There wasn't much cleanup to do after all the non-resident family had trickled out of 7th Heaven, but Tifa still found herself with a wet rag, wiping down the bar, again. She supposed it was more of a ritual than a functional task.
"So what'd'ya really think about him, T—?" Barret asked over his whiskey. He was sitting in a bar stool opposite Tifa, just sipping his drink and watching her work. It was almost hypnotic, the regular circle motion of her arm. She paused and met his eyes.
"You mean Snow?" she confirmed. Barret nodded. "You know, when you first talked about him, I was expecting something a little different. Not as young, for starters."
Barret looked surprised. "I made him sound old? That's somethin' I didn't expect to hear."
"Well, you know, not old old," Tifa backtracked. "But older than, what is he? Early twenties at best? I expected him to be more like between our ages. You sounded like you and he were such good friends on the phone, I just assumed you two got that way because of... comparable life experiences." Barret guffawed into his glass.
"You thought he was an old fart like me," he supplied helpfully, but in a light, teasing, borderline singsong sort of voice. "Nah, you're actually kinda right. I know he don't look it, but he's the oldest person I ever met. Did you know that boy is over five hundred?"
Tifa nearly threw her rag at him. "He is not!"
Barret just brought his glass to his lips. "Oh, he is. Even if he ain't as old as all that, he's got way too many old war stories for a twenty-something. Been too many places and seen too many things."
"Five hundred years old... Well, he looks good for an older fella, I'll give him that. Tell me something though: even before Light corroborated his story, you believed this really far-fetched story and trusted him enough to bring him here."
"There a question in there, T—?"
Her hands were on her hips and she had adopted a challenging posture. "Well, what made you believe in him?"
"Ah." Barret put his glass down. "It weren't just the number o' stories he had. He talked about old places, T—. Places I heard Light talk about sometimes. He lived in a town called Bodhum, by the sea, just like her. He was once engaged, but all he would say about the little lady was that she was beautiful and smart and had 'rose-colored hair'. I know now he was talkin' 'bout Light's sister, but at first I really thought it was about Light herself; he never did tell me her name or nothin', just got real quiet and broody for a few. That's why I didn't want to tell him who he was meeting before he got here; if it was Light he was pinin' for, I didn't want to give him time to hope for a nice tidy reunion, ya know?"
"Yeah, I know. I get it," she nodded. "It would have killed him, hoping for a nice, tidy reunion, only to discover the truth. If Light had been the one, I mean."
"Yeah," he agreed.
"It's never easy living in hope for something like that," Tifa continued absently, her voice quiet.
"You're not talkin' about the kid anymore, are ya?" Instead of answering, Tifa turned back toward the kitchen with her head down. "T—, wait. Tifa."
She stopped. Barret hardly ever called her by her full first name. It was usually a sign that he was under some kind of emotional stress, one of the few signs he ever gave of such things. He abandoned his whiskey, stood up from his stool and walked around the bar to where she stood.
"Tifa, don't go. Please. I'm sorry." She just scoffed.
"You say that every time," she told him quietly even as one of her hands came up to start playing with the zipper on the end of his vest. "Just saying 'sorry' doesn't change the fact that I almost never see you."
His hands rose to hold her arms and his forehead rested against hers. "Prob'ly shoulda quit when we were ahead, huh?"
"What does that mean?" she challenged.
"Real talk, T—, maybe it's a little too late to be askin' this, but do you regret sayin' yes all them years ago?"
"Barret—"
"Do you ever wish none o' this had ever happened?"
"No," Tifa insisted. "Well, sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"Never enough, though. Turns out, even when I'm mad at you for leaving I'd still rather have you a few times a year than not at all. It sounds kind of pathetic, huh?"
Barret shook his head. "Sounds like someone who deserves a lot better'n I can give her."
"Are you saying it's time to quit? I know we're not 'ahead' anymore, but if that's where this is going then why don't we just get there and be done with it?"
He was so taken aback that he took a physical step backwards. "Quit? No, that's not— Tifa, I love you. An' I don't wanna quit. Actually, I was about to say I'm lookin' for a way to move to Edge. Proper-like. To be with you more."
Tifa's mouth hung open. She physically could not speak for several moments. "B-but, Barret. Your business...?"
"T—, I got good people workin' 'em rigs. I can switch to transport. I still get to travel around, and I'd be on the road a lot, but I'd be comin' back here every week 'stead of every three months."
"Every week," Tifa repeated. If she sounded breathless, it was nothing compared to how she actually felt. "And you would... do that?"
Instead of answering, Barret closed the distance between them and planted a kiss on her. When he could finally speak, "I shoulda done this years ago. I've been an idiot fer stayin' away like I have." He kissed her again. "A complete idiot." And again. "How come ya didn't dump me years ago?"
"Barret?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up and take me upstairs."
With a rakish grin he picked her up, bridal style. "Yes, ma'am!"
"So this is where you ran off to," Light greeted as she stood by the shed in her backyard. She used to keep chocobo feed and supplies in that shed, but since Nuggets passed away she had started using it for holiday decoration storage. Up on the roof of that shed, Snow sat looking up at the moon and stars. He started at the sound of her voice.
"How'd you know I was up here?" he asked.
"Fun story, Snow," she began as she started climbing the ladder. "You might be sitting on the side away from the house, but your head is still visible from the kitchen window. I'm sorry, but you're just too tall for this sneaking out of the house thing." She took a seat next to him. "And your blond hair reflects pretty brightly in the moonlight. If you want to be really sneaky you're gonna have to dye it."
He laughed. Good, she thought. It was always important to start with something light and fluffy when a serious conversation was imminent, and Light knew that just such a talk was on the horizon and closing fast.
"So, you caught me, Light."
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah..." The ambient moonlight was bright enough that he could see her staring at him with skepticism so apparent she might as well have voiced it. "No. Not really. It's pretty overwhelming: this place, this town, you're married and have a kid, I mean, really? Just the fact that you're here is crazy enough..."
"It took me a while to get used to this place, too," Light admitted.
"But you did," he pressed. "You got used to it, you made friends, you found someone to love." Snow sighed heavily. "This place doesn't feel quite right. It doesn't smell right. The food is all different. I haven't been able to find anything here even remotely like a fried niblet hairball."
"That sounds disgusting," Light interjected.
"The most disgusting," Snow agreed. "And the most delicious thing I've ever had. It's a shame you don't remember; you're the one who turned me onto them."
Light chuckled. "I'll take your word for it."
"Well, you're gonna have to, since I can't find them here for you to try one."
After another chuckle, their smiles died down and they sat in a moment of silence. Then, "It's not just the lack of niblet hairballs that's bothering you, is it?" Light prompted.
"No, it's not," Snow answered tersely. "I... I miss her." She did not need to ask who he was talking about.
"Oh, Snow—"
"No, Sis, I need to get this out. I went through five hundred years without her. Five hundred years and a lot of bad memories trying to forget about her, or make up for her not being there, or just to drown her out so I wouldn't have to feel pain anymore. And then you showed up, beat the crap out of me and told me I needed to fight, because if I just fought hard enough for long enough, we'd win and I'd get to see her again.
"And then we didn't win. We got so close, but the Chaos was too much for us, and God was too strong. He wiped your memories, sealed us all back up in crystal, and made his new perfect world and made us sleep under it for who knows how long...
"Then I wake up, and I'm all alone again. Light, I don't know where Serah's soul is, but I don't think you or me are ever gonna find it. She's never coming back to me..." he broke off here, nearly choked on the lump rising in his throat.
Light put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Snow? Look at me." He looked. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but, you're right: Serah might be in our hearts, but she's not here physically. I don't think she ever was or ever will be. But hey. Keep looking here. You know what Serah wanted more than anything?"
"Yeah," he answered. "She wanted you."
"She wanted to see you smile," Light corrected gently.
"When did she ever have time to say that to you?"
"I was in Valhalla, remember? What, you think I didn't check in on her? And she knew, somehow she knew, or at least hoped, that I was watching and listening. She would talk to me. She would always preface with 'Sis, I miss you,' and then she'd just talk about how her life was going. She spent a lot of time talking about you. And any time you were having a bad day, or feeling frustrated about something, she would always go to her room and just start talking."
"I bet that was tons of fun for you," Snow said sarcastically.
"Serah's never talked to me so much at one time without us arguing about something," Light pointed out. "Of course I would call that fun."
"When you put it like that," he conceded.
"My point in all this," Light continued, "is that you think you're honoring her memory by pining for her and keeping everyone else at arm's length, but do you really think that's how she would want you to live? What happened to the Snow who wanted a white picket fence and a dozen kids? Just because my sister is gone doesn't mean those dreams of yours went with her."
"Sis, if you're telling me to forget about Serah and find someone else, I really can't do that." Light started to interrupt, but Snow wasn't done. "I know you're trying to look out for me, but I wanted that life with her. I wanted those kids with her. It's not gonna happen, but I can't just find someone else. Even if that's what she would've wanted, I can't do it. Could you just find someone else if Vincent was gone?"
"No, I couldn't," she admitted. "I just don't want you to become an old man with too many regrets and not enough time to fix them."
Snow shrugged his massive shoulders. "So I'll never be a dad. But I bet I can be a kickass uncle," he added with a wink. Light smiled. That was something, at least.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," she encouraged.
"Of course, if I'm gonna live the dream, you better give me eleven more nieces and nephews," he teased.
Her answering laugh came out like a bark. "In your dreams, bro."
"No, no, you're breeding for both of us now, you and Vincent better get on that. Only one kid in ten years? You need to step up your game, Light."
"Well excuse me if all that l'Cie-branding, chosen-one-of-the-goddess, hibernating-for-thousands-of-years stuff negatively affected my fertility rate," she said sarcastically. "You're a man, your gametes replace themselves all the time, but these eggs of mine are the same ones I had all the way back in Cocoon."
Snow looked like he had been slapped in the face. "Wow, I didn't even think of that. So the fact that Hope exists is pretty much a miracle."
"For sure," she agreed. He elbowed her lightly in the arm.
"Hey. You did a good job with him. He's a good, strong, healthy kid, and I'm really glad I got to meet him."
"I'm glad, too. It's only been a day, but you've been a pretty good uncle so far, and I'm happy he has you in his life now."
They sat there in contented silence, looking at the moon and stars. A sudden thought occurred to Light.
"Hey Snow, it's a completely different topic, but I want to ask you something, and you're the only person I know who might understand: do you ever have really weird, crazy-vivid dreams about the old world?"
He clearly was not expecting that question. His face became a mask of bewilderment. "Um? I have dreams about the old world all the time, sure, but define 'really weird'. And also define 'crazy-vivid.'"
"More like scary visions than actual dreams," Light prompted. He thought about it for a minute.
"No, nothing like that, sorry," he finally answered. "But then again, I was never a chosen one, so maybe whatever crazy dreams you're having are a holdover from that."
"Maybe. I just wish they'd stop."
But they didn't stop. He was there again in her nightly visual assault: her old rival, Caius.
She was a soldier again, a scared and lonely sergeant affecting a grim lone-wolf persona to mask the lonely emptiness within. She was too far gone for Claire, not far gone enough for Light. Trapped in emotional stasis every bit as paralyzing as sleeping in crystal, she was Lightning again. How ironic for her: lightning strikes hard and fades away, an ephemeral dream as fragile as a bubble floating on the summer air. But Lightning was a state of stagnation, forever held in the moment between the strike and the disappearance. Burning too hot, for too long, it was only a matter of time before she burnt out. And what would become of her then? Would she be forced to burn in silence long after the light of her bolt had faded?
Lightning did not recognize the room in which her dream-self stood. It was a great bare cavernous chamber of steel, with lights running along the edges between wall and floor, their up-cast incandescent glow throwing an ominous greyscale gradient over the plain walls. The ceiling was in total shadow; Lightning could not be certain how high up it was. The only adornment in the entire place was a white sliding door on one wall, with a large number 49 in black paint emblazoned on its shining panels.
Caius Ballad stepped through that door only moments after she got her bearings and finished looking around.
"Lightning," he greeted with a nod.
"You again," she seethed back. "What do you want this time?"
He lifted his empty hands in a gesture of calling for a truce. "You look tense. Would you like to spar? It might help you relax."
"You might not come out on the other end looking so pretty," Lightning threatened. Caius slowly, deliberately lowered one hand to a pocket and pulled out a device that appeared as an ultra-thin remote control.
"No need to worry about that. Our weapons will be holographic." He pressed a button on the remote.
Abruptly, the walls around them began to shimmer and the place transformed into a rooftop in Valhalla, complete with a breathtaking view of the sickly greenish perpetual sunset that lingered over that world. Lightning's own appearance changed as well: Her clothes were gone and in their place she was wearing a dazzling steel suit of armor, the very one she had worn during her service to Etro. Her trusty round shield appeared, strapped to one arm, while her gunblade materialized in her other hand before her very eyes. She looked up to regard Caius.
Only to discover, to her shock, that Caius was nowhere to be seen. Where he had been standing there was now another man.
That man was of Caius's height and general build, though more slender in the face. Everything about him spoke of immeasurable, indescribable danger. His blue-green eyes pierced like a pair venom-coated daggers. Long, impossibly thick, impossibly smooth silver hair ran down his back, gleaming at least as brightly as Lightning's polished armor. He had simple attire dominated by a long black leather coat tailored so closely in the sleeves and torso that he wore it like a second skin. Its lower panels hung as a normal jacket from the waist down, but something about their leathery folds reminded Lightning of a dragon's wings at rest. The whole coat shone in the green ambiance with a malevolence that did not belong to ordinary clothing. The high black collar was so dark against his white skin that it made him look almost sickly, but maybe that impression was emphasized by the obvious hatred marring his otherwise handsome features.
Lightning could not have known whose face she looked upon in that moment. She had never seen him, or anyone like him, before in her life. If only her friends had accompanied her into her dream world; they would have known the form of Sephiroth anywhere.
She had no historical context by which to judge him, but she could read a facial expression well enough, so she adopted a battle stance in preparation for when the animosity in his eyes would inevitably extend to his sword arm. Her opponent lowered his chin slightly and blinked his impossibly thick, impossibly long eyelashes at her. Lightning never knew that a mere blink could be accompanied by so much contempt.
"Who are you supposed to be?" Lightning demanded.
"I am the same person I ever was," the man said in Caius's voice. "I may have changed my look, but my essence remains the same. What about you, Lightning? Who are you supposed to be?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" she gripped the hilt of her gunblade a little tighter.
"You've been doing so well the past few years. In fact, I was just thinking that you might be ready."
"Ready for what?"
"But then you come to see me, Lightning, and look at this: we're fighting again." He sounded almost hurt, but Lightning would bet a lot money the sentiment was as manufactured as the virtual Valhalla around them.
"You literally put the weapon in my hand," Lightning pointed out. "You're actually surprised that I would use it?"
"I hoped that you wouldn't. Instead, I have a proposition for you."
"Go. To. Hell." Lightning was about ready to turn around and cut her way out of the virtual reality.
"Maybe I didn't phrase that right," his voice sounded right behind her. Suddenly she felt a sharp pinching sensation in her neck and she realized too late that he had a vise-grip on her upper vertebrae. The next words out of his mouth were not in Caius's voice, but in a deep, calm, much colder tone that she had never heard before. "My Mother has chosen you. You will open the path for me to re-enter this world."
"You and your mother can both go to Hell. I'm not helping you," Lightning promised through gritted teeth.
His mouth was beside her ear. "A long time ago I knew a man, who liked to quote a certain poem, I'm sure you've heard the line. Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return. Sound familiar?"
"LOVELESS, act five."
"That's right. To become the dew that quenches the land, to spare the sands, the seas, the skies, I offer thee this silent sacrifice."
"Aww, you've got it memorized?" Lightning taunted, as well as she was able with his hand still paralyzing her from the neck down.
"What can I say? He beat it into my head."
"Too bad he didn't just beat you in the head and spare me the trouble."
"Why don't you spare me your bravado, Lightning?"
"Make me."
He snarled. So close to her ear, it sounded a lot more dangerous and animalistic than it otherwise would have. "Careful, Lightning. Don't wear your claws out too early. You still need your strength."
With that, he was gone. Lightning fell to her knees, but instead of landing on the stone of Valhalla, she hit the steel floor of the first chamber. Then the world went black, and once again, Light Valentine awoke from her vision in a cold sweat, with another wave of stomach-churning nausea that had her rolling out of bed and running to the bathroom at top speed.
"Light, again?" Vincent's voice sounded wearily at her side.
"Go back to bed, I'm fine," she insisted, even as she coughed and spat into the sink.
"Another bad dream?"
"Have you ever had one so bad that it literally made you sick to your stomach? That's been me all week long."
"I know, and it's got me worried about you. We're going to a doctor in the morning."
"Vincent—"
"Don't 'Vincent' me. You're ill, and we're going to do everything to make you better." His voice was firm, insistent. Only a few times in their marriage did he adopt this tone and issue her commands, and all of those times had been related to her trying to overdo it and push herself too hard when she was ill. Well, at least they were consistent with each other.
"We'll make the appointment in the morning," Light finally agreed. "In the mean time, let's try to go back to sleep, okay? I don't know about you, but I could really use it."
"Agreed."
They went back to bed and neither of them awoke again until the sound of Hope knocking at the door asking for breakfast caused Vincent to finally give in and wake up.
By the time he was sufficiently dressed and had gotten downstairs, Hope was sitting on the living room floor with his eyes once again glued to the sight of Captain Tachibana's team doing battle with Myrmidia on the television. Snow was sitting on the floor with him, his huge bulk dwarfing the tiny eight-year-old boy. Snow was asking questions about the show, mostly the same ones Vincent himself had asked not too long ago.
"Where did you two get matching pajamas?" Vincent asked them as he squinted to make sure of what he was seeing. Sure enough, they were each wearing a nearly identical set of white pajamas covered in images of bright yellow cartoon chocobos.
"Remember, Dad? We got these last month," Hope sounded exasperated that his dad didn't remember purchasing new jammies for him.
"Okay, but then, Snow...?"
"Oh, well when I first woke up, I just had my normal clothes, but Barret showed me a place to pick up a few extra things on the way to Edge. It's crazy that we got the same ones, huh?" he laughed, and he and Hope exchanged fist bumps.
Vincent just nodded, too tired to coherently respond, and went to the kitchen to get bowls of cereal ready. "What store sells chocobo PJ's in his size?" he muttered as he pulled the bowls out.
"Snow, do you like Choco Puffs?" Vincent called from the kitchen.
"Are they made out of chocobos or chocolate?" came his answer from the living room.
Vincent brought out two bowls of the cereal and handed one each to Hope and Snow. "Try and guess. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," he said to the latter before returning to the kitchen to make himself a bowl.
Light came downstairs in the mean time. "Mm, Choco Puffs," she gushed, and Vincent poured her a bowl too.
"We're almost out. Light, could you add it to the list?" he absently pointed in the direction of the fridge, where lived the magnetized notepad that they used for making grocery lists.
She did, and the two of them went to the living room to eat breakfast with the other two while Captain Tachibana fought for good and justice in the background.
Mother... the word started to reverberate in Light's brain in the cold voice of the man in her dream. Within seconds of 'hearing' the word, her skull was wracked with a searing, splintering headache like the fastest-onset migraine imaginable. She dropped her bowl on the coffee table – and luckily managed to only splash the milk a little instead of spilling the contents all over the table and floor – and clutched at her head.
"Light? Light, honey, what's wrong?" Vincent sounded panicked, and why should he not? Hope and Snow had both turned their heads in confusion at the sudden pained outburst that poured from Light's throat as she tried to put her head back together.
"Oh, God," she groaned. "I swear this is the mother of all headaches... Ow."
"I'm calling the doctor now," Vincent announced. The words weren't even out of his mouth completely by the time he had sprung into action looking for the phone. He found it on one of the bookshelves near the television set and made the call.
Several minutes later, Light was still in all kinds of pain, but Vincent had managed to get them both ready to walk out the door.
"Okay, I'm taking your mom to the doctor," he said to Hope. "We could be gone for several hours. Please don't go anywhere we can't find you, okay? If you need to get out of this house, go to 7th Heaven." He turned to address Snow. "Thank you for offering to watch him while we do his," he said, and he was genuinely grateful. Snow certainly didn't have to step up and offer to keep an eye on Hope, but he did without question or complaint, and Vincent found – though he was surprised at himself for thinking it – that he was glad to have the man around.
Vincent drove while Light sat in the passenger's seat clutching her head. The headache was slowly, very slowly, receding. She could at least open her eyes without the light causing her more pain by the time they arrived at the hospital.
They were sitting in the admissions waiting room, waiting as patiently as possible for the next available doctor, when Vincent's cell phone began buzzing angrily.
"Valentine," he answered after looking at the caller ID. "Sir. Now? I understand." He sighed. "Yes, sir." He hung up.
"You've got a mission," Light guessed, correctly. "They really have great timing."
"They want me at the Midgar Memorial Helipad now to go to Wutai. Whatever it is, it's time-sensitive."
"Go."
"Light," he protested.
"It's your job, right?" she continued. "Go, do your mission. I've got my phone; I'll have Tifa or someone come pick me up when I'm done here."
He kissed her briefly. "I'll be home soon. Call me and tell me how it goes. Even if my phone is out of range, leave me a message okay? I want to be sure you're going to be alright."
"I'll be fine. I'll call you later," Light promised.
Shortly thereafter, Vincent headed out, all the while looking over his shoulder at Light until he was outside the hospital and could no longer see her through the walls.
Light waited fifteen more minutes in that room, which gave her head time to clear more before talking to a doctor, but still seemed to her to reveal a serious lack of organization, or perhaps an under-staffing problem.
"Mrs. Valentine?" she finally heard the voice of a nurse call. She stood up and identified herself.
"This way," said the nurse, and led her down a hallway to an examination room. "The doctor will be with you in just a moment." And then the nurse was gone, leaving Light alone to wait a few minutes longer in solitude.
"Light Valentine?" she finally heard as the doctor entered the exam room.
The doctor was a youngish woman with a slender build and medium brown hair pulled back in a sensible bun. Her name tag said Kingston.
"Yes that's me," Light answered.
"Great. Well, Light, it says here that you've had some trouble sleeping, you've been ill a lot this week, particularly after waking up from 'hyper-vivid dreams', and this morning you suddenly got a headache that you rated as an 8 on our 1 to 10 pain scale. Does all that sound about right?"
Light nodded.
"Okay, and how's your head feeling now?"
"It's subsided to about a 3."
"Okey-doke," the doctor said. "First things first, I'm going to take your temperature and blood pressure, and then I'd like to run a couple of tests. I'd need blood and urine samples for that, is that okay?"
"That's fine," Light said. She was about ready to undergo any test if it meant a reprieve from the issues she'd been having lately.
Her temperature was normal and her blood pressure was a little low but still within the healthy range. Getting blood drawn strung a little but it wasn't too bad. She had a little trouble peeing in the cup though; Light was never the kind of person who just peed on command. Dr. Kingston brought her some water and juice to help the process along. Finally Light produced a sample and the doctor got everything labeled and sent to the lab.
"There are a couple of things we can test for right away with the urine, results should only take an hour or so, but the blood work and the in-depth urine analysis will take about a day to show any results. We have some magazines and crossword puzzle books if you want something to occupy yourself with while you wait for the preliminary results."
Light accepted the crossword puzzles and sat down at the small table in the exam room to work on them. Not that she could concentrate on them very well. Her mind was buzzing with possibilities for what her results would show, as well as buzzing slightly more literally with the remnants of her headache.
About an hour later, her doctor came back with a piece of paper, no doubt the preliminary results from Light's urine test. "Well, Light, I have some good news for you, and I have some bad news, which would you like to hear first?"
"Start me off with the bad news, doc." Better to just get it out of the way.
"The bad news is that the normal medication we would prescribe to help you sleep without dreaming we can't prescribe for you because of another pre-existing condition. Unfortunately, it's a condition that also means we can't prescribe any of the backup medications we might otherwise suggest."
Light narrowed her eyes. "What's the condition? What do I have?"
"Well, that's actually the good news. Congratulations, Light. You're pregnant."
"You're what?!" Tifa practically shrieked an hour later when she arrived to pick Light up from the hospital. She wrapped Light in a big hug. "Congratulations, sis. I'm so happy for you!"
Light was still mostly in a state of shock, with one hand unconsciously resting on her belly. It was up to Tifa to get Light to the car.
"Where's Vincent? Have you told him yet?" she asked the still catatonic Light.
At the mention of Vincent's name, Light snapped out of it a little. "No I haven't. I need to call him. She fumbled with the contents of her purse until she finally found and got a decent grip on her phone.
As expected, the phone went to voicemail, but per his request, she left a message anyway. "Vincent, it's me. I'm with Tifa, we're leaving the hospital. We have to wait a day for the blood work to come back, but, well, I at least found out why I've been so sick in the mornings. Surprise, we're having another baby. We'll talk more about this when you get back, but I just wanted to give you the heads up now. Come back soon, I love you."
"Are you doin' okay, sweetie?" Tifa asked when the phone was hung up and put away. "You look like you're about to cry."
"I just... I never thought I would have another one," Light answered. It was mostly true. She decided to leave off the part where she was more than a little freaked out by the prospect of going through another pregnancy. The last one wasn't exactly a walk in the park, even as pregnancies go. Her blood pressure had jumped all over the place, the swelling in her joints made it so painful to walk that she was forced into bed-rest by the fourth month, and she had developed a temporary but extremely painful sensitivity to meat and eggs, to the point that she had to eat almonds by the fistful to meet her daily protein recommendation. Little Hope got through the experience unscathed, a fact for which Light was enormously grateful, but it was still the worst nine months of her life bar none, and that was saying a lot given her military background.
Tifa wasn't dense; she picked up on Light's anxiety easily. "Sweetie, you don't have to worry, okay? You've got me to help you out, you've got a husband who loves you and would do anything for you. As long as Snow stays in town, you've got a built-in babysitter for Hope. You can do this, but more importantly, you don't have to do it alone. You've got all of us behind you."
"Thank you," Light said quietly. She couldn't say any more than that, as the tears had started to fall and she didn't trust herself to make words happen.
"It's all gonna be okay, Light. Hey, we should do something to celebrate," Tifa suggested. "Anything you want, my treat. Remember that place where we got the best pedicures in the world? We should go there. You know a diner opened near that place, and they're supposed to have these really big, thick milkshakes that you can barely get through a straw. What do you say?"
Light said that that idea sounded great.
"Yay! Girl's day," Tifa smiled. "We haven't had a real one in forever." Instead of continuing straight through the next intersection to get back to their normal neighborhood, she turned right toward the shopping center that housed the nail salon.
The pedicure was every bit as good as they remembered. They gabbed back and forth, as friends do, meandering their topics between family news, the summer blockbuster lineup, some associated celebrity gossip, and some of the latest styles of the season. Tifa joked about getting bangs, Light was interested in a pair of gladiator sandals she saw in a magazine at the hospital. Neither of them thought that the trailers for the new action movie looked any good. It was about humans versus giant robots; Tifa thought the effects looked a little too computerized, and Light had too much experience actually fighting fal'Cie for a movie with a similar premise to hold any appeal for her.
"You know that cartoon show Hope likes?" Tifa asked when the first action movie had been exhausted, "I heard it's getting its own live-action movie soon. Like, out next summer soon."
"I saw rumors about that one," Light replied, "but I didn't know they were actually making it."
"Yeah, it's supposed to be this dark and gritty look at what happened between the end of season 1 and the start of season 2. "
"Of course it has to be dark and gritty," Light complained. "Hope is going to be way too excited when they start playing trailers for it. And then I'll have to tell him he's too young."
"You never were very good at telling him no."
"I haven't had a lot of practice," Light reminded her. "He's been such a good kid, I almost never have to say no. Or if I do, I only have to say it once and then he listens. He's never been much of a tantrum thrower."
"That mom card of yours is looking mighty dusty," Tifa agreed. "At least you'll finally get to use it when that movie happens."
"Yay," Light replied with an exaggerated eye roll.
"I saw a picture of the cast lineup. The live action Captain Tachibana is pretty cute."
Ooh, yes, now they got to talk about attractive celebrity boys. Light smiled. "What kind of cute, though? More bad boy cute, or wholesome farm boy cute?"
Tifa had to think about it. "I'd say not super bad boy, but more bad boy than good boy? Oh man, you know who he looks like? That's right, you never met them. Okay, well I knew this guy back in the day. Sassy angry redhead type, you would have loved him..." Tifa rambled on as she pulled out her phone and started looking through her pictures. "Okay, here we go. This one's a little older, it was taken a little bit before you woke up, but the way he looked back then is closer to what the Captain looks like now anyway." She passed the phone over to Light, who looked down at a picture of two men in dark suits. "He's the one on the left," Tifa clarified.
The man on the left certainly looked sassy, and Tifa was not kidding about the redhead thing. His hair was quite literally red, not quite to the point of ketchup but it was trying. He had a mischievous look on his slender, but admittedly cute face. He had one of his arms around the shoulders of the other man in the picture like they were best friends on a beach holiday and not two... what were they? Private security? Secret agents? Some kind of people on an important but understated mission.
"Who are these people?" Light finally asked.
"The sassy redhead is Reno, and the serious guy with the shades is Rude."
"Rude?"
"Yeah, I don't know. His parents must not have been very happy with him."
"But who are they?"
"They're Turks." Light looked up and stared blankly at her friend. "Shinra security division. Surely Vincent told you about Turks?"
"He told me a little about working security for Shinra, but he never mentioned Turks by name."
"Well, that's who he worked for. That's who he still works for. He's technically a private contractor now, but all the intel for those missions he goes on? It all comes through Turks."
"I thought the Shinra company was more or less destroyed...?" Light asked as she handed the phone back over.
Tifa shrugged. "As a power company, yeah, they're history, but they still exist as an information broker and spy agency. After the collapse, it was mostly Turks who returned to work, so the company adapted to suit their skills."
"Do I want to know how you know all this?" Light asked skeptically.
"They tried to recruit Cloud once, back in the day. And I still talk to Reno sometimes. Don't tell Vincent this, but every now and then, Reno gives me an update on how his missions are going. He doesn't tell me anything sensitive, just a little check-in."
"Why?"
"Because he's never met you, but being as you're Vincent's wife he wants someone to be able to assure you he's okay."
"That's... that's really thoughtful. So, all those times you told me not to worry, because you're sure he's fine, that wasn't just you being a supportive friend, but you really knowing he's okay because Reno told you?"
"Yep."
"Good to know." After a slight pause, "So what about Rude? Is he still in?"
"Ah. Rude took a bullet in the line of duty about six years back. He lived, but he works in a lab now, developing plastic explosives. Him and Reno are still friends, but they don't get to hang out like they used to."
"Sad."
"Yeah... Okay, but now that you've seen Reno, I want you to take a look at this still of the new Captain Tachibana and tell me what you think." She found a picture and held the phone over for Light to look.
"Wow. It's like Reno in a green wig."
Two minutes later, Light abruptly burst into laughter. Tifa looked at her in alarm."
"Sorry," she said when the giggles died down enough to allow her to speak. "Sorry, I suddenly tried to picture Vincent in one of those Turks suits."
