without saying my piece."

"What are you talking about?" Cloud manages, standing up. He's confused. The dust of the road still on him. This is not his home!

"You are despicable for your behaviour in the last six months. Regardless of any events that have transpired you should have been here."

"I was out protecting them!" He protests, "Why the hell are you giving me flak for this? What do you care?"

My anger just seems to climb, but it's not the type of anger I had years ago, where it would blind me and drive me to silence and action. This is the anger Tifa and Marlene had taught me. An anger that is about principle and contention. This is an anger that I can control, harness and make use of, and I will if it kills me.

"You ran." I accuse, my voice low and threatening. I know how to be scary when I want to. The effect on him is instant, his eyes go wider and he does not retort immediately. "You ran when you should have stayed with your family. You don't buy family. You don't timeshare them. Family is work and love and being there when it's terrible."

Finally he stammers, "They killed Barrett, Vincent!"

"And would it have killed you to attend the funeral, at the very least?"

"The trail would have gotten cold!"

"And between the whole of AVALANCHE we would not have found it?"

He has no answer.

"I cannot speak for anyone but myself." The ember of anger, the long burning flame. Not the explosion that transforms a man in to a beast, but the ire of a man wronged, "You ran. And I stayed. You want to know why I care? Because I was let in to this house. And in it I saw the two most wonderful and brave women anyone can ever hope to meet. And you ran."

He's about to talk, but I won't let him.

"You ran and left them. I was honoured to see their strength, their courage without you. But you ran. Whatever the reason, you chose something else, not family."

It takes him a moment. There's stunned silence. I'm standing with my shoulders back, my winter jacket still on. My knees are shaking, but my voice didn't.

"Get out." Cloud tells me, his shock finally turning into anger at me. I was sort of expecting this. I made my bed: It's cold and empty and in Wutai.

"Cloud-" Tifa starts, but Cloud's attention is only on me.

"Get out!" He bellows- points at the door. His strength far outweighs my own. In a fight he would win with a single swing. I swallow hard, feeling Marlene's little fists in my shirt. She'll keep me here with whatever little strength she has.

Then she lets go.

For a second I'm surprised, then amazed as she places herself in front of me, arm spread to the her side, the casted arm like a shield before her. Protecting me. Protecting as much of me as her small frame can.

"No, Cloud." She says angrily, "You get out."

"Cloud, this is my house." Tifa says sternly, standing firm. "You do not kick out my guests! I decide who stays and who goes."

"You turned my own family against me? I thought you were my friend, you bastard!" The hurt on his face is genuine. He doesn't understand why this is happening.

I take a step to pass Marlene, placing a hand on her shoulder as silent thanks on my way. Her courage... Tifa's strength...

Inspiration for a weakling like me. It won't change anything in the end. Will just rock the boat.

"Tifa."

She turns to me, still almost at a loss at what to do here. Knowing she needs time to talk to him, to make him understand the hurts he has caused. But I don't have time. I'm being kicked out like all those nightmares. I'm being removed from the most beautiful home I had ever known. "I'm sorry I didn't say this before, but..." I shake my head.

"Vincent..." Cloud warns in a growl, points at the door again, "Get out of my sight now. I'm warning you."

I ignore him and speak, "Tifa. You said once that if I wanted something I should say so, even if it is a nuisance or a bother. Well..."

"Vincent...!"

I ignore him again, "Tifa; I'm selfish but I'll say what I want. I want you to be happy. I want you to close down the bar and study, if that is your true wish. I want to help. I want to see Marlene grow up and I want to teach her to shoot a gun or fight or whatever she chooses to do!" My voice is getting more emphatic, more powerful with each word and I don't care.

I couldn't tell you where Cloud is right now. I know Marlene is behind me, and all I see is Tifa before me.

Her arms cross lightly across her chest, her face a mixture of wonderment and pain. Her good, her bad.

Growing together... It's the only way to know someone.

I want to know her. I want to grow with her. "I want you to know that I don't want to leave. I don't ever want to leave." I take in one more breath, and it feels like it'll be my last, "But I'll leave as soon as I've said my piece. I want you to be with me , not him... because- because of everything about you; the way you toss your hair or put too much sugar in your tea. Everything, the smallest, most wonderful everything-" And the I can't believe that I actually say it in a calm, quiet voice, "Because I love you."

Then Cloud is in my field of vision.

Well, his fist is.

I wake up.

A dream.

Another dream.

I have another day after all. Another hour. Another minute. Not enough. Not hardly enough.

Chapter Text

Then I try and get up and the pain that shoots through my head drops me instantly back on the couch.

I'm on the couch?

It smells like the living room. There's a warm body sitting near my stomach.

There's an icepack on my face, preventing my eyes from opening. I think I was punched in the face.

...Not

...a

...Dream?

Oh, shit .

Chapter Text

I don't need to open my eyes but I feel that it's Tifa there. Her smell and the sound of her breathing give her away. She shifts, probably wonders if I'm awake.

I'm too embarrassed to talk, so I whimper.

I said it. I went and I rocked the boat. Everything is different now. How did Cid say it? I'd rather shoot myself in the balls than rock the boat. Seriously tempted right now.

Well, not really.

She sighs.

"Cloud's not here." She says softly, "I kicked him out after he knocked out your lights."

All I can do is moan. I'm an idiot. I try and dig myself deeper into the couch. She tugs at the icepack to move it away. I feebly prevent her for a moment, but keep my eyes stubbornly shut when she wins. I don't want to see.

Rocked the boat, rather be dead.

Then heat as opposed to the lingering cold from the ice, at first I think it's her hand on my head, then I realise her breath is tickling my nose.

My eyes fly open on their own accord.

Her forehead is pressed to mine, her round nose nearly pressed to my pointy one. Her expression is tired but in her warm eyes, inches away, is a laughter that she's only letting her lips hint at.

"Firstly," She says in a whisper, "You're an idiot."

Her hands come to the sides of my head as I try and turn away. Is this... rejection?

"Secondly, I'm still really not overjoyed with the idea of Marlene learning to shoot." Then she kisses my forehead. She had done that once before, and still my world bursts into light upon that contact.

"Thirdly," She smiles wider, "I think I love you too."

I can't breath.

Can't think.

She pulls away, and I sit up.

"It's not like what I had with Cloud." She admits, "Maybe that's why I didn't really notice until he called that time."

"Called?" I breathe. Has anyone seen my voice? I seem to have lost it.

"Yeah." She muses, looking about her home and all its familiar trinkets. "It was while you were out with Marlene, getting her new socks."

That was a while ago! It wasn't too long after we had come back from Wutai...

My right eye is so swollen, it's almost completely shut. It be one beautiful shiner I've got.

"He called me. I got mad at him. Then... Then I hung up and... And I realized that I didn't want him here." She laughs bitterly, shaking her head and looking at her nails as she picks at them.

She sighs again.

"Next time he called I told him that... well... That I thought this wasn't right. At that point... I just thought I was falling out of love with him. I didn't really realize that I was... You know... That I could have been in love with you until... Until it was too late and I was in so deep I didn't know what to do!" She laughs again, and all I can do is stare. "I realized somewhere along the line I wasn't waiting for him anymore. I was waiting for you ." Another sigh.

"I thought I'd have more time to think." She admits softly, smiling at me. "I wasn't sure you felt the same. Between your two expressions of 'blink' and 'not blink'..." She inhales, shakes her head,

"Let's just say you're not the easiest man to know."

There's a long silence. It's not what I had expected at all. My heart, it is not bursting with that same all-consuming fire that it was for Lucrecia.

Instead it is relieved, and happy, oh so happy.

It doesn't feel explosive. It feels... Like the fire in the fireplace.

Happy.

Everburning.

Right.

Like for once things are where they're supposed to be.

"What happens now?" I manage to speak. She shrugs. I think about it for a moment, then take her hand in mine. She looks at me, not sure what to expect. She's wearing the same clothes she wore earlier in the evening, a pretty long-sleeved white shirt with embroiled patterns only on one sleeve and her comfortable jeans.

"I did not agree to stay all this time because I had fallen for you." I say. I don't know why I chose to start with that. I think it's important.

Her smile grows a little, her eyes peaceful,

"I didn't ask you to stay because I had fallen for you, either. I mean, it sort of got there later but..."

Another pause. I look away, but only for a moment. She speaks,

"Not entirely perfect for each other, huh? Awkward moments." She chuckles, then adds, "I guess this is what life is. This is what it really is."

I think of her words.

Not entirely perfect for each other.

It's true.

With Lucrecia... Well, I had known her a fraction of the time I had known Tifa. It felt perfect, but no one is. I find myself wondering if she and I would have gotten into arguments about small things like noises or guns or money...

I think we would have, and without Tifa's strength, I wonder if she and I... Would have been right for each other after all.

What a crazy thought.

Not perfect for each other, but maybe...

"Maybe just right?" I hesitate but add, "Maybe this imperfection is the real thing, because we're not blinded by perceived perfection."

She leans in to take a look at my black eye, touching the swollen area with barely her fingertips.

Then she kisses me. On the lips, like one would a boyfriend. Experimental, closed-mouth. Still uncertain.

Boundaries.

The softness of her lips, the smell of her. The sight of her eyes fluttering shut.

I deepen it without thought, only feeling.

The feeling of her .

It's a real kiss now, my metal arm gingerly around her back so that I might bring her closer.

Perfection.

She pulls back, smiling, but her eyes are laughing again, "You and me?" She chuckles to herself a little, "Who would have ever thought?"

Another long stretch of silence. Her hand gently in my good one.

"Cid." I answer, and I think my mock-exasperated tone was what made her laugh.

It's going to be complicated and awkward from here on in, but I think in the end... Not really that much more complicated than it ever was.

I always knew that I could fall again, fall in love. Always was afraid of the intensity, of the fire that burns and consumes all.

This isn't like this. It's more like a glow. An intense heat that doesn't burn; It seeps into every pore, every cell.

It becomes a part of you like your own flesh, and it doesn't consume, it empowers.

I had been afraid, but I realize now that I had been in love with her for longer than I've admitted to myself.

I just couldn't imagine anyone ever reciprocating and loving me in return. Never thought that was an option for me. Cid would laugh and call me a 'damned fool', wouldn't he?

Maybe I can use that cologne Shera gave me.

Thank you, Cloud.

Chapter Text

"What were you planning on doing had I not been an insensitive ogre and spoken out like that?" I ask Tifa one morning.

You may find it funny, but we just sort of fell back into our old habits. It's been less than a week, and I'm even still sleeping in the guest bedroom despite some other urgings. You can laugh if you want.

She gives me this crooked smile, "You think I would have just stayed with Cloud? I don't settle , you know." She's holding the other end of the sheet as we're fitting it to her bed. It's hard to do without my metal fingers going right through it.

She had packed whatever few things Cloud had left here and had given it to him. I was not allowed to attend the transfer. Now she's rearranging her bedroom.

She's past the mourning. When love dies naturally and slowly all you have left from it is regret and knowing you had caused pain. It doesn't make you want to cry or die.

I don't believe in destiny, you see. I don't believe there are soulmates in this world.

I believe that all we have are just people. Meeting, learning to know each other. Sometimes you lay eyes on someone and something just clicks, but you still need to know them. They'll still have quirks and traits you can't stand.

You'll have arguments and disagreements because you're still both just people.

"I would have seen you off," She starts her answer, "Then I would have patiently broken up with Cloud, then I would have chased you to Wutai and beaten the crap out of you myself!"

"So either way I would have ended up with a black eye."

"Pretty much, yeah." She laughs.

Marlene had been pretty nonchalant about the whole thing, I must say. When she had woken up the next morning she just acted normal, when Tifa asked her what she felt about this she just shrugged,

"Vincent gets to stay with us all he wants, now." She had smiled at me, eating her cereal, "You're happy, I'm happy and Vincent's happy. Besides, you two totally were totally crushing on each other for, like, ever ." Here she frowned into her cereal, "It was getting sort of obnoxious."

So in a way nothing changed.

Well, Marlene had just left for school a couple of days ago when I was climbing the steps. Tifa had grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and, well...

You don't need the details.

Parts of my brain that had been repressed for years woke up screaming. I listened to them, for once.

I suppose in some ways many things had changed.

It's a wintery afternoon, a week past. We've spoken to Cloud. Tifa explained it to him. She wasn't leaving him because of me; she was leaving him because of him. Because of herself. Because it was over regardless of where she was moving towards afterwards.

He couldn't really understand what she meant, but he loves and respects her too much. He's living on his own for now. He's used to it, he said.

We're sitting in the park not far from the bar. She's thinking of closing it and going to school. Still trying to decide what she'll take; thinking maybe becoming a teacher or maybe a social worker. Still not too eager to take my money. Says she'll pay me back and then it'll be "our money".

Asked me what I wanted to do. I said I wouldn't mind taking care of the house and of Marlene for a while.

Just sitting here. She's holding my hand. Marlene is sitting on the swings, her friends are taking turns writing on her cast.

Denzel said he'll be back from the WRO for Christmas. There will be a lot to explain to do to him but on the phone he sounded cautiously optimistic.

We're just sitting here, watching the world go round.

And it's perfect.

The End.