Disclaimer: Come on guys, honestly.

Note: Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. Really I feel awful. I had exams all last week and I have a massive Honors English project due tomorrow. Wow the workload of that class is amazing!

The Game

/How have you been, nice to see you again/How quickly these conversations seem to end You meet a friend, every now and then/How quickly these relations turn into trends/Put all your walls up and open your windows/And close all your doors/You catch yourself standing in front of the mirror/And now you need more/What do you wish for/To catch you as you're falling/So easy to ignore/But now you hear it calling again/I wouldn't want to be you/This lonely game that you play/Between your walls you confuse/Every heart that you break/So afraid that you'll lose/Always a void to replace/I wouldn't want to play you/You try and pretend, the truth is hard to bend/How easy these translations can be read What if you were led to play a different game instead/How hard these frustrations are to mend/Does it matter to you/Just Wait/ -Trapt

Sometimes people mistake death for happiness. They think that to die would get rid of all their problems. They wouldn't have to worry about anything in that ecstasy of a place. The problems would melt away and they would be left to a paradise within themselves. It's foolish and a false accusation of something they'd never experienced. Tifa Lockheart was one such a person.

She stood in the middle of the endless field of flowers, watching as the petals drifted with a wind so gentle it barely stirred her hair. A thick fog had flooded the field as soon as she'd stepped foot onto the ground painted yellow and white, but she didn't mind. It didn't take the beauty from the place and she found herself becoming more and more content here. She closed her eyes and relished in the sweet scent of the flowers around her.

Everything was basked in a iridescent glow. She could see the lights through her closed eyelids. It was comforting in a way. She really didn't know why. Maybe, because the color reminded her of Aerith. Everything here reminded her of Aerith. It was peaceful.

"You're finally here." Tifa heard a little voice behind her. She flipped around to see a girl standing only a few feet away from her. The girl was in a black dress, adorned with lace and white ribbons. It was a dress she recognized. Something from the past?

"Who are you?" Tifa asked curiously. She kept her voice as soft as the girl's had been. She didn't want to frighten her. By the sound of her giggles, Tifa decided she wasn't afraid.

"Silly, even you should know that one." The girl said with a bright smile. A smile that lit up her pale face. It showed teeth and scrunched up her…

Her red eyes.

"Oh my… Are you… me… Is your name…" Tifa couldn't finish her words. All speech had left her by the time the little girl had come up and taken her hand, leading her away from the middle of the flower field.

"It's okay Tifa." The little girl said. "I was frightened too. The first time I came here. The flowers are pretty, huh? I pick them everyday. I picked some for you."

"Stop." The older woman said pulling her hand back. "No, where are you taking me?"

She was more than frightened now. She was looking into the eyes she'd become so accustomed to seeing because they were her own.

"We must leave here." Smaller Tifa said. She looked up at her older self curiously. "Don't you want to see?"

"See what?" Tifa was confused and scared and she was seriously regretting coming here now. She didn't know she would meet a younger version of herself here, and to tell the truth she wouldn't have wanted to.

"Him." The younger girl put emphasis on the title of whoever she was talking about. She smiled brightly and took Tifa's hand again. "He's been waiting for you. He sent me to fetch you. He said you'd come today."

Gods, even the little girl's voice sounded like hers. She remembered a phase she went through when she was younger where she spoke in riddles. It was quite the same way now. The black dress, the cryptic words, the innocent smile. She felt she was looking in a mirror when she was eight years old.

"Tifa," the older woman said her name in caution. She watched the girl's hair flare out when she turned to see her future self, "why are you wearing that dress?"

"It was my mommy's favorite dress. I wanted to wear it for her, but she couldn't say anything about it." The girl's eyes got a little hazy, as if in a trance of a memory.

"Why couldn't she say anything?" Tifa knew the answer, but she had to confirm it.

"She was dead." The girl said matter-of-factly. Memories flooded Tifa's mind, the thought of her mom's funeral. The dress she picked out the night before because she knew it would be the last time her mom could see it. The devastation of not getting a compliment on it from her mom like she had wanted to. The naivety of those days almost overwhelmed her. She hung her head as tears welled up in her own eyes.

"Hey look, there's Vincent!" The younger Tifa said, making the older one lift her head in surprise.

Sure enough, leaning against a tree was a young man. His hair was cut short, with his bangs left to hang in his eyes. His skin was paler than even hers and he wore a blue suit, similar to the ones she'd seen the Turks wear. He smirked at her with thin pink lips and black eyes. The familiarity of him was uncanny. She believed it really was Vincent.

"It took you long enough." The teen said with a silky voice. All doubts that this adolescent was Vincent Valentine left her. His voice hadn't changed over the years. Though his choice in words seemed to have.

"Oh, sorry Vincent!" Smaller Tifa said enthusiastically. She let go of the older woman's hand and ran to Vincent. He picked her up and held her against his side, while she laid her head on his shoulder. The two of them looked back to the twenty-year-old.

"Well," Vincent said looking through his long bangs at her with a crooked smirk, "are you coming or not?"

"Would you mind telling me where I'm going?" The woman said. Vincent's smirk just became more profound.

"I told her he wanted to see her." Little Tifa piped up, lifting her head off of Vincent's shoulder and looking at him.

"You did a very good job Teef. I shall look into some candy for you when we get back home." Twenty-year-old Tifa watched as the younger version of herself was kissed on the forehead by the teenaged Vincent. It was cute, how close they seemed to be.

Vincent laid the little girl's head back down on his shoulder and motioned for the older one to follow him. Tifa didn't really expect her legs to move so quickly. She expected to protest more, she expected to not move at all. All thought of escape left her as she saw Vincent wrap his arms tighter around the little girl and turn to walk away. She knew she could trust these two.

Note: Hope I didn't disappoint. Leave me a note if you feel like it. It would be greatly appreciated.