Conflicting Thoughts, Scarlet Morning

"Why am I fighting to live/ if I'm just living to fight?/ Why am I trying to see/ if there ain't nothing in sight?/ Why am I trying to give/ when no one gives me a try?/ Why am I dying to live/ if I'm just living to die?"

– Dying to Live, Jonny Lang

"Now that has got to be the cutest goddamn thing I have ever seen," Cloud muttered to himself, leaning on the doorframe of guest room. Tifa grinned next to him, nodding her agreement.

When Tifa had checked on the kids in the morning, she noticed that Marlene was absent from her bed. So she went to Cloud's room, her favorite place to crawl when she had nightmares. When she found a still–sleepy Cloud and no Marlene, she began to panic. Cloud, however, kept his head. There was only one other bed in the house. And he'd found, well, the cutest goddamn thing he'd ever seen.

Sunlight streamed through the light curtains into the spotless guest room, bare with only the bed, desk, and small dresser. Vincent lay on his back on top of the blankets, dark hair mussed with sleep and lips parted slightly. Marlene was curled into a ball, top of her fist pressed against her mouth, head resting on Vincent's right arm, which was wrapped protectively around her shoulders. She was completely engulfed in Vincent's cloak, one bare foot sticking out. Both of them were positively and completely asleep.

"Who knew Gloom–and–doom had a soft side?" Cloud muttered to Tifa from the side of his mouth, and her grin grew wider as she elbowed him in the side.

"Come on, let them be. You know how little sleep she got because of her worry. I'll start breakfast." She grabbed his arm, dragging him out of the doorway. He glanced back, just once, before returning his attention to Tifa.

"Breakfast?"

Vincent woke upon hearing pots and pans clanging from downstairs. He frowned before opening his eyes, his body much too warm, strange pressure on his shoulder. Marlene. He snapped his eyes open, recollections of his destructive nightmares flooding back, mental image of Marlene bruised and battered, lying in a puddle of blood on the floor of her own home. His heart beat skipped and then began to slow as he saw her, still sleeping peacefully against him, unharmed by his nightly manifestations. How did I sleep the night without another nightmare?

Slowly, to not disturb the sleeping girl, Vincent eased himself up, slipping his arm from under her. He grimaced, rotating his shoulder against the stiffness. He carefully covered her exposed foot, shaking his head, trying to get his orientation. I haven't slept like that in… years. He swung his slender legs over the edge of the bed and left the room quietly, shutting the door he didn't remember leaving open. As he padded down the hallway toward the bathroom, he tried to remember what had disturbed him before Marlene came to his room. His nightmares but… something had… changed. How had he slept a night without destroying everything in a three–foot radius?

As he reached the bathroom door, it opened, and a freshly showered Shelke stood in front of him, eyes widened slightly, the closest she came to surprise. "Vincent Valentine."

He looked down at her, body small like Marlene's, mind too much like his own. He smiled at the way she always intoned his name. "How are you feeling today?"

She smiled her dry smile. "My legs ache."

"It is quite the hike down from the waterfall."

"Good thing I had chocobos waiting then?" She smiled up at him again, more open this time, and Vincent was amazed by how much she looked like any other teenaged girl, even if for just a moment.

"What are your plans for today?" He asked, crossing his arms in front of him, content to converse with her.

Her eyebrows furrowed, just a little. How much expression such little things showed, after no expression from her at all. Amazing. "I was going to visit the Shin–Ra. See if they know of any way to release my body from its mako… confinement."

He leaned against the doorway. "There is a doctor in Mideel, who specializes in mako poisoning. He runs a clinic. He helped Cloud, when he was caught in the Lifestream and poisoned. You should see him."

She nodded. "I will have to ask Cid for a ride."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy your company."

"He's already working on another model, you know. He doesn't want to be content with his smaller vessels." Shelke paused to consider. "Although the Shera was an excellent ship." She glanced up at him. "In any case, I'd better call him soon." She headed down the hallway toward the stairs without another word.

A few minutes later, as he exited the bathroom, Vincent caught the smell of cooking bacon. Of course, Tifa would make a home–coming breakfast. His feet slapped against the hardwood floor as he hurried downstairs, the thought of Tifa's cooking making his mouth water. He turned the corner to the kitchen, squinting against the bright sunlight, hand raised to shield his eyes.

Tifa stood in her spotless kitchen with her back to him, facing the stove, which was covered in spitting and hissing pans that smelled wonderful. Light from the window made her dark hair gleam with subtle highlights, her pearl earrings complementing the tresses swept over her shoulder perfectly. She looked like the deadly angel she was, and for just a split second, Vincent saw honey brown hair and golden brown eyes instead of Tifa's wine–hued ones, her kindness and thoughtfulness making his heart twist as he remembered Lucrecia. He shook his head against the illusion, once again seeing one of his best friends instead of the woman he'd loved and lost.

Cloud stood next to Tifa, close, and Vincent could just see his profile as he leaned on one hand against the counter, head lowered so he could look up at her. Vincent heard a distinct giggle from Tifa and Cloud's face settled in a soft grin, and that's when Vincent realized he may have interrupted a moment. He turned to head to the living room, but unfortunately, the movement caught Cloud's eye. He pulled away from the stove, losing his grin, and Tifa turned as well.

"Vincent!" She beamed at him. "You're awake! And just in time for breakfast!" Tifa held out a pan of golden and fluffy eggs. Vincent glanced at Cloud, who glowered from the disruption. I believe I may need to speak with him later.

Vincent returned his attention to Tifa. He tried out the slight smile that had been haunting his lips since he left Lucrecia's cavern the day before. "Thank you so much for your hospitality, Tifa." She lit up even more, and dear gods, Cloud's scowl grew deeper. Don't worry, I'm not moving in on your territory, Strife.

Tifa ushered them to the table, pulling plates out of the cabinet for five. "Cloud, will you wake the kids?"

Cloud pushed back his chair, and it squeaked against the floor. Marlene. Right. "Marlene is asleep in the guest room."

Cloud shot him an amused look as he left the room. "I know." Tifa stifled a giggle, and Vincent realized why his door had been open. He shrugged his shoulders, and began helping Tifa set the table.

She glanced at him from across the table. "Shelke left, about half an hour ago, saying she might be gone for a few days."

Vincent nodded. "I spoke with her in the hall, earlier. She's going to Mideel to visit the doctor there."

"Oh. I hope she'll be okay, going alone and all." She handed Vincent the forks.

He began to lay them next to the plates as she reached for glasses and the carton of milk. "She'll be fine." With getting there, at least. The rest remains to be seen. He chose not to voice his fears aloud. Small feet clattered down the stairs, followed by the heavy tread of Cloud's boots, and Marlene and Denzel burst into the room. They were noisy and full of energy, giving Tifa good morning hugs, asking for various things for the pancakes, chairs squeaking and glasses clinking as they got in her way. Marlene boosted herself into the chair next to Vincent's, scooting closer until their legs almost touched, swinging her feet and smiling up at him. She had an imprint from a buckle on his cloak on her cheek.

Everyone was seated soon, Denzel shooting rapid–fire questions at Cloud about motorcycle riding lessons, Cloud trying to let the boy down easy while keeping one ear out as Tifa explained the plans for the day, and they discussed Cloud's deliveries and work schedule and Marlene plowed into her syrup drenched pancakes with a disconcerting energy.

Vincent picked at his eggs and watched the harmonious discord that was their family, and felt strangely out of place but comforted at the same time. Even during the peaceful times of the past few years, he'd dodged from place to place, never staying long enough to feel at home, always restless. And now, he felt more at peace here, even though so many things were still unresolved. Shelke's health. Rebuilding Kalm. Shalua's memorial. Cloud and Tifa. My own demons, still scrambling for my blood.

A man of walking contradictions. Vincent dropped his fork, and it clattered against the plate. That voice had not been his own. Marlene was the only one to notice. She looked up at him, pausing in her hunger, with that disarming concern that only children seem to have. He gave her a faint smile as he retrieved the fallen utensil, and she turned her attention back to her breakfast, reassured.

I have let you go; I am trying to find my place again. Why do you choose to haunt me now?

Breakfast ended soon. Tifa convinced the children to help her with the dishes, and Cloud headed up the stairs, to review for his deliveries for the day. Vincent trailed after him, catching his attention on the small landing that housed the phone and work desk. Cloud was bent over, shuffling through papers, and jumped when Vincent spoke.

"Strife. A moment?"

Cloud nodded silently, crossing his arms in front of him, and Vincent laughed inwardly. Sometimes we are so much alike.

"Cloud. You need to tell her how you feel." Cloud raised an eyebrow, mouth opened to protest, and Vincent cut him off with a raised hand. "Please. For your sake, and hers, stop pretending. What can you lose?" Vincent mirrored Cloud, arms crossed, leg out, and met his stare. "It won't match what you might gain. Don't take it for granted anymore." Vincent turned, hand habitually out to sweep aside the cloak he wasn't wearing, and ascended the rest of the steps to his room. When was I qualified to give romantic advice? He wanted to laugh at his own cynicism. Maybe a bit dramatic, but isn't that how he operates?

He shut the door behind him, turning to pick up his leather pants off the top of the dresser. He changed quickly, tying his weathered bandana across his forehead to tame his unruly bangs. He reached for the cloak, still crumpled in a pile on the bed, and hesitated before picking it up. It still held a faint version of Marlene's scent, and his mind was once again trying to grasp the mystery of why she was still all right in the morning. Have my demons let me go, finally? He reached out and brushed his painful memories, and the things he relived every night since sealing himself into the coffin roared back at him, strong as ever, although slightly more bearable. He sat down hard on the bed, cloak across his lap, and discovered a new fear: he would watch Marlene grow and bloom, but he would also see her wither and die, just as he would watch Cloud and Tifa and Cid and Barret and Reeve and Shelke and Yuffie, even Nanaki, return to the Lifestream and leave him alone, never to have that joy, to walk the planet's surface with his cursed body, tormented by the memories of his friends and the crystallized portrait of Lucrecia. Vincent stared grimly down at the hand clutching the scarlet folds of his cloak, as real as the deaths he'd have to bear, and remembered why he woke holding Cerberus so many nights. As if he could shoot those specters out of the air around him.

This life… it holds as much, if not more, pain than the joys I find. The lightened mood he felt this morning was gone. He hung his head. How long will I be able to bear it? What hope do I have that is not tainted with inevitable despair? He stood, sweeping the cloak over his shoulders. It felt heavier, now. He fastened the buckles with practiced hands, and checked to make sure his cell phone and remaining materia (well, the materia Yuffie hadn't pilfered off him yet) was still in the pouch hanging on his belt, and Cerberus slung into the holster. I suppose I must move ahead. That's what I'm grateful for, at least. The chance? He shook his head against his thoughts. She's locked in that cavern, Valentine. She doesn't get a chance. You've got hers and yours both. It's her retribution, more so than it is yours, to live without her. What are you going to do with this final gift she gave to you? Vincent heard the phone begin to ring down the hall. Can I do anything, besides punish myself?

A man of walking contradictions…

The phone cut off, mid–ring. Vincent heard Tifa's low greeting, and then, after a pause, an enthusiastic, "Cid! How are you? And Shera?" Another pause. "Yes, he's here with us, for now… He stayed the night." Tifa paused again. "Yes, I'll get him…" and then a loud, "Vincent! Cid's on the phone!"

Vincent sighed, not sure of this mixed blessing. He wasn't in the frame of mind to deal with the brash, foul–mouthed pilot. But he rose from the bed anyway, armored boots clunking, and went to speak on the phone, the device he hated above all devices. He paused, trying to reconcile his thoughts before leaving the room.

What can I gain? Anymore than I have already lost…?