Tifa comes back about half an hour later. I feel much better now. Practically as good as new. Well, maybe not 'new', but more 'used, in good condition'.

She has food on a tray for me, and my brain immediately fills with mixed feelings about this; my stomach suddenly realizes that it hadn't eaten in two days, and is trying to convince my brain that Tifa is the next best thing after dead Hojos. My pride is telling me that I'm fine and could have gotten up to eat with everyone else. My self-esteem, on the other hand, argues that it's better if I eat here alone.

In case you're wondering, I actually don't have low self esteem. I simply know my worth. I think it is important to know one self. And I know that I'm far from perfect. I'm rotten. Rotten to my very core. I am marginally intelligent, yes, but so out of sync with the rest of the world that it is almost null and void.

Tifa turns on the bedside lamp, and my eyes burn. For me the light from the window was enough. She apologizes, and I assure her that it's alright. She gives me this speculative look then, and I find myself almost squirming.

"What is it?" I ask finally, politely taking the food tray from her delaying hands. My stomach is growling so loud I'm afraid she'll hear it. I try eating slowly- it doesn't matter how hungry I am- there's no excuse for rudeness.

"Nothing." She says with a smile, sitting down again. She's fiddling with her jeans' belt as she says it. It means there's something on her mind- she's bluffing. She meets my eyes for short periods of time, then finds something else to look at and tidy or adjust. Whatever's on her mind has to do with me. I give her an Approach look, and she breaks into a toothy smile. She knows she's caught.

"You won't like what I was thinking." There's a teasing tone in her voice that I don't even try and resist.

"Oh?" Between bites I raise my brows at her, allowing some amusement reach my expression. She probably has some criticism on my stubborn refusal to take medicine. I don't blame her- I'd have smacked me, if I was her. She probably helped me while I was fighting an infection fever. Probably sat just where she's sitting right now… Just because of me… For me. I don't want her worrying about me, and yet…

The lamp is old, taken from the Shinra mansion by Tifa herself to decorate my room. The light from it is very orange- almost like a fireplace- but steady. It makes her look mature, makes her eyes a rich wine color that's so expressive. Luckily she cuts my reverie.

"I was thinking that you're looking much better." Then she shifts in her spot and looks straight at me, eyes honest and so pleased, "Not from your fall- in general." I wait. She continues, "Ever since Hojo died." She says, not noticing (or choosing not to) as I hastily reach for my drink. Don't throw that name at me while I'm eating! I think I swallowed something the size of a golf ball. "Ever since he died you've… You've change- for the better. It's like ten years were removed from you, and all that pain and hate you had… It's like it's gone."

I stay quiet.

There's very little I can say to that. I don't know if she's right, or seeing what she wants to see. I eat, and pretend that my mashed potatoes need re-arranging. I make a little Japanese garden using my fork.

"What's that scowl for?" She chuckles at my discomfort. "It's a compliment." She leans towards me to try and peer into my face. I don't shy away, but I don't meet her eyes either. Yes, I know it's a compliment. I just don't know what to do or say. I guess I should thank her, but I don't agree with her. She is just saying it to make me feel better. Or something. She's just a nice person. Probably the nicest of my acquaintance.

Too slow, Valentine.

"Vincent, you're really handsome when you're casual." I almost want to tell her to shut up. I don't want to hear it. My stomach ties in a small knot and my face feels hot. "You should show your face and collar bones more often." She leans back, straightens. I follow her with my eyes. It wouldn't bother me if it was any other person. But it's Tifa. She can say it like she means it. Even when she doesn't.

"You are too kind." Is all I can muster, then I look away. I can't hide my face, and again I feel that nagging vulnerability. The knowledge that anyone can look in my face and see me as I am. All, perhaps, except Tifa. Don't raise your expectations, Tifa. I'm much worse once you get to know me. You like me because you make up the parts of me that you don't know. If only you could see…

She changes the subject, but something in her eyes when I glance at her suggests we're not finished.

"We're all going to go down to Midgar to see what we can do for them." Then she gets up and stretches, pulling her elbows above her head until her shoulder-bone pops. "You're going to have to baby-sit Marlene."

What? Wait. No. I'm surprised they would even consider something like that. The child is clearly not fond of me, and I am the last person to care for her.

…Are they crazy?

"We should be back tomorrow afternoon." She gets up to leave, then adds as though to reassure me, "She's going to sleep soon, so you should really only have to take care of her tomorrow."

I don't want to.

She is at the door now, and I ask quickly,

"Where is my cloak?" I guess I should call it a cape, but saying 'cape' sounds like I should have a suit of spandex to go with it. 'Super Vincent', with awesome Vincent powers: the ability to brood in broad daylight and fall in love with other men's wives.

"In the laundry." She beams at me. Insufferable woman.

"And my boot?" Leg. It's my leg. The words out of my mouth are not the ones my brain sends. I should fire my neural signals. Her smile slackens,

"Cid said he still had to do work on it. He said he'll get to it first thing when he gets back."

So he's just going to leave me here a cripple? I hate that man forever. I don't say anything, of course. What right do I have to complain when he's doing magnificent work? What right do I have to ask him to take time from helping the injured and beleaguered of Midgar to fix my leg?

Tifa leaves the room, closing the door completely. I sigh heavily. At least there'll be no one around to see me hobble and hop. Good thing my arm feels much better.

First and foremost, though, I finish the food.

Hi! Stuff is actually going to sorta happen next chapter. I deliberately have short chapters- slow pace should be taken in moderation. I think it might become a little too much otherwise.

Sorry for the slight delay in this chapter- I couldn't log in for some reason. You might expect the next chapter mid-week, if I'm satisfied with it. Maybe Tuesday or Wednesday. I'm working ahead of the story, changing it as I go along. I think I know where I'm going with it. I'll still be happy to hear suggestions, and as always- your reviews really touch me, each and every single one. Thank you, and please continue to let me know what you think! Anything from portrayal of poor Vincent to the pace of the story. Thanks!