Parallel

"If it takes my whole life/ I won't break I won't bend/ it'll all be worth it, worth it in the end/ so I can only tell you what I know, that I need you in my life/ and when the stars have all gone out, you'll still be burning so bright"
– Answer, Sarah McLachlan

The air was so still after Vincent's pronouncement that the plink, plink of the leak on the tap in the kitchen echoed. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, ignore their astonishment and drown in the emotions that slammed into him, as he had the long years in his coffin, but instead of anger and pain and torment, it was fear and alarm and a glimmer of something he wouldn't name, wouldn't allow himself to feel, but was there despite of it. And so he stayed where he was, crouched on one knee, watching as Cloud's eyes widened and Tifa's slender hand flew to cover her open mouth. They stared at him for just a moment, before bursting into questions at the same time.

"Vincent, what do you mean?"

"Vincent, are you sure?"

They stopped, stared at each other, and Tifa's eyes darted back to Vincent as his face went ashen. The tide of emotions had taken its toll on him. His beasts began to boil under his skin, each one clawing and tearing at the others for the right to surface, reacting the only way they knew when Vincent reached his breaking point. Already exhausted, he let out a low growl, forgetting everything except the dire need to submerge those demons. That phantom image of Marlene, bleeding and broken, came back to him. I… cannot… harm…

Tifa let out a startled cry, scrambling back from him just as she felt Cloud's hands on her waist, pulling her away and lifting her to her feet. He pushed Tifa to one side, putting his shoulder between her and Vincent, who strangled out another deep snarl, his claw digging furrows into the hardwood floor. Cloud instinctively reached for the sword normally slung across his back, and when he discovered it wasn't there, mentally cursed Tifa's no–swords–in–the–house rule. He set his jaw, disliking the reaction his friend was going through, hoping it wouldn't come to blows. Tifa clutched onto his arm, breath ragged, hand covering her mouth once more.

The roar of the Galian Beast, the throaty rumble of Death Gigas, the whine of Hellmasker's weapon, and, most of all, that sinister hum of Chaos. Vincent bit down on his tongue, tasting the metallic bitterness of his own blood, feeling it slide, warm and taunting, down his throat. I… will… not… harm…He dug his fingernails into the wood of the floor, focusing on the agony of his nails bending and breaking, the bite of the splinters puncturing the skin of his palm. They fought, harder and harder, not understanding why he resisted, desperate to be free, and he gnashed his teeth together, desperate in his own attempt to abate the flood. Need to… control… just a moment… longer…

One last anguished cry ripped out of Vincent's throat, and his eyes fluttered, rolling back into his head, and, with a loud whoosh of breath, he slumped face–first to the floor, unconscious but victorious. Tifa jumped, her hold on Cloud's arm tightening for just a moment. She stepped forward, and Cloud shot out one hand, blocking her path. He knew she simply wanted to check on their friend, but he wasn't risking anything. He held her in place until he was reassured that Vincent wasn't going to transform. He had seen those creatures in battle, and was afraid of the consequence of one not controlled by Vincent's battle aura. It would destroy Cloud and Tifa's home, and they might die trying to subdue it. What would Vincent's guilt be like, then?

When Cloud lowered his arm, Tifa darted forward, skidding to her knees next to Vincent. She rolled him onto his side, relieved to see his breathing was steady and even. She glanced up at Cloud, who had come to stand across from her. "I think he just…" she looked down at his face, eyebrows furrowed together and lip bleeding. "Just needs to rest." She looked back up at Cloud. "That must've been quite a shock…"

Cloud, for the moment, was wordless. He nodded down at her before shooing her out of the way. He crouched on one knee and slid one arm under Vincent's shoulders, the other where his knees bent. Cloud grunted as he lifted Vincent's dead weight, and when he managed to stand, discovered an uncomfortable jab in his hip. "Tifa," he pivoted his left side to face her. "Will you grab his gun? It's digging into my gut." He swayed Vincent's body away from his own, giving her room to retrieve the triple–barreled revolver. She hesitated, never at ease with any weapon other than her fists. "Just make sure the safety's on," Cloud reassured her. "But he's getting heavy."

Tifa reached in with one hand, and Cloud sucked in his breath when her knuckles brushed against his stomach. She pulled it out between the two men, and reached for where the safety normally would be. Not finding one, she frowned and turned it over carefully to study the other side. "There is no safety." She looked up at Cloud, her face stormy. "And I've been letting him walk around my house with two kids and no safety on this Odin–forsaken thing?" She held it out from her with two fingers.

"Tifa," Cloud pleaded with her gently, "You can't yell at him while he's passed out. Can we get him upstairs, please?" He widened his blue eyes at her slightly, knowing exactly what effect it would have on her.

She paused in what Cloud knew was an inward rehearsal of her don't–ever–endanger–the–kids–again tirade. She gazed up at him, a brief smile fluttering across her face, before shaking her head against the distraction. "Right. We'll need my Cure materia, too." She frowned down at the rivulets of blood covering his right hand, but at least she was moving toward the stairs.

They got Vincent onto his bed, cured and bandaged, and as they started to leave the room to let him rest, Tifa stopped at the doorway to look back at him. Cloud paused, right behind her, and they both watched Vincent's sleeping form for a moment. "Do you think he'll be okay?" Tifa asked softly.

Cloud gave a resolute nod. "Vincent? His scrapes will heal by morning."

Tifa shook her head, the edges of her hair brushing Cloud's throat. "Not his body. I'm just worried that he'll… What do you think he'll do?"

Cloud pondered for a second, although he instantly knew the answer. "He'll do anything he can to bring her back to him."

Tifa caught her breath, berating herself for asking such a stupid question. She sometimes forgot the eerie parallels that Vincent and Cloud shared. Despite herself, for just a moment, she wished Vincent would move on and leave his memories of Lucrecia just that; maybe find another girl to be happy with. But she knew she mustn't push her own wishes onto someone else. Maybe he could be happy with Lucrecia; he had to try, didn't he? She knew she wanted a good life for Vincent, after all he'd done for her and the others, and if regaining Lucrecia was what he needed to do to achieve it, she'd help him every step of the way. Despite whatever hardships her own life carried. Tifa closed her eyes, wanting to lean back into Cloud's chest, reveling in his close proximity. Is this how he feels when he's at her cavern? This blissful, penetrating sadness? Is that why he doesn't ever give up on her?

Cloud's brain caught up to his mouth and enlightened him on Tifa's sudden quietness. He cursed himself. "Tifa…" He shook his head, at a complete loss for words, so he let them hang between them, fragile and invisible as a spider's thread. He wanted to lift up one hand and tangle it into her fine hair, feel it slide through his fingers, breathe in the bouquet of her shampoo, but for the life of him, he could not take back those words, however true they were for Vincent. Although Tifa was inches in front of him, he felt that rift tear open between them once more, and he wanted to climb to the top of one of Midgar's ruined buildings and toss himself at the ground, because maybe then he'd stop hurting her.

Cloud and Tifa stood together, watching over their exhausted friend, as both of them comprehended some of Vincent's pain, wrestling with their own heartbreak.