Author's Note: Voila! Chapter Four!! Sorry it took me so long to update. Life has been hectic, and I had a bad case of writer's block.

Anyway, for those of you who were wondering about the whole eye colour situation (sorry, it was just a little bit of trivial fluff and has nothing really important to do with the story), it was something that my boyfriend said to me (before he broke up with me, a week ago): I said, "Your eyes are so beautiful", and then he said, "But yours are the very same colour!" Then he laughed and said, "You always notice what's beautiful about other people, even if it's the same beauty you have!"

... I don't know, I just thought it applied to Vincent and Tifa... in some weird way.

Hello

- A CloTi and One-Sided ViFa Fan Fiction -

"If I smile and don't believe; soon I know I'll wake from this dream..." - Evanescence, 'Hello'

Vincent closed his eyes and contemplated the darkness.

He didn't mind darkness. In fact, he preferred it to the light. Darkness suited him. He was definitely a creature of the night.

But... but it was different, somehow, when Tifa was around. When she was near him, he felt like he was bathed in light... and since she had gone, he had been swallowed in darkness. Darkness of the soul.

"Tifa... why did you have to die?" he murmured mournfully. He lay on his bed, dissheveled and restless.

It had been a week since the funeral. Actually, he didn't know how long it had been... time was meaningless to him now. Every day represented one spent without her...

"Vincent?"

"Yes, Tifa?"

"Umm... you're staring again."

The gunman looked away quickly in embarassement, as colour sprang to his cheeks. "Oh... sorry." He hadn't realized he was staring at her delicate but strong frame, as she gazed off into the distance.

The young woman just smiled and joked, "Am I that interesting?"

Vincent mumbled a little, which just caused Tifa to laugh some more. "You can look, but don't stare; staring makes me feel like you're analyzing. Like you're cutting to the heart of me."

Funny that she'd use that description, thought Vincent sadly. Because that was sort of what he was doing, in a way. He wanted to see her heart... but like her name suggested, it was locked.

When he was sure she was looking back at the horizon, he snuck a glance at Tifa; she was sitting in the tall, soft grass while he was perched uneasily on a rock. She wore a thin indigo skirt and a white summer camisole. Her dark ebony hair was down, little fly-away wisps twisting like ribbons in the gentle breeze. Her face was calm, as her gorgeous russet eyes stared into the distance.

She was so... beautiful.

They sat in a field somewhere, a few miles from Midgar. Ever since the DeepGround SOLDIERs had been defeated, and life had returned to the planet, Cloud had come back to live with Tifa. But he had been busier and busier with his deliveries... so Vincent would keep Tifa company on such days.

The sun was shining brightly; a little too brightly for Vincent's taste. But Tifa loved the sun, so he didn't mind it that much.

"Vincent... I can tell you anything, right?"

"Of course," he replied.

Tifa pulled an elastic from her wrist and gathered her long hair into a loose ponytail. She sighed, and stared at the setting sun. "Nothing. It's stupid, really."

"No, tell me." He looked at her meaningfully, and for just a moment, she met his gaze.

"I'm just glad that you're here."

"Here?" Vincent repeated. What did she mean by that?

Tifa looked off to the side, embarassed. "I don't know, it's just that... well, with Cloud gone so much now... I don't really have anyone to talk to." She turned her gaze back to him, then looked away quickly. "I mean, not to say that I don't talk to the kids, or the customers, but... but it's nice to be with someone I know well... someone I've fought beside." She looked at him again and laughed lightly. "It's silly, isn't it?"

Vincent shook his head. "No."

She smiled. "I guess I just get so wrapped up in my own thoughts whenever I have no one to talk to. I'm sorry if I say weird stuff."

Vincent's face broke into a rare, fleeting smile. "It's not as weird as you might think."

After a moment, he asked faintly, "I can tell you anything, Tifa?"

Tifa smiled reassuringly. "Of course."

Tell her, just tell her... he screamed inwardly. Tell her you love her, always have and always will!

He sighed. "Nevermind. Forget I said anything."

Tifa's eyes were kind and compassionate. She was worried about him.

He couldn't bear to look at them anymore.

Tifa took Vincent's hand and replied softly, "When you feel ready, you can tell me."

Vincent opened his eyes. He could feel his throat constricting as he tried to suppress his mounting tears. He didn't know why, but he was always on the emotional edge around her. He felt like the thick armour that he had built around his heart would crack for just an instant.

But she had loved Cloud. Not him.

Why?

Vincent rolled over and stared at the two objects which lay on his bedside table, which had always laid there: the first, his triple-barrel handgun, Cerberus, loaded with one single bullet. These last few days, that bullet had started to look mighty friendly... But he wouldn't take the cowardly way out. He had promised Tifa he would be strong...

The other was a small photo, yellowed with age and slightly frayed around the edges. Two faces stared up at him; his own, and Tifa's. She had her arm around his shoulder, and her head cocked to the side. He was stone-faced, with a hint of a satisfied smile at the edges of his lips, and she beamed like heaven on earth. Barret had taken it after he had helped her rebuild Seventh Heaven a third time.

"Vincent! You were there, why couldn't you save her?"

He heard Yuffie's voice in his head, as if she had spoken those words just a moment ago; but though she had said them a year ago about Shalua Rui, he felt like they were directed at him about Tifa.

All he had said was, "I'm sorry."

The same two words he had heard so many people say so many times. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

Vincent leapt up and threw the table with all his strength. It rammed into the wall and dented it with a terrible crash. "Sorry's not good enough!" he exploded in anguish.

His gun clattered loudly to the floor, but the picture just fluttered and rested there silently, soft and light as a feather. Her face was still looking up at him.

That night, Vincent's dreams was troubled; he could hear Tifa, calling his name...

Only... only she looked different. She was surrounded by a white light, and her voice echoed weakly. She seemed to be searching for him. "Vincent! Vincent! Where are you? Vincent!"

"Tifa?" he called back. "I'm right here!"

But she couldn't see him.

"Vincent!"

She sounded like she was in trouble. He had to help her... but where was she?

When he awoke, he knew that he needed to find her. But where to start? How could you find someone that was dead?

He decided to visit her grave.