Disclaimer: Still... nothing... well that is except Lyris... He's all mine...

Note: So sorry you guys these chapters keep getting shorter and shorter... I think this is my shortest one though so for all of you who like long chapters things will get better... I hope... I am in love with the song Colors by Crossfade so yeah I hope you enjoy it...

Chapter 3: Colors

/Can you feel it crush you /does it seem to bring the worst in you out/There's no running away from these things that hold you down/Do they complicate you /because they make you feel like this/of all the colors that you've shined this is surely not your best But you should know these colors that you shine are/Surely not the best colors that you shine/I know you feel alone yeah and no one else can figure you out/But don't you ever turn away from the ones that help you down/Well they'd love to save you /don't you know they love to see you smile/But these colors that you've shined are surely not your style/But you should know these colors that you're shining are/(I know you're feeling like you're lost)/But you should know these colors that you're shinin are/(I know you're feeling like you're lost, you feel you've drifted way too far) /But you should know these colors that you're shinin are/ Surely not the best../(I know your feeling like your lost)/Colors that you shine../(but you should know these Colors that your shining are)/Surely not the best../(I know your feeling like your lost you feel youve drifted way to far)/Did you know these colors that your shining are./

He'd carried her to his bed only a few minutes ago. He'd laid her down on the soft mattress and then went strait to the bathroom adjacent to his room. He filled the sink with water and submerged a washcloth in the warm liquid. He only slightly noticed that his hands were shaking violently as he wrung the cloth out and walked back to his room where the unconscious girl lay. She looked so peaceful in her tired state, but he knew better. He knew why she was so pale, why she had collapsed onto him just a few moments before. She'd looked so tired and she spoke in a way that told him something was very wrong.

It was early in the morning now. The rising sun was just barely coming through his closed curtains and fell over her as she lay sprawled out across the bed. Her left arm was dangling over the side and there was a small crimson puddle on the floor under her dripping sleeve. He swallowed hard and moved closer to her.

Setting the warm cloth down on the table beside his bed he turned to her. He knew he had to be careful and moved with the precision and speed that he'd become famous for. Using his claw to hold her up, he removed her soaked sweatshirt. Careful of her arm, he set it down next to him on the bed. Now that he had that out of the way all he had to do was see the wound she'd inflicted on herself.

The sleeve of her black shirt was already pushed up past her elbow. It too was covered in blood as was almost everything she had on. He creased his brow in a mixture of emotions. Though he'd been the cause of so many deadly wounds he was disgusted at the sight of the blood and the mad gashes running up her arm. He was angry that she'd done this and not gone to get help, she needed help. Of course, that was why she was there wasn't it? He inwardly chided himself for being so angry when she had come to him to get help.

Aside from all that though, he was frightened. He was scared of anything happening to her and he wanted more than anything to wake up and find out this was all just a bad dream. He knew that wasn't going to happen though and he took the more logical route of trying to get her cleaned up. She was a mess and he knew the wound was not sterile.

He took the cloth in his hand again and wiped softly at her wrist. The blood didn't come off very easily so he found himself rubbing harder at the wound, finally it started to wash away. With the new pressure of the cloth the bleeding seemed to stop and he felt himself sigh with relief on that thought. It was what he saw next that had him holding his breath.

Starting at her wrist the slashes Tifa had made on her arm started to take shape. First the letter L showed up, then Y, then R, then I, then S. Vincent watched, horrified as each letter became visible. They were definitely made by her; as the figures each faced her direction. They were the only cuts made, it was no coincidence that they spelled out that name.

He wondered what significance that name had to her. What attracted her to it and why was she carving it into her arm. It was so jagged on the edges that, had there had been other slashes made, Vincent probably wouldn't have been able to tell they were letters at all. Like some kindergartener writing on paper for the first time.

After he was finished cleaning the wound he got up from the bed again and threw the cloth down next to her. She didn't stir, he noticed. She lay sleeping still with no movement as to show she even knew he was there, looking down at her. She looked so peaceful in that moment. Her hair was fanned out around her, still wet from the rain, and her lips were parted in slumber. He wondered just how much sleep she had gotten that night. She was a ghostly pale, more so than usual. Her inky-black lashes shadowed her face and contrasted greatly with her milky-white skin.

He turned to leave, he couldn't watch her anymore. It was watching one of his friends sink to the bottom with nothing to keep them afloat. He couldn't be her lifeline and he knew it. After this was all over he'd have to send her on her way to go get help elsewhere. This type of thing required someone who didn't know her, who didn't remember the optimistic, cheerful girl she used to be. It required someone who didn't think about a smile on those god-forsaken lips she wore a frown on now. Someone who didn't dream of her warmth when there was nothing but cold. Someone who wasn't emotionally attached to her, and he was anything but. He would admit to himself, if just to get it off his chest, he loved Tifa Lockheart. He'd fallen in love with her while she was still clinging for dear life onto Cloud Strife.

Speaking of the mercenary, where was he in all of this? Surely he knew what Tifa was doing to herself, he had lived with her after all. Yet, then why was the martial artist coming to him instead of the blond she seemed to have an undying love for? Where was Cloud when all this happened? Was he a part of it somehow? Vincent felt his blood start to boil when he thought about what Cloud could have done to make Tifa this upset.

He was pulled from his thoughts abruptly when he heard a small whimper behind him. He flipped around quickly to find Tifa's eyes open and set on him. He returned her gaze unwaveringly and she didn't flinch from the sight of his scarlet irises the way she used to. It almost made him smile. Almost.

"Vincent." Her voice was still strained and weak but he heard her just the same. He averted his eyes from hers and looked down at the wound on her arm. It was starting to bleed again and he scolded himself for not remembering to put a bandage on it before he left.

He moved to the small bathroom once more and pulled open the drawer on the right hand side of the sink. He dug through and grabbed a long bandage. He walked back to the room and sat down at the bed again, still not looking her in the eye. With her arm wrapped up he made to leave again but her voice stopped him.

"Vincent… Vincent I--"

"Shh," He cut her off, placing her arm across her stomach and turning worried eyes to hers. "You need to rest now. Go to sleep, we'll talk later. Just right now, you need to sleep." He'd never sounded so desperate in his life, but she did need to rest. If she was going to make it through this at all she needed her strength back.

He didn't see her close her eyes as he walked out the door and into the hall. He didn't see the lone tear travel down her cheek, or her hair brush against her forehead with the wind. And he most definitely did not see the small smile that graced her lips. She was safe and that was all that mattered to him, but as for himself, he knew this was going to be the day he finally broke down.

Note: So? Was it any good? If it's getting too cliche I'm sorry... I want to thank everyone who's reviewed... I write for you guys... and for the sake of my sanity, but we won't get into that... I know I'm torturing both of my favorite characters, but hey, that's what I'm good at... torture is my specialty... ask anyone who knows me... well I'll leave you to the review button (that's that little button at the bottom of the screen if you forgot)...

love and be loved Ayumi