Hello again. IndigoPenguin here with a full-length Vincent/Tifa one-shot per the requirements of a prompt-trade with Dellah Morte. The prompt I was given is as follows:
"ShinRa is throwing a masked ball, to which Avalanche ends up invited by Reeve. A disguised Vincent asks Tifa to dance."
After some work, I present "Pomegranate". Dedicated to Dellah Morte, because this whole thing was her idea. Thank you letting me participate, and I hope this is to your liking!
Rated "M" for Cid—it doesn't feel right toning the man down—and a confusing plot line.
I don't own FFVII. Enjoy, darlings!
(I want to believe you had the choice; )
"I'm not going," He repeated to the blonde man in front of him. "I do not care that Reeve sent me an invitation specifically; it does not warrant my appearance at this...Masque".
"Well, yer going to go!" Cid argued, pounding his hand onto the kitchen table hard enough that some of his tea lifted out of the white mug and splashed emphatically on the table. He didn't lower his bright blue eyes from Vincent's face, even when he took the dishrag out of his wife's hand and began to clean the mess himself. "It's for AVALANCHE, pal. When was the last time we all saw each other?".
Cid felt Shera's hand flex nervously when she took back the plaid cloth, saw Vincent's gaze turn defensive. Cursing, the pilot grabbed the handle of his mug and tossed his head. "Okay, besides then when half of us—all of us—were emotionally fucked by something or affected by the emotional fucked-ness of the others. Shit," He growled, swallowing the burning tea so quickly he didn't feel it scorch his tongue. "Actually, that's my point. Ya need to go so we can all be together in a happy setting".
Vincent raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh, so you think that Barrett being around ShinRa will make it a pleasant evening?".
"...He's gotten better," Shera offered. "And Vincent, why are you putting up so much resistance to this? You came to us with the letter; obviously you want to go...." Mrs. Highwind paused, planted her head into her hand. "Don't tell me that you wanted us to talk you out of it!".
"That was my intention," He admitted, sharply running his finger over the edge of the think invitation for the fiftieth time that hour. Cid rolled his eyes at the man in front of him, stood from his spot at the kitchen table, and slowly walked over to where Vincent was sitting. Burgundy eyes rose to meet the Captain's.
"That wasn't yer fault," The rougher of the men said with his own peculiar brand of authority. "Do ya think that she'd not want to see ya again?".
"I...ruined her marriage—". Cid's eyes narrowed. Vincent sighed and rephrased his statement. "I ruined her engagement, and their dreams. I ruined a wonderful party because she asked for advice, and I was foolish in thinking that she truly wanted it".
"You're wrong," Cid insisted. "Vincent, why d'ya think Tifa came to you? Yer observant, and you're honest, and everybody sure as Hell knows you have our best interests at heart. She didn't want advice, you're right—she wanted reassurance that what she felt she had ta do was the right thing ta do," The man said, placing a work-hardened hand on the gunman's shoulder. "And I think we all know that her and Cloud was pain waitin' to happen".
"...You weren't cruel enough to tell her that—".
"No, dammit, we weren't brave enough to! I don't know what the fuck yer deal is with repentance, Valentine; but you can shit down my throat if that relationship wasn't saved by ya! She doesn't blame ya! She's not a selfish bitch like Lu—". Vincent's hand shot up, seized the hand resting on his shoulder; and even without the gauntlet the grip was like steel.
"Don't say it," He snarled. The strong hold remained until they both looked away, angry and drained, and silence flowed through the Highwind residence for some time before Cid sighed and turned back to Vincent.
"...Look, guy, I'm sorry".
"No. I was...misguided....I apologize".
The gruff pilot grinned. "Well, shit. Now that that's all out...what are ya going to do?".
"I always wanted to go," Vincent said. "Now, I have no reason not to...save for the fact that I don't have any idea what to wear".
Cid sighed, pulled out a cigarette. Shera shot him a reproachful look before shaking her head with a sigh of her own; and the man lit up with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Okay, Vince. The missus and myself are going as pirates...with the little bandit-mask things on. But...well, I don't think ya can just up and go as a Turk, 'specially if ya want to catch Tifa's eye".
"Who said anything about that?".
"It's obvious," The Highwinds chorused.
Vincent cleared his throat, took a drink of his lukewarm tea, and chose not to comment.
(I was hearing more than my own voice; )
"No. No, I will not; no way, no how".
"Tifa," He groaned. This had been going on for almost an hour, and the man was slowly growing tired of the argument. "It's a party, a masked ball. Everybody's gonna' be there....".
"So what?! No".
"Is it because everybody's gonna' be there, Tifa?".
She turned her head sharply away, grinding her teeth at his rare—but always scathing—social observations. "Oh, screw off," Tifa muttered but there was no malice in it, busying herself with the envelope in front of her; trying to pass her nervous twitch off. But that didn't work—they had been together for two years, known each other for a lifetime—and the man in front of her lowered his glowing eyes with a small smile.
Cloud Strife tapped at his own copy of the invitation. "'To all members of AVALANCHE,'" He read from the top line. "As far as I can recall...he was in AVALANCHE with us, wasn't he? You can't avoid him forever, Tifa. He wants answers eventually...you might be an old lady before he decides to get them; but...." The man shook his head, tossing his blonde spikes to the side. "Whatever. You're the one hiding from a good man".
She considered arguing that. He's not a good man! He ruined the closest thing to a happy life I've ever had! Yet, Tifa reminded herself, that anger had faded within a week of the break-up. Vincent had been right; she knew. Cloud knew—Cloud agreed to that, and had actually gone to thank the man for helping them both four months after it happened. And two months after that road-trip of the ex-almost-SOLDIER's...well, she was forced to admit to the entire truth of Vincent Valentine's words then. Running her eyes over the typed text of the invite, the woman sighed and instead chose to argue with a different tactic. "But, Cloud; it's a black-tie, all-out ball! I don't have a dress, much less a mask!".
He looked at her, frowned. "Then go buy a dress".
"It—It's not that easy! You have to go for color and style and season-appropriate—".
"Tifa, it's a souped-up Halloween party. The season doesn't matter".
She waved her hand dismissively. "You get the point. And then, I'd have to find a mask that matched it—".
"Taken care of," Cloud said. Reaching under the table, he dug through the paper bag he had carried in with him to pull out the item in question. "It's leather...made it in my free time for you. Because I knew you'd try to get out of this twenty different ways. Tifa, you're taking this, and you're going. Find a dress to match this".
She stared at the mask, smiled. The leather had been painted over in a green-gold metallic, the edges barely browning and tapering like the leaves of a Red Oak. Which, she assumed, it was supposed to do—the thing was basically two leaves melded together. It was undoubtedly gorgeous. "Oh...it's...how did you do that?".
"I have a lot of free time," He responded with a trace of bitterness. "And, where you've had that thing for two weeks; Reeve brought me mine a month ago. I guess to make up for...." Cloud stopped, shrugged. "But, you're going".
Tifa bit her lip. Time to be honest, I guess. "I...I'm scared to see him, Cloud. I just...what if....".
"What if what? He thinks the world of you, you know. He wouldn't put a laser dot on your head," He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Tifa, what about it scares you so badly? ...What about Vincent scares you so badly?". He watched the woman flush and begin to sputter things, and Cloud let his Mako blue eyes lock onto her brown until she stopped and looked at him; whereupon he began to speak again. "Tifa. Do you really think that I would be so against a new relationship?".
"...I...what?".
"I know...that my judgment hasn't been the most reliable, especially in the past two years or so. But I was—am—fortunate enough to have received your love. I saw when it formed, when it was strongest, and when you tried to convince yourself it wasn't changing. I see it now, the way it's supposed to be—towards me and towards everyone else. Despite what you'd be comfortable thinking; you began to feel for him before we became engaged".
"Not that I'm not guilty of withholding—never really giving you—my own romantic affection. But...Tifa, it fell apart at both ends. And now, it needs to get tied up again at yours".
She swallowed. "...It's not fair that way". Forcing back her tears, the woman looked up to her best friend always and forever and let out a shuddering breath. "What about at your end, huh?".
"I did love her. It was tied where it needed to be. I love you, you love me; as friends. And...I think that my end was meant to be a little frayed, don't you?".
Tifa shook her head. "No. No. But...I'm so glad to see you're getting better". He smiled at her; hid his sheepishness by putting her gift back into the paper sack. She smiled back at him—faintly—and folded her invitation into the envelope. "So...I guess you won't be coming, then?".
"You know I can't. I'm sorry...maybe for Christmas? I just...I can't face them all yet".
"Sure. I...thank you. For helping me with this".
"Masks are easy to make, you know".
"...Yeah. I'll let you know how it went".
"I'd like that. Tell Marlene and Denzel I said 'hi' when you get them from school?".
"They'd like that. See you later, Cloud".
Tifa Lockhart turned around with one final smile, her reflection catching in the thick glass pane that separated them. He smiled back, sadly always sadly as his hands were restrained again, and she stood and watched as Cloud was led out of the visitation room.
She picked the sack up on her way out of the Midgar Sanitarium.
(That you opened the palms of your hands)
"Um...vampire?".
"...Cid".
"What?! It was a suggestion. A vi'ble suggestion, too!". The man huffed, crossing his arms. "It's easy, it's quickly recognizable. Why are ya glarin' at me like that?" Vincent didn't respond, and Cid grumbled and further ground the ashes in the ceramic tray in front of him. "Well, do ya have any ideas of yer own, then?".
A slow smirk crept up Vincent's jaw. "...Werewolf?".
Cid laughed so hard he spit out his eighth cigarette. The other man leaned back in his chair, waiting for him to recover, but jolted back upright as something dug into his back. Reaching behind him, Vincent frowned as he discovered his holster had slid and shifted it forward while being mindful of Cerberus' charm—the item that stabbed him in the first place.
The silver hounds gleamed up at him, and the former Turk had his inspiration. Cid, who had by now recovered both his breath and the burning roll of nicotine, didn't miss the look in his friend's eye. "Hey, what're ya thinkin'?".
"I'll need some scrap metal and the use of your tools".
It was Shera who responded first. "Of course, Vincent. Is there any other way we can help you?".
"Dammit, woman, we ain't a charity!". Her husband shouted, shoving his cigarette back into his mouth. The last time his wife had offered to help somebody with such vigor, he had ended up having to share his home—his home!—with a down-on-his-luck engineering student for a month and a half. Not only did the boy being there cut into his sex life, but it required him to help the boy with physics homework, because he couldn't tell Shera no, and he hated it when people looked up at him in shock when he solved an equation. Yes, he was gruff and "country", but no Highwind was stupid! Cid blew smoke out of the corner of him mouth with a sigh. Well, I guess Valentine's like a Highwind, anyway. He's not a dummy...got something planned, so...Hell. Guess we'll help him, the pilot resigned himself to his wife's nature, and looked up patiently after his outburst.
But Vincent had ignored the Captain to begin with. "Actually, could you cut my hair?".
Cid's cigarette fell to the tabletop once more.
(To offer your heart, not meet my demands.)
"Tifa!". She turned her head at the voice, smiled.
"Reeve. Your mask suits you," The woman laughed, pointing to the Cheshire Cat—grin provided by the bearded man—sitting atop his nose. His grin grew wider at that, the striped ears of the animal rising with the motion of his face. "And you must be the only man in the world who can look dignified in a purple suit with a pink tie".
The executive inclined his head. "Ah, but you, Miss Lockhart, are resplendent! Absolutely gorgeous!" He gushed, sweeping his arm out towards her dress. "And..let me see...Grecian-styled, with that mask...ah! Persephone!".
Tifa shrugged her shoulders with a laugh. "Actually, I was just aiming for a nature goddess...since Cloud made this mask for me, what else could I have been?".
"A beautiful tree," Reeve said. "Although Persephone suits you much better, my dear," He smiled, lacing her hand onto his arm and beginning to move her towards the ballroom. "Now, come! Celebrate the macabre night! Everybody that is coming from AVALANCHE is already here...and I don't want you mourning for those that could not be here. They...it is not their fault, you know".
She nodded. "Yes. How is...is my costume fitting with the other guests here?".
"Oh, I'd think so," Reeve muttered, moving past the usher that held the thick wooden doors open for them. "Is your reason for being here the same as theirs?". She peered at him from underneath the leaves, and his dark eyes turned somber under the gaily-hued cat. "You're here to enjoy yourself, not to fulfill any sort of obligation?".
"Ohmigawsh! Teef! You're so pretty!". Tifa was knocked away from the man by Yuffie, who bounced around her animatedly in swirling blues and greens. A glance at the feathered mask told Tifa her friend had come as a peacock—a male peacock, but Tifa didn't have the heart to tell the ninja that. "You're...oh, whashername...that one girl! From the story with the psycho mom!"
A jingling beside her caught her attention, and Tifa looked down to see Nanaki in his full formal headdress plus a small, war-like metal mask. "Persephone, Yuffie. Good to see you, Tifa," The beast said. Smiling, she patted his back before being swept up again by the gold and blue Highwinds—pirates, she noted cheerfully—and the very pink Marlene, who seemed more interested in showing the woman that her Daddy had come as a knight in armor than shwcasing her own fairy princess costume. Looking over the girl's shoulder, she locked eyes with Reeve again for a moment, and the man smiled before turning away to prowl about the beverage table.
She was here to see her friends, he had noted with no small amount of satisfaction. And Vincent was here to see them all, too—they had both healed enough over the two years apart. That was good, Reeve grinned.
...Her costume really was perfect.
(Convince me that you want to be here; )
Firmly holding the four cocktails in his hands, Vincent turned from the bartender and took a few steps back to their table. It had taken ten minutes to get the drinks—Yuffie, who had somehow convinced him to get her a Mamosa, had caused the server to rush out to his van to get some more oranges. She'd better drink this, and not spit it out on the table like she did at the engagement party....He thought to himself, sliding past a heavyset man dressed as a moogle. The AVALANCHE member was hellbent on returning to his seat when a familiar white glove rose into the air, and Vincent paused and turned to the right to go over to the beckoning Reeve. Cursing his mask, he shifted his head to see the man better, and froze.
Flanked by Cid and Shera, she almost shone in front of the black and sienna tablecloth. A white dress, draped over with some sheer fabric, curled around her body with tassels and beads (Grecian, he knew); a pale gold wrap hung from her elbows. Her warm, dark eyes were hidden from his view by an elegant mask of leaves; and his mind raced to place the character, then to reel against Fate.
Persephone. She's Persephone.
"A fitting choice, is it not?". He lowered his eyes to Reeve, held back a noise deep in his throat. "...Well, Vincent. There's no need to look at me like that! I swear, even I'm not that good...I had no idea what either of you would come as...but, it seems that other forces took charge, there!".
Having been a Turk, Vincent knew many ways to kill a man. He considered using several of them on the man with the shit-eating grin on his face; but opted to use the observational skills the same group gave him, instead. "That they do, but I think that it's due to no small amount of meddling on your part".
Reeve's lips curled up even more. "Oh, do you?'.
"...Your invites said that this is a ball thrown by the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company. Yet, the only remotely high-ranking official I see is you," He dryly pointed out. "Besides that, we all know that Shin-Ra has fell into the shadows these last few years, and the company simply funds the W.R.O.".
"Which I head," Reeve finished. "So...are you going to shoot me?".
"Not tonight," Vincent parried. "...I have to say that I'm touched by your efforts to mend a relationship that isn't your own". The executive blinked at his words; then smiled so widely his cheeks hurt. "However, Reeve...please, let what will happen do so without your interference". The smile fell—leave it to Vincent to thank/compliment you and then turn around and point out the futility of your efforts with his usual realism. Fatalism, is more like it....Reeve nodded sharply to the gunslinger.
But Vincent didn't trust the shimmer that remained in his eyes. "Of course...I am merely a gateway for you....By the way, I like your haircut. Back to your old days?".
He reached his hand up to comb through what used to be a long mane, only to barely brush the ends of his hair as his fingers grazed the nape of his neck. Vincent brushed the edge of his crimson cape down instead. "Yes," He began. "This is how I used to wear it...thank you for noticing".
"Oh, you're welcome. By the way, don't you think you should at least dance? With your costumes and everything....".
Vincent ground his jaw. "Reeve!". The Cheshire Cat smiled again, waved his gloved hands in a dismissive gesture.
"Oh, come now!" He crowed. "She won't recognize you, not with your hair and that mask! That was your plan, right? I talked to Shera—lovely woman, doesn't withhold much information at all from me!". Vincent continued to bristle, fought to keep his hand from reaching for his hidden firearm.
"I swear, do not interfere unless you—".
"Unless what? I want to see you two continue to act like teenagers with crushes? I'll be back with the lady, Mr. Valentine...!".
Inhaling slowly, Vincent didn't realize that Reeve had taken the extra drinks from his hands and was headed back to the table until Yuffie brushed past him with a grin of her own. "Vinny! I kept quiet like Reeve said! Go get 'er, tiger!". Staring at the swirl of her colors, he watched her skit off to who-knew-where before turning a burning, angry, worried gaze to his comrades again. Reeve had yet to reach them, but he was close. He told them not to mention that he was here...she had no idea that he was there....
And Tifa....Crimson eyes locked onto her form again. She was speaking to Nanaki, but her hand was curled around her upper arm, her fingers messing with the end of her shawl. The woman was uncomfortable there—but that made two of them—and upon seeing Reeve's face, she gripped the fabric tightly. Vincent quickly looked away, straightened his posture, and before she had a chance to glance at the "stranger"; downed his Kamikaze with a few quick swallows. He couldn't drink for the rest of the night, now; but when you needed courage in liquid form....
Setting his glass onto a passing waiter's tray, Vincent looked back to see Tifa peering at him wearily. Slowly, surely, he felt his lips turn into a small smile—don't be afraid, please—and saw her turn back to Reeve: who, in his usual, cryptic fashion, took her by the arm and led her into the middle of the dance floor; then just as oddly turned and left her there. Vincent allowed himself a chuckle as she flushed under her mask and jerked her head over her shoulder.
Then, as he raised his head to begin to move back to the table, he saw the bright blue eyes of Cid staring through his mask. He could hear the man, Vincent thought: "Go on! We're all rootin' for ya'! Go, dammit!". Inhaling sharply, he squared his shoulders against his armor and moved to where the dumbfounded brunette was still standing. She almost instantly sensed somebody behind her and turned, body tensing, before recognizing the man Reeve wanted her to meet. The woman relaxed and stepped a little closer to him upon seeing he meant her no harm.
Tifa lifted her head to try to see the man under the mask. However, Vincent had thought of that while modifying the old pilot's helmet, and the decorative grating Cid helped him put in cast enough of a shadow that nobody shorter than himself could see his eyes. That, paired with his haircut and the years of hiding behind a cowl....He felt a rush of relief when she glanced away shyly and smiled.
"Hi there," She said, "...Hades".
The helmet's guard rested securely on his nose as he silently extended his hand.
(It's not my trick that keeps you so near.)
He wasn't there, Tifa noticed. A quick peek at the table showed that there were three seats where nobody had been—Cloud's, Aerith's (they always kept a seat for her), and....
So much for reconnecting with Vincent here, the woman thought while nodding in response to Nanaki's last question. After her talk with Cloud last week and some serious late-night self-introspection, she had decided that maybe seeing the tall man again wasn't such a bad idea. Her feelings, she had realized, still existed—she could see how he had been, get a little brave because she was a little tipsy....
But, no. The elusive Mr. Valentine hadn't shown up to the party. "Tifa!".
She looked away from the guardian of Cosmo Canyon and to Reeve, who was passing a tall drink—a Mamosa?—to Yuffie. "H-huh?" Tifa said, slightly startled by the man's sudden reappearance. He looked towards her with a gleam shining from the Cat's eyes, and she flexed her hand around her wrap instinctively. She knew when there was trouble afoot.
"There is a man—a good colleague of mine!—here that I really think you should go meet. He's rather charming, and his costume! Well, just look!" Reeve said with a wave of his hand towards the drink bar. Tifa looked over, confused at first, then saw the blood-red cape and the helmet over black clothing.
"Oh, look, dear!" Shera told her. "He matches you! How adorable, don't you think, Cid?".
The pilot wrinkled his nose. "Uh...yeah. Real...cute," Cid managed to reply, choking over the adjective. Tifa giggled at the older man before she was seized by Reeve for the second time that evening.
"Um, Reeve? Reeve, I—". She began, then stopped as he did. They were in the middle of a swirl of dancing couples. "You want to dance?".
"No, I want you to. Have fun!".
And just like that, he was gone. Tifa jerked about looking for the man, swore he was a ninja, and was coming to terms with her current location—waltz or move, Lockhart!—when she noticed the stranger behind her.
So...how, exactly, did she end up waltzing around a wooden floor with a man she knew nothing about? Tifa frowned upwards at him—that damn helmet kept her from seeing his whole face. "Have you worked here long?" She asked, hoping to start conversation with her (so far) silent partner; but he simply pulled her swiftly to the left and into a spin as soon as she finished her question. Managing to keep her eyes trained on the spot where she had been previously, Tifa saw that his sudden dance move had kept her from crashing into a drunk, swaying couple. He's quick....
Tifa only knew a few people that observant. Impressed, she replaced her suspicious frown with a smile. "Thanks...." He nodded to her, continued to lead their dance. He was a good dancer, she thought: but she also thought that Vincent would be. He was graceful in battle, sure-footed, and he had been a Turk....Tifa blinked to dispel her thoughts. No, no! Vincent hadn't shown up, he didn't care, and maybe Cloud was wrong (Liar, her heart said). She was here, at this party, to see her old AVALANCHE partners and have fun. And to see a cute guy; but the man waltzing with her around the ballroom wasn't bad-looking, from what she could see.
He was strong, too. Although a waltz certainly didn't allow the hip-grinding twists that sambas and the tango did, it allowed for her arm to be braced against his and their legs to feed off the other's strength. The dark-haired man had toned forearms and the thighs of a god...which, she supposed he was sort of. But, so did Vincent...damn you, you leather-wearing man who doesn't have the balls to come to this Halloween party! A shrill note from a violin caught her attention just as the music swelled to it's peak, and she flexed her legs back accordingly to let her dance partner lower her into a dip. It was at that moment, when his hand supported her bare back, that she noticed two things.
His hand had two distinct callouses on it—one on his pointer finger and the other at the topmost edge of his palm. He holds a gun regularly? That, and the angle he was leaning in at let her see his eyes from under the metal mask—and even with his shorter hair, she still recognized the crimson specks that locked onto her darker eyes.
"Vincent?"
The next song—a funeral dirge turned waltz—flowed seamlessly into it's first measure as he lifted her back to her feet. "Hello, Persephone".
She should have been angry at him. She should have hauled back with her free hand, bashed in the front of his helmet and his nose with a left hook, and stormed out of the Shin-Ra building with her head thrust into the air. But, Tifa just smiled, then laughed, then buried her head into his chest before taking his still open hand in her own.
"Asshole," She muttered, but there was affection.
...And when had he gotten so lucky?
(You chose me. You love me. This is real.)
"Cid! Don't stare!"
"Love may be blind but the neighbors ain't; so don't make love by the garden gate," Cid quipped from his wife's side. "They don't want me lookin', they canoodle somewhere other than the dance floor".
"You make it sound as if they're fornicating," Nanaki muttered. Reeve chuckled and sipped at Yuffie's abandoned drink.
"Ah, Red! Vincent probably reproduces through osmosis!". He laughed, as if he had made a great joke, but the great beast and Cid both raised their brows at the man, then shrugged at each other.
"Yer drunk as a skunk, man," Cid sighed. "Buzzed as a chainsaw".
(No silly seven seeds sealed the deal.)
The poem splitting the sections of the story is part of"Hades to Persephone" by Lee Ann Schaffer.
Vague! Confusing! I'm sorry! Hope you liked it, anyway....