I do not own Final Fantasy VII.

Advent of Dissent

Genesis

Crimson eyes haunted her days, her dreams, and even, one might say, her fantasies. Why was is it so? Why him, and why did she…? A pale sigh escaped her lips as she turned to her side to see a blonde tuft of hair, almost mocking her. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine as he moved to embrace her, his cold flesh against hers. She got what she wanted, didn't she? She felt her stomach retch when she heard that 'taboo name' flow blissfully from his lips.

"Aerith," he cooed, his eyes fogged with sleep.

A pained sigh floated from her lips as she turned around and drifted off to sleep. Tonight she would only dream of crimson eyes and raven hair.

Why was he here? He tried for forgiveness and found it. Yet why was here? Was he seeking counsel? He lets his face drop when he chances a look at the crystalline structure. Her face becomes more supple, her hair becomes darker, her chest larger, and he feels the need to blink away this hallucination to hear her usual words.

"I'm so sorry."

His attire doesn't help the situation either, the same Turk uniform, although a different employer, a different scenario in which he plays the one in between, he couldn't help but feel the damning sensation of nostalgia.

Then for a moment her words become distorted.

"Tell her…"

His mind performs a double take, in which he is reminded of something that had been playing at the forefront of his mind for a long time.

"Tifa," came his low baritone.

He plays with the amber liquid, swirling the fragile glass in his practiced prosthesis. He sees her eyes lingering on his form through the glass reflecting her image. He soon sports a confused look as he sees her lick her lips hungrily. He's now at a loss when he feels her body pressed against his shoulder. The very distinct feeling of the valley of her breasts pressing against his arm made his entire being shake with arousal. His expression remains bland when she whispers into his ear.

"It's closing time," she coos while leaving a kiss on his earlobe.

A hand comes to rest across his face only then is when he takes action. His human hand wraps firmly around her wrist as he looks coldly into her eyes. A sudden movement reaches his ears and he slowly looks to the entrance. The young Wutain princess has the look of a deer caught in headlights. He becomes even more confused when the young princess shouts to the figure next to him, a look of disgust and mistrust in her eyes.

"How could you…? You knew I..!"

He watches the figure beside him run to the door in an effort to explain to her. What she intended, he didn't know. His eyes dart to the folder on the ground in disarray. The signature W.R.O name was printed on it, loosely covering the schematics it held.

Shaking his head, he got up and made for the cave's exit with the sound of rushing water playing on his ears. A groan escaped his lips as he thought of what lay ahead.

"This better be important Reeve."

How could she do something like that? Wasn't she her friend? She knew how she felt about him, yet why did she..? The young ninja couldn't find any plausible answers to this new confection of questions that were plaguing her now on a daily basis. Yet there was still hope for her, of course she wasn't Tifa, with all her generous attributes, but she was still the white rose of Wutai, Yuffie Kisaragi.

The photocopied information before her proved that. He would learn to love her, she who had always dedicated herself to making him feel welcomed, and she who he would always be grateful for the many times she saved him. The times consisting of when she chased away the darkness that threatened to overtake him and when she saved him from that bitch dressed in red.

Gathering her materia, she finds her packed bags to full to encompass all of her stuff. Her collapsible shuriken glints on her bed, urging her not to forget it. The anticipation of her next mission was getting to her, she wanted to leave her confining W.R.O bedroom already. Finally getting her instrument of death to fit into her bag, she collapsed on her bed and whispered to herself.

"Can't wait for tomorrow."

With reckless abandon he peeled off his own uniform and haphazardly flings it to the floor. Small hands pull his body towards the bed, a glint in her mischievous eyes. Their flesh becomes entangled and their symphonies of desperation can be heard all through the night. He leans back and sees the beautiful glow of the moon shining on her porcelain face. A sheen of sweat plastered across her brow illuminates the illustrious twinkle glimmering in her eyes. Gathering his stamina once more he's interrupted when something touches his back.

He then turns around to see a different face staring into his, a blank look on her face. He stutters her name as he dislodges from his partner.

"Tifa,"

He can see the young girl under his body cover her nakedness with the bed's comforter. Turning his body fully around he falls to the bed with his back against the bed's headboard. His eyebrows soon rise when she begins to unbutton her top. What surprises him more is the sultry look on her face.

"What're you d.."

"I love you Vincent."

The man's blood ran cold when she carelessly uttered those words. They were words that mocked him and threatened his sanity. He turns to his right to see a baffled Yuffie with an incredulous look on her face, seemingly appalled at what Tifa had said.

The man in uniform shrugged from his sleep to see a feminine figure sitting across from him in one of the train's compartments. A light blush marred his cheeks as he realized who it was. She was more or less leaning precariously against the window to her left, drool coming from the right corner of her lips. A somewhat carefree expression on her sleep induced face. The bangs of his Turk haircut covered his eyes as he tried to relieve himself of that embarrassing tint on his face. Why did he dream of her? He didn't know.

He suddenly looked down to the communication device on the seat to the left of him and was reminded of something plaguing his mind. He didn't mind Yuffie for he knew that her boisterous behavior from her was normal. It was something that eased his nerves, to see her so full of emotion, it kept the bitter memories at bay. Yet when 'she' did it, it bothered him for some reason. The communication device shook again causing the man to pick it up.

Fifteen missed calls.

Now he remembered why.

Tifa Lockheart.