Strength of Medicine

"It's bitter/ it tastes a lot like winter/ and will it release me?"
– Fortress, Sister Hazel

Tifa rubbed her forehead as the phone began to ring, again. She stared at the pile of dirty glasses and the filthy tables that littered her bar, blessedly empty at mid–day, and thought: I've only been open for a few hours. She let out a heavy sigh and headed toward the stairs, beginning getting the inkling she was going to be fielding another call from everyone's favorite materia hunter, for the fourth time that day. Other than the phone's ceaseless ring, the day had been quiet; Cloud was gone all day on deliveries, the kids spending their time in the stamp of a backyard. The place felt emptier, and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

Snatching up the receiver, she instantly began telling Yuffie the same thing she'd been telling her all day. "He's not here; he's on his way to Mideel! He'll get your message once he gets there!"

"Um… Excuse me?" A pleasant, feminine voice countered on the other end. Tifa wanted to bang her head against the heavy desk. For the love of Holy, it was a customer.

"Oh! Sorry! This is Strife Delivery Service. What can I help you with?"

Hanging up the phone after leaving a message for Cloud, she realized she couldn't take the quiet anymore. She unplugged the phone with vicious glee and dragged it down the stairs with her, plugging it in behind the bar. She began to fill the sinks with hot water while she dialed from memory.

She was never as glad as when Barret's boisterous voice answered the ringing. "Tifa! Marlene all right?" He boomed.

She sighed at the familiar question. "She's fine, Barret; Denzel too. How's Corel treating you?" She poured soap into the running water, watching the bubbles fountain up, obscuring the surface.

"Just great. Almost got the refinery up and running. I forgot how hard Corel breeds 'em! Tough as shit, that's for certain!" He voice dropped, just a little. "How 'bout you, darlin'? That spikeyhead treating you like you deserve?"

She smiled, tossing the thin rag into the sink before turning off the tap. "Vincent left this morning, and the place seems kinda lonely."

"And where did that dismal bastard run off to, this time?" She explained the situation to him. "Huh. Well, good for him, I suppose. Yuffie'll be right pissed when she learns of it."

Tifa pinched the phone between her ear and shoulder, trying to scrub bright red lipstick off the rim of a wineglass. Yuck. "She already knows. She's called here three times since this morning."

"Uh–oh. Ol' Vincent's in trouble."

She rinsed the glass, still smiling despite herself. "She's just mad that she didn't get to see him since he got back. Might be better for the both of them, that way," The bell above the door chimed, and Tifa wanted to swear. "Gotta go, Barret. Customers. I'll have Marlene call you later."

"Wait, Tifa, you didn't answer my question–"

"'Bye, Barret," She grinned as she went to hang up the phone.

"Tifa Lockhart–!" Click. She felt a little better, taking care of the patrons with a smile. Only until the damned phone started ringing, again.

Cloud felt his phone buzz against his hip, and sighed. Another curt message from Tifa, no doubt. Business he'd take of as soon as he was done.

The young clerk smiled at him, a question in her eyes. He shook his head at her, and her smile faltered. He really was running her through the gauntlet, but it had to be perfect. So he gave her the patented Cloud Strife wide blue eyes and lopsided grin and she was just glowing like a peach again. She pulled another necklace from the case, and Cloud focused on her, trying to ignore his misgivings. The pouch with his gil felt heavy on his belt; it would feel undeniably lighter, after this woman was done with him. Who knew pearls we so damned expensive?

But then he imagined the surprise in Tifa's wine–hued eyes, and suddenly it was all right again.

Vincent stepped off the ferry, the last of the stream of people leaving the boat. They were no doubt headed toward family vacations, excited to enjoy the Lifestream–infused hot springs the town had become famous for. But Vincent knew the hidden purpose to this town; he saw it in the exhausted mother, carrying a coughing infant, the middle–aged man hobbling down the path, grimacing in pain. The darker reason people journeyed to Mideel. Vincent looked up at the platforms that formed the town, stacked on top of and against each other, and saw the clinic blended into the cliff that backed one side of the hustle and bustle. Shelke didn't know he was here. Sighing, he glanced around the rest of the town in the fading light. Best not to disturb her at the end of the day. He'd hadn't heard from her since she left Edge, and he could only assume the treatments she was receiving would not leave her welcome to surprise visitors in the evening. He trudged off to the inn, praying they had an open room. He was unexpectedly drained after the long boat ride, unaccustomed such long periods of inactivity and the pressing humidity.

After checking into the sole remaining room at the small inn, Vincent remembered his phone. The W.R.O. had not found a way to keep phone service up over the expanse of ocean, and he so had turned it off before the boat even left the dock. The phone blinked on, and instantly his message light flashed. He sighed, and went downstairs to retrieve a glass of wine before listening to them. Sometimes he really, really hated his phone.

The first message was from Cid. "Vince! I heard about what you're up to! Call if you need a hand with anything and I'll try my best. Stop by Rocket Town if you're in the area and we'll put you up for the night! Good luck and go get 'er!"

Vincent allowed himself a slight smile, which vanished at the next message. "Hey, Vincent, it's Tifa. I was just calling to warn you that Yuffie just called here asking after you. She's on her way back from Wutai to see you and, well, she was peeved that you'd left. But, it's Yuffie, so she'll get over it. Hope you enjoyed the ride on Reeve's brand new baby!"

He pressed the button for the next message grimly. "Vincent! Why didn't you tell me you were leaving Edge! Here I am, sacrificing my time and sanity to old Godo and you run off without even telling me! Tifa wouldn't say why you're in Mideel, so I guess I'll see you when you get back, which will be soon, right? Because I was really worried about you. Call me back for once! Or the great ninja–goddess Yuffie Kisaragi will hunt you down and smite you!"

Vincent clicked through three more similar messages from Yuffie. He turned the phone off, knowing she'd call again. She was the last thing he needed right now; he admired her endless energy and enthusiasm, but he needed a clear head. And sometimes Yuffie's chatter distracted him. He stripped down, making sure Cerberus was within reach before stretching out across the hand–made quilt adorning the small bed. He stared out the shuttered window at the darkened sky, twilight reflecting off the high clouds, making them shimmer like a mirage. Do you not want to deal with her chatter, or the unavoidable questions she will ask? He knew the sly ninja; she tried so hard to get under his veneer and then backtracked as soon as she saw what was underneath. He didn't need her prying, not when he was still figuring out so much for himself. But she will find out eventually, he reminded himself, Barret or Cid will slip, unknowing, and the inquisition will begin. Yet he wasn't sure what to make of his mixed feelings.

Finally, he switched off the bedside lamp. He slid seamlessly into sleep, no nightmares, no soothing glow, just a twitch and a toss of blankets. It wasn't until the morning that he realized he hadn't felt Lucrecia's familiar presence, that ghostly hand guiding him into restful peace.

When he arrived at the clinic in the morning, the nurse at the front desk was acting sketchy. He didn't know if she realized the finger repeatedly pushing the silent button under her desk was not as subtle as she thought. So he wasn't surprised when the familiar doctor came out through the swinging doors with a worried look on his face. Luckily, though, he recognized the intimidating gunslinger.

"Vincent Valentine, wasn't it? How's your friend doing?"

Vincent gave him a smooth nod of acknowledgement. "Cloud is well, and still grateful for your help."

"Good, good." The doctor spared the suddenly–preoccupied nurse a glance. "What brings you to my clinic today?"

"Shelke Rui. May I see her?"

The doctor gave him a short nod, waving him into the back. Vincent followed him down the narrow hallway, silent except for the swish of the edges of his cloak against the carpet. The doctor led him into a paneled office, and Vincent felt his heart skip a beat. This was not going to be good news.

Vincent took a moment to admire the framed letters from patients, certificates from workshops, and the other medical paraphernalia. Dr. Knotwood, I believe you have something to tell me. The doctor sat down, waving Vincent into chair, and Vincent just crossed his arms. "I'd prefer to stand."

Knotwood nodded, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Her body is very, very dependant on mako. A much worse case than I've ever dealt with before." He met Vincent's eyes, undeterred by his intensely ruby gaze. "We've noticed that injections of the purified Lifestream seem to counter–act the effects of mako poisioning; it is easier to wean someone off the substance we create than mako, and less harmful to the body. But the shots seem to carry a side–effect of their own, intensified when high dosages are taken. The patient first enters a hallucinogenic state, and, for quite some time afterward, suffers severe memory loss, which all my previous patients reported as temporary. Shelke seemed unperturbed by my warning when she first came for treatment. I worried about her mental state." He left it hanging in the air, obviously waiting for an answer.

Reluctantly, Vincent replied. "She is still recovering from the trauma of losing her sister." Let that be all the explanation you need, doctor.

Knotwood sat back in his chair. "I see. So her lack of… expression is not a side–effect, like I'd thought."

Vincent dropped his arms, patience wearing thin. "How is she doing?"

"Excellent, so far. I've had to give her higher doses than I'd like to, though, and she seems to be building a resistance, as well." He looked back up at Vincent. "Don't worry; her long–term prognosis is good. It's just…" He dropped his gaze again. "I'm afraid some of her memory loss might become permanent, with the intense therapy."

The pit of Vincent's stomach dropped. "Is the damage permanent… already?"

Knotwood shook his head. "It fades in and out, mostly. I wanted to warn you that… she may not remember details, particularly insignificant events, things that aren't core to her personality." The doctor stood, pushing back his chair. "Other than that, she is doing well. She's very cooperative and has incredibly high pain–tolerance." The doctor granted him a sideways glance.

Vincent's head spun as he followed Knotwood through an archway into a hall of doorways. Not core to her personality? Just how much of Lucrecia's memories did she still retain? With Lucrecia silent at night, how was he ever supposed to learn how to free her? The doctor stopped outside a door. "This is her room. She should be fairly lucid; she hasn't had a treatment today." He paused before turning to leave. "We welcome visitors, anytime. Just let us know if you need any accommodating." And Knotwood was gone, back to his office.

Vincent turned the knob on the door, opening it slowly. The room was sparsely decorated, with thin curtains and a single flower in a tapered vase on the bedside table. Shelke stood with her back to him, staring out the window. She turned, face puzzled at first but breaking into suppressed joy when she recognized him. "Vincent Valentine." She smiled. "Come to check up on me?" She sat down on the narrow bed.

Vincent didn't answer as he lowered himself into a chair. "I hear you're doing well."

She nodded. "Dr. Knotwood says I should make a full recovery." She lifted one hand, gazing at it in the sunlight from the window. "He says I may even grow again, once the Lifestream concoction is out of my system." She glanced up at him again. "He says that I may have to come back, though, if I do, so he can monitor me and make sure I don't develop too fast."

"Do you like it here?" Vincent asked, glad that she was thriving.

Shelke gave him a firm nod. "The people here… help me figure out what I'm… missing. They don't make me feel inhuman, or weird. At least… we're all scared but trying together." She raised an eyebrow, a mannerism she'd gotten from him. "So why have you visited me today?"

Vincent hesitated. "I need to know… if any of your uploaded memories from Lucrecia contain any data on how she crystallized herself."

"Lucrecia…?" Shelke's eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the wall. "Didn't her memories integrate when I uploaded the complete file? Or have they faded because of the medicine…?" She looked back to him, her too–young face pinched together. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember… anything." She scuffed a foot against the floor. "I can see her face, but I can't feel her anymore. I'm sorry." She gave him another worried glance. "Why do you need her memories?"

It was Vincent's turn to stare absently out the window. "She told me that she can come back, but she needed my help."

Shelke's eyebrows shot up. Knotwood thought she lacked expression? She was an open book, now, not the same Shelke that had left Edge a week ago. "See? I told you to tell her how you feel."

Vincent was surprised into a smirk. "Indeed." He stood, as something occurred to him. "I need to speak with Dr. Knotwood again. I'll visit you again, whenever I'm in the area." She stood, rubbing her palms against the thighs of her jeans. He caught her eyes. "I'm relieved to hear you will recover."

She nodded. "Good luck, Vincent."

"Thank you." He paused. "I want you to know, Shelke, I am grateful for all your help."

"And I am grateful for yours, Vincent."

He smiled at her and turned to go, but caught himself again. He had almost forgotten. He slipped a hand under his cloak, drawing out the mythril locket he'd purchased earlier. He offered it to her, pooling it into her outstretched hand, and she stared in wonder. She studied it, the polished, oval locket carved in an intricate, twining design, thin but resilient chain slipping between her fingers. "My mother used to have a locket, just like this." She walked over to a drawer, sliding out a photo of Shalua. She held it up so he could see. "I got this from Reeve. When Dr. Knotwood first told me of the side effects, I was afraid I'd forget her. I had so little of her to remember, and I never wanted to lose it." She glanced up at Vincent. "I think I'll put this picture in here." She held up the necklace, making it glitter. "Maybe I'll put you on the other side." She dropped her arms to her sides. "Go. Be swift and bring her back. We all have much to thank her for. We would not have you or each other without her."

As Vincent strode down the hall toward Knotwood's office, he pondered Shelke's words. Was that their outlook? Did Tifa and Shelke and Cloud want Lucrecia to come back, not only for him, but for themselves as well? To thank her? He shook his head. After all that had happened, they wanted to thank her? It amazed him every time he remembered that not everyone lived in the past, like he had for so many years.

But still, reflecting on his previous night's sleep, Shelke's words chilled him.

I can see her face, but I can't feel her anymore…