To Know You

Chapter Nine: Lamenting Leilani

By Darknightdestiny

"I'm going now!"

Tifa rushed out from behind the bar, a small bag flung over her shoulder. Vincent sat at the bar, watching her uncomfortably. She was dressed casually, in some worn blue jeans and a tight, white shirt featuring the name of her bar in faded red letters. She had her hair pulled back into a sort of loop, ponytail hybrid. On her feet were white tennis shoes. Easygoing, charming, open. The sort of thing one wears to help a friend move to a new home.

He didn't resent her for prying, but he feared the consequences of her following up on it. He did not lack the desire to rebuild old bridges, but he had his reasons for hesitation, and he wished to do this in his own time. Tifa was easily received everywhere she went, and extremely sweet and likeable. He did not want to reveal to her that he knew anything about her destination, but he feared that she had an agenda. She had already found him, so if she was following up on this, there must be another reason. And the reason at the forefront of his mind, was because Leilani had called her back. And Tifa, being the person she was, would never leave someone in relation to him hanging, or destroy their hopes with a lie. Or an omission, for that matter.

He did not know if Leilani Valentine knew of his whereabouts, but it was not as if he could ask Tifa. He could, in theory, but he would not. Part of him wanted to stop this impending disaster, but another part of him wanted to see it unfold. Besides, she had worked so hard and for so long trying to find him. What could he say to her?

No, Tifa...you cannot go see my mother.

He would never deny her that, especially when she had spent so much of her time on him. He didn't yet feel worthy of it. He understood he was going to have to start to live his life. He understood he was going to have to let some things go, and try to give himself a brand new start. But at the same time, this didn't have anything to do with his 'sins', as much as he just felt she had spent too much time on him. They had gotten to know each other through their time spent over the Meteor adventure - ordeal was a more correct term - but he didn't think that gave any of them the merit to care for each other so much. But then he realised that Tifa might have done the same for any of them, though most of them would not have done the same for anyone but her.

She definitely had that about her.

Vincent was snapped from his daydreaming by a soft plunking of a box on the bar top next to him. Karlie's green eyes peeked out over the top of the imports to watch Tifa reach the front door of the bar. Vincent's eyes followed hers. Last chance.

"Bye, Tifa! Hope you have a good trip. And don't worry about me, I'll be fine! And Travis will be helping both Orlando and myself, so don't sweat it." She winked at her friend.

Tifa turned back at the door and gave a warm smile to the two of them, though her eyes alighted on Vincent last and seemed to linger there for a moment. She almost looked as if she was reassuring herself that she was doing the right thing.

"Vincent, are you going to hang around the bar, or are you going to find something to do around town?"

"I've not yet decided," he said in blank monotone, not knowing what emotions she would find in his voice had he even let any surface.

"Well...have a nice time, whatever you decide." He nodded. "You too, Karlie," she called to the girl behind the counter. And with that, she was out the door, and out of sight.

Instantly, Vincent was accosted by an eager voice directly to his left. He turned and found the source unbelievably close, and unbelievably suddenly so.

"So. Tell me!"

Vincent searched Karlie's bright green eyes for some sign of motivation, but found no other reason for her inquiry other than that she was a gossipy young girl with no other way to pass the time it took to set up the bar. "...No."

"Oh, come on. Who am I going to tell? You and I just met." Little, green puppy dog eyes, set atop a field of freckles.

Vincent stood up to leave. "You are kind, but no." He turned quietly from the bar, save for the clomping of his heavy black boots on the wooden floor. They clomped their way to the door, and then he was gone, heading in the opposite direction that Tifa had been.

Karlie pouted. Then, as an afterthought, she shouted, "You'll be seeing much more of me!" as the door closed behind him. She smiled to herself as she finished setting up the bar. The next few days should be interesting, and she would enjoy watching what developed of the situation.

Vincent wandered the streets, contemplating his situation. He had rathered Tifa had forgotten all about it. He wondered about her motivations for visiting his mother, and hoped that she wouldn't go too far in her conversations with her. There was apparently no shame in her game. And with that thought, Vincent felt a pang of guilt at his sudden envy.

All that time, and he still hadn't found the nerve to try and contact anyone he used to know. Had Tifa let on to Leilani that he was still alive? And then what? Would she be grateful to know, or angry that he hadn't bothered to talk to her in decades?

Tifa's timidity came and went. He wouldn't think her the type to go barging into other people's lives without proper pretense. Had they talked before? Just how much did either of them already know? Part of him resented her sudden intrusion, and he couldn't even say anything about it without giving himself away. But did it even matter anymore? He contemplated turning on his heels and following after her, telling her all he knew if he must.

And Tifa...sweet, resilient, spirited woman...if he let her alone and disappeared for good, he would never find anything out from her. And she would easily find another life to piece together, another soul to care for. It seemed to come naturally to her, counseling and healing people, and even smothering them with unwanted empathy. She had already forced him into a corner, unknowingly asphyxiating him with a myriad of limited decisions.

Was he so easily replaceable? She had gone to an awful lot of trouble, and he had a feeling that at least part of it was for his own good, though he couldn't deny that her own curiousity must have played a big part. If he dropped off the face of the earth, would she just forget about him and go about her usual business? No, it was quite obvious to him that his absence had taken a decent chunk out of her life, and that she'd put a lot of effort into rectifying that.

He appreciated her interest, but this new situation was far too delicate for her to handle alone. He felt what little control he had over the rest of his life slowly slipping away, disappearing over the horizon with each step she took. Instead of standing there completely helpless while she took his life into her own hands, not able to trust that she wouldn't cause trouble without his interference, his mind was made up.

Meanwhile, Tifa stood by the docks, waiting to board the ship that would take her to Costa del Sol. She turned the small sheet of paper over in her hands, sighing to herself. "If only there was a number to this street," she muttered. "Why do all the roads in the village have to go by names? It's going to take me forever to find this place."

"What place is that?"

Startled, Tifa turned around to find Vincent standing next to her, studying the ship she was about to board.

"Vincent! What are you doing here?"

"...I was thinking that I might be interested in going with you. What sort of business do you have in Costa del Sol?" He seemed only curious, but he was going about it in such a suspiciously sly manner. Tifa had already begun to figure out what he was aware of when he made his move.

In an instant, the paper was snatched out of her grasp, crumpled and slightly torn between the metallic digits of his clawed arm. She gasped in surprise.

"I just remembered," he went on, holding up the crumpled paper for examination, "that I have relations over there." He knew he wasn't going about the situation too delicately, but flustered as he was, he couldn't think of any other way to go about it. He raised one eyebrow in her direction, a small smirk playing at his lips. "But...I am sure you already know that."

Tifa blushed red, stuttering in her response. "Vincent, I...I'm sorry. If you'll just...let me explain..."

He gave an exasperated sigh and handed the paper back to her. "No need," he replied, holding his other hand up. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She looked at her feet, childishly digging a hole in the soil with her toe. "I didn't know how to. I mean...I found her while looking for you. But once I found you, I didn't need to ask around. Then she called back, and I didn't know what to do with this paper. So I figured..."

He tilted his head to the side, beginning to wonder exactly how far her curiousity would take her, and why it was focused on him. "...Figured what?" he prodded.

"I don't know. I thought..."

"Yes?"

"...I thought that I could get to know you better. I was going to tell you. I really, really was..."

Tifa's eyes were beginning to well up, and Vincent began to wonder whether he had made the right decision. But if he really took the time to sort it out point by point as he had earlier, he would have come to the same conclusion. He could not let this go wrong.

"Tifa." She ran up and hugged him. "Tifa..." There wasn't much else that he could do but put his arms around her. He began fearing that others would stare, but the dock wasn't crowded that day, and hardly anyone nearby seemed to be interested in what was going on. "Let me come with you?"

"You must think I'm terribly nosy." Her words were tiny, muffled against his shirt.

"You are." He grimaced down at her as she began to sob harder into his clothing. "But if you weren't, we wouldn't be here right now." He sighed, thinking he might regret his words later, but continued on either way. "You obviously care a great deal about whatever agenda it is you have."

"I'm sorry..." she sniffled, grabbing at the fabric of his clothes, trying to hide her eyes behind the creases of material.

Vincent righted himself and held her out in front of him at arms length. "We'll put this behind us. Dry your eyes..." He reached out and slid a finger underneath her lower lid, unthinking, which started her wiping furiously at them herself, embarrassed at her display.

As the blurriness began to fade and she regained her focus, Tifa noticed a few people walking past to board the ship. "I guess we can go now," she said. "Are you sure you want to come?"

"I'm not letting you go alone."

She bit back the hurt. "What do you think I would do?" She stared him in the eye, but was overcome by his constant gaze. "...We don't have to do this today, if you don't want to."

Vincent mulled it over. He was given far too much time in which to make that decision, and yet it took another person holding it in front of him to force him to decide. He could have gone at any time to see his mother, but had always thought it too much for her, too unbelievable. He wanted nothing from his mother, but perhaps to see her one last time. With every day that passed, he knew his chances were lessened.

"We should go."

Vincent turned on his heel and walked toward the plank, Tifa following quickly after him once she had regained herself. Up the wooden ramp, and he could hear the soft echoes of her footsteps behind him. "You know, there's no turning back, Vincent." She was suddenly at his ear.

"...I apologize, Tifa. I did not mean to make you cry." Then he added, almost as an aside, "You know, you seem to harbor more anticipation about this than I do."

"Oh, I'm not pretending that I'm not scared. This isn't my family. There's no way I could know what she would ask me, or how I would answer it. I'm actually really glad you came to save me." She had begun to smile again.

At this thought, Vincent cringed inside. Perhaps he would tell her that he would rather wait outside. But what warning could he possibly give her upon entering his mother's house that would prevent her from making matters worse? And now it seemed if he sent her in there all alone, that he would be feeding her to the wolves. It appeared that neither one of them had a plan.

He sat down on one of the benches inside the boat, and she sat down comfortably next to him. "She expects you?" Tifa nodded in reply. Vincent didn't bother to ask her whether this was because she had returned the call, or if it had already been arranged. Either way, his mother was expecting someone. He could just picture the reunion, and with it situated in the forefront of his mind, he was beginning to feel sick.

"Vincent, what was growing up like for you?"

The question took him by surprise, but it was not at all unrelated to the events of the day. It was one he would rather not answer, and something he didn't wish to think about. "Maybe one day I will tell you." Not likely, but perhaps. He hoped she wouldn't push any further.

How could he ever tell her that he was everything to his mother, when she knew that he'd never bothered to go and see her? How could he ever explain to Tifa that he spent every moment he could afford at home, waiting to see what drunken state his Turk father arrived in, so he could take measures to protect his mother? That he had been forced into his occupation as reimbursement for his father's life, which he had taken? He hadn't even told Lucrecia about that. He and his mother had lived very isolated lives, even when his father was still around. He imagined her then, growing old in that house all alone, with no one to talk to, wondering what had happened to her son.

Tifa gazed up at him, studying the blank look he had pointed out the window. She wondered what he was thinking, but thought that she had asked too many questions that day already. She would get a good idea of where he had come from just by seeing the inside of his house, so there was no need to push him in a direction he wasn't ready to travel in.

His eyes darted over in her direction, catching her in her contemplative state. She suddenly switched roles on him, staring out the window herself and hoping that he hadn't seen her staring at him like that, but he had. She had been musing over him far too much as of late. One day it was bound to get her into trouble.

They sighed in unison, Vincent mentally, and Tifa out loud. It was going to be a long and uncomfortable trip if neither one of them had anything to say to each other. She had a million aching questions, and she felt that each one would be a sore spot for him. She had begun to wish that she'd been able to convince him all along to go and see his mother alone.

When they finally reached the shore, it was early afternoon. Tifa paused after exiting the ship; she looked around, taking in the view. The sun up high and the salt in the air kissed her skin and made her feel oh so warm inside. Vincent, on the other hand, brushed right past her. Tifa enjoyed her time outdoors, no matter where she was, but it was clear to her that Vincent was adamant about getting on with their business.

"Vincent-!" she choked out. "I know you're not one for sun, but I figured this would be more of an experience for you..."

He stopped several feet in front of her and waited for her to catch up. The truth was that he had never liked that town. Everyone was so perpetually happy and carefree, and after everything that he had been through, living in a never-ending vacation spot had made his stomach turn, even as a child.

"What can I say, Tifa? Let's hurry on. You can spend as much time out here as you wish when this is all over." He continued walking as soon as she had reached him, not pausing even long enough to let her match his pace. Barely even luke-warm yet and already, he had become cold as ice.

Tifa followed him through the brush, past the tiki huts and oversized martini glasses, past the street peddlers and performers. Vincent led them down the side of one building, and then along a dirt road. Tifa noticed that the neighborhood became much more domestic as they kept walking, and the sound of steel drums was reduced to a faint hum in her ears.

The most present sound in her world was the clicking of Vincent's boots against the stone walkway they mounted, and the breeze ruffling her hair. She looked up at him, curiousity searing through her expression. She kept her gaze on him long enough, wrapped up in her imaginative thoughts on his past, that when he did finally glance at her, he caught it.

"...When are you going to open up to me?"

They both kept walking as Vincent let her question sink in. Moments later, his reply came with a slight frown. "I suppose an apology is in order...?"

"Eh?"

He sighed. "Today has been...irritating, to say the least." Her gaze fell to the ground they walked on. "But," he continued, in an effort not to make things worse, "I should not have been so cold."

"I'm sorry for meddling," she offered. "Now that we're here, though, I thought you'd be excited."

He actually scoffed slightly, as the side of his mouth tugged upward. "I hate this place."

Tifa couldn't help but note that the use of his smirk was growing. She would have thought it progress, since it was close to a smile, but in this case, she didn't deem it good just yet. "Why do you hate it?"

"Memories." It was a simple answer, and it didn't divulge any sort of details. This did not slip past her.

"This is what I'm talking about," she said, trying not to look too terribly disappointed, which was difficult, being that she was. "You answer my questions, but not really. You're so vague. If I want to know anything, I have to badger you, which I know you also hate."

She had hit it right on the head, but he wasn't going to go into a deep conversation about it. "Perhaps you shouldn't ask so many questions, and you wouldn't frustrate yourself so."

She halted in her step and placed one hand on her hip. He hadn't exactly pointed the finger, but she still wasn't going to fall for his game of passing the blame around. She silently thought to herself that this was typical male manipulation, and she could have sworn up and down that most of them weren't even aware that they did it. "Vincent, you're the frustrating one! If I didn't ask you questions, it's not as if you'd volunteer information on your own anyway!" If they'd been in the privacy of her apartment, or maybe even the bar, she would have pounded her fists on a table in frustration, and even bit back some tears. This is not something that escaped Vincent, who was well aware of her frustration and her effort. He turned to face her in the street.

"Tifa," he sighed, "this is not the time or the place." His expression was almost pleading, and she lost her reserve.

It wasn't as if he had no desire to deepen his friendship with her. He realized that he was mostly alone in the world, and the fact that he was surprised to hear that his mother was still around proved it. If anything, Tifa would have been first on his list should he ever need a companion, but he had so many thoughts whirling around in his head that most of this was shoved back into the recesses of his mind to make room for his old, irritable self.

He needed time, and she needed his time, and the one thing he felt he couldn't do at that moment was make that time. His mind was far too busy.

It had been a long time since he was that strung out on nervousness, and he still wasn't sure how he was going to handle himself. He didn't have a plan, he wasn't expected, and the last thing he wanted to do was give his mother a heart attack. And yet, she was still with him, even though he had pushed her aside and dashed her careful planning. She followed him obediently, not minding the change in plan at all, and not seeming a bit worried. Still, he knew this wasn't because she would let the burden fall completely on him.

She was always there when he needed her, or at least when she felt he did, and she had been ever since he'd known her. He was beginning to grow quite fond of her, and the last thing he wanted to do was put her off. This too, was one of the many problems floating around in his head.

Tifa kept walking in silence, not paying any mind to where they were headed. It was easier to follow a man dressed entirely in black on a hot day in paradise if she chose not to be distracted by the scenery. She remained unaware and in her own world entirely, until she bumped into him at his sudden stop. When she backed up, she could see that they were on a doorstep, and she moved around to stand next to him.

Had she not been downcast, she might have missed the flowers littering the entryway and stepped on them. However, she did see them, and gazed up at Vincent in curiousity.

These were not the welcoming sort of flower; rather than arranged neatly in a bed, these were littered about the doormat, as though placed by several people. She could tell by the freshness of some and the deadening of others, that their givings had been spread out over the week. Her imagination began to get the best of her, and her heart began to ache for him when she saw a flash of panic wash over him and then dissipate, as if he had never been allowed to lose face for more than a moment in his life.

"Come to pay your respects, eh?" The two of them whirled around to see one of Leilani's neighbors sitting out on his porch, motioning to her own. "It's a shame, really. Nice lady."

An awkward silence followed, during which a certain memory was burned into the back of Tifa's mind. She would never forget the way that Vincent looked when he heard the news that his mother had died. They had been so close; Tifa had just spoken with her a week before. She knew his hopes were ruined, and he had only been a few steps away from a reunion with the only other Valentine she had managed to find that was even related to him.

The man went inside his home, not bothering to say anything to the two of them. Vincent knocked on the door anyway.

Tifa reached up to grace his arm with her touch. "Vincent...?"

He was in another world, and she could see in his face that his mind was racing. "He might have been talking about someone else..."

"Vincent..."

Tifa was jerked back to reality when Vincent reached back with his claw and thrust his arm through the door, splintering the wood and undoing the locks from the other side. She jumped at his reaction, and she covered her mouth as she began to cry. Vincent ran into the house, searching every room and calling for his mother. Tifa could only watch from the doorway and she cried harder, seeing him reduced to this in only minutes. In that moment, she feared for him. She feared for his heart, for his sanity, for everything he'd become and everything he might lose. She cursed herself for letting him get his hopes up, for messing with his life.

She followed the frantic sounds of his voice upstairs where they quieted after a while, and she listened to his heavy breathing down the hallway. Slowly, she entered the room where he sat at the foot of what she assumed to be his mother's bed. The sheets were littered with neatly arranged items of personal belonging, probably heirlooms set out by her family. He was slumped on the floor, his dark bangs a curtain for his face, a barrier to her, and to the rest of the world. His elbows were propped up on his knees, hands dangling helplessly between his legs. He looked the epitome of misery, and she could have sworn she heard a hitch in his breath, like a meager attempt to break the walls he himself had set up so long ago to shed a tear, if only for his mother.

Tifa approached cautiously, not wanting to forget her place. At her steps, he looked up at her, not bothering to hide the fact that the whites of his eyes had also turned red. She came and knelt down beside him, and he didn't tense, even when she fit her arms around him and leaned her head against his. Instead his body offered up an involuntary shudder, something like surrender, wracked with emotion that had built up for ages. Thousands of memories came back to haunt him, some so terrible and some so heartwarming that he grieved his mother's loss over and over again.

Tifa just stayed by him and held him when the tears came, and she cried with him, never letting go even when his shaking had stopped. She didn't know how many different reasons he had for letting loose just then, but she had found two of her own. She cried for him, what he had lost, and even for her own helplessness in the situation. She cried for him as a friend should cry with his friends, and be there with them through all things. But there was a new part of her that ached for him, a place in her heart she had yet to give voice to.

She had spent enough time outside berating him for not being open enough, and yet when it finally happened, she was almost unable to bear it. But she would bear it with him, because she wanted to be there with him; she didn't want to leave him alone, especially in the time he needed her the most, whether he would ever admit it or not. His not pushing her away was good enough for her. Even then, she felt his arms come up to return the embrace, and he clung desperately to her, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Tifa looked on helplessly, unable to do anything but offer comfort, as the man she had begun to love fell apart before her eyes. And it was tearing her into pieces.

A/N: I realize Vincent seems out of character near the end of this, but hell, his mother just died. Check out my piece, "Peripheral Vision," if you like Vin/Tif pairings. Right now, it's a one-shot, but as I finish this and get ready to post the third part (a one-shot that may go with this, but could also stand alone), I will be adding chapters to "Peripheral Vision", and changing it's status from complete to in progress. It should be between four and six chapters.

I'm trying to decide whether I should try to salvage "Flirting with Death" or not. If I do, I may have to revamp the entire thing, or make small adjustments as I go along, because my style has changed considerably. You can probably even tell where I left off in this chapter a year ago and where I picked it up. It was so long since I'd updated this one, that I almost didn't finish it. But with only two more chapters to go, I figure I can still do this yet.

Ah yes. I am also working on more for "Countdown to Chaos", and those will be posted soon as well. That will most likely be my main project for a while, and I will be doing "Peripheral Vision" alongside it, though the shorter will not last nearly as long.