Disclaimer: Well, a lot of you people out there suggested that I write more to this story. So after reading it over and over and over again I finally came up with chapter two. I don't really know where I'm going with this story so if any of you reviewers could give me a few suggestions on how to continue this I will give you all the credit if I use your idea. I sort of have an idea but I just need a push in the right direction, know what I mean? Well, anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

We went back to Barret's house and he insisted that we stay the night. Barret tried to talk to me but I didn't feel like talking to anyone. I just went to the guestroom that Vincent and I was staying in and went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning and took a quick shower. I was drying my hair in front of the mirror when I and stopped and looked at myself.

I looked many years older then I actually was. The corners of my mouth were turned down in a sort of scowl, my cheekbones were sunken in and I had bags under my eyes. I moaned as I put my hands on my face.

Gosh, Lockhart! He hasn't even been dead for twenty-four hours and you're already looking like a hag.

Sighing, I put the wet towel back on the rack and walked out of the bathroom. I walked into the living room and found Barret sitting on the couch watching the morning news. He looked over at me and waved me over in front of the television.

Oh, please, nothing more about Cloud. I don't think I can handle it.

I sat down next to Barret as the face of the lady reporter showed up on the screen with the marquee 'Cloud Strife's Death' scrolling across the screen. I moaned as I put my head in my hands.

"Listen to this, Tifa. They found out why ol' Spike here died," Barret said, turning up the volume.

"After Dr. Hansen finished his autopsy on Cloud Strife's body it appears he had a mild case of pneumonia. The doctor couldn't find any signs of him being strangled or bludgeoned with anything. Although Dr. Hansen did find strange traces of something that looked like strange bruises." The reporter stopped talking as a picture of Cloud's chest came into view. I gasped. His whole torso was covered in black fleshy bruises that seemed to go much farther down then the skin itself. The picture disappeared as the reporter began speaking. "After a serious of tests on the bruises Dr. Hansen found that Cloud Strife had a serious condition of mako poisoning. The bruises were caused by the mako eating away at his body from the inside out. No further examination at this point."

Barret turned off the TV and hung his head. I just sat there stunned. He knew. Cloud knew he was dieing and he didn't even tell me.

"Well, at least I know how he died," I said gloomily, getting up and walking into the kitchen.

I walked over to the cupboard and grabbed a mug then filled it with coffee from the already made pot. Sighing, I sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the polished wood.

"Does Marlene have to go to school today, Barret?" I asked, still looking at the table.

"Naw. It's a Saturday. She's out back feeding the chocobos. Why don't ya go and check on 'er?"

"Sure." I got up from the table and walked out the sliding glass door to the backyard. I smiled as I saw Marlene feeding Vincent's black chocobo, Dante. Dante saw me and warked, alerting Marlene to my presence. She smiled and ran over to me.

"Hi, Anntie Tifa!" she exclaimed, as I hoisted her into my arms.

"Hey, pumpkin! Whatcha doin'?" I asked, as I walked over toward Dante.

"Feedin' Dante and. . . . what's your chocobo's name again?" Marlene asked, looking into my eyes, her brows knitted together.

I stopped in front of the stall that my male gold chocobo was standing in. I reached my hand out and scratched his head before setting Marlene down. She looked up at me expectantly, waiting for me to tell her my chocobo's name.

"Ace," I said, looking down at Marlene with a half smile on my face.

"Oh, yeah. Now I remember," Marlene said happily before taking a handful of greens out of a bucket and feeding them to him.

I turned around and looked at the window that was the guestroom and watched as a figure walked past it. I looked away and walked out of the backyard and into the front.

I watched as a mailman put a few letters into Barret's mailbox and as a young boy rode by on his bike, throwing the morning paper onto his doorstep. I took slow strides to the mailbox and lifted out the white letters. Then walked to the front door and looked at it before bending down, picking up the paper and walking inside.

Barret looked back at me as I entered. His large eyes held surprise. I walked toward him and handed him his mail before walking upstairs and into the guest room.

I couldn't have picked a worse time to walk in.

Vincent was standing in front of the window, stripped down to his boxers. Why I have no clue, but, apparently, I startled him. That's it, you heard right. I startled Vincent Valentine, because he turned around and jumped about ten feet into the air before grabbing his pants and hastily putting them on. I would have chuckled but under the circumstances now wasn't the time.

"Tifa . . . I didn't hear you come in," he said, putting on the rest of his clothing.

"So I noticed," I said, as I slumped onto the bed.

I sighed as Vincent left the room and quietly closed the door behind him. I sort of hoped that he would stay and talk with me some more. Since that news report this morning it seemed like everything took a turn for the worst. I've never been this quiet or close-minded in a long time. Hopefully I'll stay this way. No wonder Vincent likes being quiet. You notice a lot more things then you usually do when you're not being a chatterbox.

Sighing again, I got up and got all my things together. Vincent and I were heading back to Nibelheim today. Vincent was probably going to continue staying in Cloud's old house while I stayed in mine.

I was probably going to end up playing my piano a lot more so I had better start digging out all my old sheet music once I get home. I play the piano when I'm sad and it feels like I'm going to be for a very long time.