Author's Note: Please see the notation in the first chapter.
Disclaimer: We, in no way whatsoever, own anything of and pertaining to the Final Fantasy VII or Advent Children works; that right belongs to other fortunate souls. We also reap no monetary benefits from this exercise in literary creativity.
Chapter Two:
Tifa:
The alien noise brought Tifa from the sweet vestiges of sleep. Where her mornings were usually filled with bright childish chatter and the familiar city noises, the quiet calling of birds and gentle burble of water were a soothing litany to her ears. So she slipped easily from dreams into the soft morning, opening her eyes and finally remembering where she was. With a gentle yawn and slight stretch, she rose, tilting her head to the side to stretch muscles and emit another yawn.
Shaking her head to clear it, she spied Vincent in the same spot and she smiled. "Good morning, Vincent," she said quietly, one hand gently touching his shoulder. Had he been Cloud or one of the others, she would have kissed his cheek. Tifa relished the nuance of touch and affection; it was part of her maternal makeup. Besides, it was always reassuring. "I know you didn't sleep, so I won't ask," she softly teased with a little giggle. "But I hoped you rested well. Although my snoring must have gotten tiresome."
Vincent:
The faint smile her words brought was hidden behind that ever-present cowl, but as he looked at her the corners of his eyes crinkled just a tiny bit to give away what was hidden. "You were less noisy than the crickets. I did rest some, thank you." He didn't tense at her touch this time, though the muscles in his shoulder gave the slightest twitch, much like an animal just shy of being tamed might do.
He stood and stepped off the blanket in case she wanted to go ahead and pack it up, as they should probably leave soon. Vincent then realized that he had no idea how she had gotten there. Obviously she had walked into the forest, but certainly not all the way from Midgar.
"Did you have a means of transportation, or do we have a long way to walk?" he inquired as he pulled the fabric loose from around his head, letting his black satin hair fall in smooth but wild locks until he rearranged them and replaced the red headband.
Tifa:
Tifa got to her feet and began to pack up her camp, shaking out the blanket and stowing it in her pack, along with the spare water bottles and breakfast, which she shared. Glancing over her shoulder, she paused in sudden fascination to see Vincent …preening, all that hair now streaming down his back in glorious disarray. God, but she envied the man's hair. Would that her own bear resemblance. Usually she just brushed it when she thought about it and forgot it. But, while Vincent seemed to just magically arrange his just so, complete with dark shine and all, for her to acquire such a glorious mane would take years of work and pampering. It was a weakness, for her fingers twitched as she realized what bliss it would be to slip digits into that gleaming mass. Truly, she'd agonized over Cloud's unruly locks for years.
Hurriedly tearing her eyes as Vincent finished his minute ablutions, Tifa shouldered her pack and swung her arms a bit, to get the blood flowing and banish the morning's waning chill. "Mr. Oscan, a merchant in town, gave me a ride yesterday. He'll be headed back to Midgar this morning and we can hitch." Tilting her head as she looked at him, Tifa inquired, "Ready, Vincent?"
Vincent:
He nodded mutely and followed her as she set off. Everything he owned could be - and always was - carried on his person. The only clothes her owned at the moment were those he was wearing, which he washed whenever he bathed in the river. Well, as much as one could wash leather, by wiping it off and painstakingly cleaning and treating it to be sure it stayed in wearable condition. Thankfully not all of his garments were such. He realized, as they walked at a brisk pace, that he would have to buy more clothes if he were to live with Tifa and the two children. It simply wouldn't do to walk around the house naked while he did his laundry.
Within a couple of hours, they had walked to the road where the merchant had dropped Tifa off, and thankfully only had to wait for little more than half an hour. For nearly the whole four hours it took to drive back to Midgar, Mr. Oscan and Tifa chatted about this or that while Vincent offered only a quiet comment here or there. Though he only spoke directly to Vincent a few times, the merchant didn't seem overly put-off by Valentine's dour personality and dark appearance. After all, the man had helped save the world, even if he and the others were lesser known than Cloud.
The towering buildings of Midgar loomed in the distance more than half an hour before they actually reached the city, and once they stepped out of the truck to say their thanks and be on their way, Vincent sighed softly at the feeling of stretching his legs again and recalled why he had left the city in the first place. So much noise... yet at least now he had a reason to be here.
Tifa:
The thought "good to be home" didn't enter Tifa's mind, for she really wasn't looking forward to returning to her life, although things would most certainly be easier, with Vincent there to help. That thought was comforting. Grim and dour the man might be, but he'd proved time and time again to be a genuine trustworthy companion. The walk into Midgar passed quickly; company always went faster and while she debated swinging by and picking up the children, Tifa realized it might be better to let Vincent get settled first.
Upon arriving home, she inhaled deeply the familiar scent of home and was grateful. "Come in," she invited cordially, tossing her pack down on a nearby table. "Marlene and Denzel are next door, I thought it might be better to get everything in order before bringing them home." Heading upstairs, she told him, "Let me put fresh sheets on the bed, Vincent, then you can have the extra room. It's clean and faces away from the street, so it's not as noisy as the rest of the house. Save during bar hours, that is," she finished with a grin, opening the specified bedroom door and setting about her chores.
She stripped the bed, needless since the sheets were clean, but good hostess she was, she replaced them with fresh linens and opened the window to let the room air a bit. Hastily checking to make sure everything else was in order, she hummed a bit as she fetched spare towels and cloths from the hall closet and placed them atop the dresser for his later use.
Reemerging into the small hallway, she spied him and gave a fond smile, indulging her earlier inclination and giving the man a swift but tender hug, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. "I'm glad you came, Vincent. Really," she breathed before releasing him to head downstairs, calling, "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a few minutes with the kids."
Vincent:
He waited patiently in the hallway as she unnecessarily re-made the bed. After sleeping in a coffin for thirty years, then mostly on the ground for months, any bed was welcomed, whether or not the sheets smelled just-out-of-the-dryer fresh. When she emerged and hugged him, he absolutely froze. The softness of her cheek brushed his, and he was thankful for the high collar that hid his open mouth. He managed to murmur, "Alright..." just as she walked downstairs, leaving him standing there feeling hopelessly inept at how he would handle living with her, not to mention the children.
With a sigh he walked into the room and divested of his cloak, hanging it and his gunbelt on a cornerpost of the bed. He sat on the fresh, crisp linens and thought for a moment. What would he do to help her? Obviously he wasn't skilled at anything in the bar, but he had many other uses. He considered picking up what Cloud had left behind in the courier business, or perhaps he could round up some of the wanted criminals that Shin-Ra had numerous posters on. Somehow he didn't feel quite at ease doing anything for them, even knowing how the corporation had seemingly changed for the better. Anything that would take him away for long periods was out of the question, since Tifa seemed to need the company at home as much as she needed a better financial situation.
He decided at last to ask her what she felt more comfortable with, and see where that went. He was in the same spot when Marlene, followed closely by Denzel, ran up the stairs and all but tumbled into his lap with a squeal. "Vincent!" The tumble-ee appraised the tumble-er with a blink and a quiet response, "I'm glad to see you too, Marlene. And you, Denzel," he added with a nod to the youth standing a couple of feet away, smiling at him. Denzel reminded him a little of himself as a child, shy and a little awkward, but friendly.
Tifa:
Marlene nearly bounced on Vincent's knee; Tifa had told them there was a surprise waiting at home, but the little girl never expected to find her bestest friend in the world! It was a good surprise! Denzel, while not as exuberant as Marlene, shifted from one foot to the other, obviously excited and bright-eyed. Marlene jumped from Vincent's lap and pulled on his hand.
"Come on!" she urged. "You have to come see our new playhouse! Me, Tifa and Denzel made it! Tifa said when summer comes, we might even be able to camp inside!" she burbled, obviously proud of their playthings. "Vincent," she pouted when he didn't immediately rise, "come on!"
From the doorway, Tifa peeked in and instantly melted to see the children so enamored of him. As generous as his offer had been, she wondered if he'd known what he was getting into. Before things got too out of hand, she emerged around the doorway and said, "A quick look, Marlene. You and Denzel still have homework to finish, remember?"
The little girl pouted but Tifa was adamant. "When you get back in, we can have lunch and then its school, all right?" Both children scuffled but didn't argue further. Tifa returned downstairs and busied herself with the mentioned task of making sandwiches.
Vincent:
He finally rose and allowed her to tug him down the stairs, red eyes a bit wide and obviously unprepared as the normally graceful man clogged down the stairs two at a time to keep up with her pace while bent forward as she maintained a grip on his hand. Denzel ran ahead of Marlene a bit and the two ushered him out the back door once downstairs.
There, in the small backyard nearly overgrown with weeds and dotted here and there with dandelions and other hardy wildflowers, stood a ramshackle little playhouse thrown together with pieces of tin, plywood and other various materials, all of which scrounged from the wreckage of the city, he guessed. Building materials were very expensive, given the recent demand for them.
Without his cloak to hide behind, the children seemed endlessly amused at his lost expressions as they pushed the tall ex-Turk into the house and showed him every mundane detail, that to a child was infinitely important. "Sit down!" Marlene insisted as Denzel pulled three folding chairs from a corner for them. Vincent did as told, listening as the children began to tell him all the interesting things going on while he had been gone. He supposed Marlene had forgotten that she had already relayed the news over the phone.
"Dad found another new oil field! It's not as big as the last one but they did a story on it in the newspaper! Front page!" Marlene said, rattling out bits of the other former AVALANCHE members' adventures. Vincent actually smiled minutely to her, which cause her to giggle and go on with renewed exuberance.
When she had finally finished the update, there was a moment of quiet that passed, a small relief for Vincent as he looked around at the various drawings on the walls. Denzel, with an unsure expression that bordered hope, broke the silence and asked, "Vincent? Have you seen Cloud lately?"
The stoic man withheld his sigh. The children, especially Denzel, worshipped Cloud. He was everyone's hero. Denzel emulated his every move and the way Cloud spoke. Should he tell them the truth? Or would it be easier for them if he lied? No, he decided, they will encounter enough lies in this world.
"He was at the City of Ancients a few days ago. He didn't stay long; I believe he may have had business to attend to. He seemed alright, though." Both sets of small shoulders slumped a little, though the two children wore small smiles to cover a little of the disappointment. Perhaps they'd been hoping he would tell them that yes, he saw Cloud and Cloud had said he'd be home soon. Denzel confirmed this, "Do you think he'll be home again soon? He's always away now..."
The disappointment showed through a bit more in his downcast eyes. Vincent managed the barest smile and knew he was almost lying, "Maybe he will. Now, I believe Tifa said you two have work to finish..." Twin moans of complaint sounded, but they didn't resist as he stood and gestured for them to exit the play-house. Once inside, they bounded into the kitchen, where he quietly followed.
Tifa:
Tifa moved with graceful ease through her kitchen, automatically fixing sandwiches and fruit juice for everyone. Routine was nice; it eased her mind and soothed her nerves. She set the plates down at the bar; the kids usually liked the higher stools better. Belatedly she realized she'd fixed Vincent a plate as well. She chuckled quietly. Well, neither of them had eaten much breakfast; likely he would be hungry as well.
She'd just finished setting down glasses when the troupe reentered the kitchen, Marlene and Denzel clambering up immediately. "Wash hands first," Tifa instructed and obediently the two did so, not quite pushing and shoving on the way to the bathroom. Tifa dried her hands on a towel, watching them go, then turned to Vincent.
"Sorry," she apologized. "They're just really excited to see you," she said with a smile. "Here, lunch." She indicated the other piled plate beside Marlene's. "Neither of us had much for breakfast. But if you're not hungry, it's okay."
Turning away before he could acquiesce or deny, she fell to slicing apples for the kids; Denzel especially loved the crisp fruit. Carrot sticks for Marlene and herself; she bustled about, her quick movements serving well in this arena of domesticity.
Vincent:
Vincent looked at the plate and nodded to her, "Thank you. I am a little hungry." Very little, but he didn't want to let the food go to waste after she'd taken the time and effort to prepare it.
When the children were done with washing their hands and had plopped down onto the bar stools, Vincent walked to the bathroom and washed his own hands. Or rather, washed his human hand after removing the glove, and his claw, which thankfully was water-proof. He had learned not to be nearly as self conscious of it as he had been when the group found him in his coffin. Tifa didn't seem put off by it in the least, and Denzel and Marlene seemed fascinated, if anything.
He returned to the bar and sat down, quietly enjoying the simple meal as the other three talked, and speaking mainly when spoken to. As amazing to behold as he was in a fight, and as skilled with a gun, his conversational skills had always been lacking.
Tifa:
After lunch, Tifa sat down with the kids and the three managed to get homework done. Then playtime while Tifa readied everything for the night's business. Dezra and Rolfe arrived for work, Rolfe heating up the bar's kitchen and Dezra readying tables while Tifa moved quickly and steadily, making sure everything was in order. She then herded the children upstairs for baths and pajamas, finally relenting to let them stay up a bit and "play" with Vincent. Although the look on the former Turk's face mirrored the confusion Tifa knew he felt at that prospect.
But she left them in Vincent's room, Marlene bouncing on her knees atop the pillow and Denzel sprawled on his stomach, gesturing animatedly to Vincent about his latest obsession, monster game cards. The little boy was filling the dark man in on all the stats, characteristics and ways of playing, making sure Vincent understood completely. Yet as much as she would have liked to remain and visit as well, the bustle arriving downstairs signaled the night had begun. At least, for her.
So she steeled herself for another busy night and headed down to the main floor, greeting guests and taking orders as she went, once more falling into the familiar routine. Seven hours later, having been unable to pause once the entire night, Tifa finally fell into a chair after the last customer exited and Dezra locked the doors. "Long night, huh, Tifa?" the little blonde girl asked, wiping down tables for the last time.
Too weary to answer, Tifa just nodded. Rolfe was cleaning in the kitchen, so she figured she better help Dezra out here and then get everything else settled The clock read two in the morning by the time both workers finally bid her goodnight and headed to their respective homes. Tifa was dead on her feet, but the night had been good. Dezra was an excellent waitress and earned much in tips, as did her boss. Tifa deposited the cash box in the upstairs office and staggered out into the hall, too tired to bother with a shower, though the hot water would feel blissful.
Out of sheer habit, she peeked in the kids' room, seeing both children snug under their covers. She smiled, silently thanking Vincent for putting them to bed earlier. Though she'd not been able to do so, it was great to have him here, if just for their sake. She turned off the small hall light and suddenly groaned, remembering she needed to leave her note for the grocer who stopped by early every morning.
Toddling back downstairs, she took a seat at the bar and began to write, but tiredness won and her head lowered to rest upon an outstretched arm and before she could gainsay it, she slipped into sleep.
Vincent:
Vincent could only stare hopelessly at Tifa as she left him purely at the mercy and whims of the kids. He felt terribly out of place playing the baby-sitter, but by the third round of the monster card game, he didn't mind as much. It wasn't a hard game to pick up, but naturally since Denzel enjoyed it so much and had been playing for a while, he won, even beating Marlene, who rolled her eyes and huffed at how it was a silly game anyway.
Between the games, the stories, the requests for stories, and all the talk in between, it was almost eleven o'clock when he finally told them that it was past their bed-time. Gently but sternly, he ushered them out of his room and into theirs, where Marlene gave him a tight hug goodnight. She had clamped onto his neck tight enough to cause him to cough, and said, "I'm glad you're gonna be staying here, Vincent. You're a lot of fun to be around."
Well, that had been the last thing he'd expected to hear. He bade them goodnight with another hint of a smile and went to his bedroom to retrieve the towel and wash-cloth Tifa had lain out for him, then went to the bathroom across the hall to shower.
The hot water felt better than he could recall, and he let the steaming rivulets run down his pale skin until it pinked from the heat of the water. He washed his hair, somewhat disheartened that the only shampoo and conditioner available were plumeria scented, and toweled off before slipping his pants on and going back to his room, the towel around his shoulders under his mane of damp hair and his shirt and headband carried over his claw. He really would have to buy more clothes, probably the next day. He closed the door behind him and flopped onto the bed, sighing heavily. He hadn't realized how tired he was until now.
Without even bothering to crawl beneath the covers, Vincent's eyelids drooped and he slipped into sleep, deeper than the cat-naps of the previous night and day. One of the dreams came back.
He ran toward the lab with the deepest sense of dread. Fluorescent lights buzzed quietly as he passed them, his legs, though faster than most, unable to carry him quite fast enough. Dark lashes fluttered against pale cheeks and his breathing shallowed. He flung the door open to find that ... thing standing before a series of vials and instruments. That evil, loathsome bastard. The husband of the woman he loved. Accusations were thrown, heated words exchanged. The scientist pulled something from under his coat, the dull, false light of the room glinted off steel.
His brows drew together in anticipation of the pain. Shots echoed. Was it two or three? He could barely tell after the first time. He fell, cursing and knowing he was going to die. Knowing he was going to fail. His human hand fisted in the sheet, while his claw slid metal fingers against one another in a quiet screech. She could die because of him. Because she refused him and married a monster. Because he couldn't convince her otherwise. Had he not loved her enough? Not given her enough?
Sweat beaded on his forehead as his mouth opened in a pained whisper. She found him, her belly swollen with child. And she screamed, the last sound he could recall hearing. And inside, he screamed back for her.
"Lucrecia...!" He bolted awake, panting. He looked at the clock. Three-thirty A.M. It wasn't the most graphic of his nightmares, but one of the most painful. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled his shirt on. There'd be no more rest tonight.
Needing something - anything - to drink, he trudged down the hall, down the stairs and into the bar area... where he found Tifa laying in what must have been an uncomfortable position. Taking a breath to chase the rest of the nightmare away, he walked over and touched her shoulder. "Tifa..."
Tifa:
Her dreams were fuzzy, unclear. But she trudged through them nonetheless, having no other choice. Memories abounded, making her heart ache with their intensity. She came awake at the touch upon her shoulder, opening glazed brown eyes to see Vincent hovering over her.
"Vincent?" she murmured. "What is it?" Straightening, she glanced down at the list, wondering if she'd finished it, but suddenly not caring. She pushed the paper away, turning back to Vincent, her brow furrowing at the pale expression on his face. All right, paler than usual. His deep scarlet eyes were haunted, the pupils wide and dilated.
Tifa immediately stood up, placing a worried hand on his forearm, fingers gripping a bit. "Vincent," she said, a bit worried, "what's the matter? What is it?" She'd never seen him like this, nearly shaken and almost unsteady. Her brown eyes instinctively darted around the place, seeking anything out of the ordinary. But nothing was amiss.
Without taking her hand from him, she went around the bar, taking him with her and finally released him to take out a tumbler and ice and pour a generous shot of whiskey, the dark amber liquid among the house's best. "Here," she offered, holding the glass for him.
Tifa didn't know what was troubling him, but a good dollop of Scotch could certainly help cure it.
Vincent:
Was it that obvious? Valentine almost wished that he had donned his cloak to help cover it, but Tifa was likely perceptive enough to detect his unease leftover from the nightmare anyway. He knew that perception was how she kept the group together, with the ability to see trouble or pain building up before it had the chance to explode. She seemed successful with everyone, all but Cloud, though she likely had helped him the most.
He opened his mouth to explain but her gentle tug on his arm made him close it as he watched her pour him a drink. He must have looked like Hell if she went straight for the liquor. He sighed his admission as he took the glass from her, "Thank you. That's actually what I came down here for. It wasn't my intent to disturb or upset you... it just seemed like you should be sleeping in your bed rather than at the bar."
It was fully his intent to work around telling her the complete truth. Best to keep such pain to one's self, he told himself. Vincent swirled the contents of the glass a few times, letting the ice clink inside its small amber sea. He took a decent gulp of it and closed his eyes at the bitter-sweet burn, momentarily bringing back memories of a different time and different drinking companions.
Without the red fabric to hold back some of his hair, it fell into his face a little more than usual, palpable darkness against ivory skin, thus he swept it back with his claw, still cradling his drink in the other hand. He looked at her with some concern of his own, though much more subtle than what her empathic eyes conveyed. Though still beautiful, she looked completely drained. "You must be very tired. Busy night?"
Tifa:
"You didn't disturb me, Vincent," she reassured him with a soft smile, watching him toy aimlessly with the glass. A quiet sigh. "Bed. Yeah, sounds really good. Just wish I had the luxury of a sixteen hour nap." While not really liking the bitter taste of the alcohol, she retrieved a tumbler for herself and took a generous shot, grimacing a bit at the sharp burn as the smooth stuff slid down her throat. One was enough.
Tifa pushed the glass away, turning back to her houseguest. It took her a moment to realize he didn't look the same; without his trademark vermillion cloak and head dressing, he looked quite different. And a hot shower cleaned him up fairly well, she realized belatedly.
While her own skin held a healthy warm tan, Vincent was ghostly pale, pure ivory skin against the drowning onyx of that glorious mane. Watching him irritably brush back the rebellious strands reminded her of her own scraggled locks, a few traitorous ends escaping the practical knot she usually afforded, curled at the nape of her neck. Although her hair had grown, mostly since she never had time to take care of it or get a trim, hers would never have the lustrous shine of Vincent's envious tresses. Gaia, but the man was attractive, she blinked. Even sitting there looking as forlorn as a child whose puppy had run away.
Dimly she realized he'd said something. Huh? "Tired?" she echoed stupidly, blinking blearily at him. "Mm, yeah. Heaven," short for Seventh Heaven, the bar's title, "is always busy nowadays. This isn't really considered the 'rough' part of town anymore. More jobs, with all the rebuilding, so folks are actually thriving." She shrugged a bar shoulder, the dark fabric of the soft, practical shirt rustling quietly.
Tifa preferred comfortable shoes, pants and shirt when waiting tables, comfortable but feminine enough to look nice and pleasant. She'd set aside her leathers in lieu of soft cotton and svelte, usually in muted colors and tones. She yawned. "Sorry, just can't seem to keep my face closed. Dezra's a huge help, but I could stand to have at least two more to keep down the bustle." She gestured at his glass. "Want some more?"
Vincent:
While she spoke, he emptied the liquid from his glass, leaving only the lonely ice as he set it on the bar. "It's ok. It's been a long day. Tomorrow we can talk about how I am to help around here, then when things become easier for you financially, you can hire more help."
To her offer he nodded, "Just one more glass, thank you." He paused long enough for her to pour the drink, his eyes settled on the glass and silently thankful she didn't press him on what was wrong. Once she was finished, he set those ruby orbs upon her.
"You should go to bed, Tifa. I'm sure whatever you were doing can wait until later." His expression was a serious as if he were telling a heart patient to quit smoking, though it was only a small change from how he always looked.
Tifa:
Putting the bottle away after she refilled his glass, Tifa straightened and brushed a hand across her brow with a sigh, eyes abstracted. "I know I should, Vincent. But there's still so much that I need to do." One long finger tapped the paper list. "I was trying to remember what I needed to have the grocer leave when he comes in the morning. I wrote it down as I went tonight, but can't find the original list." She growled a bit, under her breath. "Probably got tossed with the rest of the stuff." A small moue creased her lips. "Oh, well."
Picking up the pen again, she started to scribble but sighed and dropped it. "You're right. I'm so tired I can't even see straight." Indeed, her vision was starting to strangely double a bit. She'd been on her feet nearly sixteen hours; the adrenaline had worn off around closing time.
Leaving the list, knowing she was going to regret not finishing it, she moved past Vincent, pausing in her exhausted wobble to rise on her toes and give him a maternal kiss on the cheek, followed by a sleepy, friendly smile, then somehow managed to climb the stairs one more time and disappear into her room for the remainder of the night.
To be continued...
