Disclaimer: Don't own Final Fantasy VII, or Vincent, or Tifa, or any of the other Final Fantasy VII characters. Just inserting them into the machine of my imagination and watching what pops out.

Destination: Moving Forward

by: thelittletree

(Oops, almost a week since my last update. Been working and spending time with my sweetie, and in between I've been chipping away at this chapter. And now it's done. One or two more, I think, and then the epilogue. But we'll see what really happens. I'm never 100% sure. Again, thanks for reading and reviewing! You've all been so great and encouraging and wonderful, I'm not sure how to give a proper thank you. Thank you!!)

"The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to the idealised past." -- Robertson Davies

Death Gigas was always the slowest. The slowest to transform -- sometimes the most painful for the same reason -- the slowest to hunt, the slowest to feed. And tonight, Vincent knew, was going to be a slow night. Each of them had a particular feel, a particular hunger, and Death Gigas had shuffled its way into his near-consciousness at the first whiff of trees and grass and nighttime air, its ponderous appetite an incontrovertible presence in his mind.

Just making itself known, Vincent recognized. It had taken a little while of forcing the routine before they'd all resigned themselves, and now it was a fairly simple arrangement. They would all get to feed, but on Vincent's terms only. And, as long as he kept to a reasonably precise schedule, they were happy enough to leave him alone the rest of the time. Some things, he'd learned early on, were unarguably necessary.

Even if it meant leaving Tifa by herself for a couple of hours.

Though he had to admit that the timing was probably as good as it was going to get. Yuffie (as unassuming as ever, so that he'd found it hard to remain properly upset with her for the lie she'd told) had obligingly let him know that Cloud had left North Corel on a chocobo. Though not, he didn't have to guess, for good. If this was the same Cloud who had decided so fiercely that his revenge on Sephiroth would solve everything, he would not be easily persuaded that he was wrong on this count -- wrong in believing that he needed Tifa back in his life, and to hell with everyone else.

So, as it was, all Vincent could do was hope he arrived back in North Corel before Cloud returned. Whether or not their once-leader had had anything to do with Tifa's accident, Vincent still didn't want her to have to keep facing her past this way. She could swear up and down that she could take care of herself, but there were some things he wouldn't stand for. Especially since it wasn't doing Cloud any favours, either. Nothing good could come out of digging through memories purposefully buried.

And if they could avoid it until morning, maybe something could be arranged for a speedy departure to Kalm. Maybe Cid would be willing to assist them somehow...

The evening was quiet, expectant. And without the shelter of more than a few scattered trees, Vincent simply did what he had done previously and crouched in the long grass before slowly, carefully, letting his guard down. And waiting for Death Gigas to take the opening.

Tifa had sometimes asked him, in the beginning, for details. What was it like? Did it hurt? Could he still see, hear, feel things when he was transformed? The hardest part of his life, and she'd been remarkably upset over the fact that he never talked about it. It was like it didn't exist for him, she'd said, when they were together. Like he was trying to protect her, or because he didn't trust her.

But that was so far from the truth. The truth was much simpler, and she'd actually identified it herself. It didn't exist for him when they were together. Not trying to protect her, exactly, or hide it from her. Just...able to forget, most of the time, when he was with her. Just able to pretend, and almost convince himself, that he was just a man. Merely the man she was in love with. And so wonderful to feel that way, it had been hard to regret even a little that he'd made her angry with his silence.

Some things were unarguably necessary -- like the distinction in his life between human and twisted experiment. And she'd eventually stopped asking, maybe realizing the truth for herself.

It hurt. Oh yes, it hurt. But most of the time it was over quickly enough, and, except for Chaos in the beginning (and still sometimes, when the cruel urge seemed to strike), there was no rape of his mind. A simple transfer of forms, and then Death Gigas was lumbering off in its freedom to scent after prey and slate its hunger both for food and for the intensity of the hunt.

Sometimes it was even contagious, though he wasn't likely to admit that to anyone.

It didn't take long for Gigas to choose its target. Slow to catch it, however, though the actual killing was done with a characteristically rough haste. And then the feeding, which Vincent had learned to distance himself from, as if he might've been watching from afar as one creature killed another for food. Sometimes the images, the scent lingered, sometimes strong enough he could almost taste it. But a shower and a return to normal life usually managed to remedy that. He was not the creatures. The creatures were not him. A simple, careful distinction.

And soon this would be over, and he would be at Tifa's bedside again. Maybe he would even be allowed to spend the night in a chair beside her -- because he knew already that, wherever he spent the night, it wouldn't be in the room they'd rented. Because he rarely slept now if he had to sleep alone.

The hardest part of his life, Tifa had said, changing into them, having to hunt and kill to sate them. But, if she wanted the truth, not even the transformations came close to the hell of feeling alone in a world that sometimes seemed on the very verge of slipping completely away from him. Nothing came close. And sometimes the touch of her skin in the night, the sound of a few sleepy, unintelligible words of comfort whispered against his throat, felt like they were the only barriers between him and the terrifying approach of time, the reality of his nightmares.

Death Gigas was finishing its meal, and Vincent clocked the hunt at approximately forty-five minutes. Not bad. Full and satisfied, Gigas was often the easiest to persuade to relinquish its dominion, so it wouldn't be long before he was on his way back. Another few minutes, and Vincent would take the cue as Gigas turned away from the carcass, urging the creature to give in to the process of transformation. And, slowly, Gigas would.

He was just preparing for the preliminary steps, taking advantage of Gigas' heightened senses to scan the area, when he realized that he was being watched.

Cloud, he recognized. Cloud on a chocobo, no more than a hundred feet distant, observing him intently. On his way back to North Corel, and maybe he'd happened to spot him hunting. And stopped to judge him, perhaps, on this part of his life. Thinking, maybe, that Tifa deserved more than this monster at her side.

But Vincent had come to terms with it, and Tifa had accepted him despite it. And Vincent knew that he was many things Cloud had not been to her, even if he was far from a perfect match.

So, unashamed of what was unchangeable truth, not giving any particular attention or disregard to his audience, Vincent let the transformation occur. A minute or two of unavoidable vulnerability as he suffered through the pain of it, but when he'd finished Cloud had not moved. Still watching, as motionless and seemingly unaffected as a statue.

And Vincent knew for certain what he'd suspected, even in his anger: Cloud was not a murderer. His jealousy and pain had not taken him into those depths, where the mind of cold, calculating killer could be forged. Because a real killer, with the heartless ability to push a pregnant woman down a flight of stairs, would have at least tried to use an exposed moment to get rid of his opposition.

Simply confused and alone and hurting, trying to get back to a place where there had been at least a little bit of light. Understandable, yes; excusable, not entirely. He and Tifa would still be leaving.

Then, abruptly, as if he had come to some decision, Cloud turned his mount around and headed briskly for North Corel.

And, despite a momentary push from Chaos, with its hunger, with its speed, Vincent followed on his own two feet.
When Cloud knocked on her door, Tifa knew it was him. Knew his hesitation a moment before he put knuckles to wood. And she accepted it as unavoidable, though a part of her couldn't help but be a little relieved that he'd come before Vincent's return. She wanted this sorted out -- God, she wanted it sorted out -- because she knew it would weigh on her forever if it wasn't.

She just wished now, when things were so twisted and there was no way to change them, that Cloud had gone about a more direct route of trying to talk to her. Because it certainly couldn't have turned out any worse that this, and it might even have been easier.

"Come in."

He entered slowly, his playfully windblown hair in complete contrast to the shadowed, serious features that seemed to get older every time she saw him. Once he'd closed the door, he approached the bed and, unconsciously mimicking Barret, though he eyed the chair he didn't sit down.

"How are you feeling?"

And she smiled a little at him, not sure she could handle his guilt. "I'll be fine."

"Good." He took a heavy breath and glanced around the white-washed walls. And then met her eyes, looking sincerely apologetic. "God, Tifa, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have followed you out of that room, or tried to grab your shoulder. I keep replaying the whole thing in my mind, thinking there must've been a way I could've kept you from falling..."

"Cloud, it's all right. Stop punishing yourself." It was an almost automatic response, she realized only after she'd said it. Those things she'd said when he'd finally started apologizing for the bridge, and she determined that she wasn't going to slip into that again. "I'm fine, and the baby's fine. It was just an accident. Let's just put it behind us, okay?" Because that was the only way to move forward, and damned if that wasn't something he desperately needed to do.

And he nodded a little and attempted a smile. "If you say so." And then he lowered himself into the chair.

A small, uncomfortable silence followed. He didn't know what she was thinking, she expected, and he'd said all he was going to say. It was her turn to choose the direction and continue the conversation.

And she took a breath. "Can I ask why you didn't just come to Kalm to talk to me?"

He wasn't looking at her, hunched over with his arms on his knees, but she saw his shoulders heave a little with a sigh. Though he made no other move to answer.

And after a few seconds, she pursued it, knowing he had more to lose than she by his silence. "Why get Barret and Yuffie involved? Why do this at a reunion? I'm not sure I understand why you'd want to make it so complicated."

But he was shaking his head. "It wasn't supposed to be complicated," he said quietly toward his lap. "I came to visit Barret a few weeks ago because I'd lost my job and was hoping he could help me out. And when he asked about you..." He sighed again and sat up to look at her, his expression faintly helpless. "It just all came out. When I told him I wanted to talk to you, he suggested the reunion, and it seemed like a good idea."

That sounded like Barret. He'd been the one with the good ideas. She and Jesse, more often than not, had been the ones to bang and temper it into some kind of workable shape.

"I guess I thought you'd want to talk to me just as much, that if I could just get you away from Vincent for a little while..." He shrugged a little and trailed off, glancing away back into his lap.

And she felt then that she should warn him. Looking so dejected and lost. "Have you talked to Barret since this afternoon?"

He met her eyes again, puzzled by the question. "No. Why?"

She quirked a corner of her mouth, not really a smile but not wanting to hit him with the truth. "He knows, now, that you didn't tell him the whole story. About Kalm."

And Cloud closed his eyes for a moment, seeming both weary and resigned. And then he gave a soft, cheerless chuckle and ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, I've fucked this up, haven't I? Fucked it all up."

Before Tifa could reply, there was a soft knock at the door and a petite, female nurse entered.

"Good evening, Mrs. Lockhart. How are you feeling?"

And though Tifa blinked for a moment at the 'Mrs', she returned the smile. "Tired, but all right. Is it time for all visitors to leave?"

"No, that's fine." The woman leaned down beside the bed to straighten her pillow, adjust the blankets a little. "But Dr. Waitheskin has cleared you for a short visit to the natal ward, if you'd like to see your son."

"Oh." Despite herself, Tifa felt all of the symptoms of impending tears. "Yes, yes please, I want to see him."

The nurse smiled indulgently before momentarily leaving the room and returning with a wheelchair. As she positioned it and readied herself to help Tifa out of the bed, however, Cloud stood and stepped toward them.

"Do you need a hand?"

Maybe noting the nurse's small stature, maybe just offering to oblige. Maybe nothing. But Tifa still shook her head with a smile. "That's okay, I think we should let her do her job."

"I do this all day," the young attendant added helpfully. "I'm stronger than I look."

And, despite the easy atmosphere, Tifa still saw the brief flash of old arguments flicker over Cloud's expression. She'd never needed him, he'd resented. Always independent, always wanting to do it herself, always pushing him away and getting angry when he'd tried to insist. Never completely content to let her do her own thing, because he'd wanted to do it together. Such a simple obstacle, but one they'd never managed to resolve.

One that didn't exist with Vincent, because he had his own thing, too. Yet another reason, Tifa thought as she settled into the chair, for her to believe she was right where she was supposed to be.

The nurse placed a blanket over her lap and turned the chair around. Smiled at Cloud.

"But you can push her, if you want. Just follow the signs."

And, after a moment, Cloud nodded and stepped up behind the chair to wheel her out of the room.

And, Tifa couldn't help thinking as they started down the hall, this was the closest he would ever get to directing her future again.