Poison

"The words inside my head/ are better than the words I've said/ as always"
–Crazy, Nine Days

Cloud stood at the sink at the bar, up to his elbows in soapy water, trying to wash dishes so Tifa could close. Distracted by her continual cold shoulder, he sighed, trying to focus his mind on scrubbing the glasses. He'd been home early every night for three days; he'd even brought takeout for dinner the night after he'd given her the necklace, doing the dishes and cleaning up the mess. And yet she still regarded him with mistrust, and he knew she thought he was simply trying to worm his way back into her good–will. It was beginning to get to him. What do I have to do to get her to let this go? Marlene and Denzel are so uneasy already. Denzel had been jadedly polite to him ever since the night in the kitchen, and Marlene just watched him with frightened eyes. Dinners had been a silent affair. I'm here, aren't I? What else can I do, when they won't talk to me? He thought about the kids, torn between bitterness, blame, and guilt. If they didn't worship Tifa like that, maybe I could get them to listen to me. He sighed again. But if I had been around earlier, this family would be balanced.

Tifa came up beside him, setting down another handful of glasses. She glanced at him briefly, but he was looking at the pearl pendant, swinging away from her throat when she bent. He swallowed, looking back into the water. Just start at the beginning, Strife. "Tifa, I'm sorry."

She turned away, back to tending her bar. "Sorry for what?"

Cloud straightened, his hands banging against the side of the metal sink. "Do you at least like the necklace?"

She stopped, right before the end of the countertop. With her back turned on him, he could see the stiffness of her spine, the way she locked her knees. "I'm wearing it, aren't I?"

Oh, gods, that comment was poison. He felt anger swell inside him, anger at himself and at her for making him suffer this way. She crossed the room to the wall of booths, and he walked away, leaving the dishes in the sink without a backward glance.

Cloud slammed opened the window when he reached his room, climbing out onto the fire escape. He scaled the ladder, flinging himself down on the rough tiles of the roof, barely noticing the scratches it gave his elbows. Better he brood up here than wait for his frustration to overflow down there, in that icy ambiance.

Vincent had never called him back; he supposed his friend had his hands full with his own problems. Sure could use some of his cool sympathy. He scoffed inwardly. Sympathy from Vincent? Yeah, and Shiva will burst into flame. Cloud gazed up at the twinkling stars, raising one hand to trace the few constellations he remembered. Although he knew they were constantly fueled balls of fire, they looked so cold up there, miles and miles between each one, like he felt now, lonely and lost without his family.

He used to stare up at the stars after Aerith's death, and imagine he saw her smile, that sparkle in her eyes, the glow she always carried. Yet ever since that last fight with Kadaj and Sephiroth, she had faded. Not enough to forget, but enough for him to hold it close without the surrounding sorrow threatening to overcome him. He could have loved her more than he already had, he knew, but that wasn't fate. She had met her fate with a faint smile, and left him with a gift he didn't understand then. But he could distinguish it now, and felt its missing warmth: that knot that tied them all together, the need and love and support they had. Aerith had been an angel, an untouchable, a servant to a fate no one else could bear; while he could have loved her, there was someone who needed it more, someone whose smile had cracked like a dropped wineglass.

Cloud didn't notice when the auburn head poked up the fire escape, carefully crawling across the roof toward him. "Cloud…?"

Cloud sat up, startled. "Denzel. What are you doing up here?"

The young boy sat down beside him, hugging his knees to his chest. "I come up here to think, sometimes. When its quiet outside."

"You, too, huh?" Cloud smiled down at him, glad he wasn't as closed off. He looked back down to the mossy roof. I've gotta be honest with someone, don't I? "Tifa's been… unhappy, and I don't know what to do to make her feel better."

Denzel nodded. "Me and Marlene thought it was because you were gonna leave again." He shivered in the cool air. "I thought… you were just gonna abandon us."

A wave of shame washed into Cloud. He sat still for just a moment, unsure, before scooting closer and putting one arm around Denzel. "I'm not running away anymore. Just like I promised."

Denzel looked up at him like he was afraid Cloud would take the statement back. "I know… I was just scared, you know? I'm sorry I was mean."

Cloud hugged him closer. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't realize what I was doing." He hesitated, glancing at Edge spread out against the horizon, light polluting the sky. "When my father died, I was so scared, and I treated my mother… in ways no one deserved. I pushed her away because I didn't want to feel that way again, when she died." He shook his head. "Now I wish I hadn't. Denzel, I'm sorry I put you in that position. It was so unfair of me."

Denzel nodded, leaning into Cloud. His frustration with Tifa disappeared, replaced with the tremendous relief that he'd done something right, made something better. Easier, with Denzel. Now, what does Tifa need to hear? He and Denzel sat on the roof for hours, staring up at the sky in thoughtful, comforting silence.

Downstairs, Tifa flipped the sign in the window to "closed", sighing as she picked up the broom to sweep. She didn't understand why she needed to hold onto her anger. It got her nowhere, she knew, and she kept intending on smiling and thanking Cloud for the beautiful pendant, letting things slide back to where they had been. But they'd be in a room together, and he'd say something light, and she couldn't keep the scathing comments from spilling out of her mouth, swamped by doubt and fear and that dull throbbing she thought she'd left behind her.

So she took her frustration out on the hardwood floor, sweeping it with a ferocity she hadn't felt in a long time. When that wasn't enough to abate it, she attacked the tables and countertops, finishing by wiping the mirrored shelf behind the bar so hard she should've worn right through the glass. She sat down hard on a barstool, her arms tired. Why couldn't she let this go? Why couldn't she just take it with a smile like she told herself she would, despite always being pitted against a memory, but still believing Cloud was worth it? Had she really thought she'd be able to do it forever?

Someone knocked on the entrance to the bar, its curtained glass double–doors already locked. Tifa frowned, crossing the room, prepared to tell another customer who'd had one too many that she was already closed. So when she unlocked the dead bolt, swinging open a door an inch, and saw Barret's tired face waiting impatiently to be let in, she felt a wave of guilt. She flung open the one door all the way, motioning him inside. "Barret! I completely forgot you were coming!"

He stopped just inside the doorway, straightening because he had to turn sideways to get through the narrow frame. "How'd you forget me, Tifa? I called just a few hours ago!" He brushed past her, setting a dusty bag down on the bartop. Tifa winced. I just cleaned that. "Where's Marlene?"

"She's already in bed." Tifa walked up to him, hands in the back pockets of her jeans, relieved he was here. "You seem tired, Barret. Worn out from the hard work?"

He gave a short laugh, so deep in his throat it was almost a grunt. "Hell, yes, I'm tired." He glanced around. "Place still looks great."

"Thanks." She looked up at him, and his irritated expression faded. He held out one arm, and Tifa leaned into his side as he crushed her against him. "I missed you, Barret." She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress the urge to cry. Damn it, Barret, why do I always go to pieces around you? Because he took care of her, instead of the other way around, for once. I can't tell him, or he'll kill Cloud. She tried to sniffle quietly.

Barret didn't fall for it. He took her squarely by the shoulders, holding her out from him at arm's length. "What the hell's the matter? What'd Spikey do now?"

She shook her head, wiping her nose on the back of her hand, blinking back the tears. "I'm not sure if it's him or me, this time."

He regarded her suspiciously. This was not the reaction she'd expected; where was the storming? The overprotective sputtering and immediate switch from arm to gun? "Tifa, what's goin' on?"

"I'm just glad you're here, Barret. It's been a bad week." She tried to smile and failed miserably. "It's not a big deal."

He openly scoffed at her. "No big deal, my ass." He leaned down, eye to eye, and jabbed a finger at her. "Don't make me take care of it myself, girl. 'Cause you know I don't spare no kindness when it comes to my family." He leaned back again, arms crossed.

Tifa cringed. "I'm a full–grown woman, Barret."

"And you still ain't takin' care of business." He softened his voice a little. "And if I know one thing, it's that you gotta cherish what you got." She nodded, dropping her chin. "So where's my little girl?"

Tifa raised her face. "Upstairs. She doesn't know you're here."

He gave a booming laugh. "Got you that worked up, eh?" He turned, picking his bag up from the bar. "I'll be here for a few days, I guess, 'fore heading back to Corel. Time enough to distract the kids." He shot her a glance. "I love ya, darlin', and I just want what's best for both of ya." He crossed into the house, and Tifa stood there, wondering who he was referring to.

Hargo, clad in lab coat and reading glasses, leaned back in her chair, staring in disbelief at her flickering computer screen. "I have never seen a crystal such as this before…" She didn't even spare a glance at Vincent before leaning back in, scrolling furiously. "It's been formed by a mako fountain directly, instead of the usual trickle effect. My god, the power in this…" She stopped clicking the mouse. "It's almost like materia. If it had been concentrated just a bit more, it would be. But the impurity of it prevented it from becoming materia." Quelling impurity… "If it had not been contaminated, it would have been, quite possibly, as powerful of a materia as Meteor or Holy." She pushed herself away from the desk, shaking her head.

Unconsciously, Vincent lifted one hand and touched it lightly to his chest. If she only knew what I contained… Is that what the Protomateria was, then? He wasn't familiar with its origins. Was it purified G substance? "So what does this mean?"

She sat back again, wheeled desk chair creaking on its hinges. She took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, and Vincent realized that she was not just Knotwood's colleague. Most likely, Vincent began to understand as he studied her features deeper, she was his sister.

"It means that, since it is such a powerful crystal, the frequency that will be required is dangerously high–pitched and complex, something my machine may not be able to emulate at its current model. Even if it could, it would most likely kill your friend by disrupting her brainwaves before releasing her." She slipped her glasses back on, turning back to the computer screen. Vincent followed her every movement with his eyes, knowing she wasn't finished with her explanation. "I may be able to tune it through a 'filter crystal', but I haven't seen one in years."

Vincent cocked an eyebrow at her. "Filter crystal? Where are they found?"

She sighed. "If you can get one, I'll be amazed. But the only place you can find them is in the northern crater."

Scarlet's obnoxious laugh. Tifa's desperate pleading with Cloud as he handed Sephiroth the Black Materia. The constant pressure as they descended deeper within the planet, fighting to save it as they battled Sephiroth. But the branches, the woven network of crystals he'd been contained in…

"Vincent?" Hargo stared at him with a concerned expression, perfected by years of motherhood.

He gave her a sharp look. "I can get there."

She drew her eyebrows together, put off by his evasion. "You'll retrieve them?"

He nodded, and she described them to him, drawing up a diagram. Clear crystals with ashy black flecks. He strode out of the back room of the item shop. He'd come straight to Hargo as soon as he reached Cosmo Canyon, knowing Nanaki would sense his unease, and Vincent had not wanted to discuss Yuffie Kisaragi. But avoidance was unnecessary; Hargo had informed him that Nanaki had left the valley to fulfill a "spiritual journey". So he searches for himself, Vincent thought as he flipped open his cell phone, holding down the button to turn it on. Much like the rest of AVALANCHE. Thankfully, his message beep remained silent, and he punched in a number from memory.

"Vincent! What the hell's going on?"

"Cid," Vincent spoke gravely. "I need a ride to the crater."

"Uhhh… Vince, buddy, I can't do that right now." He spoke to someone in the background. "Shera, breathe, right?" Cid made bizarre huffing noises. "Like the mid–wife said?" Vincent had never heard his rowdy friend sound so… frantic. "Shera's right gone into labor almost two months early! I… I…" Vincent heard a low moan on Cid's end of the line. He spoke to Shera again. "Yeah, I'm gettin' off the damned phone! I'll call the mid–wife! Can't you just… hold it in?" Vincent held the phone away from his ear, staring at it in disbelief. Was Cid really that ignorant of the birthing process? Vincent was an only child and not a father, and even he knew better than that. Cid came back on the line. "I ain't got no pilot that can fly in those conditions, either… I…"

Vincent's mind raced. Who else can fly over the crater? It struck him. "Cid. Edge."

"Yeah, yeah! Give me twenty minutes!" He hung up.

Cid Highwind, welcome to the wonders of fatherhood. Vincent tipped his chin down, rubbing his nose against the inside of his collar. He battened down his determination for the undoubtedly difficult conversation ahead.

Rufus Shin–Ra, I think you owe me a favor.