Chapter 8: The Promise

Vincent ran into the hospital. His only thought was that he had to get to Tifa before it was too late. He had to tell her…

In the maternity ward he was accosted by a nurse. "Are you Tifa Valentine's husband?" she asked when he told her his name.

"Yes, I am."

She told him to wait as she went to fetch the doctor. The nurse returned momentarily with a tall stern woman who introduced herself as Dr. Whitsun.

"Have you been apprised of the situation?" she asked.

"Yes."

"So then you know that Mrs. Valentine's refusal to let us do the Caesarian puts her life at risk. We need you to consent to the operation for her."

"Can I see her?' Vincent asked impatiently.

"Yes, but I'd like to inform you that it's urgent that we do this quickly."

"I understand."

Seeing that Vincent wasn't going to make a decision immediately, she had no choice but to show him to his wife's room.

When he walked into the room, Tifa was in the middle of a contraction. She held onto Yuffie's arm and had her eyes squeezed shut in pain. She was breathing heavily, and then she let out a loud groan as the pain built to a crescendo. As the pain ebbed, Yuffie rubbed her back comfortingly.

Yuffie was the first to notice that he was standing in the doorway. She gave him an unreadable look, then turned to Tifa who was still oblivious to his presence and told her that she was going to get her some more ice to chew, then got up and left the room.

Tifa slowly opened her eyes as she managed to relax a little and saw him watching her. "Vincent?"

"I came as soon as I could."

He was startled by her altered appearance. Even as the years had passed, she had always seemed young and beautiful. She was still beautiful, but she looked older, and weaker. And he began to wonder if her age had anything to do with the problems she currently faced.

"The doctors…they told you what they want to do?" she asked weakly. Vincent nodded. "You can't let them take my baby!" she said, more forcefully than he expected in her weakened state. But her voice was laced with panic that undoubtedly gave her strength.

Vincent felt his own panic rise. He had been trying to control it ever since Cid told him that Tifa was in trouble, but it suddenly broke through the dam he had built like an angry river oversaturated with rain. "Tifa, you're life is at risk!"

"I don't care!"

"If you let the doctors do the caesarian, you'll live. Do you want to die?"

"Not if my baby dies. This baby is the only thing I have left in this world worth living for."

Vincent was surprised by the despair he heard in her voice. Even when she had been at her worse, right after Cloud left her, she had had a stubborn will to live and survive—not just survive, but thrive. Cloud may have hurt her deeply, but she refused to let him break her. It was one of the things that he loved most about her. But now she seemed so broken. And he felt his own heart breaking a little bit more at the sight of her because he knew that he was partly to blame for her despondency.

Vincent reached out and drew a clammy hand into his own. "That isn't true, Tifa," he told her tenderly.

"What do you mean?" Tifa asked tearily.

"I mean that you have so much to live for. So much love to give. So many people would miss you…"

"Like who?" she asked hopefully.

"Like…Yuffie for one. She'd never forgive you for dying on her."

"Oh?" she asked, feeling disappointed. But she knew that it was beyond possible for him to ever feel the same way about her as he had before.

"She'd chase you to the grave with her Shuriken," he continued, "all the while yelling profanities in Wutaian."

Tifa couldn't help but giggle tiredly at that. Vincent always made her feel better. Some things never changed, she supposed.

Vincent was relieved to see her expression lighten. But was then suddenly reminded of how serious her condition was when another contraction seized her and she began to squeeze his hand. The other one had been only minutes earlier. Even he knew that it was much too early for her to have such strong contractions! She began breathing heavily and her face contorted into an expression of pain. Her fetal heart monitor began to beep incessantly and a nurse rushed in.

"The baby is going into distress, we need to act quickly!" She left the room and returned immediately with Dr. Whitsun.

"Mr. Valentine, it is really imperative that you make a decision now."

"Vincent!" Tifa panted. "You can't…let them…take…my baby…pleeeeeeeease!" The last word was let out in a keening wail that accentuated how much pain she was in.

"Are there no other options?" Vincent asked the doctor desperately.

"We've tried giving her a drug to make her contractions stop. I could up the dosage, but that is dangerous for both Tifa and the child. But if we can get them stopped then it will be better for the baby, of course, if we can keep her inside her mother for a little longer. But if we can't…"

"Then Tifa and the baby will die," Vincent finished. Dr. Whitsun nodded.

He turned to Tifa who was staring at him with panicked crimson eyes. Her contraction had receded, thankfully, rather quickly. "Tifa, I beg you. Don't do this. I know you want this baby, you've wanted it for a long time and I'm sorry I couldn't be the one to give it to you, but I can't let you die."

"Even now? After everything I put you through?"

"Even now." He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "I tried to stop loving you," he confessed, "but I can't."

"Oh, Vincent!" she cried, pulling him down towards her and kissing him fiercely as if she was afraid he was just a ghost and would disappear as suddenly as he had appeared. He returned it eagerly, trying to forget how much he had missed her touch. She pulled away only to whisper how sorry she was over and over again.

"It's all right," he said, gently brushing sweat-soaked bangs out of her face with his hand.

She shook her head. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness or your love. But I have to ask…please, if you still love me, let me do this," she begged him. Their eyes locked and in them they saw each other's fear, pain and the intense longing from the past few months of their separation reflected in each other's eyes. There was also hope. The hope that had been waning—Tifa's hope that Vincent would forgive her, and that her child would live, and Vincent's hope that he could return to their marriage and try to work out their problems—it had also returned full force. He leaned down and kissed her again, trying to impart some of his strength to her, and in turn take some of hers since he knew that they both had a long battle to fight still to gain back some of what they had lost. He also kissed her as if it might be their last, knowing that he could not deny her this chance, as he could never deny her anything her heart desired. Vincent came to his decision.

"All right," he said. "Just promise me something."

"Anything."

"Don't die on me."

As impossible a promise as it might turn out to be, she gave it whole-heartedly. "I won't." Vincent felt slightly less afraid at her words.

He turned to the doctor. "Give her the medicine."

"But Mr. Valentine—"

"I know what the risks are. So does she. Give her the medicine."

"I'll have you know that I strongly object." But the doctor pulled out a syringe anyway and began to administer it to Tifa. Then she left the room as if unwilling to see the results, which she felt would most likely be ill-fated.

Vincent stayed with her, and as another contraction mounted he climbed into the hospital bed to brace her with his strong arms and comfort her with his touch. When her contraction ended Tifa's heartbeat slowed, almost too slow, and her eyes closed as she seemed to relax. Vincent feared the doctor was right and that if she fell asleep she would never wake up.