AN/ Next Chapter is the chapter where they leave for the forgotten city

AN/ wow, long chapter. Next Chapter is the chapter where they leave for the forgotten city. So...yeah. By the way, when I refer to a song played later on the piano, just imagine it to be flowers blooming in the church, because that was what I was listening to while I was writing that.

Chapter 8

Vincent left in the middle of the night, he wasn't sleeping anyways. He would prefer it of he was back by 11ish so that he could heal Tifa before he had to help her to the bathroom again. No matter how many times he lifter her of helped her up, he always flinched when she touched him. He absentmindedly pushed the gil to the man behind the counter after the grocer had bagged them. His thumb stroked the smooth surface of the new materia in his hand as he walked out of town.

.:x:.

Tifa thought she was hearing things when she heard music. She cracked open her eyes and looked out the window at the sunset. Was it really that late? She paid the length of her slumber no mind and returned her attention to the music coming from down the hall. It was the grand piano, she felt as though she could almost feel the slow peaceful melody in her core. Somehow the song made her happy, just made her feel uplifted.

Without thinking, she swung her feet of the couch and awaited the shock of pain from her ankle. To her surprise there was none, not only that but her wrist and arm was fine as well. 'Okay, I guess I am dreaming.' Tifa concluded to herself in her head. She pushed herself off the couch, still leery that pain would shoot through her at any moment. Once she assured herself that this was a dream and she would be fine to walk, she took her first steps forward and out the doorway to behold the golden-orange light that was cast over the entrance hall. She turned and walked down the hall to the piano room, stubbing her toe on the doorway. 'This is a dream right?' she asked herself as she continued forward, disregarding the throb in her toe.

Tifa came to the doorway of the piano room, carefully peering around the corner. Her eyes widened in surprise to see Vincent sitting with his most of his back to her playing the piano. She noted that his eyes looked softer; his whole demeanor seemed far less hard and cold that she was used to. His fingers, both metallic and human floated eloquently above the ivories, drifting back and forth from key to key, hitting every one with precision and accuracy. It seemed that he was at ease, not thinking of anything while he played, totally focused of the task at hand but at the same time, off in his own world. He seemed quite happy. He was without his cloak and headband so she could actually see the smile gracing his lips. Vincent looked far better smiling than he did frowning. He looked so serene and perfect in the amber glow of the sunset.

She stood there and listened for a bit and then, with a lot of hesitation, she walked up to him. She was afraid that the whole illusion would be shattered if she approached him, and it did. Vincent regained his stiff appearance and stopped playing as she sat down beside him.

"No!" Tifa said a little too loudly, "Please don't stop playing." She pleaded with him.

Vincent looked at her and saw how she wanted him to continue. "Very well miss Lockhart." Vincent replaced his hands on the keys and resumed playing.

Tifa folded her hands in her lap beside him and listened. She more just looked at him and it was making him uncomfortable. Was she angry with him? Maybe it was because he left so early. No, Tifa wasn't one to hold a grudge like that. But then, why was she looking at him like that?

"Vincent, that...that's beautiful, where did you learn that?" Tifa asked him dreamily.

Vincent's brow became knitted. His mother had taught him to play the piano. She was gone and playing the piano had always made him sad. "My mother taught me this song," said Vincent smiling lightly "I don't know how I remembered it after all these years..." Vincent's smile fell into a bitter frown. It brought back painful memories for him.

"Vincent, are you...okay?" Tifa asked. She reached out her hand and placed it on his shoulder.

Vincent didn't flinch away. "Yes Tifa, I'm...alright."

Tifa smiled a little as she realized that that was the first time he had called her Tifa instead of Miss Lockhart. "Vincent, would you like to tell me about her?" Tifa thought this might make him feel better, every time she would talk about her mom, she would feel better instead of wanting to cry.

"She..." Vincent began "was the one of only two people in my childhood who was truly kind to me." Vincent sighed. "She was an object of happiness and gentle kindness while my father...was an object of hatred and abuse." Vincent cringed at the thought of his father.

"What...happened to her?" Tifa asked, squeezing his shoulder a little.

"She, died...my father killed her." Vincent said looking at Tifa.

"Oh my god Vincent, I'm sorry." Tifa said looking back into his vermillion eyes.

"No Miss Lockhart, there's nothing for you to be sorry for, I told you of my own accord."

Tifa was in much disbelief that she had managed to get more than a few words out of him to notice that he had reverted to calling her 'Miss Lockhart'. "Thanks Vincent." She said with a smile on her face. Tifa got up and went to walk out of the room. Tifa stopped in the doorway. She turned around and put her arms gently around Vincent from behind. She smiled at the fact that Vincent's body didn't go rigid at her touch and she gave him a squeeze before pulling away.

Vincent was utterly shocked. Why she would say thank you to him after he had made her feel bad, he could not wrap his head around in the least. What mystified him even more though is why on earth did she bring herself to touch him? Vincent almost laughed at himself. He lifted his prosthetic to his face to look at it. Yes she was able to get past the fact that his left hand was a misshapen claw, but if she knew what he had done in the past, surely she would not even look at him.

Even so, that still left the fact on why she had hugged him. Again, Vincent almost laughed at himself. He was reading too much into it. That was just a regular gesture of friendship that regular people make. Certainly not something that he had ever made a habit of, but normal people like Tifa seemed to do that a great deal...right?

./\/\/\:.

Tifa sat in the kitchen looking through the near bear cupboards, looking for food while contemplating what she had done not 20 minutes ago. Tifa sighed at her own stupidity. Vincent Valentine hated physical contact and knowing him that little physical gesture would probably sent him back into the post-coffin days where he would just stand in the corner like a mute and observe everything you do. "Look what you've done Tifa," she said to herself. "You do realize that whatever comes next is your own fault, right stupid?" she asked herself, almost waiting for a response.

"What, did you break something?" asked Vincent from behind her, making Tifa jump about a foot in the air. No matter how much he liked Tifa, making her jump gave him endless entertainment.

"Oh no, just taking to myself," said Tifa. As she said this, she realized that she sounded like a child who had just been caught doing something its parents had told it not to.

Looking at Vincent through her bangs, she realized that he still had not donned his usual attire and lacked the covering of his cloak and headband. She had—besides in the piano room—never actually seen him without it. He gave him the quickest eye over so that he wouldn't notice. His jet black hair framed his ivory skin perfectly and his button up shirt didn't do much to hide his lean, muscular frame. He had translucent white skin with a clean shave. Tifa hated it when men had a five o'clock shadow. Barret liked to sport facial hair and it bothered her. She would go to hug him and the side of his face would always scrape on the side of hers. Tifa snapped back into reality as Vincent asked her if she was looking for food.

"I am, do you have any?" she asked not realizing how stupid the question was until it had escaped her mouth.

Vincent looked at her flatly. "Well, of course, I can't very well live on nothing Miss Lockhart." said Vincent, gesturing to the fridge as he sat at the table only a few feet away.

After selecting the milk and a peach, Tifa sat down across from Vincent. "Do you have a glass for this?" she asked, giving the milk a shake.

"My apologies Miss Lockhart, but I do not, I have become accustomed to living by myself I'm afraid."

"Well then, it seems we have a problem." said Tifa giving Vincent a smirk.

"Well it is in a carton Miss Lockhart." replied Vincent while giving her an ever so rare smile.

'Duh," she thought to herself while taking a swig.

"Hey Vincent?" she asked, her annoyance getting the better of her. "Would you do me a small favor?"

He looked at her with a hurtful scrutiny. "I suppose that depends of the nature of the favor." he said raising an eyebrow to her.

"Fine," she said "Can you pleeeeease stop calling me Miss Lockhart and start calling me Tifa?"

"I suppose I could do that...but only if you will do me a small favor as well." he said to her.

Tifa sighed upon the situation she had just brought down upon herself. "Okay, what is it?"

Vincent took a deep breath. "Mi-Tifa, I want you to stop apologizing for everything, and...I want you to try not to revolve your life around pleasing other people, Tifa. You are always trying to be the backbone of things and I can see...that you are starting to crack under the pressure." Vincent looked at her, waiting to gauge her reaction. A lesser man would have closed his eyes and threw up his arms over his head in defense for the potential onslaught that was coming, but not Vincent, he sat there and quelled the urge to walk away right there.

Tifa furrowed her browed her brow as she thought about this, at first she thought that she was mad at him for making such an accusation but then sighed as she thought about it and realized that he was, in fact, right. "I...I guess you're right." she said quietly, looking at her fingers as they twisted together nervously in her lap.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of or anything like that, Tifa." He said to her truthfully." I just think that you put to much weight upon yourself.

"...Thanks, Vincent...I think I'll try that." she said looking up at him through her bangs.

./\/x\/\:.

Tifa looked up at the Moonlit night sky through her spot in the window. She sat there, looking at the full moon, her bare legs dangling out the window as she leaned back onto her hands. She loved the cool, crisp night air. She loved the inky blackness of the Night sky and the moon above mount Nibel, it reminded her of a white pearl that had been carefully placed upon black silk. God, she had missed this place. Even though it held some of her saddest memories, it also held her most precious childhood memories.

Tifa Inhaled deeply, and after deciding that she had had enough of the biting cold, she shut the window and walked down the hall to the kitchen. The draft gave her goose bumps and made Tifa wish that she had brought some other sleepwear than her knee length tee shirt.

Tossing and turning…writhing in agony, the bed- no, the table- beneath him so hard and cold, like the surgical implements lying across his chest. Thick metal shackles were his restraining vices, and the crude tools laid out before him, his chest serving as their makeshift table, only served to mock him and clearly tell of what was coming. He had never known such a fear before in his life, but now everything was so uncertain. He couldn't remember…

One faint shot, the sound echoing over and over and growing louder each time.

That's right…but then how? Glaring beams of light shone down into his eyes and blurred his already waning vision. His blood began to run hot with dizziness, and yet he did not come even close to passing out.

"…Because I want you awake for this…"

No voice left to scream with, he braced himself as he felt cold and icy knuckles dig into his ribs as they grasped the heavy tools. Things used to maim…things for butchering. His skin made sensitive to the lightest touch with chemicals and new plasmas- things he wasn't aware he even had yet- his eyes grew wide when the first cruel blade cut its way inside of his trembling body.

He'd have screamed, but his vocal chords had been temporarily severed, in a half-completed attempt to accommodate a newer range that had yet to be added. His head shot back and his mind did all the screaming his fiery throat could not; his skull felt like it was going to bust open with the escalating pressure. He felt blood bubbling beneath his skin, in the hollow of his neck. Each sound of metal hitting metal, the implements rising and falling to the table next to him, one after the other as they were discarded and retrieved, threatened to drive him insane.

His muscles tensed with each coming spasm as his exposed nerves were clipped and tweaked, disassembled and reconnected, and as they tensed, his bindings cut into his skin leaving bruises and scrapes, even breaking some of his skin. All of the pressure, building…rising…he thought he was going to burst, despite his chest cavity already being open. He could make out the blurs of red and white beneath him, but his head was so restrained that lying on his back, he could not see the events clearly. The only thing he could see, the only thing that lay ahead of him, was that bright and blinding surgical light that hung haplessly above his struggling form.

He fought with every breath- fought against the pain, fought against his restraints, fought against each and every sharp prick and tearing. His eyes burned with tears and fury- and something else that he didn't quite yet recognize- but he could not hear his own screams, only the sharp intake and release of air coming from an open mouth, ripping through a half-open throat. He arched his back against the pain, the pain made so purposefully unbearable by the hands that made his poisons, until a hand reached out and forced its way inside his hollows…and broke something.

There was a snap, and his body went limp.

As time went on, each procedure became worse and worse. After the initial operation, even more chemicals were added, and the cuttings became fiercer as the wounds started to heal over. Loss of his life no longer a problem, his tormenter could break him…reshape him…in any way he wished.

But those first scars would never leave him, forever there.

Forever…a reminder.

Tifa yanked open the refrigerator door and popped open the milk. "I wonder how old this is" she asked herself aloud, taking a swig. She almost choked when she heard Vincent's unbearable, agonized scream. She dropped the carton to the floor and bolted down the hall, to the hidden staircase where she got half way down the long, round staircase before jumping down the center. She ignored the shock of pain up her legs as her bare feet took the impact of the landing, and sprinted to Vincent's room where the screams had become more pained. She got her first look at him from down the hall where she saw him from his bed. His brow knitted and his face contorted with pain, he had sweat all over his face and his bare chest. He was thrashing wildly and it was obvious to see that in his sleep he had cut not only his bed sheets and pillow to ribbons with his sharp claw, but he also had cut large gouges out of his chest and arms. His lower body was hopelessly tangled in the sheets. He would swing out with his claw at an unknown attacker and miss, and then he would get his claw caught in the cut sheets and accidentally rake his claw across his arm when he yanked it free. He was bleeding all over the bed and yet he still did not wake.

Tifa ignored the obvious physical danger to herself and flung herself over Vincent's chest in an attempt from keeping him from hurting himself. She wrapped her hands around his wrists and put her body weight on his chest. Vincent was incredibly strong though, even in his sleep and it took all she had just to hold on. His muscles tensed as he fought against her. He obviously thought that she was someone else. "Vincent! Vincent, wake up!" She screamed. His eyes snapped open, but he was still struggling, still half dreaming, reality crossed into his dream. He rolled and struggled against her, a look of primal, animal fear and look of survival flashed in his eyes. An unmistakable, insane glare.

Vincent showed some recognition and then screamed out as if she was far away rather that roght on top of him."Tifa! Help! Oh god Tifa, please don't let them take my other arm! Oh god! It hurts! God, please let me die!" He screamed, begging for his own death. He arched his back in pain as if someone had driven a stake into his chest. He let out another scream.

"Vincent, don't say that! Vincent, you're dreaming, you're-VINCENT!" She cried as she felt the sharp, painful impact. She fell against his chest, her cheek and hair became matted in Vincent's blood.

Vincent laid there for a good two minutes, looking up at the ceiling, his breathing haggard, before he actually became aware of what had happened. He took a deep breat and smelt his as well as Tifa's blood in the air. He looked up to find her on his chest, face down in his blood, her small hands tightly clasped around his wrists. He reached behind her and touched the bloody gashes in her back. They were from his claw. He felt her crying softly in agony into his chest. Ignoring the pain that racked his body, he sat up and pulled Tifa to him. 'What have I done?' he asked himself. 'She was trying to help me. She feared for my life. She was doing what she thought she had to do by saving me. And what do I do? I cut her open.'

If Tifa didn't need his help right now, he would have climbed right back into his coffin. He untangled his legs from the sheets and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed with Tifa in his arms. Falling over the first time, he used all his strength to walk towards the long staircase. His pant legs stuck to his clammy, bloody skin as his legs almost buckled under him as he ascended the final round of the staircase.

Vincent felt hot, bitter tears running down his face as he wet a washcloth with lukewarm water. He bent down to Tifa and helped her lay on her stomach on the bathroom floor.

"Vincent, it hurts." she cried.

"I know Tifa, I'm sorry, I'll make it better." he said softly back to her trying to get her to stop crying. He cut open Tifa's nightgown halfway down the back so as not to compromise her modesty, and began to sponge away the blood. He was worried about infecting her with something. With all the DNA enhancements Hojo had made to Vincent, he couldn't help but worry that something in his blood might do Tifa harm. "This is going to sting for a minute Tifa, I'm sorry." She nodded in consent. He poured the Iodine out through the eyedropper into Tifa's wound. He sorely wished he had Hydrogen peroxide, or something less painful, but he didn't. He felt like killing himself after he heard her cry out again. He gathered all the dressing he had and began to tape a large square of gauze to her back.

After he was done, he gathered Tifa in his arms again and after regaining some of his strength, he jumped down the stairwell, landing soundlessly in the basement below. He walked to his room and placed her in a chair next to his bed. She watched him as he went through his drawer and pulled out the smallest, most comfortable pair of shorts and pants he could find and walked to Tifa with them. '...How are we going to do this?' he thought, looking back and forth between the clothes and Tifa.

"I'll be fine Vincent," she mumbled.

"I'm sorry Tifa, but no matter how much you protest, I'm not letting you wear my blood any longer. Now then...um, tuck your arms inside your nightgown." he said. She obeyed and he pulled his shirt over her head. He walked around to the back and grasped the ripped fabric of her nightgown, pulling it over her head, out through the collar of the black tee shirt. "You can get those shorts on yourself...can you not?" he asked, examining the healing wound on his chest. He would heal by morning, she would not be so lucky.

"Yes I do believe I am quite capable, thank you very much." Tifa said, almost angry with him. She snatched the shorts from his hand and used the arm of the chair to help herself get up.

Vincent got up to stand outside the doorway. "Tell me when you're done Mi-Tifa." he said awkwardly.

"Alright..." she said, shooing him away with her hand. She gingerly clothed, trying her hardest not to pull on the dressings on her back. She sighed inwardly and thought for a minute. 'Why am I blaming Vincent? It was just an accident, right? Besides, I'll heal in no time.' She thought to herself. "Alright, I'm done." she called to Vincent.

Vincent meandered into the room and immediately cut to the chase. "Tifa, I'm truly sorry. I'm not trying to justify myself but if you'll only allow me to explain..." Tifa raised her hand to stop him.

"Don't worry about it." she said cheerfully. "It was an accident right? It was my own fault anyways...and you're a lot worse off that I am right?"

"No, it wasn't your fault, it was mine." Vincent admitted with a guilty look an his face.

"Vincent, I was the one who jumped on you it was my-"

"No, don't say that. You were just trying to help. It was my fault, and while I'll heal by tomorrow morning, you'll still be recuperating next week. Tifa, I don't want you to blame youself and I also want you to know that I am sorry." He said, not being able to bring himself to look her in the eye.

Tifa furrowed her brow. "Maybe...you're the one who should stop apologizing." She said, looking at him.

He gave her a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

Tifa started to get slightly annoyed. She threw her hand down on the bed to make a point. "You think everyone's going to leave right?" She asked with a slightly raised voice.

"I don't follow you..."

"You're so afraid that if you set someone off in the least that they'll up and leave you. I can see it. You don't want to have to lose anyone, right? So you go off in the corner and detach yourself from people so you don't get hurt when they disappear. I can see it in you Vincent, that's what you used to do in AVALANCHE too!" She yelled.

Vincent didn't know where this was coming from, though she had hit the nail right on the head. "Tifa, are you alright?" he asked as her face began to grow red and tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.

"Yeah," she said with a sob. "It's just that's what Cloud did just before he left."

Vincent sighed, he wished Cloud could be here right now, but only so that he could strangle him. "Tifa, I am not Cloud." He said in a definite tone of voice.

"I know you're not, but you're so much like him. 'So much that it hurts."

Vincent knew that Tifa wasn't really mad at him, more, she that she just missed Cloud. "Tifa, I know that you miss him, but you can't stress yourself out like this." said Vincent sitting down beside her.

"Vincent, I hate this...I really wish that thing could be the way they were, before she died." Tifa said, remembering the wonderful times she had spent with all her friends before they had gone to the temple of the ancients.

"I know Tifa," he said with downcast eyes. "I wish that things were back to the way they were before they signed me off to this damnable lab." said Vincent under his breath, so that Tifa couldn't hear, with clenched fists.

There was a long silence where Tifa had just sobbed and put her head on Vincent's shoulder, making him very uncomfortable. 'Would you get her off me?' Chaos questioned from inside his mind. 'Oh, you're back are you chaos? What a lovely surprise.' Vincent said in his head. This was the demon's first appearance in days.

'Aw, c'mon Vinny, I knew you missed me. I had me a nice long nap and now I think it's time to go on a killing spree! Whad'ja think Vinny, let's go up to the reactor and kick some monster ass!' screamed chaos inside his mind.

'I don't think so; especially not while Tifa's around.'

'Vincent, I know you want to, I can tell you know, I live inside this godforsaken thing you so eloquently call a brain after all.'

'No'

'It'd be fun, besides, we can bring her too! She'd make great bait you know.'

'I wish I could shoot you, you know that, Chaos?'

'Do it Vinny, I dare you, you'd just be blowin' your own fucking head open though.' Vincent could hear chaos laughing at him on the inside.

Vincent gently pushed Tifa off him, "I need to get rid of my sheets, I will assist you up the stairs after."

Tifa's back felt like she had hot knives sticking into it. "Alright." she replied while struggling with all her strength to get out of the chair. She made a small grunting sound as she gave up and flopped back down into the chair. Drawing her knees to her chest, she watched Vincent with his task. She took a look at his chest and at the self inflicted wounds there. From the inch and a half gashes that they previously were, they had been reduced to narrow slices that were only about half an inch deep. This was amazing, there was no way that a normal person could heal that fast. This is what he must have meant when he said 'I'll heal by morning,' but this was impossible! How could he heal so fast? Tifa realized that the rest of the wounds on his torso, save the deep gashes that had been left on his right arm, had healed over completely. Tifa felt a sudden wave of fatigue wash over her. 'I'll just rest my eyes.' she thought to herself. Tifa rested the side of her head on her up drawn knees, and before she knew it, she was asleep.

Vincent Gathered the torn sheets and the bloody comforter into his arms and went down the hall to the lab to bag the sheets and leave the blanket there for later washing. Tying the knot on the garbage bag and casting the blanket onto the table, he hurried down the hall back to Tifa. He looked at her form as it slumped in the chair. Her long hair had come out of the braid she had it is while she slept and it cascaded rather messily down around her. Her beautiful round face was soiled by a stain of his blood on her cheek. His black tee shirt and shorts were far to big for her and they slumped off her body. Vincent felt like locking himself in the coffin again. Vincent sighed, he was appalled by what he had done to this innocent girl. Vincent walked to her and slid his mechanical arm under her knees, taking care not to cut her with his sharp talon, and slipped his human arm behind her back. Lifting her with ease, he continued up the stairs. It was far more comfortable for him to carry her while she was sleeping than when she was awake and alert. He walked out of the passage and down the hall, into the room just past the piano room. He knelt down and rested Tifa on the couch. He gathered the blanket that she had used earlier off the floor and laid it over top of her. She smiled in approval in her sleep and coiled her hands in the blanket.

'She looks so pretty, I think I could just eat her up, you know?' Commented Chaos from within him.

Vincent, chose to ignore him as he admired her sleeping form. Vincent snapped his gaze from Tifa and walked down the hall to the piano room. Doing as he often did whenever he had destroyed his bed in his sleep, he opened the window and flung himself onto the roof above. Reaching down with his foot, he shut the window and then climbed onto the highest point of the roof. Vincent laid on his back and let the freezing Nibelhiem wing run over him and then, reluctantly, he slipped into sleep.