Part Two

It was quite some time before Vincent found himself waking up again. He winced when he felt the ache return to his chest, but was a bit surprised when he found that it wasn't as bad as it had been before.

"How long have I been out?" he wondered, groggily, as he slowly opened his eyes. At first, his vision was blurred; his eyes taking their own sweet time focusing...But he could tell, without even having to see clearly, that he was in the upper level of the Seventh Heaven.

"You've been out for almost four days, Vincent." Tifa's voice stated, from beside him. A bit startled by her voice, Vincent turned his head to look at her; clinching his eyes shut again when dizziness threatened to knock him out again. She was at his side in a heartbeat; her red-brown eyes clearly showing concern for him.

"Take it slow. I don't know what I would do if you get as bad off as you were when you got here." Tifa said, as she gently applied a very minute amount of pressure to his chest with one hand, and felt his forehead for fever with the other. She got a quiet nod from the man on the bed in response to that; he knew exactly what she'd meant.

"How did that happen?" Tifa questioned, motioning to his injured chest and abdomen with a slight wave of her hand.

"Ran out of bullets." Vincent replied, his quiet voice even softer because of the pain he was in. Tifa nodded in understanding. She knew for a fact that Vincent wasn't a reckless man by nature, and that something had to have surprised him in order for it to have wounded him so badly.

"If you were in that much trouble, then you should have called for help. Someone would have come." Tifa said, feeling at least some disapproval at his usually solitary way of handling things.

"Would have...if the batteries in my phone...hadn't died on me." Vincent murmured, as he gave her his equivalent of a deadpan look. A look that was answered by one of skepticism from Tifa. But with a shrug she let it go at that, then gave him a look of genuine worry.

"Are your lungs feeling any better?" Tifa asked. It took Vincent a moment to realize what she was talking about., then he remembered what had happened earlier and actually shuddered a bit.

"There's still some pain...but it doesn't seem as bad." Vincent replied, whispering as the ache reminded him that it was still there.

"Good. You don't realize how much that had actually scared me earlier. I even thought you were going to die on me." Tifa said, unashamed to admit that she had been afraid. Without saying anything (since he didn't know quite what to say in answer to that admittance) he gently reached out and grasped her left hand in his right. For a long moment, they remained like that, neither saying a word, then Vincent himself broke the silence.

"I am sorry...for worrying you, Tifa." Vincent murmured, keeping his voice lower than normal; trying to keep the burning in his lungs to a minimum.

"It's okay." Tifa reassured, then added, "Just let me know if you start feeling any worse. All right?" Vincent only nodded quietly, releasing Tifa's hand as he did so and placing his own hand carefully on his injured chest. After a while, the exhaustion brought on by his illness lulled Vincent back into slumber; dulled crimson eyes slipping out of sight behind pale eyelids.

"I'll have to see if Yuffie still has some of her Cure Materia...Mine have been almost completely used up. His lungs are still bleeding." Tifa mused, worriedly, as she hovered over the slumbering man for a few moments, then rushed from the room when the phone abruptly started ringing.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv (new divider)

He found himself in the lap of a woman when awareness returned to him. All around him, he could smell the scent of flowers; this fact only adding to his confusion.

"Lucrecia?" Vincent murmured, surprised when the nagging pain that had been in his chest didn't emerge again.

"Nope. Wrong answer." a soft, girlish voice replied, almost prompting Vincent to open his eyes.

"Oh, it's you." Vincent stated, then added, "So I've died after all."

"Wrong again. You are unconscious, yes, but not dead. I merely came to talk."

"What would you want to talk about? And with me, no less?" Vincent asked, bewildered as to why the last of the Cetra wanted to speak to him

"You have been ill recently, haven't you?" she in turn asked, ignoring Vincent's question gracefully. Vincent winced.

"Yes. I allowed a minor chest wound to go untended, and infection set in. My lungs are still giving me problems." Vincent replied, finally opening his eyes and looking up at the girl's face. Not surprisingly, Aerith gave him a look of concern mixed with very minute disapproval.

"You really need to learn to take care of yourself. If you don't, the people who care for you will be deeply hurt." Aerith warned, getting an arched eyebrow from Vincent in response to that.

"The pot calling the kettle black." Vincent muttered, smirking slightly when Aerith sighed and shook her head.

"You are about as impossible to talk to as Cloud! But, I must say this, it is good to see you trying to live...even if you don't know how to be careful." Aerith murmured, as she brushed delicate fingers against his brow; brushing strands of hair out of his eyes.

"If you say so." Vincent said, ruefully agreeing with the flower girl on that point, at least. As the dream started to fade out, Vincent heard Aerith say one last thing to him before she left.

"Please take care of Tifa, and yourself. You both need one another more than you realize."

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv(divider)

When he found himself waking again, Vincent felt as though the Masamune was being driven through his chest. He uttered a choking gasp before the blood in his lungs rushed to fill the space left by the air. Through the roaring in his ears, he could very faintly hear Tifa as she shouted his name. With great effort, he forced himself to sit up, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth as he did so. Violent coughing shook him as he tried to clear his chest of gore; each one feeling like a sword or dagger being twisted in his flesh. Vaguely, he felt it when Tifa started using her Cure Materia again; uttering a very light sigh as the healing power flowed into him.

"How am I...supposed to protect Tifa...when this illness...saps so much of my strength?" Vincent wondered, before darkness claimed him, once again.

To be continued...

Author's Note!

Yeah, I know. Very sadistic of me, to leave it in a cliffhanger like that. But I need some help. This story is going to 'stall out' without some fresh ideas! Any feedback on where this fic could go is welcome! Thanks!

Gemini14