Sun, Moon, and the Surrounding Blackness

"Well here and now/ will we ever be again/ 'cause I have found/ all that shimmers in this world is sure to fade away again."
–Shimmer, Fuel

Vincent knocked on the door to the doctor's office, waiting for a greeting before entering. Knotwood was standing behind his desk, finishing up a conversation with the nurse from the front desk. When she saw him, she clutched the chart she was holding to her chest, giving the doctor a faint nod before squeezing past Vincent to the door, eyes glued to the ground. Vincent watched her with his eyebrows drawn together, and after she made her hasty exit, turned his puzzled stare on Knotwood. "Do I truly make her that uncomfortable?" He was, by now, unsurprised by others' reactions to him, but she seemed traumatized by him, somehow.

Knotwood gave an irreverent snort. "What, other than your enigmatic presence?" He nodded toward Vincent's hip. "She was held at rifle–point by Deepground soldiers trying to access our stores of purified Lifestream. We keep it locked in a vault, and thankfully they were called away before accessing it or harming anyone. Much like Shelke, she is still recovering from the shock."

Oh, the irony. Unnerved by the revolver that ultimately saved them. He couldn't blame her, all the same.

"So what else do you need, Mr. Valentine?" Knotwood asked, straightening a folder on his desk.

"You're the only expert on Lifestream and mako poisoning. I have… another friend, stuck in a suspended state of animation." Vincent paused, trying to find the words to explain Lucrecia's predicament without going into back–story. "She's infected by Jenova cells and a contaminated form of Lifestream."

"Is she in a support tube?"

"No. She is suspended in crystal." Vincent reluctantly admitted.

Vincent had Knotwood's full attention now; the doctor raised an eyebrow but, thankfully, asked no questions. He took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Contaminated Lifestream? I've never heard of it, much less treated it." He came around to the front of his desk, leaning against the rim. He gazed past Vincent, lost in thought for the moment. "I'd love to study it, though," His eyes settled back onto Vincent. "Are you trying to revive her?" Vincent nodded. "The only thing I can recommend is visiting Cosmo Canyon; their studies of the planet are truly amazing. I believe one of the elders there has an extensive knowledge of crystals and how they form." He pushed himself off the edge of the desk. "But it's quite the journey from here, though, and they are not particularly open to strangers."

It was Vincent's turn to look thoughtful. "That's not a problem. I have an ally there."

The doctor extended his hand, and after a moment, Vincent shook it. He turned to go. "Oh, if you can, bring me a sample for my research. I'd appreciate it," The doctor told him.

Vincent paused, hand on the doorknob. I am the research, doctor. "I'll see what I can do." He was still reconciling his feelings about Lucrecia's experimentation on him; had she been using humans as research subject, just like Hojo? Why would anyone inflict pain on another, in the name of science? He shook the disturbing thoughts from his mind. "Thank you for all your assistance. I'm grateful to be leaving Shelke's care in competent hands."

Knotwood nodded a farewell. "Best of luck."

Vincent gave the nurse a slight smile as he past her, heading back to the inn to make arrangements for the long journey to Cosmo Canyon. He wondered why he hadn't thought of seeking Nanaki and his hometown's advice before. Hopefully, Vincent mused, I will get an answer there.

Exhausted in the way only shopping with two children can inflict, Tifa ushered Marlene and Denzel inside the house, all of them dragging bags of groceries. After depositing all of it on the kitchen table, the two young kids exchanged glances, and Tifa knew they were going to disappear into the backyard again, as they had the previous day. As soon as she turned her back, she heard the side door slam. At least they're getting some sun. She started to put away the food, organizing the shelves as she went.

Outside, Marlene and Denzel crossed the small yard to the lean–to they made out of poles from broken street signs and a few old blankets. They sat down, hidden from the glare of the sun and Tifa's view from the kitchen window, and Denzel dug out the small package of beef jerky he'd managed to pilfer from one of the grocery bags. He was glad he hadn't lost the touch; he'd been a street orphan, hadn't he?

Denzel tore open the plastic, passing the biggest piece to Marlene. They both chewed thoughtfully for a moment, before Marlene asked the question they'd been afraid to seek the answer for. "Do you think Cloud's going to leave again?"

Denzel scuffed his feet into the dirt. "Tifa's been sad. Cloud hasn't even been home for dinner for two nights. What do you think, Marlene?" She paused, jerky half–way to her mouth, stung by the venom in his words. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm just so pissed he's doing this to us again."

Marlene nodded, lowering her hand into her lap. "Tifa said he's not leaving. I asked her."

"She might be lying to protect us, you know." Denzel glanced in the direction of the kitchen. "She'd do anything for us." His simmering resentment bubbled over again. "Unlike Cloud."

Marlene shook her head slowly. "He loves us, Denzel. He's trying." Denzel just bit savagely into his snack again. "I think he loves Tifa, too." She hesitated. "I wish Vincent hadn't left."

He nodded his agreement. "I wish he was still here, too. But he'll be back. He loves us, too."

Marlene scooted next to Denzel, leaning against his shoulder. "I know." He put one arm around her shoulders, as much to comfort himself as to soothe her. They sat in the slanted sunlight together, two young souls, so used to the uneven rocking of their world they couldn't even point out the horizon anymore.

Cloud arrived home long past dark, parking Fenrir in the shed and letting himself in the side door silently. Tifa had left dinner out for him, covered in plastic wrap on the kitchen table. The fruit bowl on the counter was full; she must have done shopping today. He felt a pang, having missed a third night of dinner. Carefully selecting an apple from the bowl, he bit into it hungrily. At least he wouldn't be gone tomorrow evening; he patted the slim box in his pants pocket. He'd finally found it, and it was perfect. He picked up the plate and set it in the fridge, knowing she'd notice it in the morning. But he'd be gone by then, anyway. Early start on his deliveries. He leaned against the counter, contemplating the reaction he wouldn't see, content to sit in the dark for now.

But when the kitchen light flickered on and a sleepy Denzel, dressed in baggy flannel pants and oversized t–shirt, wandered into the kitchen, Cloud blinked against the sudden blaze of light, startling the young boy. "Hey, Denzel," He said, squinting his eyes. Denzel just shot him a glare and moved toward the cabinet with the glasses. Is the whole goddamn house mad at me? Denzel retrieved a cup, running himself a drink of water from the tap. He trudged past Cloud, who watched his mussed hair bounce before trying again. "Denzel."

Denzel stopped in the doorway without turning around. Cloud was hit by a sudden misgiving, stronger than he thought possible, when he realized what was probably bothering the boy. He stuttered for words. Are they that sensitive to me? My actions? "I haven't been gone just to be gone. Things will get better." He stopped, not sure about the weight of his next words, afraid of them. "I promise."

Denzel just continued to the stairs, as if Cloud hadn't been there at all.

Long after going to bed, Cloud stared at the ceiling with no urge to sleep whatsoever. He thought about all Tifa had done for him; she was his daylight, always showing the way every time he faltered. Marlene and Denzel were miniature moons, reflecting everything she gave off, but he was just like a black hole; sucking up all her radiance and giving nothing back, oblivious. And her guidance had flickered out in a matter of days, tired from constant stress and worry, already given everything it could. And the whole family had fallen into darkness, just like that. Cloud cursed his narrow–mindedness. Had he truly thought he would make everything better, by buying a gift yet still staying away? When all they needed was him, here, giving something back? He thought about Tifa's laugh when he'd teased her in the kitchen, just a week before, and the shining way Marlene and Denzel had been at breakfast, glowing up at Vincent, happy to have another person to share with. He felt that old, familiar self–loathing creep up on him, filling his lungs with iron. The urge to grab his jacket and keys and ride for hours came back. No. I will not run anymore. He gritted his teeth against the feeling. Have I forgotten how to cherish the consistent things in life already? Suddenly, he needed to hear Marlene giggle and see Denzel's grin, faces something other than grim masks waiting for the inevitable destruction. But most of all, he needed that light, that beacon, that unadulterated glow that was Tifa Lockhart. He wanted it to fill him again, replace the heavy shame that was beginning to drag him down. He swung his legs off the side of the bed, crossing silently to the door and into the hallway before he realized what he was doing. His hand reached for Tifa's bedroom doorknob, the house filled to the brim with silence and resentment, and he pictured it flooding into her room, drowning her while he stood in the doorway, unable to do anything but watch. So instead of turning it, he leaned his forehead against the door, imagining her dark hair fanned across the pillow, hand curled under her chin, eyelashes fluttering against her smooth cheeks. He wanted to see her, so much, missing her with a vehemence that astounded him.

It seemed like hours before Cloud pushed himself away from her door, returning to his own bed. He stared at the ceiling until the sun came up, and for some reason, all he could picture was the apple he'd thrown away after one bite, because it simply hadn't seemed as good anymore.

Tifa plodded downstairs in the morning, bleary–eyed and not looking forward to making breakfast for only three again. She got the tea brewing and opened the doors into the bar, retrieving the dish soap she'd left by the sink the previous night. That's when she noticed the slender, sleek black box sitting on the open register. Where could that have come from? Did someone leave it? She didn't remember anyone losing anything. She picked it up, turning it over in her hand, noticing the stamp on the bottom from an expensive jeweler's. Could Cloud have…?

She cracked it open, nearly dropping it when she saw what it was. A single teardrop pearl, entwined by a silver twist of wire, hung from a delicate chain, the design the exact match to the earrings that had been her mother's. She was so enchanted by the necklace she almost missed the slip of paper that fell when she opened the box. She picked it up from the floor, unfolding it, and saw in Cloud's slanted scribble:

Tifa-

Don't forgive me; don't even thank me. I just needed to know that you'd smile today.

–Cloud

p.s. I'll be home early tonight. Don't make dinner.

And she remembered the creak outside her bedroom door the previous night, realizing she hadn't been the only awake and wondering, after all.