Cloud propped his weapon up against the end of the bed, ignoring the nurse that followed him across the ward. She gave him a disapproving look, clicking her tongue impatiently. He assumed her issue lay with the presence of his sword in the hospital, although she didn't seem to want to challenge him on it. He was glad she didn't; he was keen to avoid an argument.

He settled into the chair next to the bed and stretched his legs out in front of him. The seat was uncomfortably hard. All hospitals had one thing in common at least, regardless of how well funded they were. He hoped after the long week he and Tifa had spent at Denzel's bedside, living in chairs just like this one, that it would be a long while before he sat in a place like this again.

Life had other ideas. The air smelt of disinfectant and the lights were too bright.

Vincent looked as pale as ever, although his skin had a grey sheen, his red eyes watery and bloodshot. Dark shadows beneath them only added to his sickly appearance. He watched as Cloud made himself comfortable, smoothing his fingers against the white bedsheet.

Cloud crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "How're you feeling?"

"I've been better."

His voice sounded brittle, as though he hadn't spoken for a while. It wouldn't surprise Cloud if that was true; Vincent wasn't the type to sit and chat with the nurses.

"Do you need anything?"

He shook his head. The private room the Turk's arranged for him was fairly comfortable compared to the communal ward, although the lack of air was stifling without a window. Cloud propped the door open when he arrived, giving the unfriendly nurse even more reason to glare at him. The weak breeze that drifted through it almost made her frustration worth it.

"I see you're making friends," said Vincent, watching her through the open door.

She rolled her eyes and walked away, an embarrassed flush rising through her face. Cloud could hear her heels clicking on the tiled floor long after she disappeared from view.

"I try," said Cloud, feeling awkward. "It's good to have you back."

"How long have I been here? It feels as though time has stopped."

He checked his watch. "Just over twenty-four hours. How long were you in the reactor?"

"I don't know. I have little recollection of what happened. I was attacked... then I woke up here."

"I'm not surprised you don't remember. You weren't looking too good when they bought you in."

"I imagine not." Vincent tried to sit up a little straighter and abandoned the attempt, hissing in pain when he moved. "I assume we have much to discuss?"

Cloud didn't reply, the grimace that crossed his face revealing far more than his words could.

The number of bandages around Vincent's torso only hinted at the severity of his wounds. According to Yuffie, he looked as though somebody tried to enter his chest through his ribcage with a can-opener. Cloud cut her off quickly after that. Her penchant for the overdramatic was well known, and he didn't share her excitement at relaying the gory details. Upon seeing Vincent's weakened state, he realised that she perhaps wasn't exaggerating.

"Has there been another attack?" Vincent asked.

"We arrived yesterday. The Turks wanted to check out a lead. Some guy with lightning materia went after Tifa and Rude."

"Was anybody hurt?"

"No." Cloud shook his head slightly, still trying to make sense of it all in his head. "We would've left but somebody planted a bomb on the Turks helicopter. We got lucky."

He could still smell the acrid smoke from the explosion when he closed his eyes and feel the searing heat on his skin. Time stood still as they watched the burning wreck, and the fear in his gut solidified. Their lives were in danger, the angle of the threat impossible to predict.

Vincent didn't look surprised. "It's as I feared then. The men that attacked me were also in possession of materia. It was rudimentary mostly, but it was effective enough. By the time they set the creature on me, I was too weak to fight."

"It was something venomous," said Cloud. "A Bagnadrana maybe. The poison made it harder for them to heal you."

"Whatever it was, I would rather not encounter it again," Vincent replied, with feeling.

"I hear you on that."

"Garrison's dangerous," Vincent warned. "His crew are ruthless and they have numbers on their side. We should prepare ourselves."

"We will," Cloud assured him. "The Turks have done a lot to secure the area. There are security teams in place."

"You trust them?"

He thought about this for a moment. The Turks weren't the enemy they used to be, despite Reno's attempts to provoke him. As a unit, he almost trusted them. Individually…

"I don't distrust them," he replied, choosing his words with care.

"Barret and I were the intended victims at the reactor, but we escaped. You should have been on that helicopter with the Turks…" Vincent paused, deep in thought. "We've interrupted their game. There's a risk that their retaliation could be far more brutal. They will be angry."

"I hadn't thought of it like that," Cloud admitted.

"They show skill and determination. I doubt they'll give up easily. They're working towards an endgame, but it would be a mistake to assume we know the players." His expression turned grave. "Have we located the woman?"

"No." Cloud felt the discomfort in his gut when he thought of her. "We found her base, but she's long gone now. All we found were photographs."

"More?"

Cloud rubbed his fingers through his hair awkwardly. The photographs were something he would rather not dwell on.

"She's been watching us for a long time… The Turks and Rufus too."

Cloud knew now how dangerous the situation was. Every additional detail pointed to an enemy that was continuously five steps ahead of them, and the fact Erin was watching them for so long only confirmed the idea that the attacks weren't random. She calculated every detail meticulously. Reno was sure that the timer on the bomb meant that they were just lucky to walk away, but Cloud wasn't so certain. He suspected Erin was still playing the game. If any of them were injured, it would've been a bonus for her rather than a victory.

Vincent frowned. "She appears to be quite the voyeur."

"Something like that."

Whenever he thought back to that evening, nausea surged through him. Whilst his memories were returning, they remained hazy. There was a car, and then cool hands tugging at his shirt, lips pressed against his skin... The journey from Johnny's Heaven couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes, and they dumped him unceremoniously in the street outside Tifa's bar as soon as they got enough evidence to incriminate him.

It was the shame he couldn't shake and held his heart in its icy grip. Her kisses themselves didn't faze him; the memories she exploited to manipulate him did. He left himself open to attack with his liquor fuelled stupor. It didn't matter that his confusion was materia-induced. He brought this on himself.

The deception brought memories tumbling back through his mind, ones that he tried so hard to outrun, unsure of what they meant. The longing to see her one more time, to reach out and touch her… Already bearing cracks he couldn't mend, this refreshed heartache only broke him further. Unable to process it by himself, yet unwilling to share the burden, all he could do was wait and pray that like his guilt over her death, the pain too would relent.

If only his guilt relented. He merely grew accustomed to the woman that haunted his dreams.

"Have you spoken to Tifa about the photographs?"

"No."

"You should," Vincent cautioned. "She cares about you deeply. She can help you understand."

"There's nothing to understand."

"You forget that I've experienced grief myself." Vincent grimaced as he inhaled a little too deeply, holding his chest gingerly. "Aerith meant a great deal to you. For her memory to be made into a weapon and used against you… Understandably, you're hurt."

Grief was the last thing he wanted to address, an added facet to the issue at hand that he couldn't quite grasp. Family, friends, time… all snatched away by another's hand, leaving him trapped. His experience at the hands of Hojo left him ill-equipped to deal with any of this. To grieve properly required closure, and to gain closure…

A needle in his arm, the bite vicious, its poison searing beneath his skin. All the while time marched tirelessly on outside of his test-tube prison. Four years. How did you find closure when there were so many loose ends to sever?

"Tifa doesn't want to speak to me," Cloud replied shortly. "She made that clear."

He couldn't shake the image of her and Reno. The initial surge of jealousy faded now to something far more confused. He didn't understand how she allowed the Turk to worm his way beneath her skin. She was going to get hurt; he knew that much for certain.

Their conversation the evening before was still fresh in his mind. He clutched at straws, panicked by the realisation that she was slipping through his fingers, and the words left his lips before he fully processed them. I love you. Those words should fix things. Wasn't that how it worked?

He loved her. He loved their life together. The bar was his home, and his place was with her and Denzel and Marlene. He desperately wanted for that to be enough, and for it to inspire the other feelings he should feel. Already off-kilter, the realisation that Tifa was moving forward without him knocked him further off balance.

Aerith had been so alive... so animated. She was a breath of fresh air through the stagnant alleys of the slums. His reaction to her was different; the feelings burned brighter and hotter even now. With her, he felt as though he was flying, his attachment growing far too quickly for him to analyse. She was long gone now though, one more memory in the turbulent waters of his mind.

He knew, deep down, that his feelings for Tifa were far better grounded, their history giving them far more weight. The issue lay with himself, not with her.

"People often say things they later regret," said Vincent neutrally. "Don't waste the chance to make amends."

"Do you think I have amends to make?"

He considered this. "No. But you may if you don't speak to her."

Cloud didn't reply.

"Sometimes it's better to confront an issue head-on than imagine you know how a person is feeling."

Cloud frowned, struggling to sift through the confusion in his head. "What if I don't even know how I'm feeling?"

"Perhaps you do, you just don't want to accept it."

Vincent could be a little too perceptive sometimes. Cloud tucked the unwelcome moment of clarity away, unsure he wanted to analyse it further. Footsteps outside dragged him away from his thoughts.

"Something's wrong," said Vincent.

A shadow crossed the corridor, followed by a tall figure in a black suit.

Cloud sighed. "I'll fill you in when I know more."

His body protested when he stood up and headed for the door. Tseng's face was as impassive as always when Cloud stepped into the corridor, giving nothing away. Cloud knew there was trouble without asking. The Turk wouldn't have sought him out for any other reason.

"I need you to assemble your team," said Tseng, not bothering with unnecessary pleasantries. "There's been an incident."

"Another attack?"

"We're not sure." His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of anger crossing his slim face. "We've lost contact with one of the teams. Reno's dealing with it. It could be nothing."

Tseng walked down the corridor, gesturing for Cloud to follow. He did.

"It's more likely to be something," said Cloud, knowing that complacency wasn't worth the risk. "Where did they lose contact?"

"Near the President's cabin."

"Cloud!"

They turned in the cry's direction. The tone of her voice was unmistakable, betraying absolute panic. Any frustration he'd been harbouring took a backseat when he saw the fear in her eyes.

"She's been in my cabin." Tifa's fingers were agitatedly squeezing the stuffed toy in her hands. "She left this."

He prised the Moogle out of her fingers, turning it over in his hands. He knew it well. He spent too many nights searching for it when it was misplaced and been involved in too many playful arguments against taking it with him when he was out running deliveries. He ran his fingers over a set of neat stitches on the seam. It was a necessary surgery Tifa had performed when a heated argument between children had resulted in injury.

That night he admitted to her he couldn't sew. Not even a button? She failed in her attempt to teach him, and they laughed like children. His heart twisted painfully.

"Is this significant?" Tseng asked.

"Yeah," Cloud replied, fear pooling in his gut. "It's Marlene's."

"She lost it after the accident." Tifa was wringing her empty hands now. "Cloud, the kids… It's another threat. And Denzel…"

She clapped her hand to her mouth, the erratic rise and fall of her chest betraying her distress. He knew the images that were running through her head. His mind was falling through the meaning behind the message just as quickly. He pictured Denzel, pale and unmoving, bleeding in the street while Marlene sobbed beside him. The sleek black car next to them, the fender twisted and the drivers' door left wide open. His family were in danger.

Cloud bit back his feelings, falling back on the years of training he once endured. Now wasn't the time to panic. He grasped her shoulders gently, needing to secure her attention. The Moogle hung limp in his hand.

"Tifa… Breathe."

The contact surprised her; he could see it in her eyes. They were bloodshot and the surrounding skin was swollen and raw. She'd been crying, he realised, although he doubted the abandoned toy was the source of her tears. He knew that Barret was worried about seeing her. Their fight at the hospital was still fresh in his mind and Barret mentioned needing to fix things between them. Perhaps the conversation wasn't as simple as he hoped.

She needed a shoulder to cry on. Vincent was right; he should speak to her before their friendship crumbled further.

"Where's Marlene?" he asked levelly, focusing for now on the situation at hand.

"With Barret." She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Denzel's alone. We need to go back to the bar."

"He's with Red," Cloud corrected her, working hard to keep his voice calm. "He's safe."

"What if he isn't?"

"He is." He tried to force confidence into his words. "You spoke to him this morning?"

She nodded.

"We'll call again. Make sure."

"I want to go back to the bar." Her voice was desperate, and the words trembled on her lips. "I need them both where I can see them."

"No. Not until we know what's going on," said Tseng.

"I know what's going on. She's threatening our children."

"I understand your frustration. For now, the priority is securing our position."

The clinical tone of the Director's voice did nothing to quell the panic. Cloud could see that in her eyes. She just looked angrier. How could a Turk possibly understand?

She was about to reply when footsteps distracted them. Cloud tore his attention away from Tifa's furious expression to see Reno turn the corner, his face lacking its usual sarcastic smile. Instead, it bore a look of grim resignation. He looked like a man that knew things were about to get ugly, fast.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said, as his eyes landed on Cloud.

"What're we dealing with?" Cloud asked, ignoring the sarcasm.

"They're dead."

"Cloud," Tifa peered up at him, her eyes pleading. "We're leaving. Tell them."

He stared back at her, torn.

They should contact Red… make sure he and Denzel were okay. Avalanche and the Turks were all at Healen. It made sense for the Lodge to be her target, but Erin's previous method of using the children as a weakness made an attack on the bar just as likely.

"Tifa…"

Cloud understood Tifa's anger. He wanted Denzel under the same roof just as much as she did, but he favoured the Turk's position. Following the bomb on the helicopter, it was too risky to make a rash decision. They should sit tight and work out the safest course of action to avoid walking straight into another trap.

It was easy to predict that Tifa's first step upon receiving the ambiguous message would be to return to Edge. It would be just as easy to exploit that. They needed to be careful. Luck wasn't an indefinite resource.

"Nobody goes anywhere until we know what's going on," Tseng repeated, his tone not inviting further argument.

"Anybody want to fill me in?" Reno stared at the Moogle in Cloud's hands, his expression one of confusion.

"Someone's been in Tifa's cabin." Cloud held it up for inspection. "Left this."

"Well, that's creepy."

"It's Marlene's."

Cloud saw the realisation filter through. Reno's eyes widened slightly, and he aimed his next question at Tseng.

"We've still got eyes on the bar?"

"Yes," said Tseng. "I'll arrange further cover."

"What do you mean… eyes on the bar?" Tifa asked.

Her patience was holding on by a thread. Cloud could hear it in her voice. Reno had also noticed. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"We needed to keep tabs on things," he said.

Tifa turned to Cloud. "Did you know about this?"

"No," he said, quick to protest his innocence.

The Turks' didn't take notice when he turned down their offer of help days previously. For once, Cloud couldn't have been more grateful for them sticking their noses in where they didn't belong. Red was a formidable opponent, but the extra eyes and hands would be useful.

"We believed it was necessary," Tseng countered. "Your son will be safe until you can return to Edge."

"Until I can return?" Her tone was incredulous. "Is anybody listening to me? I'm not leaving him on his own!"

"Nobody in or out," Reno replied, echoing Tseng. "We'll lock-down and find the crazy bitch before someone else gets hurt. Let Shinra watch the bar. You just need to worry about Marlene."

"He's my son. We came here because you asked us for help."

"Do I need to remind you about the helicopter?"

Her voice cracked then, eyes shining. "Please."

The Turk's expression softened in the face of her anguish. Cloud glanced at Tseng. He was watching the exchange warily. Whatever was going on between Reno and Tifa, he couldn't imagine Tseng approving of it any more than he did.

"It's not safe," said Reno gently, oblivious to the scrutiny he was under. "As soon as we're secure, I'll take you home."

"Tifa…" Cloud inhaled slowly; the words that formed had a sour taste but needed a voice. "I agree with the Turks. It's better this way."

"We'll make sure Denzel's looked after," Reno promised.

Her fingers were curled into fists, her knuckles white. She stonily refused to meet Cloud's eye. He knew that she'd been counting on his support, but whilst he'd love nothing more than to have their family back together, there were too many risks involved.

"We need a plan," he said, speaking to Tseng.

"The Turks will secure the perimeter. I suggest two of your team stay with Valentine and the rest with the girl."

"No." Cloud shook his head slightly, thinking back to his conversation with Vincent. "We don't know who the target is here."

"What do you suggest?"

"Erin might not be here. If it's Garrison, he's after the Turks. You're more of a target if you're working together."

Tseng considered this. "Your point is valid."

"So you want us to split up?" Reno didn't sound convinced.

"Cid can wait with Vincent. Me and Barret will secure the perimeter." He glanced at Tifa, seeking her agreement with the plan. "Tifa and Yuffie can watch Marlene. Two of you with us, one with Vincent, one with the girls."

Reno was about to speak, but Tifa cut him off sharply. "Marlene will be frightened. She likes Elena."

"Yeah alright," Reno agreed, although his voice lacked enthusiasm. "Elena's with the girl, Rude's with Valentine, and we'll stick with you and the big guy."

Cloud suspected Reno was about to offer her his services, no doubt seeing the opportunity to get close to her again. He looked surprised at Tifa's rejection, and Cloud wondered at the friction between them. She was staring at the floor now, apparently trying to avoid eye contact with either of them.

Reno looked to Tseng for approval. He nodded crisply.

"I want additional security on the cabin and the ward," Tseng said. "Do we have enough men?"

"At the moment," Reno replied, the implication clear in his words.

"Make the arrangements."

"Yes, sir."

Tseng pulled his PHS from his jacket pocket. "I'll arrange the extra cover for the bar."

Cloud watched him leave. Reno was eyeing Tifa warily; she still hadn't relaxed her fists.

"They'll be safe," he said, his cocky smile conspicuously absent in the face of her frustration. "Nobody will get near Denzel, and they'll have to come through us if they want to get to Marlene."

She didn't reply.

"Tifa?" Cloud could see the tension in her jaw.

"I'll call Denzel," she said, the calm in her voice carefully constructed. "I'll be with Marlene if anybody needs me."

"Wait here," said Reno. "Let Tseng sort cover and one of us will come with you."

She turned on her heel, relaxing her fingers. Cloud glimpsed the red flesh of her palm where her nails had dug crescents into her skin.

"I'm going to call Denzel," she repeated, pushing past Reno.

Anger clouded his face for a second. Cloud saw it crash over his features, though it quickly dissipated. Something else was going on here, and her fury surprised the Turk. He met Cloud's eye, momentarily chagrined, and raised his eyebrows in a silent request for help.

"Tifa," Cloud warned. "Reno's right. Wait until we know what's going on with the bar."

She ignored him, marching down the corridor without a backward glance. Contrary to her obvious temper, she didn't slam the door behind her.

Cloud turned on him. "What did you do?"

"I don't fucking know." He had the decency to look uncomfortable. "Are you gonna deal with that or am I?"