A/N: I just wrote this in a spur of the moment idea I got since I was home alone. Originally this was going to be an original fiction that I came up with years ago, and it was going to be about a married woman who is beaten by her husband, then she meets a troubled teenage boy who shows her what it means to be cared for, but since I made it fanfiction, I switched it around a little. I hope everyone enjoys it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

SECRET GARDEN

PART ONE

She'll let you in her house
If you come knockin' late at night
She'll let you in her mind
If the words you say are right
If you pay the price
She'll let you deep inside
But there's a secret garden she hides

CHAPTER ONE: THE DOVE

Vincent Valentine propped his head against the phone, rolling his eyes.

"Alright, alright, Strife. It's a deal. I'll let you stay if you work for me." His voice was tired, he'd been at work since 9:30 that morning. Remembering this, he glanced at the clock across his office on his table, next to the picture of him and his wife two years ago on their trip to the Rockies. It read 11:30.

He sighed as Cloud went on about how "If you aren't sure, don't do it, man!" He cleared his throught and cut him off. "Listen, Cloud, I made a promise and I'll keep it." A pause. "No, no, it's fine. My wife will be fine with it, I've already mentioned it to her. Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, 10:00 am sharp." He replaced the phone back onto the ringer, listening to the hollow sound it made through his empty, darkened office.

With a groan, he got up and put his cell phone into his briefcase, along with his pager, calculator, laptop, and a pile of papers two inches thick. He carefully locked the door to his office, stepping out into the rest of the bridal shop.

As a young businessman, people had always made fun of him for owning and running a bridal shop, complete with wedding and bridesmaid's dresses. But they didn't understand the complexity of it. Vincent Valentine had grown up with a single mother, his father having died in a car accident, drunk off his ass. She raised him in the back of the bridal shop, in the room that was now his office. They had promised each other that they would keep the shop forever, because it was everything to them.

That was before she ended up raped and murdered in the back alley behind the shop one night when he was out with friends at the age of sixteen.

But Vincent was a strong, stoic man that hardly ever let out his feelings. He had continued running the shop even after her death, and though he was offered many other jobs in modeling and acting, he couldn't bear to leave the place, not after what he had promised his mother.

Only one person was still in the shop as he was leaving, a little salesgirl named Gunn. She was standing on a stool, her long, firey red hair falling to her lower back. She was hanging up the more pricey dresses, arranging them on the walls so that they were displayed just so.

"You should really head home, you know." Vincent said as he was walking to the door.

Gunn turned around sharply, startled, almost falling off the stool. She smiled when she realized it was him. "I'll head home in a few. I've just got a few more dresses."

Vincent nodded and left her to her work, out into the dark streets of Buffalo, New York. He went around the back to his car, a Passat, and started the engine. It was a cold, November night, and the air was bitter. He turned the heat on high and waited for it to heat up the car.

He took the long way home, knowing that Tifa would never notice if he came home a little later than he'd promised. In fact, lately Tifa wasn't noticing much of anything lately.

They were fighting more and more. They loved each other, but it wasn't always fights where they would kiss and make up. Actually, most of them were about the opposite, consisting of screaming and yelling until one eventually left the house and didn't return until the next morning.

Part of Vincent thought there was cheating involved, because he didn't know where else Tifa would run to in the middle of the night. Sometimes when they were making love he'd catch the scent of foreign cologne in her hair, but he never mentioned it. Once, he answered the phone and a man asked for her, but when Vincent asked who it was, the person had hung up.

The back roads were dark and deserted, the fields and the road the only things in sight. His headlights were the only light aside from the stars. Vincent turned on the radio and found a station playing U2, a band he had always liked. He turned it up and, feeling better, rolled down his window, letting his hand flow through the air.

And suddenly, in the middle of the road, there was a little white bird.

It was the strangest thing he had ever seen, something so simple and pure in the middle of the blackest night. It blinked at him with beady black eyes. He was about twenty feet from it. Something in him knew he could not hit it, but it wasn't flying away. He honked his horn, but the bird did nothing. Suddenly he realized that it's wing was bent at an impossible angle, and it could not fly.

Hardly aware now of what he was doing, he pulled off to the side of the road, even though he knew no one would be taking that road anytime soon that night. He got out of his car and walked into the center of the road. Squinting in the darkness for the tiny bird, he found he could hardly see anything, so he went to his car and turned on the headlights. But the road was empty.

Vincent searched the side of the road in case it had limped off, but the bird was nowhere to be found. It was as if it had never been there at all. "Okay," he muttered tiredly, "Now I'm hallucinating. Great."

He looked up into the heavens, the stars twinkling back at him, mocking. "Is this some sort of sign?" he said softly, feeling the wind whip against his back.

Deciding he was either too tired or going insane, he walked back to his car and drove the rest of the way home, 10 miles per hour above the speed limit.

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Tifa was on the couch when he got home, sleeping there with the Cosby show silently flashing on the big screen in front of her. She had a Cosmo magazine across her stomach, and she was wearing her red silk nightgown, which used to symbolize good news for him. He wondered how long she'd been waiting for him.

She looked so innocent, so beautiful when she slept that he wondered what had happened between them, why had everything been so hard lately. They used to be so close. They would go on trips and travel the world. She knew the secrets inside of him that no one else could ever know. She had taken a cold, silent man and opened him up, fitting herself perfectly inside.

He knelt over her on the couch, letting his long, raven hair tickle her chest. He kissed her on the lips and shook her gently. "Tifa. Tifa, honey, I'm home now."

Tifa's dark eyes fluttered open, and for a minute she smiled, before it faded into a very angry look, a look that meant another fight. She pushed him away and flicked off the TV, leaving them in darkness. "I'm going to bed," She grumbled, ascending up the stairs.

He followed her, frustrated, and when she nearly slammed the bedroom door in his face, he knew that was it. "What is your problem?" He asked bewildered.

She looked back at him with an equally fierce glare before looking away, pulling down her nightgown. "You promised you'd be home by nine."

Vincent sighed, leaning against the doorway. "I got held up at work. Some fucking lady couldn't make up her mind about whether she wanted sky blue or perrywinkle for her bridesmaids."

Tifa took a step closer to him. "And Gunn and Richard couldn't have handled it?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Vincent shrugged a shoulder. "Richard didn't come in today."

Tifa nodded. "And Gunn?"

Vincent put his hand on her cheek, wishing that things could be okay, for just one night. "Please, lets just forget it, okay? I love you, I'm sorry."

She slapped his hand away and went to the bed, gathering up a small blanket and a pillow. "No, Vincent. I can't forget it. You promise me the same fucking thing every night and you never follow through! How are we supposed to be together if you never make any attempt!" Her voice was rising to the shriek that always meant things were worse.

"Tifa!" he pleaded, following her as she stomped down the stairs.

She stopped and turned around, and he almost knocked into her. He could smell the scent of the perfume that she only wore for special occasions. His heart felt as heavy as a stone. "What?" She asked, her voice suddenly softer.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I don't want you to say anything. I want you to be a husband to me. You are twenty-five years old, we have been married seven years now, and still I sometimes wonder if I love you."

Her words were like hot knives. Suddenly he doubted everything he had devoted his life to. The vows that were made on the wedding…were they nothing now?

"What is that supposed to mean?" He asked, his voice so soft he could hardly hear the words as they left his mouth.

Tifa looked up at him, her eyes watery with tears, following the ones that were already spilling down her cheeks. "Nothing, Vincent. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his chest.

"I'm so sorry." He murmered, leading her, in his arms, back to their bedroom.

Tifa sniffled. "No, no, honey, it's okay. Things will get better, I promise."

She went to bed and he stripped off his clothes and settled in beside her, letting her head rest on his chest. She stroked over his stomach, something she used to do when they were teenagers, but she hadn't done in years.

"Do you love me?" he asked, knowing she was drifting off to sleep. There was no answer.

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The next day at work, he found two police officers waiting for him, both holding pads of paper and looking extremely somber.

He ran a hand through his hair and approached them. "Is there something I can help you officers with?" He asked, and they turned their heads towards him.

"Are you Vincent Valentine?" asked one, stepping towards him.

"I am." He replied, looking at them curiously.

"Where were you last night from about six o'clock pm until three o'clock am?" the other asked, looking at him with quizzical eyes.

"I was at work until 11:30, then I went home…What is this all about?" He asked, suddenly worried.

The second one suddenly turned very serious. "At approximately 12:30 last night, Gunn Sanchez was murdered. We found her naked and her throat slit about 30 miles east. Turns out the last place she was seen was here, so we figured you might know something about it…?"

Vincent grimaced and rubbed his brow. "Oh, God. I can't believe this." He muttered, and then added, "Listen, I had a really bad night last night. I worked late because some lady couldn't make up her mind, and then I went home and had an argument with my wife. Things are really falling apart for me right now, and I'm sorry, but the last time I saw Gunn, she was hanging up dresses on display at about 11:30, and she said she'd be leaving in a few minutes."

The police officers jotted everything down on their pieces of paper and then gavev him a card reading, "Officer Dunhoe, call 555-4442 if you have any more information."

The first officer pointed to the card and said, "You get anything else, any hints even, you just call me up. I have to find who killed this little girl." And with that, they left.

Inside the shop, things were hectic. The customers were all whispering frantically, knocking into displays of dresses, knocking them sideways. Richard alone was at the register, ringing up one woman, and signalling to another that he'd help her find her size in one moment.

Vincent rushed over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's going on here?" he asked angrily.

Richard looked over to him, sweat beading down his forehead. "Gunn was killed, man! And now I've been working this place by myself since 8, not knowing what the hell I'm doing, man! I just work the register, I don't know how the fuck to get back into storage or where the ladders are to get the shoes! Where the hell have you been?"

A woman who had just witnessed the sudden outburst looked at Richard strangely, took her dress, and left.

Vincent sighed. "I told you I wouldn't be in until 10." Ignoring Richard's curses of protest, he walked back into his office, finding a relaxed looking Cloud Strife lounging in his chair.

Vincent threw his breifcase across the room in frustration. "I forgot all about you!" he nearly yelled, causing Cloud to jump up.

He held out his hands, and said, "Whoa man, it's okay, no reason to freak out…"

Vincent glared at him. "Yes, I do have reason to freak out! My wife and I can't stop fighting, my business is not making me or her happy, she hardly speaks to me anymore, my salesgirl got killed last night, and now I have to deal with some stupid idiot like you that's going to live with me in exchange for work! I've got plenty of reason to freak out!"

It had been years since Vincent had screamed at anyone besides his wife. Hardly anyone but her saw him show emotion at all, and sudddenly he found himself screaming at his old college friend.

"Please," Vincent said, calming himself down, "Go out there and help some of those women. I'll have to go out and get a new salesgirl from somewhere." Cloud edged towards the door, still looking a little frightened. "I'm sorry, Cloud, I've just had a really, really bad night." Cloud nodded and went back into the store.

Vincent stepped out onto the busy street, people pushing past him madly on their way to wherever it was they were going. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "PLEASE! I'M LOOKING FOR A NEW SALESPERSON FOR MY STORE! FIVE-FIFTY AN HOUR!"

Everyone ignored him, simply cast him weird glances, then continued walking. Some people cursed at him or told him to shut up. He stood out in the cold, having forgotten his jacket that morning, screaming, for at least ten minutes, before a small girl with a short crop of black hair came up to him, a lopsided smile on her face.

"Gawd, I'll be your damn salesperson if it'll shut you up." She said, grinning. Vincent sighed. "Will you really?" he asked.

She wore a small purple turtleneck that barely covered her stomach and a small black skirt. Not exactly what he had been anticipating, but she would do.

She nodded. "Yeah, I said I'd do it, didn't I?" She stuck out her hand. "The name's Yuffie Kisaragi."

He shook her hand. "Vincent Valentine, I own Valentine Boutique. My salesgirl got killed last night and we're having a very busy day. All you have to do is help the customers find their sizes, and you've got the job."

Yuffie followed him to the shop, jumping right in to help three annoyed looking women who were trying to get into the dressing rooms. Vincent let out a sigh of relief and turned to Cloud, who was now working the register, while Richard was in the back, fastening shoes onto a particularly large woman.

"Listen, Cloud, I'm sorry about earlier." He said, leaning against the counter. Cloud grinned at him and replied, "No problem. We all have our bad days. Did you find a new salesgirl?"

Vincent gestured to Yuffie, who was easily helping a woman find a dress as she elaborately explained it to her. "Yeah, her name's Yuffie. If she keeps up that kind of work, I'll probably hire her for good."

Cloud watched, wide-eyed, as Yuffie bent down to check a size tag. "You know, I think you should too."

Vincent laughed and elbowed him. "Perv." He muttered. "She can't be older than sixteen." Cloud cocked his eyebrow. "And who says that matters?"

He smiled at the awed Cloud, who tilted his head to the side as she stood back up. "Listen, Cloud, if its okay, I'm going to go home to my wife and see if I can make yesterday up to her. You just come home whenever you feel like closing up."

Cloud nodded. "Thanks, man, for letting me stay with you. It's just that I've been so low on money lately and…" Vincent held up his hand. "No, its fine. It's good to get to see you again anyways." Cloud smiled at his old friend as he left.

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Vincent came home and found the door unlocked. "Weird…" he muttered, knowing that Tifa had always been paranoid and liked to keep the door locked during the day, since she worked with E-Bay and was always home.

The living room was empty, the computer, where she was usually found, was turned off and she was not sitting in front of it. He frowned and continued up the stairs, his foot catching on a pair of black, lacy panties, about halfway up.

He smiled to himself and continued to the bedroom, finding her bra laying abandoned in front of the door. She always did sweet little things like that when he was least expecting it. He threw open the bedroom door.

On top of the bed, was Tifa, comepletely naked, with a man writhing on top of her, naked as well. "God!" He gasped, too stunned to turn away, too disgusted to look at them.

Tifa screamed and crawled out from under the man, a man Vincent didn't recognize, who had short, blond hair and was built very stocky. The man grabbed the quilt, Vincent's quilt, and covered himself up, looking shocked.

"What the FUCK is this?" He asked Tifa, feeling his face heat up. It took all the strength in his body not to walk over there and beat the shit out of her.

Tifa's mouth opened, but no words followed for several seconds, and she stood there, naked, glancing from her husband to her other lover, who was now standing against the opposite wall as Vincent, looking extremely nervous.

"ANSWER ME, TIFA!" Vincent yelled, taking a step closer to his shaking wife. She backed up against the wall. "Vincent, I'm sorry, I was just so angry at you…"

Vincent groaned. "EVERYTHING WAS FINE LAST NIGHT! YOU SAID EVERYTHING WAS FINE!" Tifa looked away and said in a small voice, "I lied, Vince, things haven't been fine for a long time, I thought you knew that."

No matter what he tried, Vincent could not control his anger. "FUCK YES, I KNEW THINGS WEREN'T FINE! BUT I DAMN SURE DIDN'T THINK YOU WERE FUCKING SOMEBODY ELSE!" He stopped himself when he realized that a part of him had known all along.

He cleared his throat, leaving Tifa looking stunned and her lover glancing aroung awkwardly. He pointed to the door. "Get out of my house." He said suddenly, breaking the unbearable silence.

"Vincent, come on, lets be rational, here." She pleaded, taking a step toward him.

He backed away. "Get the fuck out of my house, Tifa. Now. I mean it."

Tifa's face contorted as she began to cry. "FINE!" She screamed, grabbing her clothes and pulling them over her head. "Come on, Cid, let's get out of here." She pulled the man by his hand, pushing his clothes against his chest.

Vincent slammed the door behind them and locked it, looking down the bed that his wife had cheated with him on only minutes before. He moaned in frustration and locked himself in the bathroom and collapsed against the back of the door, sliding down into the sitting position. He listened to the sounds of Tifa's Jeep as she drove away, out of his life.

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Teehee. Please read and review!

-Mel