Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or the characters that may or may not appear in this story. These belong to Square-Enix and them alone.

Author's Note: I am more or less pleasantly surprised by the warm reception this particular story has received. :) It seriously is something to bring a smile to my face to read the kind comments you are far too kind to leave. It really makes the time to write all the more worth it knowing that someone out there in the vast internet enjoyed what my tired cranium cranked out. Sorry it took so long:( Life has been incredibly busy only allowing a sentence here and there to be added and months at a time no less! Anyways I do hope you all enjoy this chapter! Big thanks for Savvy for helping me through this ordeal. You are my rock:D I heart you long time.

Places of Origin

By Lady Winde

Chapter Two: Slip of the Tongue

Damned if you do, damned if you don't, and double damned if you screw it up.

Sharp crimson eyes scanned the bustling townscape of Kalm, his aching muscles slightly flexing now and then to keep his blood circulation flowing lest he start to feel to tell tale prickling of numbness that was sure to follow from his uncomfortable position on his chosen perch.

The slight sting across his cheek was easily ignored, having endured far worse unimaginable torture than the trivial sensation that would flare to life now and again each time a gentle breeze wished to caress his face. Still, he couldn't help but feel particularly appreciative of the kind proprietor of "The Dirty Hammock."

She hadn't taken too kindly to the honest critique of her experimenting with the odd mixture of various liquors, although in all fairness he had made it clear with two dark words he had only wanted what he so vaguely ordered. It was only just to tell her how it was and he certainly had no qualms about it since she insisted that he "lay it to her straight."

Her reaction had been both swift and telling.

He had wondered if she felt any sort of trepidation as he glared at her through his sidelong glance with narrowed eyes, scarlet irises far too kind to show just how dangerously far she had crossed that hidden line of Vincent's own meticulous rule of "Don't touch me." Vincent couldn't remember how long his face had stayed ever so still in that one position, a result from the force of the slap the barmaid had been ever so kind to grace him with, as he watched her worthless resolve slowly crumble piece by piece beneath his unrelenting steel-like stare.

At the very least he was able to get a description of Tifa's house out of her, though directions would have been far more preferable but at the slightest it had been something. Still, it probably all could have been avoided if he had simply kept to his gentlemanly manners, forcing his reliable mouth to utter words other than the truth that liked to force its way out of his mouth from time to time, although in all seriousness he knew that his latest slip of the tongue was far from some simple idiotic blurt. She asked and as he had so thought, he wasn't going to deny her the simple wish of what he thought of her poorly concocted drink.

As he sat a top the steep rooftop, as still as an eroding stone gargoyle keeping watch of its unwary wards below, he couldn't help but muse about, as per usual, the past; specifically what dealt with those certain events that most likely could have had some kind of favorable outcome, especially those relevant with a most crucial detail: keeping his ever pliant mouth closed.

So his wayward thoughts precariously trickled to a most important mistake. Vincent remembered the feeling of anxious anticipation as he patiently waited outside the calm courtyard that lay outside the towering mansion behind him. How the black velvet box felt within the hand that held it, his hand that was beginning to feel slick with sweat thanks to the effects of his alien nervousness.

All the naïve promises of true love and happiness had been contained and forever infused into that simple golden band, the promise of happily ever-after delicately symbolized within the simple diamond that adorned that precious piece of jewelry.

How completely unexpected things had turned out.

Instead of a woman, overjoyed, rushing to embrace her one true love, gifting his face with happy tears and kisses with a breathy whisper of acceptance, all the little telltale things he needed to know what her answer had been, these diminutive effects that belied a hint of the true happiness that awaited them, he had instead a woman who left him to his shattered thoughts. A woman who had utterly refused him and ran into the arms of another.

Upon his perch atop the slanted roof he couldn't help the thoughtful look that graced his tranquil features as he remembered how each step of her heeled shoes sounded upon cobbled stone and cut grass as she fled to who knows where although he certainly knew who.

At the very least she was compassionate and gracious enough to let him keep the damned ring.

And how could he ever forget his choice to, at last, finally step up to that wretched being of a man that stole what he had thought was his one shot at his own happiness, the peculiar man that tainted that misguided woman with those unthinkable experiments heaven knows what was doing to their child, the babe created from the unthinkable coupling of Hojo and Lucrecia, that innocently continued to mature inside that woman's defiled womb.

How valiant, how noble he felt thinking that if he couldn't have her, the least he could do was be the honorable man that Hojo could never be: the man that would be her savior, her knight that would save her and that ill-fated child.

With the grace and stealth of a panther on the prowl, taking care to not make even the subtle hint of sound lest his prey find him out, he made his way through dank tunnel to emerge into disheveled laboratory. Oh how those daring words flew from his bold mouth with his finger holding steady to the trigger within his pocket.

Then he remembered how so much he wanted to laugh as he sank to the floor, blood soaked hand clutching to his chest as the gloating scientist towered above him with madness gleaming behind spectacled eyes.

How could he have known Hojo was such a lucky shot? But then... it's not like he moved when that twisted scientist's pistol suddenly appeared, gleaming in the light... There had been more than enough time...

A hint of a groan rumbled in his throat as he finally decided to let one of his legs dangle over the side of the tall house he had occupied as his stake out. With a tilt of his head and weary eyes did he continue to seek out his destination, although with the way his thoughts were now he may as well set up camp, hoping the family that resided within would do well to ignore him and let him carry on in his own strange way.

So what of the times where he could have said something to change the ultimate course of destiny? To persuade which way the wheel was destined to turn?

He could remember the newly built headquarters of Shinra Inc., the tower of a building at the center of it all. Midgar, the metropolis of new beginnings that offered enticing promises of a brighter and safer future. There he had been sitting at his polished desk in his office, the lights curiously turned off, listening to the pitter patter of rain and clapping thunder outside, watching the walls intently as the dancing shadows played along the angles of the room. He remembered how annoyed he was when his ever excitable partner came rushing in, a folder in hand no doubt with instructions for another precarious mission that was to be carried out.

How thrilling.

Vincent had been in a sour mood that entire length of day, for reasons he couldn't really remember, it being a life time ago, he wanted to forget and dwell in the providing den of shadow protected from everything as he always did when something was on his mind. He couldn't forget how much his instinctive gut had been screaming for him to decline it. He had been high enough in the chain of command to do such things. He had the power of choice.

Then.

That of course led to another event that was laid before him ever so neatly, something he could have easily stepped over without ever looking back and never knowing just how that decision would have saved him so much heartache and unneeded pain.

He had arrived at the steps of Nibelheim. He couldn't shake the sense of foreboding he had felt since eyeing the folder that was ever so neatly placed in his hands. If only he had known that that place, that town, would be the keeper of his entombed and comatose body for three long decades. Ever the professional, he paid his cab fare and walked toward what would soon be the start of his falling destiny.

There had been a woman waiting outside the well kept mansion, he remembered how her piles of luggage were neatly placed beside the large wooden doors as she stood there with a helpless look upon her face as she regarded all that she had brought.

How cruel was fate to deposit him there as if he was the one destined to be this siren's bell boy ready to follow her every whim at beck and call.

He was left breathless, sweaty. His well starched suit, wrinkled. The ordeal of carrying her luggage had been hardly worth all that effort. As he leaned against the painted wall of her room to recover from his favor he could feel her eyes upon him. And then there it was again. That uneasiness that had occupied his very being when he opened the folder to the mission, when he stepped outside his cab with the menacing mansion waiting to devour him, and then... there at that very moment it weighed heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Get out. Leave her be and carry on your way. Such feelings of foreboding and he knew ignoring it the first time was something that could have proven to be his undoing as a Turk. But when such a feeling came from being in the mere presence of a woman? And in crashing waves no less! Such instincts had to be followed, had to be obeyed to ensure survival.

"Thank you so much for all your help... Say would you like to join me at the café they have in town? Hmm? Don't be shy... It'll be my treat."

What a weak and pitiful excuse of a man he had suddenly become.

A look of hope flashed across his face as he finally found the house he had been searching for. The unexpected discovery was enough in itself to shake him from his usual lapses down memory lane. There was a feeling of hope within his step, a sense of confidence within his gait.

Another step closer to finally reacquainting himself with Tifa Lockhart.

He really had missed her. Not in the romantic sense. Vincent had truly missed his friend and the thought that he would be able to see her again was very encouraging? No, that wasn't it. Something he couldn't place put into words.

The smile that briefly played upon his lips reveled in pleasant thoughts of their upcoming reunion.

A recollection recently played within those old reminiscences, pleasant as always when dealing with her. Something of the sort he more than once relived since that precious moment, to a night he knew words whether in absence or declaration held no manner of weight much to his delighted pleasure.

oOoOoOoOo

The solitary figure of a man sat along the wide edge of the window, his left arm casually draped against the pedestal of his raised knee, metal talons lazily curled barely touching the pad of his palm. His crimson cloak-draped shoulders were relaxed against the support the frame of the window had to offer. The lone man's seemingly uninterested gaze took in the scenery below through half lidded eyes.

Bright lights of every color imaginable cheerfully lit the way for many a jubilant tourist who all seemed so ignorant and oblivious to the fact that in a week or two their world would become no more. Was that how they were going to deal with the impending doom that literally was hanging over their heads? So many people gathered about, celebrating what they had left of life at the well established Golden Saucer?

Vincent could only manage to huff in slight disdain. What would he have chosen had he the power too? Spend his final moments with a loved one? He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that thought. Cruel white light suddenly engulfed him, he couldn't help but wince at the sudden assault on his vision, his usual detached expression turning into a hateful scowl as he quickly covered his face with his tattered cloak.

As the cruel spotlight descended back whence it came, ever so slowly did the blood hued fabric rescind to the point that only crimson eyes were allowed permission to peer out over the scene again, to observe those around him as he often did. Despite the festivities beneath his stoic gaze he couldn't help but wonder of the... dense weight that seemed to cling so desperately to the air.

Tomorrow they would head over to the lost ruins of the Cetra, the legendary temple of the Ancients.

With a sigh that escaped parted lips, his forehead gently pressed against the reinforced glass allowing a small part of his cheek to kiss the smooth surface. How long would it be till they were able to defeat that woman's child? His eyes grew dark. How different would Sephiroth have been had he known who his real mother was?

Before his thoughts could delve beyond that initial thought, a gentle knock echoed throughout the silent room. He was more than thankful that Cloud had decided to answer it. He had no desire to move himself from where he was relaxed.

The familiar lilting voice filled the air while Cloud's own mumbling words followed. He continued to ignore their uninteresting jabber, by the sounds of the girlish teasing and odd silence here and there that they certainly weren't continuing the solemn topic of tomorrow's mission earlier that eve.

With a side long glance he caught sight of the flower girl, a slight blush playing upon her cheeks as she grabbed for the pretender SOLDIER's hand. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took notice of how intimate they seemed as they exited the room. As the door was gently shut, his attention returned to the window, his distant gaze lifting to the ever twinkling stars above.

He couldn't help but feel some sort of empathy for Tifa.

Another gentle tapping echoed through out the silent room, a feeling of uneasiness came over him. Perhaps it was RED XIII wanting to discuss his own set of worries regarding their journey thus far and perhaps even his hopes and dreams for the future, he even dared hope that it was Cid, and reaching further into his despondent thoughts, Yuffie.

When he heard the voice behind the door, Vincent couldn't help but shake the waves of disappointment that washed over him.

"The door is open..."

If the slow creaking of the door was but a symbol of her insecurity than the slight tremble to her voice was a blazing sign. He continued to hold his concentrated stare outside, hoping she wouldn't ask that which he knew she was most likely to. "Ah... Hmm. Cloud's not around? I thought he said he was going to be resting here tonight."

His eyes lowered to the ground below, watching pink and blue wander around hand in hand. Curiously watching how they laughed, watching how utterly... happy they both seemed; completely unaware and uncaring that someone from their group was watching them. He wished Cloud would just let her know where he stood and how he felt and stopped giving her such false hope. How he hated these mind games people played.

"Cloud is down below."

"You mean he's having fun without us?" She was probably shaking her head in dismay as a silent sigh escaped her lips, Vincent could only merely speculate as his gaze lingered upon the pair below. "Well thanks for the information. I better go fi—."

"You won't want to find him." He held her down with a side long impassive stare, watching her thoughts at work. There was no doubt in his mind that there was a similar reason to Aeris' visit for Tifa to be here. The tell tale signs of hope fading fast from what had been a cheerful face began to take shape; her stare leaving his unreadable gaze to find sympathetic sanctuary with the carpet beneath her steel toed boots. A gloved hand pushed back the hair that fell over her shoulder as she slouched; brown eyes trembled as they continued to make a detailed study of her shoelaces.

It was as if time chose to stand still just for her as she took the news in, he mused. How different she seemed from sparse moments before. He made a detailed study of her face, watching the mask, one she had become so accustomed to wear, slowly build it self piece by piece. Her false smile was daintily painted upon her lips, her cinnamon gaze continued to avoid Vincent's. He could feel her defeat emanating from her in shallow waves; this was a look and a feeling he had worn so many times as he looked at his reflection in mirrors so many years ago.

How it didn't suit her.

Not at her age.

Then it came, barely above a whisper the trembling words did their best to remain steady as they fled parted lips, "I see..." She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back on her heels as she continued to avert her eyes from his. A pang of regret pulsed inside his chest as his brow furrowed slightly. She had all her hopes hanging on this moment, whatever it was she wanted to tell Cloud he could guess... no he knew they meant the world to her and in that instant he was taken back to the courtyard with velvet box in hand.

He was not Cloud. He could not give her what she wanted nor would he say what she wanted to hear. He could tell her what everyone else knew, say the words that Cloud hadn't the courage to say but for what? Those were words that had to be told by none other than a man he knew was destined to kill Sephiroth. It was simply not his place. Nor did he have any desire to do so.

No he was not Cloud Strife. He quickly unlocked the large window with a metal talon, pushing the panes of glass open. The wind pushed itself within as soon as the glass was parted, hair and cloak whipped about. He was Vincent Valentine. He would give what he could though he wasn't entirely sure what it was he had to meagerly offer lest of all if Tifa would want whatever was presented but if he could take her mind off of her heart's desire he could in the very least attempt to try.

She was alone.

He was alone.

Both so terribly alone.

"Tifa." His stoic voice rose above the joyous sounds of cheerful music and people happily chattering and laughing that resonated within the room from below, "Stop." As the young woman slowly pivoted upon her heel, he took that moment to descend from his window sill perch. With his cape completely free it fluttered about more violently, perhaps making him appear more intimidating than usual.

He wasn't sure nor did he care.

A gloved hand emerged from within the morphing red mass, reaching out towards the young hesitant woman with outstretched fingers. Take it was the implied statement, a statement that silently waited to be acknowledged until he finally caught her curious stare. She was unsure that much he could tell and he supposed that much was all that could be expected. It wasn't often he went out of his way to make contact with his peers let alone instigate such actions.

It seemed all that Tifa could do was stare inquisitively at his hand, her mouth trying to form some sort of response. Would it be no? Yes? Whatever the case, Vincent knew she was stalling. Perhaps forming some sort of excuse so she could be alone with her thoughts.

Not tonight.

There could be no room for protest, "I simply wish for your company."

Before he could receive any response, he took her hand and gently tugged at the captive appendage, signaling her to follow his lead. A ghost of a smile graced his lips at her complete acceptance. Tonight would be theirs, a night for reflecting, a night for the pleasantly melancholic.

With a steady gait he led her through the window; never lessening his hold on her hand should she lose her footing and fall below. A thought he certainly did not wish to entertain.

Many a color of balloons drifted past them as they walked along the roof, a crescendo of cheers and applaud erupted as music began to play, the festivities were beginning to kick off for enchantment night it seemed.

"Where are we going?" There was no longer sadness etched within her voice, only genuine curiosity and at that fact Vincent couldn't help but feel quite pleased with himself.

Scanning the hotel's rooftop with meticulous care he spotted a vacant balcony not too far off, perhaps belonging to a special suite. With the celebrations in full effect he was more than sure that their trespass would be missed. With a tilt of his head he coolly regarded her through the corner of his eye. "Not far. Some place safer to sit."

He returned his attentions ahead not waiting to see what her reaction would be as they continued along the edge. No words were exchanged as they made the rest of the way to the chosen balcony. Not that he minded.

When at last he reached the balcony's rail he pressed himself against the hotel's walls allowing enough room to pull Tifa ahead of him. He masked his slight discomfort as her voluptuous form slid against his own as she made her way to the balcony. It seemed even Hojo's experiments couldn't erase all of his humanity: he was still but a base, base creature called a man at the core of it all.

A base creature indeed, but always and foremost a gentleman, "Ladies first..." The gentle tug upon the corner of her lips didn't go unnoticed as she slid against his rigid form to climb over into the gloomy balcony. Yes, he was very pleased indeed.

Carefully he stepped over the black marble rail, taking note of the gothic atmosphere the balcony had to offer. They certainly knew how to keep with the horror theme, he briefly thought as the gunman eyed the wilted rose bushes that lined along the rails in large unkempt antique urns. Upon closer inspection it appeared the plants hadn't even been watered in ages. Taking but a moment to look at the windows behind the fidgeting Tifa, one could see that the tattered drapes were in desperate need of changing and dusting for that matter...

Horror theme... or just plain lazy?

With a few precise steps, the cold metal of his ebony leather boots lightly clicking against the cool hard surface of the black marble, Vincent neatly fell into his usual sitting position with the agile grace of a trained assassin. The sudden momentum of it all sent crimson fabric fluttering every which way, tossing silken sable strands of hair to cradle visible portions of glowing porcelain skin. Beneath scarlet bandana, unreadable blood hued eyes held captive the unsure gaze of Tifa Lockhart.

With but a subtle glance over the young woman, he could read her like the open book she was; her eyes told him she was uncomfortable, the metal toe of her work boot trying to dig its way into the floor of the balcony told him she was nervous, and the slight slouch of her shoulders told him that she was unsure if not self-doubting. Overall there was the slight melancholy that she was valiantly trying to hide. But he knew...

The leather clad pads of his fingertips tapped the area beside him as he tilted his head to the heavens, "One finds it easier to gaze upon the stars when sitting... but if you prefer to stand then by all means..." A non committal shrug was sent the young woman's way as Vincent continued to hold her attention prisoner.

She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing as she let out a deep shaking sigh, "I'm sorry, Vincent," he took note of the slight tremble in words, "today's just been one of those days." Tifa ungracefully plopped herself next to the ex-Turk, tightly cradling her legs to her chest. "If it's not one thing it's another, you know?" Vincent silently nodded as he leaned back on his gloved hand, not wanting to point out the half truths in her statements.

Painted across the moonless nightscape, the twinkling stars of many a color gallantly held their ground, unmoving, in the arrogant presence of the crimson meteor. Vincent couldn't help but feel the hypnotizing effects that took him over as they usually did when he took the time to look to skies, a sense of calmness yet foreboding... He could almost feel the gentle tug against his soul urging for him to fall into twilight void... All it would seem to take was but a gentle push...

A slight tremble to his right quickly put a halt to the siren's call, his crimson eyes dilating as ebony lashes fluttered. The gunman looked to the shivering woman resting beside him, feeling a little remorse for dragging her all the way out into the open air and improperly clothed to face the cruel torment of the night wind. He offered his cloak, the genteel gesture it seemed she was more than happy to take.

As she draped the thick fabric over her legs, taking great comfort in the warmth it had to provide, Tifa at last took the time to speak, "You said... you wanted my company back there. Any reason why?"

A night for the melancholic...

He continued to look up into the stars, wind shifting his hair to and fro, "I didn't wish to be alone tonight."

Silence.

"You get lonely too..." A whisper of a suggestion fleeing her lips, speaking her thoughts he merely assumed.

He could only shrug his shoulders in response. It had all been a whim really, feeling empathy for someone stumbling down an all too familiar path. Vincent could feel her eyes upon him as his gaze stayed ever upward. Perhaps she was hoping to read his thoughts with what she had available. Crimson eyes were all that were visible and even from where she was sitting she couldn't hope to read any sort of emotion within, not that any person could try and interpret his empty dejected stare.

"Vincent? A-are you happy?"

Happiness. So fleeting. His gaze slowly turned sidelong as he finally chose to regard her, ebony locks shifting along the wind. "There's too much... weight." He paused unsure, "It has been there... pressing not allowing much room for much emotion..." Not that I could remember what happiness feels like to begin with... a thought he decided to keep only to himself. "But as long as others are content that is enough..."

A thoughtful expression painted Tifa's features as she nodded her head in contemplation, her silver earrings dangling with the slight movement, "I... think, I think I understand."

Did she now? He couldn't help but wonder what would weigh so heavy on her conscience.

"Let's make a wish." She abruptly jumped to her feet and ran to the balcony's edge, spinning on her heels to face the curiously cloaked man. "Pick a star and just make one. One for you, one for me, and hey how about one for each other, okay?"

He couldn't help but regard her inquisitively. Was this the very same woman that was wallowing in self defeat just short moments before? Her brown eyes held a dazzling spark all their own, her lips thinly pressed together in impulsive determination, her chest heaving with deep breathes from the swift movements, gloved hands gripping the rail of the balcony till her knuckles became white.

How curious indeed.

"A wish," Vincent nodded his head in agreement. A genuine smile sweetly blossomed upon her lips, a sudden bounce to her spin as she regarded the night sky with her full attention, perhaps scanning the heavens until she found her perfect wishing star.

He couldn't help but feel a tug of amusement at her sudden enthusiasm.

"Ohh... I found a nice white star..." She bowed her head and clasped her hands, or so he thought from his sitting position. "I wish... that Vincent Valentine will find his happiness..." She turned back and graced him with a timid smile, "even if he can be a little intimidating for happiness to find him."

He rose an eyebrow at the last remark, "Do I scare you?" It was a simple enough question.

"No, no. I didn't say scare." She playfully wagged a finger at him as she made her way back to her seat. "You're pretty intense though... as if every moment is THE moment. It's uh..." She gave a rueful grin as she leaned back on her elbows, legs outstretched, "hard to explain." Tifa pointed onward to the sky, "Your turn, Mr. Valentine."

Slowly trailing the length of her arm did his silent gaze meet the familiar blanket of glittering stars. Searching, searching for a star that held a luminance all its own. A wistful look washed over his features as his vision finally caught sight of a ruby red star, "A star set with ruby brilliance..."

"Sounds pretty..."

"I wish..." How unfamiliar and odd it was to hear such words leave his lips. His thoughts turned to that of Cloud. It wasn't his place to state what he knew she needed to hear. His mind stumbled through variant what ifs and what nots till finally... I wish that Tifa won't make the same mistakes I made when the one I loved, the one I cherished loved another. "I wish that Miss Lockhart may find her happiness... where ever she may find it."

Her brows knotted together as she shot him an annoyed look an expression that slowly transformed into a soft smile as her gaze slowly lifted to the heavens, "That's cheating I hope you know." Vincent merely shrugged.

In that very instant the skies themselves chose to finally come alive with explosive dazzling colors. Tifa's lips slightly parted as she looked on with breathless awe as the expensive show of fireworks continued, completely unaware that beside her the lone gunman took that time to study the oblivious woman instead.

It was certainly something to watch how serene and bright her face had become, how the shadows that graced her face would suddenly disappear when the colored lights would explode into the night sky allowing him a perfect glimpse of a painter's masterpiece in his mind's eye. How enraptured she looked...

He could almost smile at the sight. Almost.

oOoOoOoOo

As his feet landed with catlike precision upon shingled roof did he once again launch himself into the sunlit sky, his scarlet cloak trailing behind him, deep crimson flames flickering in the breeze, as he continued to jump from rooftop to rooftop. The faintest of smiles was etched upon his dry lips, an after effect of the pleasant memories just a few weeks shy of a year old. Not that he had been keeping track... How he wished he could have brought himself to smile that night; a night when two lonely souls were at peace stargazing what seemed such a short time ago.

Thinking back that night of fireworks and stargazing he couldn't help but feel the slight warmth that tenderly embraced. How alien it felt and all too familiar at once... The glacier... That thick wall of ice ever since the ashen embers of that house burned down to the ground... the chains that encased his heart, the coffin that entombed his soul... somehow everything was set free.

Such a small sign this warmth that enveloped him, the small smile that graced his lips. What else, his racing thoughts wondered as he was another house closer to his destination. Was he returning to his old self, a young man full of promise, confidence, pride...?

In some ways he couldn't help but feel relieved at the thought however what if say he was returning to old ancient form...What started this process? The burning of the Shinra Mansion. All signs pointed to that one single event.

He never took much to riding Chocobos and he had but ridden one through out his travels when he had usually preferred to walk, taking the scenery in one step at a time. Then his sudden urge to visit his comrade in arms. Why go through such the trouble? Stoic beasts need not visit friends. They could take care of themselves; that much he was more than sure of.

Then, of course... how lately his thoughts had been turning towards that of Miss Tifa Lockhart. Someone he hadn't seen since they departed from the Highwind after the battle that decided the fate of the entire world. Someone he hadn't chosen to visit up until now. He could easily recognize the long forgotten anxiety he was feeling regarding their reunion.

He viciously fought the anxiety down as he landed ever so neatly before her two story home.

Vincent took a moment, making a detailed study of her door's knocker before taking the metal piece in gloved hand and deciding to finally make use of it. Just as contact was made, he froze. Froze not because he was suddenly overcome with adolescent fear, not because he had a sudden change of heart but... there it was again!

He crept along the brick walls of her home, stepping over plant and gardening tool, slowly making his way toward the backyard where he was more than sure he had heard a feminine yelp. Vincent instinctively crouched low, making certain to hold his breathe lest he give away his position.

As he peered over the wooden gate his eyes quickly found what he had been looking for. Though now he feared he wasn't able to look away.

With another yell Tifa kicked at the practice dummy, the impact shaking the moisture from her sweat slick form. Her damp hair was falling out of its hair tie and he couldn't help but take note of the dark wet strands that clung so helplessly to the curve of her flushed cheek, the length of her neck... how strained the material was that held bountiful...

He had to force himself to close his eyes, reminding himself briefly he was a gentleman when his gaze took abrupt notice of her poor choice of color pertaining to sports bras. Didn't she realize just how drenched in sweat she was?

A shaky exhale later, his crimson eyes found themselves opened taking notice of the scandalous material that hugged her hips. Black shorts... if they could be called such things. A miniskirt he had been able to handle back then, but the flesh that showed... His eyes continued to betray him as they trailed down to her shapely legs, following their every movement as if he were merely entranced.

With eyes tightly shut he forced his stiff body to turn around, not taking a chance to stare even more and risk the title of voyeur, something he hadn't even meant to risk. This wasn't how he thought he'd see her when they met up again.

Barely covered, slick with sweat...

The images that raced through his mind were alien at best. It was completely mind boggling. This wasn't how he had thought he'd ever feel... again. If there were tell tale signs that he was losing that self of aloofness from being entombed for thirty years then this was a flaming bonfire that was about to touch the heavens themselves!

This was so unlike him. He was not some adolescent to be commanded by blossoming hormones and emotions long lost. He was Vincent Valentine, the ex-Turk marksman, second to none, known for his legendary stoic and cold behavior. With that thought he stood up, shoulders squared and straight as he pivoted around to courageously face the current tormentor of his troubled thoughts.

There she stood, unaware, back facing him as a long towel was draped over her shoulders. One gloved hand gently patted the nape of her neck while the other held a large plastic water bottle. Vincent couldn't help but watch as she tilted her head back wearing an expression one could only guess was ecstasy as she squeezed the contents of the bottle over her head.

Vincent's form went rigid in mid-step as his eyes viciously sought to trace each and every droplet of water that trickled down her form. Brow furrowed at how easily and uncharacteristically he had become distracted, he pushed open the gate and made his way toward her.

"Tifa." He gave a mental nod of approval. At least his voice hadn't betrayed him to show such emotion or any amount of turmoil he may have been feeling at the moment.

She looked back, the dreamy expression still fresh on her face when her eyes doubled in size. With a shaky breath she dropped the water bottle, spilling the rest of the contents around her as she took in the sight before her.

"You!" Tifa threw a scowl Vincent's way as she hugged her towel close to her chest, something the gunman was more than thankful for. "You have got break that habit of sneaking up on people!" As she shook her head, wispy tendrils shook here and there, a droplet of water falling to the ground...

Vincent's gaze stayed fastened to Tifa's brow, afraid his eyes would suddenly become wayward... "You made a promise when we first met... back in Rocket Town... I've come to collect on that promise, Miss Lockhart." The drink... That bartender has good reason to be jealous of you...

A look of confusion washed over the young woman's features, an action that made her slightly lower the towel. An action that had Vincent on the verge of forcefully draping the towel over her shoulders so she never worry of it falling and exposing what lay underneath ever again. "A promise?"

"The drink, Tifa..." Feeling more confident, Vincent took a step forward while determined crimson held captive cinnamon prisoner, "How you promised you would make me hard and sweat."

Oh sweet heavens above me...

"Oh yeah! Wait... what?"