I am happy that this seems to be getting some interest. Chapters are coming out slowly, it usually takes a few more before I get into the flow of things.

I'd love to get some more reviews, to hear what people think about this, and where I could go with it.

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She awoke early with a sudden feeling of apprehension, a stirring within her gut that sent her adrenalin surging. Why had she woken? She glanced at the clock: a few minutes after six, a time most unnatural and unfamiliar to her. Her heart was beating a little too fast for her to relax and fall back to sleep, so she slid her feet out of her warm bed and into her cold slippers, shuffling out of her room and onto the landing.

The door to the spare room hit like a dead stop to her heart; there was someone else in the house for once, a reason to be quiet, a reason to be courteous. Something to busy herself with. Had she awoken out of realisation of his presence? Could she feel those steel eyes fixed on her, even in sleep?

When he had called, she had been surprised but delighted, and invited him without a second thought. It was only when she placed the phone back down onto the receiver with a harsh click that it occurred to her she didn't really know this man. Although, she told herself with a hint of a pleased smile, she would know more soon enough.

The door handle was cool and smooth in her grip, and to her pleasure it opened silently. The door slid almost noiselessly over the carpet, and she was able to cross the room avoiding the creaks in the floor. He was lying facing her, and for a moment she felt her heart leap in her throat- were his eyes open? Such a fool, to be caught creeping into his room at this hour, for no particular reason.

Holding her breath, she leant over his form, tucking her long strands of hair behind her ears as she paused, inches from his face. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out the outline of his face- those angular cheek bones and jaw, his straight nose, perfect eyebrows which seemed to have been made for the sole purpose of quirking at any moment in response to a blasé comment.

Yet his mouth, which was obscured from view by the covers, she had neither knowledge nor memory of. He always wore that silly cloak of his, even when he had arrived the day before, though she was pleased to find he had repaired it, or rather, shortened it to remove the tattered end strip, since the last time she had seen him. If she could just move the sheets to one side she would be able to see him better…

Her hand seemed to shake uncontrollably, wavering in mid air, as she reached out, palm pressed gently to the cool cotton. Then, whether due to lack of attentiveness, or his extrasensory abilities, his eyes opened, and fixed on hers, his fingers closing about her wrist in a vice-like grip.

"I'm sorry! I was just-" She spluttered, feeling herself flush violently.

"You didn't think you were being quiet did you?" He said sternly, though at that moment she liked to think that she saw him suppress a smile.

"I- I mean, I was…"

"You were checking I was still here?" He let go of her wrist to reach for the lamp. Its light burst though the shade, temporarily blinding her. "Well here I am. I promise."

She squinted through her raised arms, examining what she could see of his face. He seemed to be smiling. "I'm sorry, it was just an impulse."

"I see." He stretched, raising both his arms above his head. His metal arm creaked a little as he moved it. Sensing an opportunity for a diversion, she shuffled, still squinting, to the edge of the bed where she sat heavily.

"Does it hurt you?" She reached for his metal hand, which he seemed to give her with reluctance. Putting what was inhuman, what he hated the most, in-between them.

"Sometimes. I don't pretend to understand how the human central nervous system works, but I believe Hojo was not careful in understanding it either." He spoke the name with such venom, that Tifa was amazed she had forgotten to ask about him last night whilst they had been talking. It had been because of Hojo, after all, that they had found him.

"Is you're real arm still underneath?" Vincent was impressed that she was able to hide her disgust, if she felt any at all.

"I cannot say for certain what is there. Bone, muscle maybe, but I do not think my skin would have lasted. I would have guessed at it's… being removed. Surely it would have become infected by now, if it still remained."

"Right. I hear skin is relatively easy to grow these days." She remarked, looking at her own hands in turn.

"It wouldn't surprise me, yes."

"Does it worry you? The operations you may need, I mean?" She glanced up at him, peering through her hair.

"Terribly." To this, she raised her eyebrows. "I see that shocks you," He added with a mirthless laugh. "There are probably many things you do not know about me that would shock you."

"Try me." She challenged, folding her arms across her chest. She hid a smile at his response by form of facial expression. He seemed unsure whether to laugh, or frown.

"Well… I used to sneak bottles of wine from my Father's collection when I was about ten years old. He found out when I had been doing it for three years. I couldn't sit down for days."

Tifa burst into peals of laughter at his punctuating grimace. "You? Stealing wine? Shame on you, Vincent."

"I am not familiar with… drinking games, but I was in the Turks long enough to learn a few. Is it not your turn to share a story, also?"

"Well, for one there is no drink," The laughter seemed to sparkle in her eyes. "And second, I did not agree to anything, and three, perhaps we should wait until later this evening, when we can do it properly."

***

She couldn't explain why she felt excited. Perhaps, she thought, it was something to do with getting to know him. He wasn't just a fearless figure of a man; He lived and breathed as a Turk once, and before that, she didn't know. She felt it would be good to finally learn about him, who he really was underneath that cape of his.

She had insisted he remove it indoors, to kick-start his imminent transformation, and she was rewarded by the handsome sight of his face. Really, if she could get him to have a hair cut she could have a real eye-catcher on her hands. There was something so extraordinary about his amber eyes, so intoxicating about dark lashes contrasting with a pale, sensitive mouth that she felt her heart flutter for a moment. The next few weeks were likely to be quite interesting, she deduced.

"So, we are playing tale-swap, then?" She settled herself on the sofa, setting before them a bottle of amber coloured rum.

"With rum?" He picked up the bottle and turned it in his hand, raising it up to the light.

"Sorry, I forgot you were alcohol's junior prodigy!"

"I'll endure. It is Rocket Rum after all. Might not be so bad." She swore she saw him laugh to himself.

"Ok, so we were on childhood escapades? Well, I think the thing that stands out the most for me was when my dad caught me kissing my boyfriend Jimmy in the woods when I was fourteen. He chased the poor boy for three miles, all the way back to town, wielding an axe!"

His eyes glowed with warmth, even after he stopped laughing, though he seemed to consider her carefully over his glass, swirling the liquid around, Ice cubes clinking. "He was a protective father? I seem to recall Cloud mentioning him, before now."

Tifa's smile slipped away to be replaced by a fond sort of grimace. Vincent wondered whether he should have said anything. "He didn't approve of Cloud." She said after a pause, pursing her lips after a taking a large mouthful of rum and swallowing it with a grimace.

"Sorry to have mentioned Cloud. It was… tactless of me." He cast a glance down at her near-empty glass before returning his gaze to her face. To his surprise, she wore a thoughtful expression, her eyes forgiving through her lashes.

"No, it's alright. I guess it was because my father disapproved that I showed an interest in him at all," She paused, laughing mirthlessly at herself. "Pathetic really. I wanted to prove something, to show him I could make my own choices. Then when I really thought I loved him, when I thought it was real, he'd forgotten all about me."

She was trying her best not to sound bitter. Something in her tone made Vincent lean over to refill her glass, almost past half way. She mumbled her thanks, taking a deep swallow before continuing. "I was always thought to be the strong one; the girl who looked after her father when her mom died, the girl who was an orphan, but who had learned to fight, the girl who stayed behind to take care of everyone, when things were tough," She scowled, almost to herself.

"But you didn't feel that way?" He encouraged, his own drink almost forgotten.

"No…" Her voice cracked, and for a moment she said nothing, staring hard at her glass. Vincent shifted in his seat, unsure. She spared him the awkwardness but laughing suddenly, her face rearranged into the pleasant expression he knew. "Sorry, Vincent; You call me asking for my help, but instead I laden you with my issues! Forget about all that-" She waved her hand dismissively, but he shook his head.

"No, not at all. To be honest, Its good- well, I'm sure you understand I use the word 'good' loosely- to finally see you talking about this," He set his drink down, unsure of where to put his hands. He opted for his knees. "I always knew you put others first, and never let on how you really felt. At least, you are not alone in keeping your emotions locked away. I should know better than anyone."

"Vincent…" She put her drink to one side also, shifting in her seat to face him directly. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, though she wore an expression that was so hardened, and so practiced, that he almost fell for it. "Everyone feels that they suffer some misfortune or another. Mine does not outweigh anyone else's. I just… deal with it myself."

"'But you don't have to, anymore.' Is that not what you said to me, once? Three years ago? I remember it vividly, Tifa, though it has taken me three years to realise you were right." She flushed a little, averting her face.

Obeying an impulse, he reached out to cup her face, thinking too late that perhaps the gesture was a little too intimate. Whether or not she thought so too, he could not tell, for she seemed to lean a little into his touch, eyes half lidded, gaze fixed nowhere in particular. "So, let's talk."

She laughed softly, as he lowered his hand. "Well, where should I start?"

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