Red roses mean love

By kimetara

Multipart

AN: Okay all, as much as I loved my PG rating, I had to up it for this chapter.  Mind you, you've been warned!

Chapter Nineteen

          "Hi guys!  Did I miss anything?" Tifa called cheerfully as she reentered the Highwind.

          "Nope.  Hey Teefs!  I got an idea," Yuffie waved her over to the couch she and Shera were sitting at.  "Let's make the guys have a drinking contest!"

          Tifa blinked, then glanced at Shera.  "A what?"

          "A drinking contest," Shera repeated calmly, then grinned.  "I think it would be fun to see the Captain drunk and wobbling, don't you?"

          "Yeah!  Serves him right for calling me a kid...  Oh, and as an extra plus, I decided-" Shera cleared her throat, "okay, WE decided that they couldn't have any drinks unless they were in it!" Yuffie continued.  "C'mon, waddaya say?"

         Tifa thought for a moment about the old days at the bar.  Some of those times had been pretty hilarious...  "Okay.  Why not?" Tifa agreed.

          "All right!" Yuffie whooped.  "Shera, you take Cid.  Tifa, Reeve.  I'll get Vinny, heh heh heh..." she snickered.

          "You're going to drag Vincent into this too?" Tifa asked, surprised.

          "Heck yeah!  No offense, I'd let you do it Teef, but you're just too nice.  Gotta bug him `til he caves!" Yuffie proclaimed, puffing her chest out.  Tifa and Shera laughed.

          "Right.  Good luck!"

          "Captain!" Shera exclaimed.  "I've been looking all over for you.  Where have you been?"

          "Just up on the deck.  What is it?"  Cid's brows furrowed at Shera's odd expression.  "What?"

          "...why are you holding a mop?"

          "Huh?  Oh!"  He immediately tossed it to the floor.  "Ah...just something one of those flunkies were messing with..."  Cid didn't really want to know about Shera's opinion in fighting with a cleaning utensil.

          "Oh, alright."  She didn't completely buy that, but if her fiancé wanted to play with kitchen appliances...well, she could talk to him about it later.  "Anyway, Yuffie suggested a drinking contest."

          Cid tilted his head to the side.  "...dontcha think she's a little underage?"

          "No, for you, Vincent, and Reeve."

          "Vince and Reeve?"  Cid thought about seeing those two prim and fussy types properly drunk, and chuckled.  "Those prisses couldn't last two shots."

          "We'll see."  Shera smiled.  "So, you agree?"

          "&^%$#, course I do!"

          "Hi Reeve," Tifa smiled, watching Reeve and Nanaki play checkers – Nanaki soundly beating the ex-executive.

          "Oh, hey Tifa!" Reeve grinned at her.  "Something up?"

          "We~ell...Yuffie, Shera, and I were considering having a drinking contest."

          "Yuffie?"  Reeve blinked.  "Isn't she a little young to drink?"

          "No no, I meant between you, Vincent, and Cid," Tifa explained, glancing at Nanaki.  "They also said it was the only way for you guys to get drinks.  What do you think?"   

          "It would be amusing to watch," the Canyosmo agreed, effectively dispelling any suspicion he wanted to join.

          "Are you going to be in it, Reeve?"  Tifa laced her hands behind her back and gave him her most innocently inquisitive expression – except for the grin that obviously gave her less-than-innocent intents away.

          "...sure," Reeve shrugged.  "I haven't had a good drink in ages!"

          "Viiiinny!" Yuffie's calls echoed through the Highwind.  "Viiiiiiiinny!  Vincent!  Vincent!  VINCENT!"

          "Why are you shouting?"

          "Yahh!" Yuffie jumped.  "Gods!  Why do you always have to be so creepy?" she complained, turning to face him.  He simply watched her.  Had Tifa or Cid been there, they would have seen the slight hint of amusement on his face, but for Yuffie...

          "Fine, be like that," she sulked.  "I see YOU haven't changed.  I knew those clothes were too good to be true!"

          He still watched her, waiting.

          "Hmph.  Well, I just wanted to tell you there's going to be a drinking contest," Yuffie tossed her head.

          "...you are rather young to be in a drinking contest..."

          "NOT ME!" Yuffie yelled, exasperated.  "You, Cid, and Reeve!  And unless you join in the contest first, you can't have any drinks at all!"

          "I'm not interested," Vincent replied coolly.

          "Yeah?  Too bad!  You're gonna be in it or I'll force it down your throat!" she made a few lightening fast punches in the air.

          "Hmmm," was his only reply.

          "What, you think I can't?" Yuffie challenged.

          "Yes."

          She scowled for a moment, since he was probably right, then quickly changed tactics.  "Aw, c'mon, please Vinny!"

          "No."

          "Pleeeeease?"

          "..."

          "Pretty pretty please?  With a cherry on top?  And whipped cream and banana and nuts and cookie crumbs and-"  Vincent turned away and made to leave.

          Darn.  She'd forgotten how stubborn he was.  "If you don't I'll...I'll tell Tifa you like her!" Yuffie yelled.

         He stiffened, just barely, but it was enough for Yuffie's quick eyes to see.  *Hey, did I hit a nerve??  Wow, I was just guessing!  Hehe, this is gonna be good...nyuk nyuk nyuk,* she mentally sniggered.  Her whole expression seemed to perk interestedly, and had Vincent been facing her to see it, he would've cursed whatever deity had left him to deal with her.

          *How had she...?*  Oh sweet mercy, was he so obvious that even Yuffie could tell?  Who else knew?  Reeve, Nanaki, Cid, perhaps even that Marianna woman?

          "...what would that accomplish?"  His words came out automatically, never loosing their constant smoothness.  Thank goodness for old mental reflexes.  After all, Turks could never be taken off-guard.

          *Grrr, guess he doesn't like her.  He's no fun!*  "Then...then...I'll steal your gun!" Yuffie blurted out in a moment of inspiration, and instantly regretted it.  She didn't want to get him mad...

          But, Vincent didn't become angry.  He merely lifted an eyebrow.  "Very well."

          "...I can steal the gun?" Yuffie asked doubtfully, eyeing the weapon.  It was a heck of a lot bigger than what she usually lifted...

          "No.  I will...be in the contest."

          "Wha- really?  Heyy!"  Yuffie grinned and jumped in the air, before striking a pose.  "The great Yuffie triumphs again!"

          Vincent ignored her celebration and left for another room.  He had only agreed for the numbing effects of the alcohol; this inner conflict was driving him near insane.  And he was uneasy, of how far his wall had crumbled...

          "Wow, I never knew Reeve had it in him..." Yuffie stared.  The cheerful, extroverted workaholic had downed his 15th glass.  "I knew Cid shouldn't have said that thing about bean counting!"

         "Yeah, I know what you mean.  Somehow Vincent didn't strike me as the drinking type either," Tifa agreed.  Vincent was on his 17th, and seemed completely normal still...which actually wasn't saying much, considering how little his facial expressions varied to the general populace.

          "Better catch up, Captain!  Vincent's beating you!  And Reeve's about to tie!" Shera reported brightly.

          "Hah, don't think so hun!" Cid crowed, as Reeve's forehead abruptly hit the table.  "Hahaha...bwahaha..."

          It took another five drinks, but Cid eventually caved in.  "Looks like Vincent is the winner!" Shera announced.  "Now, shall we drag these two to their beds or leave them on the table?"

          The girls glanced at each other and grinned.  "Table."

          "Let's go to bed before it gets too late," Shera advised.

          "Alrighty!  `Night you guys!"  Yuffie nearly skipped down the hall to her room.

          "Good night," Shera told Vincent and Tifa, then left.

          "Good night Vincent...do you think you need some help back to your room?" Tifa asked hesitantly.

          "No.  Good night."  Something in his voice was slightly odd, but Tifa disregarded it.

          "Okay then.  See you in the morning," and she walked off to her room.

          An hour later, Tifa was creeping down the hallways, carrying pillows and blankets.  OK, so she felt a little guilty about just leaving her friends on that hard tabletop, especially since they were guaranteed hangovers the next morning.  Might as well not give them sore necks to go with it.

          Abruptly, she halted, aware of somebody else in the hallway.  "Hello?"

          The figure jumped and gasped.  "Tifa?"

          "Shera?"  Tifa walked closer.  "What're you doing down here?" she asked quietly.  She could barely make out the outline of some sort of bundle in Shera's arms.

          Shera shuffled her feet.  "I...ah...brought a pillow and a blanket for the Captain," she admitted.  "What about you?"

          Tifa smiled.  "Same.  And one for Reeve."

          Shera chuckled.  "Well, let's go get them as comfortable as possible...they'll be feeling terrible in the morning, after all."

          The pair walked softly into the dining room, and both started at seeing somebody already there.

          "Vincent?  What are you still doing here?" Tifa asked, confused.  It looked like he hadn't moved from his seat since they left.

          He didn't reply or shift from his position.  Tifa wished there was some light; she was beginning to feel worried about him.

          After a moment's hesitation, she and Shera simply stepped forward and made the two unconscious men as comfortable as possible.

          "Hey...Tifa...do you have an extra set of pillows?" Shera asked when they were finished.  Tifa nodded.

          "Yeah," she clarified, realizing Shera probably couldn't see her in the dark.

          "Mind if I take them?  I think I'll camp down here tonight."  Shera sounded somewhat rueful.

          "Sure," Tifa smiled warmly and passed them over.  "I'm sure Cid'll appreciate it."

          "Oh, well..." Shera shrugged, but sounded pleased.  "You better be off to bed now, dear.  And, Tifa," Shera stepped closer and lowered her voice.  "Why don't you see if you could help Vincent up to his bed?  It doesn't seem healthy to just be sitting there like that."

          "Okay," Tifa agreed.  Her mind had been running along the same line anyway.  "Have a good sleep!"

          "You too."  Shera turned and busied herself in making the nearby couch comfortable.  Tifa approached Vincent at the table.

          "Vincent?" she repeated, slightly hesitant.  He still didn't reply.  "Vincent..." Tifa trudged ahead, "here, let me help you up."  She reached towards his arm, but to her shock he jerked away and stood abruptly.

          "That...is not necessary."  That odd note was there again, that strange heaviness.  In his eyes as well...but it was probably just the alcohol...?

          "Alright."  Tifa wasn't sure whether to feel brushed off or not, but at the moment she was growing steadily more worried.  Vincent hadn't acted this way towards her for ages.  "C'mon, let's go up to your room and make you comfortable, okay?" she asked gently.

          After a long moment, he nodded, and slowly strode down the corridor.  Tifa followed, her normally brisk pace taking a more sluggish gait.

          The walk down the inky hallway was silent, Vincent shuffling along and Tifa patiently ambling beside him.  A few times he stumbled, and she had to place a hand on his back to steady him.  She had never seen Vincent so uncoordinated before, and it was almost funny.  In fact, it would have been extremely funny, if it weren't for that strange oppressiveness emanating from him.

          Shuffle, shuffle, stumble, steady him, Tifa mentally counted herself.  "You okay?" she asked automatically, then wished she hadn't.  Her voice sounded so loud in the quiet.

          He never replied, just regained his balance and moved on.  Eventually, she stopped asking altogether.  This was an extremely long hallway...had Vincent's room always been so far away?

          Ah, he'd tripped again, and this time seemed on the verge of falling over.  Tifa reflexively reached out to steady and tug him lightly back on balance, but quickly realized she'd tugged a little too hard – in less than a second she found herself pinned between the wall and his heavy form, her chin just barely clearing his broad shoulder.

          With an inner sigh, Tifa commenced to attempt to wriggle out from under him.  She mentally thanked whatever higher power that was up there that Vincent's right side had fallen on her, not his left – that claw would have complicated matters.

          After a few moments, the attempt was proven futile, and she glanced up at his face.  His eyes were closed, forehead resting against the metal wall behind her, and Tifa felt a renewed spurt of protectiveness towards him, looking so vulnerable.  She tried carefully to get him off, her lungs starting to feel compressed by his weight pressing down on her, but it was no use.  She couldn't push him away without causing him to fall over.

          "Vincent...do you think you could...uh...stand?" Tifa asked.  His long hair was tickling her cheek...

          "I am standing," his voice murmured into her ear, slightly slurred.  Tifa smiled fondly at his silliness.

          "No, I mean, off of me," she explained, sounding apologetic.  She didn't want to offend him, after all.

          "...no."

          Tifa blinked.  "Vincent?"

          "Mmmm...?"  His breath was hot against her neck, and to her shock she felt warm lips gently resting on her shoulder.

          Just an accident, Tifa told herself.  An accident.  It didn't ring true though; she had learned too much from her years of martial arts about how a body worked, how stiff it could be when tensed, how far it fell when relaxed.  He had to have bent his head deliberately...  This thought was reinforced when the said mouth traveled from her shoulder, up to her neck.  Not an accident.

          "Vincent," Tifa ventured after a moment's shock.  "Vincent.  Stop."

          "Why?" he mouthed against her skin, and Tifa couldn't help the slight shudder from running up her spine.  "Do you want me to?"

          Did she?  Of course she did...right?  Didn't she?  It was hard to think, with him kissing the inside of her neck...  "This isn't like you," she replied helplessly.

          "Is it?" was his cryptic response as he moved back down to her shoulder.  What was he doing?  Could he possibly be mistaking her for somebody else?

          "Vincent, stop it," she spoke again, more urgently.  "I'm...I'm not Lucrecia."

          "I know."  Black wings unfurled, ripped through the thin shirt.  And then he bit.

          The started yelp from Tifa was cut short by his mouth covering hers, ravaging and hungry.  No longer gentle, breathlight kisses, Vincent devoured, Tifa's head falling back from the force of his claiming.  His claw was wrapped around her waist, tearing the side seam of her shirt, his hand plunged into her hair, supporting and holding her tightly against his pale skin.  Instinctively, perhaps, her hands rose and brushed away the tattered remains of his shirt.  Instinctively riding over his smoothly muscled torso and wrapping around his neck, mindlessly pulling him closer.

          "You are Tifa," he breathed when he broke away, voice husky and slightly ragged.  "Tifa."  She opened her eyes – when had she closed them? – and saw him standing there, looking down at her.  Saw through the obscurity to the dark wings unfolded behind him.  Saw the hooded weight fall from his gaze, saw realization creep in.  "Tifa...oh God," he whispered, backing away from her, his eyes wide before a twisted agony overtook his visage.  His wings fell into the darkness.

          And then he was gone.

          He ran, ran as far as possible before his haven betrayed him and he fell.  Stumbled, rolled, slipped across the wet grass and rocky gravel until he came to a stop, not even noticing his shiver from the dew and night wind on his bare skin.

          *How dare you,* he cried to his inner self.  *How dare you take advantage of Tifa, of me...*

          Don't blame me, Chaos responded.  It was your decision to join in that idiotic contest.  And they were your own longings.  Why would I want to kiss a human? it sneered.

          True.  God, it was true, the truth.  Some deep part of Vincent wanted to scream, scream until his throat was hoarse and his soul empty.  But it stayed suffocated in its dark corner, buried under the ruined layers of ice and steel.

          He lay there for a long time, cheek pressed to the dirt floor, eyes open and unseeing.  Eventually, an old, well-known prayer shakily rose to his dry mouth.

          "Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti," he whispered.

                   (I confess to God Almighty)

          "Beatae Mariae semper Virgini,

                   (To blessed Mary ever Virgin)

          Beato Michaeli archangelo,

                   (To the blessed archangel Michael)

          Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis,

                   (To the holy apostles, to all the saints)

          Quia peccavi nimis.

                   (That I have sinned)

          Cogitatione,

                   (In thought)

          Verbo et opere,

                   (In word and deed)

          Mea culpa.

                   (Through my fault)

          Mea culpa.

                   (Through my fault)

          Mea maxima culpa."

                   (Through my most grievous fault)

          "Kyrie Eleison."

                   (Lord have mercy.)

AN: I couldn't deny my angst muse...  =/  This just seemed a bit too violent and angsty for a PG rating, aye?  Well, one more chapter left, I think.  Reviews are welcome.