Timeline: approximately 1 year after AC/2 weeks prior to DoC


Morgan walked over to Seventh Heaven to visit Tifa. Usually afternoons at the bar were so slow that she and Tifa could just sit around talking. But today she was surprised to see the bar was almost busy, and even more surprised to see Barret leaning up against the bar chatting with someone she couldn't see. Barret shifted and she saw Vincent sitting near the bar. It had been over two months since she'd seen him last.

"Hi, all! What's the special occasion? I know it can't be for me," she said with a smile. Everyone except Vincent returned her greeting; he just sat there expressionless. There were days when she wanted to slap him, just to see if she could provoke a reaction of some sort. He never seemed to mind her chatter when she repaired his gun, but even after almost three years, he still didn't talk much. It surprised her sometimes when he did open up, even a little bit.

"Why's Vincent being so sulky today?" She asked Barret quietly. When Vincent turned his head to glare at her, she realized it wasn't quietly enough.

"I'm not being 'sulky' as you put it."

"Hmpf. Could've fooled me. Nice scowl, point it at someone else, why don't you?" With a dismissive wave, Morgan turned to back to Barret to ask him how the new mine was coming along. She couldn't keep from looking Vincent's way though when he wasn't paying attention. There was a tension in the bar that the laughter couldn't disguise. Why did it seem like everything was balancing on edge today? General talk filled the room, and she helped Tifa get drinks for everyone.

"Reeve asked me to go to Kalm for the Revival Festival there. Why should I? What is there to celebrate? It's not like it'll matter." Vincent's voice came to her, responding to something Tifa had said. Even though she'd missed the question, Morgan immediately knew what, or rather who, was being discussed. And the tension inside her snapped.

Stalking over to him, she grabbed the front of his cloak and dragged him out of his chair, pulling him towards the back of the bar and the open space outside. Shocked by her actions, the others trailed behind. Vincent had no choice but to follow, too surprised to react differently.

"I am so sick of seeing you mope around like this!" Morgan yelled at him once they reached the center of the clearing. "Why is it so damn difficult for you to accept what life is now and move on?"

"What are you going on about, Morgan?"

"Oh! Glorious wonder! He actually knows my name and can use it!" The sarcasm in her voice cut him, even though he had no idea what had started this. "I was beginning to be afraid that actually speaking to other women was too much effort."

Morgan stalked in a circle around him waving her arms in the air while the others stood near the door, watching in confusion. Oddly enough, he noticed that Tifa had a slight smile on her face, as if she knew what was going on.

"Morgan, what is this about? Yelling at me isn't going to do any good you know." He retreated into his usual remoteness, trying to see if he could get her to calm down.

"How do you know that? Maybe I want to yell at you? Maybe yelling at you is the only way to get you to listen! I am so sick of you thinking no one cares about you. Thinking that you alone carry the burdens of the whole world upon your shoulders. What melodramatic garbage!"

"I do not think that." He couldn't understand what had set her off like this. She never yelled at him; in fact, he'd never seen her get upset with anyone before. It was enough to make him wonder why he got special treatment. The others just stood watching against the back wall of the bar, no one making any attempt to stop Morgan's tirade.

"You don't? Then tell me why you won't go to the Revival Festival in Kalm? I heard you telling Tifa you weren't going. Tell me why you don't even bother to use your phone to just call your friends, even to chat? Did you know that Yuffie's been calling me even, complaining that you put her on ignore? It took you long enough to get a damn phone, now you won't even use it. I can't imagine your social skills deteriorated that badly while you were sleeping. Stop moping and blaming yourself for something that happened over thirty years ago that you had no control over!"

"You don't know what you're talking about! You know nothing about what happened back then!"

SLAP

The feel of her hand across his cheek shocked him. He hadn't even realized she was standing that close before the blow landed.

"You have no idea what you lost back then either, apparently. What was it? Oh yeah, your girlfriend's husband shot you and instead of getting you to a doctor, she started experimenting on you. True love conquers all, I suppose." If anything, the sarcasm in her voice was thicker than before. "But wait, I forgot that you're the only person in the whole world who's ever had anything bad happen to him. Oh woe is you, poor Vincent!"

SLAP

Again the slap came without warning. Why wasn't he seeing her do this?

"Here's a news flash – you aren't the only person in this world who ever lost someone. You aren't the only person in this world who's ever had something bad happen to them. You aren't alone! Stop acting like you don't have any friends you can talk to. Stop acting like you have to be alone all the time!"

SLAP

"Stop pretending you don't have any feelings! I'm so sick of you being calm and remote all the damn time. React like a normal person for once!"

This time, he saw the blow coming and blocked it left-handed, not caring if the clawed glove caused her pain. Her other hand came up instead and without thinking, he pulled Cerberus from its holster. When it went flying from his hand, everyone in the courtyard was shocked.

"How. Dare. You. Don't even consider using one of my own weapons against me!" Once again Morgan drove her hand towards his face, but this time she was holding a blade in it. He again blocked with his claw and jumped back from her, trying to gain some space to fight in.

He only caught a glimpse as her coat flared out, just enough to see she was wearing her own guns. Somehow, Vincent knew she wouldn't use them, but he still didn't want her armed. He tried grabbing the right side gun, but she twisted away at the last minute and pulled it out herself. It landed on the ground before the others, the left gun joining it shortly after.

The two combatants paused, taking each others measure before she attacked him again. Vincent saw that she wasn't actually holding daggers; they were the blades she wore attached to her forearms. Still, he had his claw and boots to attack with, so they should be evenly matched.

Cloud looked over at Tifa and asked "Are you sure about this?"

She nodded and replied "Yes. Morgan knows what she's doing. We've talked about it a few times, and she's been pretty fed up with how Vincent acts sometimes. She's pretty sure she can keep up with him for a while at least. Don't worry, she'll be fine. He won't hurt her."

Meanwhile, Morgan and Vincent continued their argument. They kept it confined to the area of the courtyard only, and stayed away from the spectators. Neither wanted anything to happen to their friends nor were they willing to stop the fight. After a few minutes, he realized she was singing to herself as she tried to hit him, and offering self-commentary on each attack.

"You are insane!" he yelled at her. "How can you even think of taking notes now?"

She just gave him a tight grin and stabbed her left hand at his head. When he ducked, her knee was waiting instead, knocking him back. When she tried moving in closer, he turned sideways a bit and thrust her away using his left arm, keeping his claws turned inward to avoid doing too much damage. His kick caught her hip, spinning her around.

Morgan changed tactics and began to talk to him during the fight, pulling his concentration away from what they were doing and making him pay attention to what she was saying.

"How on earth can you still love her? She's the one that changed you, and did this to you. You weren't the first and I doubt you were the last either. Some of the things she helped research, some of the things she and Hojo did to test subjects… you can't imagine. Why do you persist in having this angelic view of the woman? She's dead! Dead, dead, dead! Why can't you accept that and move on! Stop pining for her!"

The fight looked like it could last for a while when it happened. It wasn't much of a mistake, but it was enough.

She was getting tired finally, and wasn't paying as close attention to the ground as she should have. He'd taken to holding the fingers of his left hand together so the claws on his glove formed a point as a counter to her blades, but she'd dodge each time he struck at her.

She hadn't realized one of her guns was lying there until her left foot came down on the gun and slipped sideways. She tried to curve her body to the right in order to avoid a thrust from his claw, but instead of getting out of the way, her body lurched directly into the path of his attack, and the blow took her under the rib cage.

Time stopped, and they stared at each other.

"Oh, Vincent. I'm so very sorry!" Her whisper caught him off guard. Her shocked eyes held his for a moment, then her hands came down to rest on his arms and her head fell to his shoulder. How could he have forgotten she was as tall as he?

Vincent held her as they both fell to their knees, afraid to move. Tifa was beside them suddenly, telling him not to do anything. Cloud was behind Morgan, supporting her body and keeping her from falling over. Why couldn't he hear anything?

Tifa reappeared with a healing potion (where did that come from?) and shoved a towel into Barret's hands. With Barret using the towel to put pressure on the wound, they slowly pulled Morgan away from him. He could see the horrible gaping wound in her stomach before it was covered up. Tifa pried Morgan's mouth open and poured the healing potion down her throat. Some of it came back up when she began to cough and then Barret was carrying Morgan inside with the others helping. Cloud told Vincent to wait where he was until they got back.

He knelt in the courtyard, watching the blood drip from his fingers.