AN: There are no thoughts in this chapter, all action and conversation. Think of it as a bridge of sorts, like in music. The POV? Well, you'll get to see all the main players in this one. Together. Sorta. Enjoy! Oh, and it's a two parter. Cause I couldn't help it.

Chapter 8 – Bouree Bouffe Movement I

"Yuffie," he said, more of a demand than a request, "...Why?"

Cloud had finally cornered her, as she tried to run out the door, dressed up in her Halloween costume. He had not seen her since she had run off, the night before, as hastily as she had acted. Since she had... kissed him.

She cringed, turning around guiltily, feeling a little unsteady in her high heeled boots. Then, her face passed from apprehension to a more stubborn expression, one that suited her well. It was a face that used to scare Cloud, and he half expected her to give him a tongue lashing, though he didn't quite know what for.

"Because I wanted to," she said, defiantly standing her ground in her tight red ensemble, "...And because I knew you wouldn't." He stared for a moment, either from her words or from the outfit; his expression was always so vague. Then, he chanced a smile, but didn't come any closer.

"So..." he began, shifting his weight around, "You don't hate me? Are we still..." But being the impatient person she was, Yuffie jumped right in.

"Friends? Ya," she answered, giving him an impish grin, "I'm not going to be asking the world of you anytime soon." He looked her over closely, and then started laughing.

"Appropriate," he said, simply and honestly, pointing at the horns atop her head. She couldn't help a little grin.

"Well, I gotta go," she said, turning on her heel, "...I have something to take care of..." Cloud feared to ask, the tone in her voice gave away the havoc she intended on creating.

"...Maybe I should come along," he said, waiting for a response.

"Maybe," she replied, the wheels already turning in her head.

Later...

"Hold still," Tifa mumbled, the end of an eyeliner pencil in her mouth. Vincent sat in front of her, stoically handling the indignity his face was surely suffering. He had arrived early, as promised, and was patiently waiting for Tifa to put the finishing touches on his costume.

She hovered over him, already dressed, with semi tight brown pants, a loose white button up shirt, and a brown vest. Her hat was sitting on the bathroom's counter and she had left her hair loose, a fact that slowed her progress as she attempted to put Vincent's makeup on.

He shown up with his normal black slacks on, he was far too modest to handle tights, and a simple black dress shirt. Tifa, however, didn't think it was flashy enough, and much to his chagrin, had an appropriate one waiting for him. It had baggy if not frilly sleeves, and an embarrassingly low split in the middle of the neckline. The hem of it fell somewhere mid thigh, indicating that it was a tad too large. On top of that, it was a brilliant scarlet, which complimented his eyes.

"Alright, you're set!" she exclaimed, giving him a quick look over, "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" She gave him a sheepish grin, unsure of whether or not he believed her. His expression remained unchanged.

"What of your costume?" he said, nearly startling her after the silence, "You are without your weapon." She grinned.

"Well, you have yet to give me one," she replied, putting her hands on her hips. The corner of his mouth tugged up. He got up from the stool he was sitting on and strode over to his cloak, producing a small pistol and holster from it depths.

"It's not loaded," he said, walking over and handing it to her, "Didn't want you to accidentally shoot someone." She gave him a look of mock incredulity. Then she turned her attention to the gun and holster, attempting to adjust it around her wide hips. She bit her lip in concentration, for the buckle seemed to be giving her some trouble.

Without thinking, he reached over, adjusting it with quick and deft fingers. Reflexively, she grabbed his wrists, an unconscious defense she had learned after working in a bar for years.

"I am not trying to hurt you," he said, staring at her confused expression. She kept her grip on his wrists, and looked up at him, with a grim and determined look.

"I'm sorry," she said, and then averted her eyes, "For everything. I didn't mean to keep anything from you." He nodded, pulling his wrists from her grasp.

"The children are waiting," he said guardedly, giving her shoulder a quick touch. Then he turned to the door, and began working the doorknob.

The door didn't open.

"I'm not falling for that," she kidded, returning to her cheerful pretense, "Yuffie's tried that one on me a dozen times." He turned to her and frowned.

"The door will not open," he stated, illustrating his point with a quick and forceful tug, "I think we are locked in."

Meanwhile...

"That should do it," Yuffie muttered, pocketing the odd metal object. Rinna gave her a thumbs up and the two conspirators gave each other knowing glances, suppressing giggles as they heard muffled voices emanating from behind the door.

Yuffie did a little dance in her miniskirted ensemble, eliciting an eye rolling from her partner in crime. Rinna couldn't get away with such clothing, since Tifa always had an eye on her. So, she had settled for a black and green kimono with various assortments of knives and ninja stars tucked in various places. When Tifa had asked about the ensemble, Rinna had told her she was being a "deadly Wutain lady". Suffice to say, Tifa didn't inquire further.

The Home was in a slightly chaotic state, masking Yuffie and Rinna's activities. Shera, Cid and Barret were watching the kids, and having a hard time doing so, from the exasperated looks on their faces. Yuffie chuckled as the two "ninjas", Jeremy and Kale, where attempting a sneak attack on Cid, who seemed to be holding something back...

"Darn kids!" he shouted, as they jumped at him, attempting to knock his hat off. Shera patted him, giving him an approving look.

"Boys," she said, a touch of warning in her voice, "Behave, or there'll be no trick or treating." They scampered off, as Cid held back his verbal threats.

"You've been good so far," Shera teased, "...Is there something wrong?" He huffed, chewing furiously on his unlit cigarette, as Tifa didn't allow smoking in the Home.

"Well, there are children," he grumbled, "as you like to point out. I can't have 'em turning out like me. Especially Samiel." She laughed, seeing her son waddle his way towards them.

"Dad? Do I look stupid?" the boy asked, adjusting his feathered costume, "Kale told me I looked like a chicken!" Cid frowned, glared over at said troublemaker.

"Nah, Kale's just blind and dumb," Shera gave him a warning glance, "er, he just doesn't understand the noble chocobo." He finished with a nervous grin, looking to his wife for approval. Samiel grinned broadly, stretching his wings out.

"Ya! And I'm a flying chocobo!" he said triumphantly, before running off to join the rest.

"More like you every day," Shera muttered, going over to check on Barret.

Yuffie leaned against the wall, flanked by Rinna and a masked figure, watching the chaos from a distance.

"They'll be going to Reeve's haunted house soon," she whispered to the figure, "That's when we can split, ok?" She turned to Rinna and winked, and then sauntered over to Barret.

"Yuffie? Have you seen Tifa?" he asked, eyes scanning the room, "She was s'posed to help us round the kids up." Yuffie shrugged.

"She was busy with something earlier," she innocently stated, "She probably got held up. Trapped or something... I'm sure she'll meet up with you later." He narrowed his eyes, no stranger to suspicion where the shinobi was involved.

"Yuffie..." he began, but then Marlene trotted over, angel wings jiggling with every move.

"Hi Daddy," she said, with a new found ten year old savvy, "We're gonna be late if we don't head out now. 'Sides, we want candy!" She enthusiastically spread her arms out, and then turned to a girl nearby.

"You look like Aunt TIFA!" she squeaked, dramatically indicating towards the girl's costume. She nodded.

"Thank you," the girl nearly whispered. Marlene smiled, and extended her hand.

"My name is Marlene," she said, as the girl shook her hand tentatively, "What's yours?"

"...Audrey," the girl answered, "Nice to meet you, Marlene."

Back in the Bathroom...

"YUFFIE!!!" Tifa shouted, pounding on the door, "I KNOW IT WAS YOU!!!" Flushed and aggravated, Tifa plopped onto the floor, tapping the door every once in awhile. Vincent had long since sat back on the only stool, waiting for either Tifa to calm down, or the door to open, it was hard to tell which.

"Hmm," he said, finally looking in the mirror, "I look odd." Tifa gave him a strange look, and then puffed out some air irritatedly.

"Aren't you worried?" she asked him, shifting her position, "What if we're stuck in here all night?" He chuckled lightly, turning to face her.

"Is that such a bad thing?" he said, staring, "Haven't we been in worse places?" Then he turned away, as if contemplating something. "...Or do you not enjoy the company?" he whispered, suddenly interested in the wall.

"No," she said, softly, "I just wanted to be there for the kids. They were so excited about today." Then she started laughing a little to herself.

"Geez, I don't get the hint, do I?" she muttered to herself, eliciting a confused look from him, "I guess I couldn't avoid the issue forever..."

"I do not understand..." he began, but she held up a hand to silence him. Then she pulled herself back up to standing.

"I talk best when I'm moving, so please ignore the pacing," she began to do said activity, although it was restricted greatly by the parameters of the room, "I think I should tell you a little about... my choice." His face lost its confusion and instead took on a noncommittal curiosity.

She took a deep breath. "Tiveph, as you know, had prepared me to be his sort of...trigger. I told you originally that it was my death that would bring it about..." she paused, nibbling on her nail nervously, "...but there was something more to it. I had to make a choice. It was the fact that I didn't that saved us." He nodded.

"He put "Heaven or Hell" in front of me. Simple, right?" she gave a small spastic laugh, "But it wasn't. He indicated that the one I did not choose would result in some suffering. In the choice of Hell, I would damn all of existence. In the choice of Heaven..." She stopped, turning her head downwards.

"...I would have damned you." She continued to stare at the floor, shoulders tensed, afraid to look at him.

"But you didn't," he said, firm and careful, "You didn't have to make such a choice."

"I guess it doesn't matter, right?" she said, looking at him, eyes misty and threatening to tear, "Except..." She turned to the mirror, studying the odd reflection: her, eyes moist with loose hair and he, strangely garbed and looking worriedly at her.

"You cannot dwell on the unmade choices," he muttered, choosing his words deliberately, "On the things unsaid. You will drive yourself to madness thinking of such things."

"Madness?" she hiccupped, containing her emotion, "Madness? I've already gone mad. In my dreams, in waking... I'm haunted, Vincent." She felt something cool curl around her hand, and nearly gasped when she realized what it was.

He held her hand, defiantly, as he stood next to her.

"Would you like to know about dreams?" he asked, tiltling her head so he looked at her.

Vincent and Tifa's Theme (yes another one): Deliver Me Sarah Brightman