A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing! Sorry it took so long for an update, but I'm also working on two original fics, a co-written fic with Annjirika (the first chapter should be up later this winter, Ann's really busy with NaNoWriMo) and Children of the Night. Thanks for being so patient.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

SECRET GARDEN

She'll let you in her house
If you come knockin' late at night
She'll let you in her mind
If the words you say are right

PART ONE

CHAPTER THREE: ON YOUR SIDE

Cloud laughed, taking a long drink from his glass of milk. "So what's her name?"
Vincent sat down beside him at the bar, with his carton of orange juice. "Her name is—" He cut off, remembering her name and connecting it with the name Cloud had said was his ex-girlfriend. But it was worse than that, even—his ex-fiance.

Vincent cleared his throat. He was drunk when it happened, she probably was too…he'd understand, wouldn't he? Little accidents like that happen all the time…

"Her name is Aerith. I didn't notice until just now, I swear it, dude." Vincent finished. Cloud's face slightly lost color, but the looked down to his muffin and picked at it as if it were the only thing on his mind.

"Yeah, man, I totally understand…you were both drunk and all…" he trailed off, and looked up and gave Vincent a weak smile. Vincent's heart felt heavy in his chest. How could he do that to his friend, no matter what the circumstances?

Aerith walked into the kitchen, all smiles and skin glowing, wearing Vincent's t-shirt and boxers. A blush rose to Vincent's cheeks. He didn't think Tifa had ever done that, and to see another woman do it was just surreal. He hoped Cloud thought that maybe they were hers.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the blonde man sitting next to Vincent. "Cloud?" she asked, stunned.

Cloud studied her appearance, her hair messy from the night before, eyeliner smudged on her cheek. "Yeah, I'm staying with Vincent for a while."

There was an unspoken thing lingering in the air, a mixture of uncomfort and something else, maybe a problem that was never solved when the split apart.

She went over to sit beside Vincent. "Well, it's nice to see you, Cloud."

He nodded, giving Vincent a slightly pissed off look. "You too. I see you've changed a bit."

She glared at him, but smiled and nodded, as though she thought the change was for the better, and he thought it for the worse.

Aerith tore her eyes from Cloud and smiled at Vincent. "I've gotta go to work, but I left my number on your nightstand. Promise to call?" There was playfulness in her voice that was irresistibly cute.

"Promise." He replied, grinning. Aerith leaned in and kissed him full on the lips, and Vincent couldn't help but feel that she was just making a show of it because she wanted to piss off Cloud.

Within a few minutes, she was dressed and out the door.

"Are you going to call her?" Cloud asked off-handedly, not looking at Vincent. Vincent shook his head.

"Probably not. I didn't even know who the hell she was until this morning."

Cloud nodded. "Well, I'm going to work." He said, his tone slightly uncomfortable.

Vincent nodded back. "Alright, I'll be in in an hour." Cloud didn't say goodbye as he walked through the door. Vincent knew that he had made a huge mistake.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At work, things were hectic. It was a busy day, a weekday, and Vincent was extremely unpleased after the events of that morning, to see that he had some visitors in his office.

"Who is it?" he snapped in a low voice to Richard, who was working the register.

Richard gave him a knowing look. "Gunn's parents."

Vincent sighed and headed into the office, where a very stuck up looking man and woman were fingering things on his filecabinet, examining his pictures.

"Hello." He said stiffly, announcing his presence. "Can I help you?"

The woman looked to him as if she had never seen something as despicable as him. "We're Gunn's parents." The man put his hand tightly around her forearm. He was a good-looking fellow, with black hair just beginning to gray. He looked like the passive partner in the relationship.

"I'm very sorry for your loss." Vincent said, feeling stupid for using that line. He hadn't spent much time worrying about what could have been done about Gunn, what with his life falling to hell on top of it all, but he had wondered if there was anything he could have done that could have stopped her death. Offer a ride home, sent her home early…but he realized that dwelling on this would be distracting him from the truth, which was that he couldn't have done a damn thing to save the poor girl.

The woman narrowed her eyes at Vincent. He noticed that they were rimmed with deep black circles, although he couldn't be sure if that was on account of her daughter's death or if she just always looked like that.

"Somehow your lack of remorse leads me to believe that you are the cause of this." She snarled, her voice venomous and low.

The man groaned. "Sylvia, we've been over this. He couldn't have done it, he had an alibi."

She snapped her head in her husband's direction, a piece of her carefully done updo falling across her forehead in the process. "Look at him! He hasn't shown one FLICKER of remorse since we got in here! I knew she should never have worked for this bastard-"

Vincent held up his hand, although it did not silence Sylvia's rage. "With all due respect-" he interjected, but she continued screaming at her husband.

"He looks like he'd do that sort of thing, just look at him! Didn't even come to the funeral, didn't say a word about being sorry, wishing there was something he could do-"

A little louder, Vincent butted in. "With all due respect…"

"AND his alibi sounded a little shady to me, I wouldn't be surprised if he killed her on his way home, now wouldn't that fuck up his nice little alibi-"

"PLEASE, STOP!" Vincent roared.

Sylvia, her face beet red, and her husband gave Vincent their utmost attention.

Vincent cleared his throat. "If you would have given me a split second to explain myself, maybe I could make some sense to you." Sylvia opened her mouth, then shut it, which was good, because Vincent had about had it with her.

"The night Gunn was killed, I was running two hours late for a date with my wife on account of some particularly rude customers. I had just found out that my old friend from college was going to stay with me, which I wasn't really jumping for joy to do, and I saw your daughter on my way out. I would have given her a ride, but she said that she was about to leave for home. I went home, deprived of sleep because of this demanding business, and the next day I come to work finding out that my salesgirl has been murdered, I've got a very busy shop, and after I got off work I found my wife cheating on me."

Gunn's parents said nothing. Which was good for them, because Vincent was about to snap as it was.

"I haven't been as concerned as I should have been about your daughter because if I was then I probably would have gone literally insane. I have had a very bad week, but I assure you, I had nothing to do with your daughter's death, and if there is ANYTHING I could do to help you out, simply ask."

Sylvia nodded. "Very well then. I apologize for making such preposterous assumptions about you, Mr. Valentine."

She clutched her husband's arm. "I'll be sure not to bother you again."

Before Vincent could say a word as to his remorse for Gunn, or whether there was anything he could do to help, they had strolled out the door, and Vincent didn't have the heart or the guts to stop them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once again that night, Yuffie had stayed later than everyone else, desperate to label prices on the new shipment of men's dress shoes.

Vincent rubbed his brow, leaning against the door to the storage room. "You should go home. Come on, I'm taking you."

Yuffie looked up at him, and he noticed the slight perspiration on her forehead and upper lip. She waved him off. "Nope, I'm finishing up. Go home, don't be stubborn."

Vincent, of course, couldn't let her walk home, on account of what happened to the last salesgirl that tried going home alone, and she'd had a car. "Too bad. Come on, I want to go home, and I can't let you walk, not after what happened to Gunn."

Yuffie grinned up at him. "Thanks. Just let me finish this, is that okay?"

She looked so harmless, helpless, painfully cute. To think that she had a disease that could kill her was almost too hard to think of. Vincent nodded, taking a seat on a couple of boxes a few feet from where she was labeling the shoes.

She tucked a piece of short black hair behind her ear. "I heard what you told Gunn's parents today."

Vincent nodded, but said nothing. He'd been trying to push that little encounter to the back of his mind. It had been a busy day; he'd had enough to worry about.

"That was very strong of you to do, you know. Most people would have taken her crap." Yuffie said. She looked over her shoulder, her tank top sleeve nearly sliding off of it, and gave him a polite grin.

Vincent tried to smile back. "Well, I needed to get all of that out anyway. You'd do it too, if you'd been through what I've been in these last couple of days." He told her, lacing his fingers together.

Yuffie nodded. "I didn't know about your wife." She said thoughtfully.

Vincent gave a short laugh. "I've been trying not to think about it, or talk about it for that matter."

"I can imagine." Yuffie stood up, brushed off her front, and smiled. "Welp, I'm all done here, I guess we can be heading out."

Vincent stood up, and they walked out to the car. Just like before, the first thing she had gone to was the radio. He kept the windows rolled up this time, but of course she unrolled hers, letting the wind whip around her hair.

She couldn't find a song that satisfied her, so she left it on the classical station and turned it down so that it was barely humming in the speakers. "Damn stations, playing crap on a week night!" She spat with a sarcastic smile.

Vincent put his leaned his head back against the headrest. "So, do you have a boyfriend?" After she quirked an eyebrow, he added, "Out of curiosity."

Yuffie shrugged one shoulder. "Nah. I dropped out of school when I first got sick, and when my doctor told me I was strong enough to go back, we needed the money, so I went to work instead." There was a small smile in the corner of her lips. "I don't have time for boys."

"Sure you do. You're young, you've got a lot ahead of you."

Yuffie leaned a bit forward. "So do you. Maybe you shouldn't get so hung up on your wife. There's a million girls that would die to be with you, you know."

He didn't know what she meant by that, but decided not to contemplate it too much. She was just being nice, giving him a compliment so that he wouldn't be so depressed. It was just generosity.

He shrugged. "Listen, Yuffie, I've been wanting to discuss your, uh…" How was he to put it? "…Condition."

Yuffie nodded, looking slightly annoyed. "And?"

"Just, if you ever need help paying for anything, I can increase your pay." He glanced at her, saw that she was nodding as if she wasn't really paying attention. "Or, you know, I could just give you some money."

Yuffie shook her head. "You don't need to do that. Don't worry about me, we're fine. Money is not an issue to us."

"Well, it can be an issue if you don't have enough. I'm just saying, if you ever need it, just come to me and I'll see what I can do." Vincent replied, switching off the radio.

Yuffie leaned forward the rest of the way and turned it back on, changing the station to something more upbeat, a station that wasn't on Vincent's presets. "Really, Mr. Valentine, money is not an issue. We like to try to be with each other while we can and worry about that rather than the money."

Vincent nodded. So innocent. All she wanted was to live while she could. For Vincent, money had always been an issue, even if he had plenty of it. He knew money was a powerful thing, too powerful. The root of all evil, his mother had told him. But he was always sure there was enough. He couldn't imagine living poorly like he had when he was younger.

"Please, call me Vincent." He told her, hoping that his offer hadn't offended her.

"Vincent, then." She said, turning her head to stare out the window, at the plains and fields and cities passing her by.

When they had arrived at her house, not a word had been exchanged between them for the last ten minutes of the ride. It was an uncomfortable silence, but Vincent was sort of used to that sort of thing.

Yuffie opened her door and was halfway out when she said, softly, uncharacteristically serious of her, "Thank you. I didn't mean to seem ungrateful."

Vincent smiled at her. He could see lines of tears on her face. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking down, at her legs. "Hey," he said softly. "Hey, it's alright. No need to cry."

Yuffie slumped back into the seat, her door still wide open. Vincent glanced up at her house, seeing that her mother and brother were not out playing checkers on the porch tonight. She sank her head into her hands, beginning to sob uncontrollably.

He didn't know what to do. He had never been very good at comforting, especially women. He placed his hand on her upper back.

"I just…" She sniffed."This is all too much. I can't do this. I don't want to be sick like this anymore." She looked up at him, her gray eyes big and wet. "I'm sorry for just going all waterworks on you. You don't need any more stress." She pulled away, getting out of the car.

Vincent put his hand on the door before she could slam it shut. "You…" he wondered how to word his offer. "You can always come to me if you need to talk, Yuffie."

She nodded, glancing at her house and rubbing her eyes. Finally her eyes landed on him. She bit her lip, holding back the tears. "You…You too."

He nodded, watching her run up to her house, the flat heels of her shoes clicking on the sidewalk.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He came home to find Cloud on the couch, glaring at him. "I want to talk."

He had a beer clutched in his right hand, something that he had obviously bought, since Vincent didn't keep liquor in his house, except the occasional bottle of wine for special occasions. A few more bottles littered the coffee table in front of him, where his legs were propped up.

Vincent nodded, taking off his jacket and hanging it up on the coatrack, which was now almost completely empty without Tifa's collection of coats she would hardly ever wear.

He took a seat beside Cloud. Cloud looked over to him with watery, bloodshot eyes, and punched him square in the jaw.

Pain flared through Vincent's face. He reached up to clutch his mouth, finding that Cloud had split his lip. Warm blood ran thick through his fingers. Cloud's expression had not changed, but there were tears threatening to fall off his chin and into his lap.

"That was for sleeping with my ex-fiancé." He said bitterly.

Vincent gave him an accusing look. "And how the fuck was I supposed to know who she was, when I was apparently so wasted that I didn't even remember doing it?" He asked.

Cloud didn't say anything, but wiped his eyes. "Listen, I know you've had a hard time with work and me and your wife, but honestly, that was the shittiest thing you could have done to me. And then played it off like you didn't care the next morning."

Vincent's hands clenched into fists, but he kept them safely in his lap. "I did care, Cloud, I just-"

Cloud smirked. "You just…what?"

Vincent didn't have anything left to say to him. "I JUST DIDN'T CARE, OKAY? ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY?"

Vincent stood up, got his keys, and went to his car.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He drove around for hours. He drove to the same bridge at least three times, contemplating driving straight off it. Seeing if anyone would care.

He drove way above the speed limit. He drove past other cars that honked at him angrily. He didn't care. Nothing in the world mattered anymore.

What is there left to live for? He wondered. And found that he had no answer.

But wasn't suicide just an easy way out? Just a pathetic epitome of self-pity? Was it really that bad? Shouldn't he take it like a man and go on living?

The words of his mother rang through his head. "This too, shall pass."

Soon he found himself mindlessly driving to the house of his salesgirl. It didn't make sense why, but perhaps it did. He needed someone to talk to. So did she. He would understand anything he had to say. He could learn to do the same for her.

He looked at the clock on his dashboard. 3:30 am. Late, sure. Would she still be awake? It was worth a try.

He didn't know whether to knock on the front door or find where her window was. The porchlight was on, but it looked like all the lights were out inside. Except for in the living room, where the television was casting shadows through the window.

He walked slowly up the front steps, held his breath, thought seriously about just leaving, and finally, softly knocked on the door.

No one answered. Vincent rubbed his eyes, tried to make his hair look halfway decent, and tried it again.

After several minutes, peeking through a small round window on the front door, he met with the tired looking eyes of Yuffie the salesgirl.

She opened the door slowly, her eyes squinting at the harsh fluorescent light of the porchlight. She was wearing a baggy pair of shorts and the same tank top she had worn that day, with her short bob of hair forced into pigtails. "Vincent? Is something wrong? It's three in the morning."

Vincent nodded. "Yeah, I know. Did I wake you up?"

Yuffie glanced behind her, then stepped out on the porch in front of him, closing the front door. "No, actually." She looked up at him. "Is something wrong?"

Vincent shook his head. "Yeah, yeah, there is. I know it's kind of crazy, I just needed someone to talk to, and I thought of what you said earlier."

Yuffie crossed her arms over her chest, looking out in the driveway at how terribly he had parked. "Well, I didn't mean you could come in the middle of the night, but…"

Vincent frowned, beginning to back off the steps. "I shouldn't have come. I'll leave…"

Yuffie stepped forward and grabbed his forearm. "No, no, stay, you're already here. I could use some company anyway."

She gestured towards the door. "Do you want to come in? It's a lot warmer in there. Where's your coat?"

Vincent shrugged. "What about your mom and brother?"

Yuffie smiled. "She's gone off visiting a friend and my brother sleeps like a rock. Please, come in. I don't want to stay out here anyway."

She led him into the living room, which was cram packed with boxes and miscellaneous junk just like the porch. There was a small, lopsided couch, which was covered in a few blankets and a pillow, and a large TV that set on the floor in front of it. Yuffie sat down on the couch, and Vincent took a seat beside her.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked, covering up her thin legs with a sheet.

Vincent shook his head. "I just needed to be with someone for a while and not have to fight with them. Cloud's mad at me now, because I got drunk and accidentally slept with his ex-fiancé…it just seems like everything I touch lately turns to shit."

Yuffie nodded. "Sounds like luck is definitely is not on your side lately."

Vincent smiled. "It's really not. I just want everything to be imperfect like it used to be, instead of completely and utterly fucked up." He looked at her. "Maybe I'm trying to hard to make things right. Maybe if I just be patient they'll right themselves."

Yuffie looked over to him. "Nothing's ever the end of the world. Make the most of what you have, Vincent. You've still got a good job, good looks, and another seventy years to live it up." She gave a weak grin. "You're still lucky."

He reached over and touched her leg, before drawing it back. "How bad is it? Your leukemia, I mean?"

Yuffie shrugged. "It's not so bad. I've learned to accept the fact that at any given time I can go to sleep and not wake up. That's why I live each day as best I can. I don't want pity, and I don't want to live every day like a funeral. I get sick a lot, I guess that puts a damper on things, but really, its not so bad."

Vincent smiled. "You've got a good spirit. And a good family to back you up, I can tell."

Yuffie looked away. "It still doesn't take away from the fact that I'm dying. Every day I'm scared. I won't have a normal life. I won't get married, I won't have children, I won't have a career, I won't see the world." Vincent saw a tear fall from her face. "What good is a good spirit and family if you can't have all that?"

Vincent didn't know what to tell her. Yuffie shook her head. "I should'nt dump all this crap on you, though. You didn't come here to listen to me complain."

Vincent smiled at her. "I should be going. It's late. I think you helped me realize what I need to do."

She grinned at him, watching him get up. "And what's that?"

Vincent smirked. "Stop being a pussy and live my life."

She followed him to the door. "Thank you for listening to me."

He turned to look at her, so fragile and young, with her hair up in those little pigtails like a three year old might do. Why did she have to be dying? What had she done to deserve that? She was so perfect, so selfless.

"No, thank you." He leaned in to hug her. She held on possibly longer than most would have, but he figured she might not have had a hug in while. When he pulled away, her eyes were glittering. "I'll see you tomorrow, Yuffie."

Then he went home and got a good night's sleep. He didn't even dream.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

To be honest, I didn't even remember that in the first chapter I had decided that Aerith would be Cloud's ex-fiance. I was going to go back and change the girl at the bar's name to something else, but I had already started getting reviews, so I just left it. It turned out to help the story anyways. XD

Anyway, please read and review!

-Mel