Lost

Vincent stood in what should be the living room once he was finished with the apartment, looking out of the window, watching people walk down the street without really seeing them. Somehow, he still had trouble getting used to owning an apartment after so many years. Perhaps he never would.

He was grateful that Tifa had agreed to talk to the woman – Naomi, that was her name. Hopefully, the brunette would get through to her. After their brief conversation last night he doubted that she was willing to talk to him again. Even though it was not his fault that she was ill. He was not the one who had put her in this situation. Not initially, at least. He would never do this to someone. Anyone, really. But he was also aware of the fact that he was not very … approachable. He had always preferred it this way.

Could her confusion really be the result of Mako poisoning? He had not considered this before, and he quickly dismissed this theory. Even if he couldn't really say why – he intended to find out the truth.

There were just too many unanswered questions. It was doubtful that she would be able to provide any viable answers, which he did not even blame her for. He did not even have a reason to be interested in this. And yet …

He turned around as he heard footsteps, expecting Tifa. Instead, it was Naomi who stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, an uncertain look on her face. »Is there anything you need?« he inquired. If so, why had she not asked Tifa?

She shook her head, then stepped into the room on bare feet. »Well, I just …« she started and rubbed her face with one hand. »Look, I'm sorry about earlier. And I still haven't thanked you for helping me. So, thanks.«

He looked at her, wondering what she apologised for, exactly. For not remembering what had happened? For being discontent with her situation? Or did she consider herself a liability? He nodded at her, accepting her apology, as well as her thanks. »Where is Tifa?«

»She's using your kitchen to prepare some food. She said you were okay with that. Why?« She stepped up next to him and looked outside, just like he had done before. Up close, she looked weary.

»I would have thought you preferred her company to mine.«

She glanced up at him in surprise. »You don't want me anywhere near there right now,« she said with a small laugh. »Unless you want to redecorate. Which you would have to. Cooking and I certainly don't mix. I have no business being in any kitchen unless it's to fetch some water or maybe get some coffee. Anything else …« She mimed something exploding.

He barely suppressed a laugh. »I will keep this in mind.«

»I'm serious!«

»I do not doubt your words.«

She regarded him with an incredulous look. He could almost hear her thoughts on this. Yes, they had just met. Of course, she saw no reason for him to believe her so easily. But he did.

She shrugged. »Tifa thought I was just pulling her leg at first. Jesus, you should have seen the look on her face! After I told her that I almost blew up me Mam's kitchen once, she seemed to change her mind, though.«

Still not used to her foreign accent, it took Vincent a moment to reply. »I can see why Tifa would have a hard time believing this.«

»Yeah. Maybe.« She looked down at her hands. »I don't even know why that is. It's almost as if I –« Shaking her head, she stopped herself from saying more.

He wondered if she simply did not wish to continue speaking, or if she was searching for the right words. After a while it became apparent that the former was true. So be it. He would not force her to tell him anything. Everyone was entitled to their secrets.

»Is there something on my face?« she asked after a while, raising her hands to feel for any irregularities.

Vincent shook his head. He had not meant to stare at her. »My apologies.«

»What is it?«

»Your accent.«

»What about it?«

»It is just … unusual.« Of course, he had noticed it the night before, he just hadn't given it much thought.

She creased her eyebrows. »I guess it sounds weird to anyone who isn't Irish.«

She had said something about a place called Ireland before. So she still stuck to this. Asking her where it was supposed to be would be pointless, so he refrained from doing so. He knew this conversation would not end well.

It seemed she waited for him to say something to this. But nothing he could have said would have been of any use whatsoever. Or, perhaps, she just didn't want to appear nosy, so she kept her questions to herself.

With a soft sigh, she turned back to the window, chewing on her lower lip. »This is so weird,« she muttered under her breath. »This doesn't look like any place I've been before.«

He folded his arms as he watched her watching the people outside. He would like to know what she was thinking. But he wasn't going to ask her. Even if he did, she had no reason to tell him.

Her expression grew more puzzled by the minute. He could see her eyes search for something that didn't seem to be there. After a while she turned back to him, confusion evident on her face. But instead of voicing her thoughts, she merely cocked her head in the direction of the window.

Vincent raised an eyebrow. He had no idea as to what she might be inquiring with this gesture.

»Seriously?« She shook her head in bewilderment. »How the Hell did I even end up here?«

»What is the last thing you remember?« he asked before he could stop himself.

Naomi heaved a deep sigh. »I'm not sure. I remember a bunch of things, but it's all jumbled up. I couldn't tell you if something happened last week or maybe last month.«

He nodded. He had hoped for some details but had not really expected them. It was surprising enough that she had even replied at all. »Nothing out of the ordinary?«

»Not as far as I can tell. Apart from this.« She made an expansive gesture at the window.

Vincent inclined his head. There might be a way to get help in finding answers. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner? Reeve might be able to offer his assistance. »I will make some inquiries.«

»Where?« She tilted her head back and regarded him through hooded eyes.

»An acquaintance might be able to help.« He shifted his weight.

Naomi pushed her lower lip forward. »It's okay. You don't need to make any deals or exchange favours on my behalf.«

»Simply asking will not be a problem.«

»Fine, then.« She sighed. »In that case, I will be the one who owes the favour, though. Not you.«

»Why? I am the one who offered.«

»I guess, I'll owe you the favour then. One more doesn't matter, really.«

»Whatever do you mean?«

The look she gave him was one of such confusion that he almost laughed. He quickly lowered his head, so she wouldn't see the barely suppressed smile behind his collar. He looked up when he heard her chuckle.

»Now listen to me, sounding all Godfather-like,« she said, shaking her head. »Really, you'd think I'd been kidnapped by the mob.« Her expression sobered. »You're not working for the Mafia, are you?«

»I work for no one,« he replied.

»Freelancer, eh?« She raised her hands defensively. »I know, I know. None of my bloody business.«

That was not what he had meant to say, though. »Do you have regular dealings with the … Mafia?«

At that, she actually laughed. »No, thankfully not. Part of the Irish mob is based in Dublin, though.« She waved her hand. »Can't say I deal with criminals. Heck, I don't even do legal drugs, mind you.«

»Why not?«

»Don't want to, don't need to,« she said.

He had referred to the drugs, assuming she was talking about medicine. »Not even pain killers?«

»Nope. I've never been sick, so I never needed to take any.«

»This is remarkable.« He had never known anyone who did not get ill every now and then. Apart from himself, but that was a completely different matter.

»Naomi?« Tifa called from the kitchen. »Lunch is ready!«

»Just give me a moment,« Naomi shouted back. Then she regarded him with a thoughtful look. »You seem awfully calm about all this.«

»So do you.« At least, she did now. Last night, she had been more upset.

»Well, I guess, I could throw a tantrum,« she said with a shrug. »But that would be childish, don't you think? And it wouldn't solve this situation.«

She was correct. As they looked at each other, he couldn't help but notice that she was really attractive. Not just because of her face – no, it was mainly her eyes. More than their colour – possibly the brightest green he had ever seen, with light flecks of gold around the irises – it was the way they seemed to tell a whole story if someone cared to pay attention. Though he had no business thinking this.

»You must think I'm nuts,« she muttered as she turned away from him.

Vincent blinked slowly. »No. Why would I?«

»Because … at first I thought you might be. But since I'm clearly outnumbered here, I'm the one who's probably bonkers.« She grimaced.

»I have never considered you crazy,« he told her firmly. It was the truth. »I just have not found a likely explanation yet.«

Naomi blinked at him, completely astonished. She had obviously not expected this kind of reply. »I think, Aristotle had a point when he said that probable impossibilities were to be preferred to improbable possibilities,« she said slowly.

He had no idea who this Aristotle was. It probably didn't matter in any case.

»He also said,« she continued, fully facing him again, »that it's the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it. And that's what I'm trying. Anyway, I'm still not completely convinced that I'm not dreaming.«

»Naomi?« Now Tifa's voice sounded from the door. »You coming or what?«

»Huh?« Naomi shook her head as if to clear it. »Coming where?«

Tifa shot him a questioning look. But what was he supposed to tell her?

»I thought you were hungry.«

»Oh … you mean … the kitchen?« Naomi sounded wary. The incident at her parents' house must really have been traumatising.

»Yes, silly. There is a table. There is food. And you don't even need to touch the stove or anything,« the brunette said with a laugh.

Still looking doubtful, Naomi nodded. She seemed to be really worried about ruining his kitchen.

»Come on, I've got a few other things for you, as well.«

»Thanks,« Naomi said distractedly. She nodded to Vincent before she left the room in order to finally get something to eat.

»I will leave everything in your capable hands,« he told Tifa and made to leave as well.

»Where are you going?« she wanted to know.

»I thought I would pay Reeve a visit. He might be able to help with … this.« He made an expansive gesture.

»Do you think that's a good idea?«

»If you want to suggest a better option, feel free to do so. Because I have no possible idea as to where I should start looking for clues, since the Church is not of much help.«

She considered this for a moment. »You're right,« she finally agreed. »Maybe this is the best we can do.«

He inclined his head and left the apartment, his mind still replaying the previous conversation, as Tifa headed for the kitchen.

Something wasn't quite the way it was supposed to be. Reno could feel it. He just wasn't sure what it was.

He entered the office and snatched up the newspaper. The Chief was on the phone, talking to someone rather seriously. That was to say, even more serious than usual. If that was even possible. Reno started to read the paper while he waited for Tseng to finish his call.

»The comics are at the back, brainy,« Elena's all too cheery voice piped up beside him.

He swiftly glanced up at her, then decided to just ignore her. A remark rolled around on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. He just wouldn't let her ruin his mood.

»Finally got rid of that … stuff on your suit?« The blond Turk sat down on the edge of his desk.

What was it with her that she had to annoy him, like, five seconds after his appearance? When had she actually picked up the habit of nagging him in the first place?

»Let's go,« he heard Tseng say. Obviously, he had finished his call already.

»Go where?«

»The slums. Or, to be precise, the Church. I thought Elena had already told you.«

»I didn't get around to do that yet, sir!«

Reno raised his eyebrows questioningly as he pointed to the floor, earning a nod in reply. Huh. Now this could be interesting. One could only hope.

»Tifa!«

The brunette had barely closed the door behind her as she was tackled by an excited six-year-old. Chuckling lightly, she returned the embrace of the little girl she had been taking care of for so long now. »Hey, sweetie!«

»You're back!« Marlene stepped back and looked up at the barmaid. »Were have you been?«

»I'm sorry, I needed to help someone.« Tifa smiled at the girl. »But I'm not going anywhere else today,« she promised.

»Help with what?« Large brown eyes were widened in innocent curiosity.

She's getting prettier each day, Tifa couldn't help but think. I wonder if she takes after her mother? »I met someone recently. And she's ill at the moment, so I wanted to check on her. Just like you did when Denzel was sick.«

»I want to help too,« Marlene declared in a serious tone that belied her age.

Tifa squatted down, so she was at the girl's eye level. She gently laid a hand on her shoulder. »Next time I see her, I will ask if you can visit her as well,« she promised.

Marlene thought about this for a moment. »Maybe once she's a bit better, can I come then?«

The brunette laughed at that. »Sure, I don't see why not.« Hopefully, Vincent wouldn't object to this. But Tifa didn't think he would.

This answer seemed to satisfy the child, and she nodded happily. Then she gave Tifa another hug before she ran back in the general direction of her room. »Denzel!« she called out, obviously eager to tell the boy about her accomplishment.

A wistful smile on her lips, Tifa straightened up. She needed to get everything ready to open the store. As she started to go about her usual business she couldn't help but wish that everything in life was as easy as granting a wish to Marlene.

»Reeve, my old –«

»If you dare call me ›friend‹, I will have to shoot you.« The former Shinra employee and Avalanche member, currently posing as the Commissioner for the World Regenesis Organisation, regarded his visitor warily. »What do you want?«

Rufus Shinra sat down with a sigh and crossed his legs. Placing his elbows on the armrests of his seat, he folded his hands under his chin. »There is a … matter I wish to discuss with you.«

»Listen, you offered to fund this organisation, which I am really grateful for. But that doesn't mean we have to –«

»Trust me on this. You will find this just as interesting as I do,« his former employer interrupted him.

Reeve raised an eyebrow. »How so?«

»There appears to have been a fire at the Church in the Sector 5 slums.« The blonde's face didn't betray his thoughts or emotions. He kept his expression carefully neutral.

»Aerith's Church?« This surprised him. Why hadn't he heard anything about this?

Now a small smirk appeared on Rufus' features as he steepled his fingers. »That's the one.«

»What about it?« He was going to need some details. Facts. Or he would just stop listening to this man right now.

Slightly leaning forward, Rufus tilted his head. As if he had known Reeve would bite, sooner rather than later. »We haven't found the source of the fire yet. But,« he added with a raised finger when Reeve took a breath to interrupt him, »there are signs that indicate someone has been there recently. Or so my Turks tell me.«

»You do know that Cloud visits this Church from time to time?« Reeve wasn't sure where the president of the Shinra Electric Power Company was headed with this conversation. And, quite frankly, he didn't have time for any nonsense.

»Of course.« Rufus nodded sagely. »But we don't think it was him.« He produced a folder which had completely escaped Reeve's attention until now. He laid it on the desk and opened it. There were pictures of the Church.

Without meaning to, Reeve leaned forward and examined them closely. He didn't like to admit it, but the blond man was right. Someone had been there, in the water. It had been almost a month now since Geostigma had been cured, so the site should have been undisturbed. »How old are those pictures?« For all he knew, they could have been taken right after Cloud had returned from the Lifestream.

»They were taken this morning.«

»All right.« The WRO Commissioner heaved a deep sigh. »What do you want to do? And, more importantly, what do you want me to do?«

Naomi cursed under her breath as she stepped onto the balcony. Why did something like this have to happen to her? And how many times was she going to ask herself this very question? Like there was an acceptable answer to this.

She couldn't really tell how many days had passed since she had first woken up here. Could have been two or three, even more. She had lost track of time at some point. She was still stuck in this place. Apart from the balcony, she had not stepped one foot outside Vincent's apartment. Not that anyone really kept her from leaving, but where could she go anyway?

Also, she had to resort to wear clothes Tifa had brought for her, because her own had been burned so badly, they were practically useless. Which was weird, since she herself had not found one single burn mark on her body.

Her mobile hadn't been affected by any fire, either. Though it had been turned off when Tifa had handed it to her. Since Naomi barely knew anything about technology, really, except how to use some of it, she wasn't sure if the battery was just dead, or if it was broken due to water damage or anything.

This was all just so confusing.

Heaving a deep sigh, she put a cigarette between her lips and lit it. She coughed and removed it. She didn't know this brand. Her own – according to the brunette – had been so sodden that she'd had to throw them away and replace them. They tasted way different from the ones she was used to. But they would have to do. For now.

She had temporarily given up on trying to figure out where she really was and how she got to be here. One thing she was sure of, though – her initial theory after she had first talked to Tifa must be about the closest thing to the truth as it could be. Which meant she was on an alien world. So much for probable impossibilities. Thanks so much, Aristotle.

She still wasn't completely ready to accept this, though. Not yet. Because doing so would mean that she would have to face the possibility of never returning home. And she just wasn't ready for that.

She could only hope that Vincent would make good on his promise. It was hard to admit, but he genuinely seemed to want to help her. As did Tifa. The things they kept telling her about this weird place still made no sense to her whatsoever, but they started to sound less far-fetched with each passing day.

Damn it all. This was all so … Jesus! She couldn't even find a suitable word to describe this bloody mess she was in.

During the past few days she had barely seen Vincent. She had no idea where he went to and what he did, but she supposed he was trying to find a solution to her … problem. Whatever she may have thought of him initially, he seemed to be a good person. And she owed him. Big time.

This time, though, she thought she remembered that he had taken her mobile with him, to see if he could find someone to get it to work. Since she didn't have her charger, it was of no use to her right now anyway.

The worst part of all this? The fact that she had to rely on perfect strangers. And she couldn't really do anything to repay them. So she had used her spare time – she had way too much of that at the moment – to clean the apartment, at least. It just wasn't dirty enough to warrant much effort. Gods, what she wouldn't do for some pen and paper to draw, or a book to read. The only thing she hadn't touched at all was the stove in the kitchen. There was just no bloody way she would risk blowing up Vincent's place.

And then there was the gun locker, or course. She still remembered her shock when she had first opened it, thinking it merely contained some tools or supplies or whatever. But she had certainly not expected to find such an arsenal. She had closed it carefully and slowly stepped back. Since then she had given it a wide berth.

Just how many weapons did this guy need? And for what? Maybe he was some sort of Special Agent? And all of this was just some MI6 or CIA mission she had inadvertently gotten involved in?

She laughed out loud at this idea. Now this was completely ridiculous. Her imagination was running wild. But how could it not, given the situation she was in? After all, stuff like this only tended to happen on TV or in books. Although, seriously, she had to admit that the idea of Vincent being a Secret Agent did have some appeal.

Naomi shook her head vigorously. These thoughts only served to give her a murderous headache.

She was just grateful that Tifa had visited every now and then since their initial meeting, or she would have starved already. Vincent didn't seem to need any food. At least she hadn't found any apart from what the brunette had brought with her. Which was rather weird, now that she thought about it. She hadn't seen him eat even once. Why was that?

Well, for her to see him do anything he would have to be present at any rate. Did he avoid his apartment because she was here? This thought made her feel a bit guilty. But honestly, this had not been her idea. It wasn't her fault that he had brought her here in the first place.

Naomi put out her cigarette in an ashtray Tifa had brought. Damn. She hated this. Raising a hand, she felt her forehead. The fever still wasn't completely gone. Once she had recovered, she would need something to do. Anything, really. Just staying here with cleaning as her only pastime didn't sit well with her. Didn't Tifa own a bar or something? Maybe she could help out there. Even if it was just to repay her kindness. Because, with her current luck, there had been no trace of her handbag. Vincent had even returned to where he'd first found her to look for it. Either it had never been there or someone had taken it. Which was just grand. What on Earth was she supposed to do without any money?

She sighed deeply. Her thoughts were going around in circles, and it wouldn't get her anywhere. Especially not home. Plus, she had been brooding too much lately. But what else could she do when no one was around and she found nothing worth doing to busy herself with? Hell, she would even appreciate Vincent's presence. He may not talk that much, but it was better than being on her own. And he did have this ridiculously awesome voice.

She rolled her eyes. She really needed to get a grip and just stop thinking about his voice, really. She wasn't a swooning teenager anymore. Anyway … she didn't need this nonsense. Hopefully, she would be going home soon. And even if not …

Aw, bollocks!

Upon re-entering the apartment she ran into something solid that hadn't been there before and certainly had no business of being there now. Naomi jerked back and tripped. A quick movement before her eyes distracted her and then, before she could fall, she felt an arm snake around her waist, catching her.

»Jesus Christ!« she exclaimed. Her heartbeat seemed to have doubled out of shock and she swallowed heavily as she looked up. Her bright green eyes met gleaming red ones.

Holy –

»Careful,« Vincent said in a low tone. He pulled her into a standing position and let go of her.

»Good Heavens, I didn't know you were back.«

»I have just returned. My apologies.«

»For what?« Naomi asked, confused. »I'm the one who ran into you.«

»For startling you,« he replied. »That was not my intention.«

She raised an eyebrow. »I know. It's fine. I'm sorry.«

He regarded her with a searching look, which certainly didn't help her inner turmoil, then he nodded.

Damn it all! He looked like he'd marched straight out of a horror flick. But still … he didn't seem threatening to her. No, as she had already gathered, he seemed to be a real good person. »So, any news?« she asked as she went past him and sat down on the couch, pulling up her feet. Her heart was slowly calming down. Now that she had successfully put some distance between them. Shit! This was really the last thing she needed.

»We are working on it.« He sat down next to her. Why did he have to do that?

»We?« It took her a few seconds before she remembered. He had told her, days ago, that he would ask an old friend of his for help. Obviously he had.

He seemed to guess her thought process – which was rather creepy, truth be told – since he didn't elaborate. His hand reached over and there was something in it.

Naomi blinked, clearing her throat. »That's not mine.«

»I am aware. It is a replacement. Until they can get yours to work again.«

So it was broken. Bollocks!

»How are you feeling?« he inquired as he put the phone onto the table, since she still didn't take it from him.

»Much better, thanks.« A deeply felt sigh escaped her. She had heard other people complain often enough about pretty much anything whenever they had been ill. Now she could finally relate. She didn't like it one bit.

Even without looking at him, she could feel his gaze upon her. Whenever they happened to be in the same room, he seemed to do that a lot. Like he was trying to figure her out, or something. Seriously, if there was something he wanted to know, anything at all, he could just ask, right?

Trying not to squirm under his scrutiny, she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. Without a conscious thought, her hand rose up to rub her neck, in hopes to hide her discomfort.

»I will not bite you, I promise,« Vincent said quietly. There was actually a trace of amusement in his voice.

»Huh?« She jerked her head around to look at him. Thanks to the cowl of his cloak she could not see the lower half of his face, but one of his eyebrows was raised and his eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying not to laugh.

Her brow wrinkled in confusion, until she realised what he meant. Mortified, she lowered her hand along with her gaze. »Of course not. You're not a vampire, are you?«

»Not that I'm aware of,« he replied smoothly.

Holy Mother of … Where was the hole to sink into when you needed it? Her face must be glowing, at least it felt like it did.

Before she could come up with something else to say, though, a phone started to ring and she almost jumped out of her skin. »Jesus!« she exclaimed, laying a hand over her wildly beating heart. She really should get a grip of herself. Soon.

»My apologies,« Vincent said as he retrieved his phone from somewhere inside his suit, or maybe the cape (she had always wondered if it had pockets, and it seemed like there must be) and flicked it open. »Yes.« He listened for a while as Naomi tried to get a look at the silver pattern engraved on his phone. What was it supposed to depict?

After a few moments he snapped the phone shut, heaving a sigh. He met her gaze with a solemn look. »I apologise, but I have to leave. For now.« He stood up. »Please wait here. I will return shortly.« With that, he left the living room.

»Wait? Are you joking?« she called after him, her earlier mortification all but forgotten. »Where do you think I could go, eh?« There was no reply whatsoever. »Oi! Where are you going?« The only thing she heard was the snap of the apartment door being closed.

This guy was unbelievable. What on Earth was he up to? Did someone need his help with something? Running a hand through her hair, she let herself fall onto her side. Right now, she wished that she were back home, and the past few days hadn't happened at all. Things had been … different back then. Maybe not that much easier after ….

With a groan, she closed her eyes. Don't think about that. Just don't.

She knew this wasn't fair to either Vincent or Tifa. They had been there for her. They had obviously taken care of her. And of course she was grateful to them. She hoped that Vincent would be back soon, or that Tifa would come by later. She finally needed to talk to them about how she could repay their kindness. There had to be something she could to for them. She barely even cared what that might be.