Prologue: YoU aRe My SaLvAtIoN

A heavy silver sword clattered to the ground. Mako-enriched blue eyes stared straight ahead, burning with a feverish light. Golden blond hair glistened with sweat. Gloved hands clutched at nothing. Nothing he did could drown out the angel's voice.

I will be reborn. And you have no one to blame but yourself.

Laughter rang through eternity as he fell into oblivion.

Fog smattered night settled heavily around 7th Heaven. The fall of Shin-Ra had taken its toll on the dormant metropolis of Midgar, and the small, run-down bar was no exception. Everything in the enormous city was now powered by electricity; the lights flickered dangerously as the prototype electric power generator sputtered and whirred from its place by the pinball machine. Suddenly, the small contraption of steel and bolts coughed, spat out a puff of black smoke, and was silent.

"God, not again," Tifa muttered. Slamming the glass down on the well-polished countertop, the raven-haired beauty stomped over to the tiny generator and whacked it with the heel of her palm. It shuddered once, allowing Tifa a split second of hope before collapsing in on itself, putting out every light in the building.

Tifa stood there in the dark for a moment, then turned and kicked at the nearby wall, holding back just enough strength to keep the fragile plaster in one piece. "Damn," she grated, running an irritated hand through her hair. "That piece of junk cost a fortune, too." Casting one last disgusted look at the mental image of the ruined machine, she reached out her hands and felt for the bar table, the wall, or anything that might lead her to her stash of flashlights under the sink.

"I believe you're looking for this."

A beam of light broke the darkness in front of her. Tifa momentarily shielded her eyes, then, blinking rapidly, looked for the source of the voice.

Vincent Valentine stood at the other end of the light, crimson eyes glittering broodingly in the dim circle of yellow. The blood red cloak that was his trademark whispered softly around his ankles as he pressed the flashlight into her hand.

"Uh…thanks," Tifa managed. Taking the small light with delicate fingers, she shot the gunman a strange look; he never came around unless there was trouble. "So…um…what brings you here?"

Vincent didn't answer right away. "I was…looking for Cloud," he answered at last, his soft voice almost losing itself in the shadows around him. "Is he in?"

Tifa scratched her head. "Well, no. He went looking for Reeve a…little while ago. Said he'd be back soon. Why? Is something wrong?"

"No." Vincent's ruby eyes flickered shut.

Tifa shrugged, knowing full well that she could pry no more into the gunman's thoughts than an elephant could force its way into a rabbit hole. Turning on her heel, she stomped over to the busted generator and, with no reason to hold back, kicked it full force across the room. It crashed against the far wall, leaving a hole the size of a bowling ball in its wake.

Vincent's quiet voice floated to her ears. "Antsy, are we?"

"Is it that obvious?" Tifa growled irritably. "I mean, I'm only stuck alone in a bar with barely enough power to run a pinwheel, and I just kicked a hole through my wall with a crapped-out generator. I had no idea my nerves were so threadbare."

Vincent didn't reply.

Tifa blew out a sigh. "Sorry, Vincent. I just can't stop thinking about Cloud. I know he's a big boy and that I shouldn't worry about him…but someone has to, right?"

"I suppose."

Tifa let the silence grow for a moment, then ran over to the gunner and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Vincent regarded her with surprise. Tifa had never been so clingy.

"When is he coming back, Vincent?" she murmured, holding the slender man tighter. "I won't be able to sleep until he does. Doesn't he know that this is killing me?"

"He is fine, Tifa. He will be back." Vincent stroked the shimmering ebony locks so similar to his own, venturing a swift glance at the figure wrapped in his arms. Then he allowed his crimson eyes to flicker shut and pressed his cool cheek against her hair. Then, all at once, he pushed her to arm's length, an alarmed expression stealing over his stoic features for an all-too-brief moment in time. Then the instant passed, and his face was carved of stone once more.

Tifa didn't seem to notice. She was pressing the tips of her fingers delicately over her eyes, her mouth set in a determined grimace as she commanded herself to remain in control.

"I'm so weird," she grumbled at last, raking her fingers through her hair and blinking rapidly to dislodge something that had become conveniently stuck in her eye. "One minute I'll be fine and the next…" She gave a helpless shrug. "I mean, Cloud used to be gone all the time. Heck, I didn't see him for years after he joined Shin-Ra. It never used to bother me…"

"Time is a fickle thing," the gunman concurred softly. His gaze traveled to the window, where silver moonlight was filtering in through the dirty glass, painting chromic murals upon the well-trodden floor.

"What do you think, Vincent?" Tifa asked suddenly, leaning forward just enough to let the moonlight twinkle through the glistening drops behind her eyes. "Do you think I'm being ridiculous?"

"Where did Cloud go?" Vincent asked in reply, ignoring her question completely.

Tifa blinked. "Um…I just told you. He went to look for Reeve--"

"Was he aware of Reeve's whereabouts?"

"I'm…I'm sure he was," Tifa ventured, suddenly unsure herself. Did Cloud know where he was going? Of course he does! she answered herself angrily. Why would he leave without knowing where to go? She shook her head and returned to the bar, picking up the glass and wiping it furiously with the damp washrag.

Silence grew between them, broken only by Vincent's soft, even breathing and the clink of the glass as Tifa accidentally clipped it off the corner of the bar. Vincent watched her quietly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't quite get it to pass his lips. Tifa concentrated on her work as she had in the final battle against Sephiroth; except this time the battle could not be seen. It raged inside her heart.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Tifa set the glass aside and looked up, tossing her ebony locks out of her face with a flick of her chin.

"So what now, Vincent?" she asked softly. "Will you look for him?"

Vincent's gaze wrestled with the shadows, drawing the rest of his consciousness into the fray as he contemplated the darkness.

"Vincent?"

The soft, almost pleading way she called his name shook him out of his reverie. Turning bloody eyes upon her, he managed a small smile as he inclined his head. He turned toward the door.

"Wait!" Tifa cried. The glass she had been cleaning crashed to the floor and shattered into a million razor-sharp pieces as she rushed out after him, taking his arm and bowing her head into the winter wind.

"I'm coming too."

Vincent's eyes sparked with a question, then he simply shrugged and led the girl off down the street, leaving his query behind to decay along with the old, rundown bar.

Chapter 1: I hAvE fAlLeN

Two Months Later

Vincent stood in silence outside the Niebelheim inn, waiting for Tifa to come back with the answer that was always the same yet somehow always necessary. Everywhere they went, they received the same reply.

No, he hasn't been here. No, I haven't seen him. No, I think he went –

No, no, no, no, no…

The gunner blew out a sigh and cast a glance toward the wooden door of the Inn. He could see Tifa's slender frame leaning against the check-in counter, eyes riveted – as always – on the innkeeper who offered everything but answers. He saw the plump old woman look up from the screen, that same look in her hazel-blue eyes as her lips began to move…

I haven't seen him, dearie, Vincent supplied in his head, turning his gaze back to Tifa, who forced a smile and thanked the woman all the same. Vincent looked away, studying the ruined Mako Reactor in the distance as he waited for Tifa to descend the steps and make her way back to him.

This is becoming a joke.

"He still hasn't been here," Tifa told him needlessly, kneading her temples as she glided down the steps. "God, I just don't know where he could be! Vincent, could you-"

Vincent flipped open his phone and dialed the number just as he had every day for the past nine weeks, faintly aware that he didn't even have to look down to strike the correct keys. Tifa smiled weakly and nodded her thanks. The gunman favored her with a mirthless smile, then lowered his eyes as the phone began to ring.

"Hello, Vincent."

"Reeve," Vincent answered.

"He still hasn't made it." The WRO officer's voice was dull.

Vincent examined his claw-hand. "I know."

There was a long pause. Reeve cleared his throat.

"Vincent…" Reeve said heavily, "…you know he's not coming."

The raven-haired man drew Tifa to him with his eyes, holding her close to him in his thoughts as he watched her pace restlessly in front of the inn. "I know."

"I'm sorry for Tifa's sake…but let's be serious. If Cloud doesn't want to be found, you're not going to find him."

"How do you know he doesn't want to be found?" Vincent queried softly.

Reeve blew a sigh through the earpiece of Vincent's cell phone. "I don't. I'm simply stating a fact." There was a pause.

"Call me if you find out anything," Vincent told his friend after a time.

"You know I would. Goodbye, Vincent. Give my best to Tifa."

Vincent flipped the phone shut. Tifa looked up hopefully, as she always did. The red-cloaked gunner met her gaze with troubled eyes, then shook his head. "Nothing," he muttered. He lowered his thick lashes, unable to watch her face fall for what seemed like the thousandth time that day.

The wind tussled their shimmering black locks, moving them in unison, mirroring the identical turmoil turning both their hearts to ash. Vincent studied her troubled expression. How alike we become, he thought bitterly. Tifa, if only I could spare you the pain I know all too well…

Unaware of his brooding thoughts, Tifa shook her head violently and forced a smile through gritted teeth. "Well, tomorrow will be the day. Might as well turn in. Mom said we could stay at our house tonight." When he didn't move, she shyly reached out to touch his elbow. "Are you coming?"

Vincent shook his head. "The elements always suited me better," he replied tonelessly. Pulling gently from her grasp, he backed toward the shadows beyond the light of the Inn. "I will see you in the morning."

Tifa's full lips tightened, then she nodded jerkily, lacing her fingers behind her back. "Right," she murmured. "I'll meet you on my porch at nine."

Vincent turned and walked into the night.

Tifa's gaze followed his retreating form. "Right," she said again. "Even though I would've…enjoyed the company." On a whim, she made a face at his back. "You'll never change, will you, Vincent Valentine?" Bowing her head into the wind, she spun on her heel and marched across the town square and disappeared through her front door.

After an hour of mindlessly wandering through the shadows of Niebelheim, Vincent's wayward steps finally deposited him at the gates of the Shin-Ra mansion. The structure was even more dilapidated than when he left it – if such a thing was possible. The front door had abandoned its hinges and leaned wildly against its rotting frame, broken windows leering at the gunner with clouded eyes. The whole building seemed to be collapsing into itself, as if nothing but its own forgotten memories were holding it together.

How fitting, Vincent thought with a small smile. The fallen structure was a perfect metaphor of him.

Kicking open the gate, the gunman picked his way across the overgrown front lawn and settled himself on the steps, ignoring their groaning protest as they grudgingly accepted his weight. Settling himself against a once-ornate column, Vincent prepared to spend the night in twilit solitude.

Then his phone began to buzz.

Irritated, Vincent took it from its holder on his belt loop and flipped it open.

ONE NEW MESSAGE: RECEIVED FEB. 29, 1:13AM

"Whoever gave Yuffie this number is not going to live very long," Vincent muttered, opening the message and preparing to erase it.

Then he stopped short, his thumb poised over the button that had labeled itself 'delete'.

The message was from Cloud.