Part II: Innocence and Betrayal

Tifa, Vincent, and Yuffie were sitting in chairs around the fire in the nearby inn.


"Well, what now?" asked Yuffie. "There's nothing else we can do for him."


"We can't do anything. Sooner or later, Sephiroth will find us. We are too weak to retaliate. The only thing we can do is wait here." said Vincent melancholily.


"I only wish we were all in better moods," sighed Yuffie. "No one wants to be cheerful after what happened."


"It does seem hard to look up," concurred Tifa, who swung her legs off the side of the bed.


"I'm going outside. I want to take a walk," said Yuffie, and she rose from he bed she was sitting on. "If anyone wants to come, they can," Yuffie turned away and opened the door, quickly shutting it to bar the cold air from invading the meeting quarters. As she left, she looked up into the dark sky. There was no moon, only a dark, cloudy sky. The wind howled, and as Yuffie walked, she was bombarded with showers of snow and ice.



- - -



"Yuffie." said a voice, and Yuffie turned to see Tifa running after her through the snow.


"Tifa! What are you doing out here?" asked Yuffie. "Come to join me?"


Tifa caught up to Yuffie and breathed heavily. "Yeah," she sputtered.


"Well, don't be obliged..." said Yuffie. "I can handle myself, even in this cold." Yuffie giggled. "I'm not used to it, though."


"I'm not obliged, and truthfully, I'm not used to this cold either," responded Tifa. "I actually wanted to talk with you. Are you alright?" Tifa turned and looked Yuffie in the eyes.


"Okay, I guess. I suppose it's a little too depressing, I guess you could say. I just came to look at the moon, but..." Yuffie stopped, her voice and footsteps trailing off. "It doesn't really look like it's out. Disappointing."


"Yuffie, listen..." said Tifa. "I just wanted to tell you...that if you ever need me, I'm there for you. I just wish I could do something more. So many times I've been helpless. When people needed me, I couldn't do anything, that's why I learned to fight. But I wish I could do more with people, to help them, and guide them..."


"But you can!" said Yuffie. "You can do whatever you want to! Just set your mind to it, and you can do it! Remember that time back in Wutai...and then Dad had me fight him...I could never have done that if I hadn't had you guys! We just need to stick together!" said Yuffie. "Don't worry, it'll all fall into place. Something good can always happen, if you just try to cheer up."


"You're right..." said Tifa. "But still..."


Suddenly, Tifa grabbed Yuffie and pulled her close, kissing her deeply on the lips, and pressed. Surprised and taken aback, Yuffie stepped backwards, only to grab Tifa again herself and kiss her even deeper, throwing herself into Tifa's arms and drowning. After a minute, their lips parted, and they found themselves staring into each other's eyes, still embraced in each other's arms.



- - -



Cloud stood up slowly, tossing the remains of his tattered shirt to the ground. He brushed the dirt off and grabbed his sword, then proceeded to ascend the stairs into the upstairs of the house. Upon reaching, he sat down upon the nearby bed. He laid his sword on the ground, then slipped under the warm covers of the bed. Within minutes, dreams overcame him.


I am the heir of this Planet, and this world's inevitable decline will come in time.


Sephiroth's voice echoed in his head, pounding, haunting.


I possess all the Planet's greatness.


The words cut through his head, anguishing his dreams.


The time will come to prove yourself.


Cloud bolted upright, awake. His forehead was drenched with sweat, and his pulse raced.


"Prove myself??" Cloud stammered out loud. "How? What does it all mean?"


Cloud grasped his pounding head. Looking around, he saw that the room was still empty, but that someone had came and turned off the lights in the room. The fire was still burning, and it seemed to give an almost ethereal warmth. He slipped out from under the bed covers and stood up. Wandering into the basement, he grabbed the back-mounted sheath from the back of his shirt and clipped it onto his belt. Grabbing his sword from the floor upstairs, he slipped out the door, taking care to shut the door behind him.



- - -



Vincent sighed. It had been three minutes since Tifa and Yuffie had left, yet still Vincent felt a strange sense of urgency. Strange visions ran through his head, blurring the line between reality and fantasy. He stood up and a surge of lost equilibrium caused him to step back and re-align himself. He grabbed his cape from a hook in his room, and grabbed his Winchester off the cabinet where he had left it, tucking it in one of his pockets.


Swiftly, he descended the stairs and made his way into the main lobby of the inn. The innkeeper had left, and no one was about. Acting on a strange suspicion, Vincent made his way to the other side of the reception desk and entered the back door. Inside was a dark, warehouse-like area, with rows of bookshelves forming a veritable maze of literature. Vincent squinted his eyes to try to adjust himself to the change in lighting. As he made his way to the back of the room, he heard a voice laugh softly. Vincent stopped slightly, slinking along the rows of bookcases and he walked. He cocked the Winchester and held it ready. At the back of the store-room, he found a group of large crates, stacked irregularly. He approached the crates carefully, gun drawn. He glanced at the floor quickly and then stopped dead in his tracks. A man in his forties was lying face-down on the carpeted floor, the beige rug stained blood red. The innkeeper had been killed.


Suddenly, a figure leaped out of the shadow behind a stack of crates. Startled, Vincent had just enough time to fire a stray shot before the assassin knocked him to the ground. The attacker, though cloaked almost completely in darkness, was wielding a long spear. He thrust it at Vincent, who barely rolled out of the way. Springing to his feet, Vincent backed up to avoid a stab, then aimed his gun straight out into the darkness. Hand trembling, he was about to pull the trigger when a hot, tingling sensation spread through his body. His arms, stricken with weakness, were useless to him as his gun was ripped away from him. Vincent clutched the stab wound to his chest with his left hand and prepare to fling a punch with his right when a shot was fired. Gasping, he fell to his knees, spitting blood through his gritted teeth. Then, as quickly as it started, it ended. The assailant's spear was thrust into the back of Vincent's neck, impaling him through the front. gasping, Vincent choked and spit a stream of blood onto the ground.


"Y-you dir-ty...." he muttered. he grit his teeth and again spit a long trail of blood. "I guess this...is it."


Vincent vomited blood one last time before grinning carelessly and falling to the ground, dead.