He Tells All

by: Bishojo Beauty

Chapter 5

Tifa had no idea what to do. It was very different to be near a sleeping Vincent and a supposedly sleeping Vincent. She couldn't remember a time when she had ever seen Vincent sleep. This was definitely awkward. She watched silently as he sat up in the bed placing his right hand gingerly against his forehead before resting his head against the headboard with his eyes closed. His locks made unruly from sleep laid strewn around him like wings. Tifa shook her head against the image of real wings. Chaos' wings. She forced herself to squash the mental image of the appalling beast as she watched as Vincent breathed erratically through slightly parted lips. His hands were now resting on his sides and Tifa took this opportunity to rest her own hand against his forehead. She did this cautiously, expecting a violent reaction. But all she got was a crack of his eyelids to scout her out before they were shut again. She gasped at the heat she felt through her hand that emanated off his forehead.

"You're burning," she whispered gently, most of her fears dissipating of Vincent the Vampire, or Beast or whatever. A simple "I know," came from his deep baritone voice between his breaths. Tifa moved her hand and laid the back of her hand against his cheek which is also just as hot. She listened and watched as he sighed. The skin beneath her hand was smooth and white as porcelain. A tiny pink tongue darted out to wet his overly dry lips...Suddenly he bolted ramrod straight in the bed and Tifa jumped back just as quick in shock and perhaps fear.

"Get away from me," Vincent ordered, his voice strained as he hunched over now, head in his hands. She was frightened stiff, opening her mouth as if about to say something, but closing it before anything could escape her lips. She paused, and paused and paused . . . and finally, Vincent's eyes closed once again as he fell back into a light slumber. But when he fell, or rather toppled over, he didn't fall the way Tifa would have preferred. She would have preferred if he fell over to his left as the rest of the bed was there, as opposed to his right where nothing was there but a hard wood floor about two or so feet down. Tifa dove then to catch his falling body, but failed miserably as he proved to be much heavier than she thought. He slipped gracelessly through her grip and flat onto the floor, his legs still on the bed. It was quite a sight, and if Tifa wasn't so scared at that moment she would have laughed until she could laugh no more. Tifa bit her lip nervously as she tugged, pushed and rolled Vincent's body until he seemed to be in a somewhat comfortable position before throwing the sheets over his limp body. Huffing in exhausting she plopped herself onto a small chair in the room and made herself comfortable enough for sleep to capture her.

-

The sun was bright, and hit Tifa directly in the face, causing her to stir from her peaceful sleep. She turned in the bed, stuffing her face on the other side of the pillow, hiding from the sunlight. There she rested a bit longer, before she realized that it was not a bed that she fell asleep on the night before. She jolted off the bed, looking from right to left, attempting to identify her surroundings. Then she remembered. Vincent.

"Vincent?" Tifa croaked out. There was no reply. The last thing Tifa could remember was that she fell asleep next to Vincent's bed on a chair. But now she was on the bed. Then where's Vincent? Running her hands through her hair, she worriedly searched the mansion for signs of Vincent. Heading down the stairs, she realized that all signs of any strange incidents happening the night before were inconceivable now.

Tifa called out Vincent's name again, and again, each time louder as she entered different rooms. Finally, she made her way into the kitchen, and there he was. He turned to her, watching her enter the kitchen, an unreadable look on his face, which was now half covered by his cloak. Tifa watched as his eyes narrowed the closer she came to him.

"I hope you slept well, Tifa," he spoke monotonously in his baritone voice. The good meaning of his words contrasted against the wariness in his eyes. Could after so many fights and battles that we've gone through looking out for each other's backs that you still don't find trust? Tifa questioned him in her mind. She knew the answer he would give as well. Silence.

"I slept very well, thank you, Vincent. However, I do believe that I am not the one who you should be concerned about," Tifa replied trying to not be too blunt about the point she was trying to get across. But surprisingly, no evidence of the night before could be seen. He looked like he looked any other day that she had seen him even though years have past.

Vincent remained silent and continued his task of what seemed like making breakfast. She watched from a distance as he prepared breakfast for two. She noted that he seemed to not be particularly fond about using his claw hand as most of the time he kept it by his side, hidden under his cloak and hidden from any viewers. She had never thought that Vincent would be self-conscious about such things. She figured then that perhaps Vincent was not a man to proudly bear his scars. Tifa knew a couple of these men well. They would walk into her bar, sleeves rolled up to show a particularly small scar. At least small to Tifa's eyes as she had experienced enough to know what was bad and what was for a wuss to take on.

Tifa leaned against the doorway, dazed by her thoughts. She snapped back as she heard her voice being called from what seemed like a very far distance, but in real, was only a couple of steps away from her. She turned to the voice that was calling her name. It was Vincent, with his hands gesturing towards an empty chair that he had seemingly pulled out while she stood daydreaming.

"Thank you," Tifa said politely as she sat herself into the chair, and smiling up at Vincent as he made his way around the table to the other chair that was absent the night before.

Once again, she began her study of Vincent, which she found to be quite amusing to pass time with. She watched as they ate. It was one of the few times she had actually seen the man eat. Tifa watched with fascination as Vincent picked at his scrambled eggs, once in a while popping small amounts into his mouth before returning to pick at it again.

"Weren't you ever taught not to play with your food?" Tifa asked playfully, smiling brightly at Vincent. One glance from Vincent and her smile faded.

"...no," he remarked simply, an answer that welcomed no response, so Tifa just nodded in acknowledgment. The room fell silent and time ticked by slowly. Tifa felt envious of Aeris as many times she had seen her talk quietly to this stoic man. She never seemed to have difficulty getting words out of him. She studied his features longer, his dark hair, pale skin, perhaps previously brown eyes...It struck her then that perhaps Vincent was Wutain.

"Are you Wutain, Vincent?" She asked, without even thinking about what or whom she was asking. She didn't get an immediate answer and became doubtful she would get an answer at all. Tifa almost whopped for joy when she heard a quiet yes come from him. She smiled at this and took this as an invitation to ask even more questions. So she did, one after the other until both of their plates were empty. Vincent sat back in his chair when he was done, the sunlight coming from the one window in the kitchen hitting his face in an angle that made his eyes glow a brighter shade of red as he looked with disinterest out the window. The sunlight softened Vincent's features tremendously and reminded Tifa of the particular picture of Vincent in Kael's picture album.

"Vincent..." Tifa started, she had a question, but was too scared to ask. The questions she asked earlier were simple questions that served only for her to dart around the only question she truly wanted to ask. He turned to her now, a quizzical look on his face. Or atleast she thought it was quizzical. The light made his face somewhat more readable. Tifa discovered as she asked her thousand questions that a slight quirk of his right eyebrow meant she pique his interest something like that. A cute scrunch of the nose meant he'd rather not speak of the subject. And a narrowing of the eyes meant that she was going too far with the questions. Tifa couldn't help but find joy in discovering the many keys to the locks that to discover the true Vincent.

"Are you done?" Vincent questioned, waiting patiently for a reply. Tifa became perplexed at his question. Am I done trying to figure you out, you mean... Tifa thought suspiciously. Did she ask to many questions and annoy him? She did not know. His statement seemed to hold that secret meaning, but then, Tifa figured that she could just be overly analyzing the simple question instead. She then made the mistake of looking into his eyes, in which she adverted her eyes immediately back down to her empty plate as soon as they made contact with his. She felt guilty of something that she did not commit. Perhaps that was why he was one of the top Turks. He could make people admit to their crimes if they didn't even do anything. This was something that she had seen the Turks of her time do far too often. Taking the lives of the innocent. And then it struck her. He was asking if she was done with her breakfast, which didn't really need to be questioned as her plate was clean of all food.

"Yes, yes I am," Tifa replied, smiling once again, but this time nervously. Tifa realized that Vincent had been waiting the whole time she conversed with herself of all the possible secret meanings the simple question held. She watched as Vincent grabbed her empty plate, and went to stack it under his plate. Tifa jumped up immediately, stopping Vincent midway in rising from the table, his eyes searching hers.

"I got it, thanks, Vincent," Tifa offered in what she figured was politely, but as she tugged gently at the plate that Vincent had firmly grasped in his right hand, she realized that Vincent was not accepting her offer. They held a gentle tug of war. Tifa did not want to pull to hard on the plate incase Vincent turned out to be a jokester and would let go of the plate all too suddenly. Tifa decided to then, reach over and pry his stubborn hand from the plate. As soon as their hands made contact, Vincent contracted his, and out of both of their hands the plate flew, shattering against the floor where it fell. Tifa's mouth fell open in shock and she looked to Vincent with this look plastered on her face, unable to form an apology with her mouth wide open. If it wasn't for Vincent's high-collared cloak, Tifa would be able to see a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. But Vincent held his laughter in as he made his way over to the sink to clear his plate, leaving Tifa still in shock.

"You're welcome to remain here tonight, if you wish," Vincent stated after he finished washing the dishes. And with that, he made his way out the back door where Tifa entered in the night before. Tifa still could not take in everything that had just happened.

Is Vincent leaving me to clean up this mess that he caused?

-

Vincent found himself chuckling at the very thought of the little "broken dish" incident that had just occurred as he rested on one of the many cliffs of the Nibleheim mountains. It had been so long since he laughed. It had been too long.

Vincent reflected on his rather unusual morning, as he sat upon the cliffs precariously. Tifa reminded him a lot about someone. Someone who he loved...Lucrecia. However, whether he was loved back or not, he did not know. Vincent could feel the fire burning in his blood as his thoughts trailed off to Hojo. He cursed softly at Hojo and at himself for being weak and allowing this man to affect him so. Jumping gracefully down from his position at the top of a few cliffs, he made his way back to Nibleheim. He had some unfinished business with a former Turk.

Hope ya like! ...really I might actually change this later...I'm not super pleased, but I really wanted to get the next chapter out...