You may consider this story slight AU, since I don't mention anything about Meteor, or Sephiroth, or anyone else for that matter (except Vincent, Tifa and a certain original old lady). It isn't drastically so, so don't worry. Consider it a Valentine's Day fiction posted more than a month early.

Be prepared for silly descriptions and fluffiness, because I'm not too good with practically any form of writing at all. Be kind and please review! It will be a one-shot, I'm afraid, because I really don't have anything more to really add on.

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII, Square-Enix or anything related to them at all. Heck, I hardly even own anything.

Through the Rain

The weather didn't quite fit the occasion. Oh, not at all. It was midday, dark, dreary and wet. Very wet. A lone figure ran down the streets, shoulders slightly hunched, hands in his coat as if hiding something inside. Or perhaps, protecting. He rushed into the bustling train station, filled with people either there to actually get a ride, or just seeking shelter from the treacherous rain.

A couple of minutes passed and the train arrived. Many went out, but even more entered the train – the man was one of them. He quickly grabbed a hold of the railing to stabilize himself as the train started off, jerking at times. Regaining his balance, he quickly took out the item from his coat.

Roses. Twelve beautiful red roses, tied together in a lovely bouquet. He sighed in relief as he checked them over. He was soaking wet, cold, but the roses were safe. And for that, he was glad.

The train turned sharply and the young man was thrown forward slightly. One hand desperately gripped the roses near to him while the other held on to the railing he depended on for support. Hurriedly, he checked the roses over once more. Thank God, they were still alright. Slowly, he stood up once more, regaining his composure. Once again, he held the roses near him as the train continued on its journey. Soon he would reach his destination, then…

"Those are some beautiful roses, young man."

The young man turned to face the owner of the voice. It was an old woman, perhaps 60ish. A slight smile graced her gentle, wrinkled face as she looked up to face the man. "I'm sure the lady you're giving them to will be very happy. They sure are lovely."

He had no idea how to respond, so he said the first thing that came to him. "Thank you." He was a polite man.

Just then, the train jerked once more, and the man was thrown forward once again. Damn train. He thought to himself as he examined his precious flowers, thanking the gods that the bouquet was still unharmed. His eyes softened as he looked at the bouquet, thinking of the woman he was about to give it to. Soon. It will be soon.

A gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Young man, would you like to sit down? I can just move my bags, and you can sit here and your flowers will be safe." It was her again. That old lady. His eyes travelled from her face to the bags she placed next to her. Moving.

"That won't be necessary." And after a moments thought, "You need the space."

The old lady shook her head and chuckled. "What a polite young man. It's alright, really, it's no trouble… I just need to move my bags." She struggled to lift the biggest one up from the pile. Her arms were straining as she slowly tried to pull it onto her lap.

"Please, you don't have to move them for me. I'm fine standing up."

She stopped trying and looked up. Sighing, she opened her mouth to speak once more. "So polite, but so stubborn. If that's what you want, then by all means. But, at least, let me carry your roses for you. It would be a shame if they were to be damaged."

Hesitantly, the young man handed the roses to the old lady, who gently took them in her hands. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" She chuckled. As she admired the roses, the young man couldn't help but notice the wistful expression that came upon that face. He studied her as she closed her eyes, then opened them once more, as though remembering something from her past. Memories. He used to hate them once.

"You know," She started softly, so soft he nearly had to strain to hear her voice, "These roses remind me of my youth. I was so young then, and so carefree. Caught up in the silly notions of romance, true love, knights and all that. Ah, how I miss them now." She looked up at the young man, eyes slightly glazed over. He nodded. He understood what she was trying to say.

Two strangers, but yet at that moment, they shared a common bond. A certain understanding between both parties. The rest of the trip was spent in silence.

"We have arrived at Midgar Station." This was it. He had reached his destination, but his journey wasn't over yet. He turned to the old lady.

"Thank you for holding them for me," He smiled slightly as she held out the roses for him to take.

"Good luck, young man. I still have a few more stops to go before I get off," She smiled at him, eyes twinkling playfully. He nodded and said goodbye, thanking her once again for her kindness.

Her eyes followed his form as he strode towards the exit. She watched as he paused suddenly, as if in thought, the hesitantly turned and walked back to the old lady. She raised a questioning eyebrow, and opened her mouth, but was cut short before she could ask the question.

He awkwardly held out a single rose to the old lady. "As a thank you," he said, noticing her confused look. Her expression went from surprised to grateful to happy. She reached out for it and patted his hand.

"Thank you, young man," she smiled radiantly, "That was very thoughtful of you, but wouldn't your girlfriend be angry? Now she only has eleven roses and not twelve." He smiled slightly and shook his head.

"I'm sure she'll understand," He squeezed her hand gently and let go. "I had better leave now, or the train will leave before I'm off. Have a nice day, madam."

"Yes, of course," she chuckled, "You remind me of someone I knew when I was younger. May I ask your name?" The young man turned around once more.

"Vincent," he said, "Vincent Valentine." Then he was gone and she was alone on the train.

"What a romantic name," she mumbled softly to herself, looking at the single red rose. Ah, if only I were a little younger. She chuckled at her thoughts, amused. My, my. You get cheekier as you grow older, don't you, Gertrude?

Elsewhere in Midgar, a young woman sat behind the counters, leaning on her elbows deep in thought. It had been busy the whole day, and she was tired. It was barely four and she was already drained. Her staff had all left and she was alone in the bar, having closed it just minutes before.

Alone. She sighed. I always end up alone, don't I? She walked slowly to a table and sank into the chair, resting her head on the back.

She looked out of the window. Still raining. It fit her mood. She stood up and walked to the window, watching as young couples holding hands ran through the rain playfully, or older ones strolling together, arm in arm as they stared into each others eyes. Tears stung her eyes as she remembered how she used to be one of those young couples, so youthful and carefree. But those days were over. She had no one now. No one… Since he…

She shook her head. She had to stop thinking about the past and move on. She couldn't wallow in it any longer. Three years. Three long years since he had gone. She forced a smile onto her face. Think positive! She chanted over and over in her mind. Yes, she was alone. Yes, she had no special someone. But did that mean she had to feel miserable on this day of all days? No sirree.

Tifa Lockhart was a fighter, is a fighter, and always will be. She quickly stood up and walked to her bedroom, where she changed into some nicer clothes and combed her hair. She will have fun today by herself and no one was going to stop her. Perhaps a manicure, then some pampering at the local saloon, and maybe topped off with some –

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard soft, but – was that urgency she detected? – knocks on the front door. Feeling slightly annoyed at having her thoughts interrupted, but also curious as to who it could be, she walked over to the door and opened it, wearily repeating the speech once again.

"I apologise, but the bar is closed at this… Huh?" Her eyes widened when a bouquet of one-two-three… eleven roses was stuffed under her nose. She looked up, startled to see who exactly it was. She stood there staring for a minute or two, first at the roses, then at the giver, and then at the roses again. They were red, so red, so bright… And they were… Beautiful.

Without even saying a word at all, she threw herself into the arms of the startled man in front of her, sobbing quietly. She had thought… She had thought she was alone. That no one cared about her, but in fact… Oh, someone did and it felt… Wonderful.

He carefully guided her into the bar and sat her down at a table. The flowers were still unharmed, and he was relieved. When she had calmed down and wiped away her tears, he held out the bouquet once again. A pause. Then she reached out and held it in her hands. She looked up again, red eyed and slightly puffy faced, but he thought she had never looked more beautiful than she did now.

"But… Why?" She asked softly,as she lookedearnestly into his eyes. They were so bright and filled with emotion she had never seen before.

"It's Valentine's Day," he stated simply. And because I care. She smiled a little at this. He was always so straightforward.

"Thank you," she absentmindedly stroked the roses and smiled the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Shyly he placed his arm – his good one – under her chin, tilted her face slightly upwards and leaned down, kissing her softly on the lips. To say she was surprised was an understatement.

And if that was surprising, what happened next was downright shocking. The next thing she knew, she was being swept into his arms, flowers forgotten and dropped to the floor with a soft thud. All that mattered was him and her, two lost souls entwined as one, and for that moment… Just that simple moment… Time seemed to have stopped.

A long while passed, and slowly they pulled away. Both slightly breathless, one grinning widely, the other a little awkward, but you could see the twinkling in his eyes as he looked down lovingly at the beautiful woman in front of him.

She bent down to pick up the roses, and asked the question that had been at the back of her mind all this while. "Why eleven?" The custom was twelve, so eleven was pretty strange. Then again, Vincent Valentine was a strange man.

He shrugged, a playful smirk on his face. It is then that she noticed that his cape is no more, instead it had been replaced by a simple black trench coat. His bandana was removed and for the first time, she noticed exactly how breathtaking he could be. She didn't realise she was staring again until he speaks, slight amusement in his low voice.

"I must have lost one on the way," he replied mysteriously. She suspected there was more to it than just that, but for now, that would do. She had so many questions and answers that she wanted. Where had he been all this while? How did he get here? Why her? How long had he… So many questions…

But he stood up and took her hand in his and she pushed the questions back.

"Would you join me for dinner?"

"But you're soaked, and…"

"It doesn't matter."

She rised as well and gripped his hand a little tighter. "I'd love to."

Those questions could wait. For now, she had a dinner to go for.

Oh, happy early (very) Valentine's Day! I hope you didn't think it too horrible and please review. It would be highly appreciated.

Edit: I changed some stuff, like the tenses and all. I hope they are correct now. :) Thanks to The Tiramisu of Impending Doom for pointing them out.