A/N: Yes, yes. Chapters are longer. Formatting is better. I am just too proud of this. In case anyone's wondering about the absolutely confirmed pairings, they will be clear as crystal...well, maybe later. XD For now...enjoy the show!
Disclaimer: You've heard 'em all before, so no witty pun and no FF7 for you...or me...*sniff* O_o;
---
Chapter 2: A Disgruntled Beginning
"The looks of your fellow hobos read: 'I think Pokes has lost his marbles.'" Reno
"When I look at your face I see dirt;
All the sunshine you blow up my ass starts to hurt
And, I don't really mind if I'm nothing
In your eyes...
It's no surprise, to me."
"Sunshine" Wheatus
---
"Are we leavin' yet?"
Barret's leg quivered in anticipation; the sofa creaked in sadness as it realized it could barely hold the hulking man's weight. He was...well, stricken: Tifa was the first and most willing member of AVALANCHE, and he, as the leader (yet not a decision-maker) kept that fact rather close to his heart. He rubbed the Missing Score vigorously with his palm, a habit he had adapted when he was nervous. His feelings were rather easy to read. Yet what he said--that was the mere silence breaker after Reno had...spoken...to Cloud. No one else, not even the usually hyper and mind-speaking Yuffie Kisaragi dared to speak... //If Tifa wuz here...she'd make 'em foo's shut da HELL up...// Barret rubbed his temple with his human hand, as if rapidly gaining a headache.
"I didn't lose her," the spiky-haired swordsman retorted bitterly, paying no mind to Barret's inquiries. "She was taken from me." Roughly, consistency was etched onto every weary crease of Cloud's face that explained he would say nothing more then kidnapping had "stolen" Tifa. Reno took another step forward, weight shifting onto another foot; he leaned forward, as if taunting Cloud mirthlessly to prove it.
"Was her chocobo missing?" Reno asked dauntingly.
"Yes." Cloud barked quickly, proving that his overwhelming zeal to be left alone pushed him into voicing a truth amongst the web of lies he was ready to tangle. He said nothing for a moment, and then raised the Ultima Weapon, fixating his gaze on the glimmering Materia trapped in the slots. "Come on, I'm ready to go," he said softly, beginning a steady trod out the door. No one asked questions. They feared the answers...well, most of them did...
Reno didn't. "Hold it, Sherlock Holmes... Do we know where we're going? I think there's not enough of us to split up and turn over every fuckin' stone on the Planet."
"I could search the entire Planet if I wanted to." the swordsman replied icily, not bothering to turn around and cheer on the Turk.
"Not too bright, are we. I just have a little problem with running around the continents searching for one dumped chick." Reno contributed, his electrical baton twiddling itself idly betwix his scrawny fingers. His eyes reflected the sea at its calmest, a shade it would appear in the day: ready to burst forth any minute, and laugh at the surf's victims; his aquamarine "orbs" bore into the back of Cloud's head. On another note, forget the *back*--Cloud whirled around on Reno, flinging his arm out to the side.
"So DON'T COME. You'll only get in my *way*."
"Ah-ah-ah, Strife," Reno waggled his right index finger, slick leather clinging to every crease of his palm and stopping short at the knuckles. "Just what I'd expect from the macho of a ragtag terrorist team." He enunciated that statement in a singsong; Barret made a low growl in the back of his throat, which died away as the hulking man regained his focus on the floor. "Yet, I sympathize. So, let's look at our options, Spikes. A: she was kidnapped, which I highly doubt because...who would go to the City of the Ancients, much less *find* the damn place? ...wow, the only second choice is...B: Tifa ditched you."
The swordsman's eyes cut themselves suddenly, narrowing to a dangerous point. He made a vicious lunge for the gleeful Turk.
"Cloud!" Yuffie cried out, being the fastest in the room and thus the first to gain access to Cloud's free arm; her goldenrod sneakers slid forebodingly across the floor. Anguished swears shattered the feeble sound barriers offered by the Highwind home.
"What the FUCK does it take to get you to shut your fucking FACE!?" the blonde bellowed, expression curdled by rage. Obviously not wanting to perform any task not beneficial to him, Reno took two steps backwards, lanky legs creating more distance between the mass of Red XIII and Yuffie attempting to restain Cloud. Shera allowed herself a barely-audible gasp of terror, that this could be happening in what was a peaceful home. Cid placed his hands on her shoulders, haunted eyes glaring coldly at Reno.
"Do you know what you're doing?" the cocky face said in a rather dead-serious tone. "Like hell you do." Reno answered himself.
"Do you have a better plan, Turk!?" The last word was spat out, like an abomination cursing any tongue; Elena felt a twinge of horror and dislike at the disgrace of her name, and Rude merely placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, allowing the bright blonde strands to spill over the back of his palm. "Because if you do, I'd SURE AS FUCKING HELL'D LIKE TO HEAR IT." To be honest, Cloud's indifferent attitude had been chipped at considerably, but Reno had never been one to explode in a giant gooey mess of "I-hate-yous" or threats.
"Like you'd let me follow through with it," Reno rolled his eyes in disbelief, apparently a lot more collected in the situation then the AVALANCHE leader. "That's what I thought." His arms crossed each other; a stuck-out tongue was implied. If Cloud hadn't a person and a "dog" clinging to him for dear life, the red-haired guy across the room most likely would've been able to name his intestines. "Maybe we should allow Tifa to decide whether she wants to come back to *you*."
"...No..."
"What's the matter, Strife? Carrying the weight of two women on your shoulders, even if one's dead?" Reno's cocky grin was reduced to a shadow of its former self, as if he was speaking a reluctant truth, such as announcing the morbid apocalypse.
"..."
"I think I'm right. The looks of your fellow hobos read: 'I think Pokes has lost his marbles.'" Cloud said nothing, not daring to make eye contact with the AVALANCHE members, unwilling to see if Reno's theory was correct. His arms fell limp in Yuffie's lock, and, startled, she dropped them. "Think. If she *did* leave, then what reason did she have? Think hard, as impossible as that may seem for you. Did all the roots of your hair drain out the brain cells?" Reno asked dully. "Hurry up."
"..." //Because I told her I didn't want her...that she didn't have to be there.// "...I see no reason."
Bad answer.
The Turk surveyed his eyes contemptuously, his doubt shining through like the sun in the dark. The tragic emotion lining those four words prompted no sarcasm or cynicism from Reno--yes, the lax Turk knew his boundaries...other peoples' boundaries...and the circumstances under which not to cross them. A stray thought made Cloud begrudgingly admit he may have been a good interrogator at one point in his life.
Suddenly, he responded: "Fine," he said, much to the surprise of Turk or terrorist. "Let's go."
Cloud remained taut and rigid before stalking out the door jerkily, as if the cork bottling his emotions could blow any second. Silence followed, until Yuffie, too, decided to high-tail it out of there, delivering quick warning glances to Reeve that spoke: "maybe that was a mistake". Reeve merely shrugged helplessly and rose to his feet, shaking his head at Reno, and prompting the Turks to follow, as did the remaining three of AVALANCHE.
"Later, Shera," Cid had said quietly, craning his head for another look at his wife before walking out the front door. He wouldn't see her again for a long time--but he didn't know that then. Shera could only nod, clasping her hands behind her back. And as they left, she sighed, eyes bleary with panic and dulled worry. Compared to the fest of shouting that had occured only seconds ago, she was grateful for the silence.
A shaky alliance was formed merely by Reeve's presence on the Highwind, and each summoned fighter climbed the rope ladder, occasionally jutting out their feet as a warning to the person below them.
Something's usually wrong when the company is forced.
---
A swish of silky, ebony hair vanished behind a beeline of thin trees, indicating movement faster then nature would be able to predict. A taunting voice in Vincent Valentine's head claimed he had abandoned his comrades, much to the unwitting protests of Yuffie; yet, as soon as Cid had beckoned him onto the airship with a rumor of orders from the hidden Cloud Strife, the gunner had immediately come upon the conclusion it had something to do with Tifa. And although he had no real way of confirming this, considering he hadn't gone to the "assembly," Vincent Valentine trusted his instincts and left the sanctity of the ShinRa Mansion. (Well, most of them.)
Precariously he stepped into the sun, shielding his bloody eyes. Vincent lowered his hand as dark clouds formed a swirling barrier around the source of light. //Odd,// he thought thickly, suddenly wishing he had brought his chocobo. He pushed that thought aside and continued trekking across the surface of the continent with light steps and a morbid expression. He had a reason for going it alone: the sooner Tifa was found, the sooner Vincent could be left *alone*.
The general layout of his search plan was as follows: if Tifa once resided in the Northern Continent, then the most logical way to leave is to head to Junon. And since that was far too close to Midgar and Kalm...she would head west.
Why hadn't he even once considered the possibility of a kidnapper in the midst?
Because Vincent isn't dumb.
His eyes narrowed. Perhaps he wasn't as adept at relying entirely on his hunches as Nanaki had been on their previous travels, yet as his tarnished claw reached behind almost automatically to flip back his cloak, he had the creeping assumption that something was wrong with...something. Vincent couldn't quite place his finger on it. But still...something was wrong. And he intended to discover it.
A timid longing in the back of his mind treasured company.
He recalled Yuffie's pleading face--the very countenance of innocence. She had clung to his ankles, asking him to tag along on the Highwind rather then be a martyr and go it alone. Vincent had told her that he had no wish to be a hero--merely to be left in the solitude the Gods had cursed him with. She had nodded slowly, and with a disappointed light and a complaint about having to be on a "ship with stinky Cid," trotted off to let Vincent make a leap off the landed airship's side. Suddenly, he wished she hadn't let go of his leg.
Vincent was tired of wishing for so many things.
---
It was cold in Mt. Corel, and Tifa cursed her need not to be found as she huddled up in a stone crevasse. She had (correctly) suspected they would go on a conquest west, towards the other continent, and undoubtedly they would search in towns first. She cursed her attire for the first and last time in her life--Lord Zangan had once permitted it as flexible attire for martial arts. But damnit, it was cold. She frowned, and in the brace of her gloves, she eyed a green orb; with a quick whisper, a wisp of flame appeared, and she guided it to a pile of dry underbrush. It immediately erupted into flame. //Whew...//
Carelessly, she brought her pack closer to her body and pulled out a small handful of Mimett Greens, handing them carelessly in the direction of Celes. She felt a small nip at her palm, indicating that her chocobo had devoured them whole; then she curled up in front of the fire, watching the flames dance--a nice reflection in her wine-colored eyes.
She tightened the Premium Heart set on each hand.
"Who's there?" Into the silence of the mountains, her bitter voice echoed.
"..."
"Well!? I--" Tifa's head spun around viciously, only to find herself staring into the barrel of a gun.
Disclaimer: You've heard 'em all before, so no witty pun and no FF7 for you...or me...*sniff* O_o;
---
Chapter 2: A Disgruntled Beginning
"The looks of your fellow hobos read: 'I think Pokes has lost his marbles.'" Reno
"When I look at your face I see dirt;
All the sunshine you blow up my ass starts to hurt
And, I don't really mind if I'm nothing
In your eyes...
It's no surprise, to me."
"Sunshine" Wheatus
---
"Are we leavin' yet?"
Barret's leg quivered in anticipation; the sofa creaked in sadness as it realized it could barely hold the hulking man's weight. He was...well, stricken: Tifa was the first and most willing member of AVALANCHE, and he, as the leader (yet not a decision-maker) kept that fact rather close to his heart. He rubbed the Missing Score vigorously with his palm, a habit he had adapted when he was nervous. His feelings were rather easy to read. Yet what he said--that was the mere silence breaker after Reno had...spoken...to Cloud. No one else, not even the usually hyper and mind-speaking Yuffie Kisaragi dared to speak... //If Tifa wuz here...she'd make 'em foo's shut da HELL up...// Barret rubbed his temple with his human hand, as if rapidly gaining a headache.
"I didn't lose her," the spiky-haired swordsman retorted bitterly, paying no mind to Barret's inquiries. "She was taken from me." Roughly, consistency was etched onto every weary crease of Cloud's face that explained he would say nothing more then kidnapping had "stolen" Tifa. Reno took another step forward, weight shifting onto another foot; he leaned forward, as if taunting Cloud mirthlessly to prove it.
"Was her chocobo missing?" Reno asked dauntingly.
"Yes." Cloud barked quickly, proving that his overwhelming zeal to be left alone pushed him into voicing a truth amongst the web of lies he was ready to tangle. He said nothing for a moment, and then raised the Ultima Weapon, fixating his gaze on the glimmering Materia trapped in the slots. "Come on, I'm ready to go," he said softly, beginning a steady trod out the door. No one asked questions. They feared the answers...well, most of them did...
Reno didn't. "Hold it, Sherlock Holmes... Do we know where we're going? I think there's not enough of us to split up and turn over every fuckin' stone on the Planet."
"I could search the entire Planet if I wanted to." the swordsman replied icily, not bothering to turn around and cheer on the Turk.
"Not too bright, are we. I just have a little problem with running around the continents searching for one dumped chick." Reno contributed, his electrical baton twiddling itself idly betwix his scrawny fingers. His eyes reflected the sea at its calmest, a shade it would appear in the day: ready to burst forth any minute, and laugh at the surf's victims; his aquamarine "orbs" bore into the back of Cloud's head. On another note, forget the *back*--Cloud whirled around on Reno, flinging his arm out to the side.
"So DON'T COME. You'll only get in my *way*."
"Ah-ah-ah, Strife," Reno waggled his right index finger, slick leather clinging to every crease of his palm and stopping short at the knuckles. "Just what I'd expect from the macho of a ragtag terrorist team." He enunciated that statement in a singsong; Barret made a low growl in the back of his throat, which died away as the hulking man regained his focus on the floor. "Yet, I sympathize. So, let's look at our options, Spikes. A: she was kidnapped, which I highly doubt because...who would go to the City of the Ancients, much less *find* the damn place? ...wow, the only second choice is...B: Tifa ditched you."
The swordsman's eyes cut themselves suddenly, narrowing to a dangerous point. He made a vicious lunge for the gleeful Turk.
"Cloud!" Yuffie cried out, being the fastest in the room and thus the first to gain access to Cloud's free arm; her goldenrod sneakers slid forebodingly across the floor. Anguished swears shattered the feeble sound barriers offered by the Highwind home.
"What the FUCK does it take to get you to shut your fucking FACE!?" the blonde bellowed, expression curdled by rage. Obviously not wanting to perform any task not beneficial to him, Reno took two steps backwards, lanky legs creating more distance between the mass of Red XIII and Yuffie attempting to restain Cloud. Shera allowed herself a barely-audible gasp of terror, that this could be happening in what was a peaceful home. Cid placed his hands on her shoulders, haunted eyes glaring coldly at Reno.
"Do you know what you're doing?" the cocky face said in a rather dead-serious tone. "Like hell you do." Reno answered himself.
"Do you have a better plan, Turk!?" The last word was spat out, like an abomination cursing any tongue; Elena felt a twinge of horror and dislike at the disgrace of her name, and Rude merely placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, allowing the bright blonde strands to spill over the back of his palm. "Because if you do, I'd SURE AS FUCKING HELL'D LIKE TO HEAR IT." To be honest, Cloud's indifferent attitude had been chipped at considerably, but Reno had never been one to explode in a giant gooey mess of "I-hate-yous" or threats.
"Like you'd let me follow through with it," Reno rolled his eyes in disbelief, apparently a lot more collected in the situation then the AVALANCHE leader. "That's what I thought." His arms crossed each other; a stuck-out tongue was implied. If Cloud hadn't a person and a "dog" clinging to him for dear life, the red-haired guy across the room most likely would've been able to name his intestines. "Maybe we should allow Tifa to decide whether she wants to come back to *you*."
"...No..."
"What's the matter, Strife? Carrying the weight of two women on your shoulders, even if one's dead?" Reno's cocky grin was reduced to a shadow of its former self, as if he was speaking a reluctant truth, such as announcing the morbid apocalypse.
"..."
"I think I'm right. The looks of your fellow hobos read: 'I think Pokes has lost his marbles.'" Cloud said nothing, not daring to make eye contact with the AVALANCHE members, unwilling to see if Reno's theory was correct. His arms fell limp in Yuffie's lock, and, startled, she dropped them. "Think. If she *did* leave, then what reason did she have? Think hard, as impossible as that may seem for you. Did all the roots of your hair drain out the brain cells?" Reno asked dully. "Hurry up."
"..." //Because I told her I didn't want her...that she didn't have to be there.// "...I see no reason."
Bad answer.
The Turk surveyed his eyes contemptuously, his doubt shining through like the sun in the dark. The tragic emotion lining those four words prompted no sarcasm or cynicism from Reno--yes, the lax Turk knew his boundaries...other peoples' boundaries...and the circumstances under which not to cross them. A stray thought made Cloud begrudgingly admit he may have been a good interrogator at one point in his life.
Suddenly, he responded: "Fine," he said, much to the surprise of Turk or terrorist. "Let's go."
Cloud remained taut and rigid before stalking out the door jerkily, as if the cork bottling his emotions could blow any second. Silence followed, until Yuffie, too, decided to high-tail it out of there, delivering quick warning glances to Reeve that spoke: "maybe that was a mistake". Reeve merely shrugged helplessly and rose to his feet, shaking his head at Reno, and prompting the Turks to follow, as did the remaining three of AVALANCHE.
"Later, Shera," Cid had said quietly, craning his head for another look at his wife before walking out the front door. He wouldn't see her again for a long time--but he didn't know that then. Shera could only nod, clasping her hands behind her back. And as they left, she sighed, eyes bleary with panic and dulled worry. Compared to the fest of shouting that had occured only seconds ago, she was grateful for the silence.
A shaky alliance was formed merely by Reeve's presence on the Highwind, and each summoned fighter climbed the rope ladder, occasionally jutting out their feet as a warning to the person below them.
Something's usually wrong when the company is forced.
---
A swish of silky, ebony hair vanished behind a beeline of thin trees, indicating movement faster then nature would be able to predict. A taunting voice in Vincent Valentine's head claimed he had abandoned his comrades, much to the unwitting protests of Yuffie; yet, as soon as Cid had beckoned him onto the airship with a rumor of orders from the hidden Cloud Strife, the gunner had immediately come upon the conclusion it had something to do with Tifa. And although he had no real way of confirming this, considering he hadn't gone to the "assembly," Vincent Valentine trusted his instincts and left the sanctity of the ShinRa Mansion. (Well, most of them.)
Precariously he stepped into the sun, shielding his bloody eyes. Vincent lowered his hand as dark clouds formed a swirling barrier around the source of light. //Odd,// he thought thickly, suddenly wishing he had brought his chocobo. He pushed that thought aside and continued trekking across the surface of the continent with light steps and a morbid expression. He had a reason for going it alone: the sooner Tifa was found, the sooner Vincent could be left *alone*.
The general layout of his search plan was as follows: if Tifa once resided in the Northern Continent, then the most logical way to leave is to head to Junon. And since that was far too close to Midgar and Kalm...she would head west.
Why hadn't he even once considered the possibility of a kidnapper in the midst?
Because Vincent isn't dumb.
His eyes narrowed. Perhaps he wasn't as adept at relying entirely on his hunches as Nanaki had been on their previous travels, yet as his tarnished claw reached behind almost automatically to flip back his cloak, he had the creeping assumption that something was wrong with...something. Vincent couldn't quite place his finger on it. But still...something was wrong. And he intended to discover it.
A timid longing in the back of his mind treasured company.
He recalled Yuffie's pleading face--the very countenance of innocence. She had clung to his ankles, asking him to tag along on the Highwind rather then be a martyr and go it alone. Vincent had told her that he had no wish to be a hero--merely to be left in the solitude the Gods had cursed him with. She had nodded slowly, and with a disappointed light and a complaint about having to be on a "ship with stinky Cid," trotted off to let Vincent make a leap off the landed airship's side. Suddenly, he wished she hadn't let go of his leg.
Vincent was tired of wishing for so many things.
---
It was cold in Mt. Corel, and Tifa cursed her need not to be found as she huddled up in a stone crevasse. She had (correctly) suspected they would go on a conquest west, towards the other continent, and undoubtedly they would search in towns first. She cursed her attire for the first and last time in her life--Lord Zangan had once permitted it as flexible attire for martial arts. But damnit, it was cold. She frowned, and in the brace of her gloves, she eyed a green orb; with a quick whisper, a wisp of flame appeared, and she guided it to a pile of dry underbrush. It immediately erupted into flame. //Whew...//
Carelessly, she brought her pack closer to her body and pulled out a small handful of Mimett Greens, handing them carelessly in the direction of Celes. She felt a small nip at her palm, indicating that her chocobo had devoured them whole; then she curled up in front of the fire, watching the flames dance--a nice reflection in her wine-colored eyes.
She tightened the Premium Heart set on each hand.
"Who's there?" Into the silence of the mountains, her bitter voice echoed.
"..."
"Well!? I--" Tifa's head spun around viciously, only to find herself staring into the barrel of a gun.