Disclaimer: Obligatory don't-own statement. Also calling Jenova "it" instead of "she" since it seems to be a pretty genderless thing. Not sure anyone knows what the heck that thing is.

Letting Go Ch. 11

It had been late one night when Vincent had his epiphany, though he certainly wouldn't have called it that and hadn't acted on it until now. It wasn't even a major realization, but it had changed how he had looked at his shifting emotions towards Tifa. He had lingered on it for once, analyzing and picking apart every detail, allowing himself to really inspect his feelings for what they were and why they were suddenly coming to the surface. As he really thought about it, he realized that the beginnings of his feelings towards her had started much longer ago, not too long after they had first met.

The whole party camped out while heading westbound out of Nibelheim, on the road looking for their next clues. A quiet night had descended, stars bright and sky clear as their campfire burned hot into the cool air. Everyone was still wary of their newest team member, the quiet, introverted, demon-possessed man who very well knew his way around a gun. Tensions were already high enough after the incidents in Nibelheim, and adding someone who had the potential to unwillingly turn on them in the haze of transformation didn't help matters.

Vincent was now awake for the first time in thirty years, in more ways than one. He could no longer tolerate what his actions had wrought and he would, if nothing else, see to the death of Hojo, preferably at his own hands. Sephiroth, too, if need be. Lost in his reflections, not caring if the others had anything to say to him, he was startled when someone touched his shoulder, handing him a mug of steaming liquid. When he looked up at the intrusion, there she was, handing him hot tea. Though she offered him a kind smile, he hadn't known how to react to her kind gesture, simply taking it with a curious glance, noticing the others watching him carefully. That had been the start of a friendship he had never asked for but now was grateful to have had.

Now, though, as he walked back to his home, he was both encouraged and worried about the step he had just taken. In his haste, he had crossed a line he now wasn't sure she wanted to take as much as he had. She had responded eagerly enough, and he supposed he was worrying over nothing, but he couldn't shake those doubts in his mind easily. Maybe in the past, he would have been horrified about crossing such a personal barrier like this, but both of them had changed in ways neither of them expected. Sometimes life changed without notice, whether good or bad, and he slowly eased away from his nagging doubts.

The evening was cold, his breath condensing in the air as he slowly walked home. Frost had settled on the monument, turning it into a crystalline sculpture, covering everything in a sparkling blanket. His steps left an absence in light behind him, crushing the fragile frost, all but alone in the deep night. A few others left their dark tracks, but with everyone else already inside, he felt like he was the only one around to see the splendor. The quiet solitude was relaxing, but he was starting to realize that it no longer held the comfort it once did. It was a cold comfort, giving nothing but taking nothing, simply there, not caring who chose to run into its embrace. Solitude easily turned into loneliness, leaving behind the chill brush of a finger as he drifted away.

As he left for the warmer emotions, he noticed that Chaos was unusually subdued. Occasional presence from the demon was so ordinary that the absence made him wonder. Every time he diverted from the cold nothingness, he felt more and more distanced from the usual callousness of Chaos. Intrigued, he reached out. You are oddly silent tonight. Is there something amiss? Strange or not, he needed to know if there was something abnormal in this behavior.

When the demon spoke, it was in a quiet, overly focused tone. Being part of you, I see what you see, but I also feel what you feel.

The implications of this hit a rather awkward note, and he quickly understood what was meant. His strong feelings were crossing over their link, the demon unaccustomed to anything but cold regret and self hate. You're the one who suggested I start acting like a human. I can't help but feel like one as well.

It hurts, he groaned, retreating as far as he could and still be heard. I didn't know it would be painful like this. What have you done?

Love does hurt sometimes. When it is strong, it hurts more. He remembered that well, how it once felt, or at least how he recalled it. Though he had loved Lucrecia, he now knew that his feelings had been misplaced, based on things that didn't hold a deep enough meaning, yet he still remembered the dull pain that had come from the emotion. As wrong as that love had been, it had impacted him in all the dark years spent alone in his self imposed tomb of a prison. Love for the wrong reasons, love for a woman he couldn't have had anyway, still painful in spite of it all.

Stop that! I can't bear it!

You started this, it's only right that I show you what being human means. You don't want to understand, but you will at least see. He remembered a night, ominous as Meteor hung in the far distance, slowly making its way towards the planet. An uncertain, tense time, everything silent and still as everyone awaited what might come. During that time of fear, he remembered seeing Tifa's face as she stared out at the sunset, strong and resolute against the certain disaster. It was what he had come to secretly admire about her, how she faced whatever challenges came at her fearlessly and yet looking so fragile, her compassion for her friends giving her the strength to overcome.

It is too much... I... don't force me to beg!

He nearly faltered at Chaos's uncharacteristic plea, wondering if the pain was actually very real and harmful. Emotions like this were foreign and probably did cause pain, but he had waited far too long to feel again. I'm sorry. I have to do this. I have to remember. A shaft of sunlight filtering into the chocobo barn, lighting up her grinning face as she held a golden hatchling, excited at reviving the species. The bridge of the Highwind at night, Meteor nearly filling the sky, Tifa crying alone when she thought nobody was awake, unleashing anxiety in secret. Never judging her for being weak, for breaking in the face of futility, for feeling so small in the vast sea of the universe. I felt it too, I felt insignificant against everything we were facing, just one person in the midst of so many, a tiny force on an enormous planet, nothing against the infinity of outer space.

To feel small is something I cannot comprehend. Stop showing me these things.

When they had been aboard the rocket, launched into space, he looked out at their planet from a distinctly unique viewpoint, small and alone in the vastness of space, nobody to care for it except for those that walked its surface. The planet was the tiniest jewel on a black tapestry, overshadowed by even larger planets, an enormous sun, yet everything they lived and died for was on this very small piece of the greater picture.

That is why I am here. I preserve the greater picture against your foolish race. If you cannot protect it, it shall be taken from you.

Even you are small against the greater picture, though. Even if humans do fail and you are forced to kill everything so that it can begin anew, the new planet would also be just another small piece in a very vast universe. I don't think either of us can comprehend the true greater picture.

Chaos grew quiet, remembering with him the view from the rocket. Both of them had been startled by how small everything was from up there. It is, at least, the planet's greater picture.

Vincent only nodded, knowing he wouldn't get much farther on the topic. Boots crunching on hard ice, the only sound in the quiet city, he headed down the alley towards home, a content smile on his face as he felt truly at peace for the first time in over thirty years.

Cloud's motorcycle thrummed loudly as he rode through a dusty canyon, marbled walls flying by at a frantic pace. He was searching for something, though he wasn't sure what it was. It felt like he was driven to this place, drawn by an unknown force. Deep down, though, he knew what it was, or rather who. Despite how long Sephiroth had been in the lifestream, he was still able to connect to him on a subconscious level. The remnants of Jenova were still strong enough to influence him, though they no longer held him entirely captive. Coming to a deep crevice, he peered down into it, seeing the lifestream bubbling deep below.

"So that's what this is about. You brought me closer to where you could hear me?" Too curious to back off with his old anger at being controlled like this, he parked his motorcycle at the top of the cliff, looking for possible cracks in the ravine to get closer to the source. At a loss, looking down at the sheer walls, he drew himself up on the top of the crevice, bracing as best as he could as he leaned over to listen. The lifestream below surged and twisted, flowing faster as he watched, pulsating with a soft green light. "You brought me out here, you might as well say whatever you had to say." He sighed, confused by his own willingness. "I'm listening."

With a low hiss, the lifestream swelled with activity, whispers of voices drawn to the surface. He quickly felt it, the presence of Sephiroth that had tormented him for years. It is still around. Jenova is still alive.

"I know." Cloud clutched at his head, Sephiroth's voice still paining him even now. The foreign presence intruded into his consciousness, and he struggled to accept it and not fight it. "We found it."

Sephiroth took his opportunity to worm closer through the door that Cloud opened in his mind, straining to speak loud enough to be heard. Until it's gone, we can't be freed from it. I don't know where it is, but it is enough to affect us.

"What do you mean?" His brow furrowed, confused by Sephiroth's unusual behavior. Somehow, this Sephiroth sounded tired and worn, a far cry from the cold killer he once knew. He sounded defeated.

From the very beginning, it was part of me. It has controlled me all my life, and it is taking everything I have to fight it now.

Cold seeped into his gut, everything suddenly taking on a new light. "Jenova? You were fighting against it? How? What happened?"

I can't explain it. I must show you. Come into the lifestream.

Hesitating, he looked around, once more inspecting the terrain. It looked too dangerous to descend, plus there was the danger of overexposure to the bare lifestream itself. "I'm not sure I can."

You need to, it's the only way I can show you.

Against his better judgment, Cloud tugged a rope from the pack on his motorcycle, hooking it around a tall, thin spire of rock. He drew out a pair of heavy leather gloves, putting them on as he prepared to descend down into the ravine. Down he went, rope twisted around his feet to slow his progress. Once his boots hit the ground, he walked slowly toward the exposed lifestream, entranced by the raw power it held. Kneeling by the greenish glow, he looked into its liquid depths, watching as it flowed and twisted. He dipped his hand slowly into the lifestream, bracing himself for the surge of thoughts and feelings he knew would come.

An inky blackness suddenly formed around his hand, collecting as Sephiroth found him. It looked like a void amidst the light, tainting the clear stream. I need to show you what really happened that night. It wasn't what you think it was, and only now is my mind clear enough to tell you. A sudden jolt raced through him as the image came, Sephiroth alone and lost amid the piles and piles of books at the bottom of the Shinra mansion, absorbed in the horrors of Gast's research. What was different, though, is that he could see and hear things from Sephiroth's perspective. As the pain and confusion of this grisly account surged through him, he heard a voice whispering in his mind. It was telling him, compelling him to kill. Whether he wanted to or not, he would watch the world burn.

The unknown voice wrapped around his mind like an embrace, feeding off of anger and turmoil. With each whisper, he knew now that he recognized that voice. It's Jenova!

You were lucky to not have been worthy of testing earlier in your life, Sephiroth said in a small, tired whisper. Can you imagine what it is like to have something like this mold you as a child, as an infant, in the womb? Could you hear it telling you secrets you never wanted to know, slanders you couldn't believe and yet you were compelled to? The scene shifted to Sephiroth as a child, raised by Shinra, never knowing a family. Jenova would speak to him, telling him that it was the only family he would ever need, and that he alone could understand and protect it. He would lose himself in these thoughts, relishing in the inner comfort that was never reflected on the outside.

I get that, a little. What happened back then?

I wasn't alone, not with this entity that praised me as I grew, drove me when I couldn't get up. Clear images of Sephiroth, blood flowing down his face after a brutal training exercise, remnants of enemies still clenched in his hands as the voice spoke sweetly. When he killed, he felt its love, an emotion otherwise denied. When he failed, there was scorn, regret, condescension. Only when he won, only when he ripped his foes apart with all his strength was he revered and cherished, feared and honored.

It can't be an excuse, though. You had to have known better.

Not until later. How could I? You know how it was in Soldier. Missions, tasks, classes, all of it flew by in a flash, some scenes lingering for only a moment. This was something they had both learned. Soldier may have been around to keep the peace, but there was a darker, unmentioned side. Research had gone too far, too deep, delving into things that man was not meant to uncover. I never even saw the outside world until I came of age and was ready for my first mission, my first outside kill. By then I was too loyal, too hardened to question what I did. Jenova was who I lived to please, not my human captors. Only once I spent time in the world did I learn how despicable it was.

Not everyone is like that. You could have found help.

You don't understand how tight Jenova's hold on me was, Cloud. Nobody could have helped me. From my very beginning, I was controlled by it. I never had a chance to learn how to overcome it. Even now I can hear it whispering, telling me things... The images stopped, halting as he rejected Cloud's touch in the lifestream. You should leave now. I won't be able to control myself much longer.

Cloud withdrew from the stream quickly, his hand burning with a dull, stinging ache. Taking off his glove, he saw his skin was pink and slightly burned, the contact still throbbing in his nerves. A crevice near the edge of the ravine jutted back, not quite a full cave but shelter enough until he could climb back up. He sat under the slight overhang, green restore materia glowing as he healed up his hand. Overhead, dark clouds had moved in during his mental absence, thunder rolling in the distance as small patters of rain fell to the ground.

Surprisingly, despite all that he had just learned, his mind was blank, only taking in the sound and smell of the rain as it fell. The rhythm of it was a welcoming white noise, a storm in the desert a rare but violent occurrence. Such a rain would fall heavily, most of the region's yearly rainfall coming nearly all at once. Looking around, he saw that he knew this place, though he hadn't realized he had been coming here. He was in the harsh, arid part of the outer Corel area, somewhere near the Gold Saucer. This ravine had to be the one they crossed over while searching for Dyne.

As the calm atmosphere fell over him, stuck until the storm passed, he thought about what Sephiroth told him. He wanted to shrug it off, not believe it, go on with hating the man as he had always done, but what he had seen in the lifestream was true. None in the lifestream could outright lie, even one who was not a direct part of it. Jenova had also been such a part of himself that he knew what Sephiroth meant. It had a way of twisting the darker emotions, feeding off of them and growing stronger each day that the tensions rose. He knew all too well how deep it could reach.

During their trip to the city of the Ancients, Jenova's grip on him had been stronger than ever, driving him mindlessly as he thought he searched for Sephiroth. All along he had been chasing Jenova, participating in the great reunion. He remembered Aerith, standing there under the light in the depths of the city. Seeing as if from outside himself, he saw his sword moving, poising to strike her down, the urge to murder her surging through his blood, flowing icy black as Jenova's whispers increased. All he could think about at that time was how her red stained clothes would look, how she would shudder as she breathed her last, the light in her eyes dim and unseeing.

He clutched his arms around his knees, torn by how close he had come to killing her. In the end she had died anyway, but he couldn't bear if he had been the one to do it. I think I understand now. I understand you, Sephiroth. I really can't imagine how it would feel to feel these things since you were a child, even before that. Was this how you felt every time you killed? His hands clenched in front of him, still seeing illusory blood on them. Did you even want to kill? What did you want? Did you ever have the ability to know what you wanted? Did Jenova ever loosen her grip?

Without thinking too hard, he knew the answer. Jenova never let go of its subjects for even a minute. It was only through sheer willpower that anyone could break from its control, and it never lasted long enough. As he looked out at the torrential rain, he finally realized that he knew Sephiroth better than he thought he could. It was their sameness that had made Jenova's influence so strong, made them so easy to manipulate against each other. How could I have been so stupid? I never once thought about how Jenova might have affected you, and you were born with its cells in your body. Maybe that's just how deep it runs, to where we can't think about anything but blind anger and hate until it consumes us. Sighing deeply, he knew what he had to do. Yeah. I'll set us free. I'll make sure of it.

A week had passed by and things continued normally enough. When Tifa's phone rang, she didn't expect anything major, but life was about to throw a wrench at her. "Tifa? It's Vincent. Shera just called me. We should all be ready within the next day or two to try to free Lucrecia." His voice grew quiet, both of them knowing what that would really mean. "I'm not sure what will happen, but I have a feeling she will agree to it. It's the only way to make sure Jenova is really gone."

Her lips pursed, brows furrowing as she took it in. "She was already dead, Vincent. I know how hard this is for you, but it might be all we can do for her now."

"That was my thought as well. She died when she gave birth to Sephiroth. Only Jenova allowed her to persist long enough to seal herself and Jenova with her. As long as Jenova continues to exist, there is always the possibility it could one day break the seal and escape."

"Oh, I don't even want to think what could happen if Jenova got out. Especially with all those people still affected by it. It's not even just Cloud, I heard recently of some of the higher class Soldier members suffering from lingering activity."

"Really? I suppose that's not much of a surprise..." He trailed off, sighing. "This needs to end, one way or another. We have to do something. Are you going to come?"

She laughed. "Of course I am! There's no way I'm going to leave something this important to all of you clowns!" Shaking her head to herself, her tone grew serious again. "I need to be there. However I can help, I want to finish this with everyone. I want to know that it's over."

"Thank you, Tifa. We will be glad for your assistance." A slight lilt in his voice before he hung up suggested that he was more glad to have her be there than just be one of many who tagged along. As she set down her phone, she couldn't help the small smile on her face, the memory of their stolen kiss lingering in the back of her mind.

That kiss had been unexpected but not unwelcome, and she blushed furiously as she tried to busy herself with sweeping the floor, the resurgence of that feeling sweeping over her mercilessly. Oh, I had never felt that with Cloud. Not once. She tried to cover her flushed face, going to the sink to splash cold water over her burning skin. There weren't many customers here tonight, but they would probably wonder if they saw her like this. Her efforts were futile, her mind replaying it as she blushed harder.

I never thought it could feel like that. And that kiss! I never thought he'd be so good at it! Shaking herself out of her memories, she tried her best to focus on her work. It lasted about a minute. Groaning, she busied herself with the tedious task of getting caked on food off of the soaking silverware.

She had already known a long time ago that her feelings towards their most elusive team member were bordering on the beyond friendly variety. It had been simple to attribute it to his mysterious, dangerous nature, or maybe to his quiet but mature attitude, but now it was showing itself to be something else entirely. All the things she used to think she thought about Cloud hadn't been there. They were great friends, as close as siblings, but there hadn't been attraction. Every kiss had felt lacking, even empty, of the fire that fueled a true relationship. There had been love, but it wasn't the right love.

Every time Vincent's crimson eyes met hers with a gaze that could make the receiver feel like the only person in the room, seeing and knowing without needing to ask unnecessary questions, her heart gave a startled thud. When he spoke, it was hard not to give him undivided attention, his presence deep and commanding. Oh man, I've got it bad. Glancing at the clock, she leaned over the counter with a sigh as she saw all but a couple people had left, and they were about ready to leave too. It wasn't too near closing time but she supposed there was no point in staying up if everyone was gone.

A few minutes later, the last of her customers left and she decided to close a bit early. There was still at least an hour left before her usual closing time, but it had been slow all day long. Gratefully distracted by her closing duties, she did all of it energetically. Reeve had all but stolen the kids for the weekend, taking them in for extra classes, and though she was glad they were both showing so much aptitude, it left her alone in the big empty house. No matter! I'll make myself some hot chocolate and sit by the fireplace! She smiled at the thought, leaning into her broom as she swept all the dust out the back door and into the alley.

Dishes were set to soak overnight, dry glasses hanging on a rack, tables wiped and everything finished in the course of a few minutes, and before long she was curled in front of the fireplace with a good book. Hot chocolate was nowhere to be found and she made a note to get more, but she was content enough to spread out on the couch as it was. Settling into the arm of the couch, she focused on her book. The tall young man leaned over her possessively, gentle hands tangling into her long, silky hair... oh! Recoiling from the offending book, she tossed it at the wall, blushing again as it plopped to the floor.

Tangling a blanket around herself, she turned towards the fire, watching the flames with forced attention. I didn't realize I was reading that one still. I never have time to read anymore. The damage had been done, though, and the memory of his touch as he kissed her lingered with a vengeance. Heaving an exasperated sigh, she looked at the clock one last time. Well, that had been a nice waste of five minutes. That does it. Forget it, I'm going to bed.

Extinguishing the fire, she moved to go up the stairs but never made it up the first step. She paused, stopped, and turned around, backing away into the common area. No matter how hard she worked to get those thoughts out of her head, they kept coming. The warmth those thoughts brought was stronger than anything she had felt before, and now she found herself grabbing her long coat, heading out into the cold.

Vincent lurked by his door, gun drawn, silently loading it in the darkness. He sensed a presence outside, one that was coming for him. Nobody intending anything good ever sought him at an hour like this. The lights had gone off as soon as he felt it, his back against the thick stone wall by the door, old habits and paranoia creeping into him as he prepared to defend himself. His breathing grew shallow, silent in the quiet night as he waited, calm but focused. As the presence drew closer, he gripped his gun tighter, finger on the trigger.

It's the woman.

He drew back up to his feet, putting the gun away with a tired sigh, turning all the lights back on. Just as he opened the door, he saw Tifa there, hand poised to knock. Standing aside to let her in, he glanced down at her curiously. "I didn't expect you."

She walked in with a smile, trying to recover her composure. "I didn't expect me either. I hope it's not too late."

"No, it's alright. Did you want tea?"

"Sure." Turning around to face him as he prepared the tea, she realized that she had never been in his apartment before. It was sparse, not much more than the basics, though he kept a small shelf for some of the more interesting objects he had found. Also on that shelf was the little stuffed white chocobo from the party, head askew as it flopped against the other collections. Aside from that, there was only a heavy blanket on the couch, a collection of a few books, and a few tools by the kitchen. "It seems a bit strange that I haven't been here yet."

"I'll admit I was wondering why you had come." Setting the water to boil, he halfway turned to look at her, his glance asking but not demanding.

"I'm not quite sure myself. Are you ready for the..." She paused, not sure what to call it. "The excavation?"

"As much as one can ever be." Distracting himself by getting tea out of the cupboard, taking the boiling water from the stove, he tried to avoid her knowing gaze. "It remains to be seen if it can even be done, but I have prepared myself for the most probable outcomes."

"Oh." She wasn't sure what else to say. Their tea was soon done, and she smiled when she saw he was using the teapot and cups she gave him. "I'm glad you're getting some use out of your gift."

Simply nodding, he took the tea into the living area, placing it on the plain coffee table and sitting on one end of the couch. When she joined at the other end, he watched her for a moment before he spoke. "That's not why you came here."

"No. I don't know why I did it. I guess I just wanted some company."

He somehow seemed to see through her with his stare, reading into the small nuances of what she was saying. His smile was small but knowing, covered up with a casual sip of his tea. Glancing at the small fire burning in the fireplace, he affected nonchalance. "I am glad for your company as well."

Trying to hide her blush behind her cup, she watched the fire with him, trying not to think that it was this situation that had driven her here. It was relaxing, though, sitting here by the fire on a cold winter night, enjoying quiet and easy company. They drank their tea in silence, not needing to fill the air with more small talk, understanding each other's needs on a deeper level. All her previous hesitation was forgotten, lost in the comfort of his presence. When the tea was gone, he went to clear away their dishes, putting them beside the sink as she rested. Once he returned, though, he paused in front of her, watching her with his penetrating gaze.

He moved to sit nearer the fire, on the floor by the couch, drawing her down to sit beside him. They were dangerously close, but his calm tone belied his nervousness. "Now, how about you tell me why you are really here?"

Her eyes darted to his, caught in it for a devastatingly intense moment. Reading into his mutual attraction, her mind was made up. "I came here for this." Closing the distance, her lips met his in a burning kiss, hand brushing against his face to tangle in his long dark hair. He only paused a moment in surprise, soon responding to ardor with his own. The kiss intensified, fueled by hard emotion, and when they finally broke apart, she could barely speak in a breathless whisper. "It's never felt like this before."

His brow met hers, eyes closing as he absorbed the moment. "No, never like this." Brushing her cheeks with both hands, he opened his eyes again, watching her with a hint of surprise. He felt so lucky to have her here with him, their feelings toward each other mutual and out in the open. Their connection was real and deep, spanning a short but eventful time, going farther than either of them expected. Capturing her lips once more, he drew her onto his lap, holding her tight as she gripped his shoulders.

Tifa kissed back almost desperately, overcome by the intensity of their passion. They were now in a battle that both of them had no intention of losing, soft touches turning into firm grips, the heat quickly rising between them. She was almost shocked by how quickly this had escalated, yet she couldn't help but dive deeply into the sensuality of his possessive grasp. When her back met the floor, his lean but firm body over hers, she only grabbed harder, giving in to whatever may come.

Breaking the kiss when Tifa brushed her hand up his shirt, Vincent moved up far enough to look her in the eye, knowing too well where this was heading. "Are you sure about this?"

She only met his gaze with a challenging glint in her eye. "Are you?" No answer followed, only met with a dark, wanting look. When their lips met again in a purposeful kiss, they both readily surrendered to the heat of the night.

A/N: Still keeping it T-rated.