Point of Resolve

"Light up, light up/ as if you have a choice"
– Run, Snow Patrol

"No, no, no," Tifa scolded, her hands pushing Vincent's tentative fingers out of the way before dropping him a reassuring smile. "You made the chord minor again." She leaned forward, fingers expertly stroking the correct keys. "Can you hear the difference?"

Vincent furrowed his brow. He'd known Tifa had her commanding moments – how else could she deal with Marlene and Denzel and even Cloud without them? – but he might have regretted agreeing to learning some basic piano from her to fill the time until Hargo perfected a mobile version of her crystal–tuning machine.

He let out a sigh, his good hand playing down the keys again. Half step, whole step… Damn. Tifa sighed, placing her hands on her hips and looking down at Vincent, and sat on the bench in front of the piano tucked into the corner of the living room. "You just can't help but make that minor, can you?" She leaned down toward him, gently plucking out a soft, quick melody. "And here I thought we bred the sadness out of you."

He watched her profile from the corner of his eye, her face close to his – and he realized it'd been too long since he'd seen her this way, her smile restored all the way to her eyes. Before he could stop himself, he opened his mouth and words tumbled out. That had been happening to him a lot, these past few weeks or so. "I'm so glad you're all right, Tifa."

She froze for just an instant, before she looked hard at him. Sliding onto the piano bench next to him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders from the side, leaning into it a little, resting her temple on the point of his shoulder. "It feels so good coming from you."

Vincent closed his eyes. There had been a point in time where this moment would have felt remarkably foreign and awkward, where he would've wondered why, in the name of Holy, he could ever deserve affection – even if it was platonic, even it was as much for her as it was for him – even if it was Tifa. He rested his good hand on her back, pulling her closer to his side for just an instant before gently pulling back. "Thank you, Tifa."

She leaned away, dropping her arms, still close to his side. "You're welcome, Vincent." And proceeded to drill him as thoroughly and exhaustingly in music theory as when he'd been training as a Turk.

Rufus tried to wave Reno, arm in sling, into a chair. "Reno, have a seat."

But Reno, as laid–back and lax as he normally was, would have none of it now. "I just came to say one thing, boss."

Rufus hardly paused from scanning the papers neatly stacked on his desk. "Oh?"

"Yeah. You lay off AVALANCHE, or I walk."

Rufus finally looked up then, cold blue eyes not amused. "Or you'll walk?"

"No," came a deep voice from the doorway, which caused Reno to jump, but he managed to cover it with a sliding grin and a tap of his foot. He didn't need to turn to see Rude, trademark sunglasses gleaming, behind him. He didn't turn because he was enjoying the surprised, deer–in–the–headlights look on Rufus's face. Ah ha! Take that!

"No." Reno did check behind him then, fully aware of why Rufus had been stunned: behind Rude stood Elena, face grim, and next to her, a perfectly collected Tseng.

"We'll all walk." Elena stuck her hand on her hip.

"And then Shin–Ra would be in a dire situation, indeed," finished up the head Turk.

Rufus finally sat back in his cushioned chair, surveying the four of them with keen interest. "And what would you do then?"

Reno leaned forward, bold as ever, close to Rufus's face. "I dunno, Reeve's left a sweet standing offer for us. You know," he flashed his trademark shit–eating grin, "Just in case we ever felt underappreciated."

Rufus chuckled, remembering why he'd kept his Turks around in the first place, too good of a businessman to deny that he'd been had. "Deal."

Vincent attempted to turn up a collar that wasn't there, perturbed by the stirs of autumn winds that were playing with the wisps of hair that couldn't be contained by one of Tifa's borrowed hair–ties. His ears, sensitive as they were, caught and focused at every gust that passed them, unused to being so exposed. He tugged at the lapel of the jacket he'd bought before he left Edge, back when he thought his life may have leveled.

Thinking back on it now, he realized he should've seen it coming: all the hints Lucrecia had left with Shelke, that constant echo of her apology. She had been trying to tell him something, and he was so wrapped up in his ever–present guilt that he'd missed that strain of hope altogether. But she had left it for him alone, knowing that he would survive; she had done it for him. Lucrecia had been there all along, in so many ways. Because she loves me? The thought was still almost too much for Vincent.

But thirty–three years of self–loathing couldn't be shaken off in a matter of months, and since every day was getting a little better, Vincent was willing to give it a try.

That morning, before his impromptu music lessons, before breakfast even – he'd found himself just on this side of nervous as he descended the steps toward the kitchen, Tifa's cooking drifting up to him. The play of sunlight through the windows kept catching his eyes, the whistle of the tea kettle too loud for his ears, all because he was anxious and guilty and terrified. He'd left Marlene alone too long, and he'd never forgive himself for it.

But when Vincent stepped through the archway into the kitchen to see her glaring at Denzel, who was making faces at her behind Tifa's back, wearing a yellow dress and clutching an apple like she was planning on pitching it at her antagonist, all of the burden he carried vanished, just seeing her safe.

"Marlene," he said softly, just low enough to get her attention, and she spun, dropped her apple, and threw herself halfway across the kitchen at him.

"Vincent!" She wailed into his waist, clawing at his belt. "Where have you been?" And much to Vincent's dismay, she began to sob out of relief and built–up terror.

Instantly, he dropped to his knees and threw his arms around her, aghast at her strong reaction. I've been more selfish than I can imagine, haven't I? Tifa turned from the fridge, her face a mixture of surprise and concern but softening when she saw Marlene buried against Vincent. She raised an eyebrow, locking eyes with him and sending him an I–told–you–so look that made him flinch.

"I… I thought…" Marlene gulped for air, her sobs slowing, "I thought you'd forgotten me."

Vincent hugged her tighter, her small body shuddering with the strength of her sobs. He'd forgotten that, despite her stubbornness and quick–witted quips, she was still a child and prone to radical conclusions. "Never," he said into her hair, and she gazed up at him, her eyes gleaming with leftover tears and relief. "I'll never forget you, Marlene." She sniffled once, and he held her to his chest again, not caring that she was smearing her nose across his t–shirt. "I'm so sorry."

And he froze as soon as the words came out, so completely and utterly aware of how foolish he'd been. He'd hurt the one person that anchored him down, the one person who counted on him to care for himself the most – and he knew what it was the drove Lucrecia to her decisions, that blind scramble that had destroyed both of them.

Marlene wrapped thin arms around his ribcage, and Vincent remembered how to breathe – and what it was like to be forgiven. "Thank you, Marlene," he whispered and kissed the top of her head.

"Breakfast!" Tifa crowed, and Marlene pulled away but kept hold of his good hand, tugging him toward the table.

Cloud came in, kissing Tifa briefly while the kids were busy with plates, and shot Vincent a grin. Things can work out, Vincent reminded himself as Marlene poured an unholy amount of syrup on his pancakes for him. And the five of them settled into breakfast, and Vincent remembered how to be content.

The bell over the door to the small coffee shop chimed as Vincent entered, glancing around to find the person who'd summoned him to the meeting. Not seeing him, Vincent approached the counter, where a young brunette fluttered a smile up at him. "And what can I do for you?"

Vincent was unmoved by her flirting. "I'm looking for a redhead. Male, scars across his cheeks."

"The one with the loud blonde?" She pointed around the corner. "He's in a booth back there."

"Thank you," Vincent said, turning to go.

"Any time, sugar," She dropped a wink at him and continued her cleaning.

Reno and Elena were looking cozy in a booth, except for maybe the flask in Reno's hand. He was adding a heavy dose of whatever it was to his mug, and Elena was scolding him, but Vincent only heard the words doctor said and not supposed to. Well, Reno was always looking for trouble, and it was no surprise that he'd find some even while he was injured.

The Turk was quicker this time, spotting Vincent before he'd meant to be seen. "Vince!" Reno waved at him with the flask. "Come have a drink!"

Elena rolled her eyes. "You're not even supposed to have that in here, Reno."

Reno gave her a wide grin, which she returned with a warm smile of her own. "But, babe–"

"Don't you dare 'babe' me, Reno," She spat. "I'm not some floozy you picked up at a bar. I'm a goddamned Turk!" Then she turned to Vincent, all smile, and Vincent couldn't help but think, unfortunately for the rest of us, you're right.

"Have a seat, Vampy." Reno eyed him as he slid across from them. "Although not so vampy in that get–up." Considering that Reno looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, the comment made Vincent snort.

"What do you want?" Vincent asked. He wanted to get back to Marlene.

Reno was all business. "I just wanted to let you know that Rufus has agreed to leave AVALANCHE alone." He lifted his coffee cup. Vincent quirked an eyebrow. And how did you get him to agree to that? He wondered, but decided he didn't want to know what went on behind Shin–Ra's doors anymore. "And, uh…" Reno scratched the back of his head, setting his mug down. "I… Well, I wanted to say…"

"We're sorry," Elena cut in. "For the crater."

Vincent leveled a gaze at the two of them, his on–again off–again comrades, and remembered the morning with Marlene. "It's not a problem."

"Pals, then?" Reno gave him the grin, and Vincent stared right back. "Um, well, all right then."

Vincent went to slide out of the booth, but Elena leaned over and caught his arm. "Really, Vincent, best of luck," She said, and Vincent gave her a nod and stood, hearing Reno say, "Were you flirting with him in front of me?" and Elena respond, "Oh, please, Reno, do you remember the girl that made your coffee?" as he walked away.

Some things will never change, Vincent thought, and was glad of it for once. He strode back into the streets, Edge fully recovered from its latest threat, its citizens resilient and as hard to stamp out as weeds. The roads were packed with cars, people whistled and called out and argued and laughed, and there was such a strong hum to the life around him that Vincent's core resonated with it. He had a world to share with all the people he knew, and all the ones he still needed to become familiar with: Colin and Dinne and Shalua. Who knew how many others would fill up his life if he let them?

And I can share it all with you, Lucrecia, he thought as church bells chimed in the distance.

He opened up the door to Seventh Heaven, eyes instantly searching for Marlene, since he'd promised he would spend the rest of the day with her. He rounded the corner to the living room and froze when he heard a light voice from the kitchen.

"So, Spike, when are you gonna propose?" Yuffie.

Vincent paused in the doorway, watching the young ninja swing her legs as she sat at the table, a feat considering her legs were long enough to touch ground. She still didn't notice him, and neither did Cloud – he had his back turned to the doorway, but Yuffie was zeroed in on the kill. "Because you and Tifa would have adorable babies, you know." She cocked her head as Cloud continued to ignore her. "And they would grow up and kick all the neighbor kids' asses, because the greatest ninja of all of Wutai would be training them!" She kicked out a foot. Her enthusiasm made Vincent smile even as he rolled his eyes, and that was when she noticed him.

Yuffie's legs stopped kicking, and her slender body went still; there was a flash to her eyes. Cloud, even, paused in front of the refrigerator door, and Vincent realized that the instincts they had honed during their travels were all on alert, simply because he had walked into the room. "Yuffie," he said, "How are you?"

She smiled, still tense. "Doin' great, really!"

He nodded and crossed to Cloud, who gave him an uncomfortable glance before disappearing from the kitchen. Vincent made himself a cup of tea with the water from Tifa's ever–present kettle and turned back to Yuffie.

She was not meant to be this on edge. Yuffie was carefree, feisty, the beacon of playfulness and ego. I've left so much damage in my wake. Before the thought could sting any more and reawaken all the things he'd been trying to leave behind, he sat down in the chair across from her; she was watching him as warily as she had been in Lucrecia's cavern.

He gripped the mug. "Thank you for the message, Yuffie," he told her.

Those grey eyes widened. "It's all right, really, Vince."

He shook his head. "My words were harsh. I apologize." He raised his head to meet her eyes, and she stared back. "I know now how important that is."

Now she was the one to shake her head. "I meant it. It's all right, Vince."

The sound of footsteps echoed outside the side door and it burst open, Marlene making a bee–line to Vincent as soon as she saw him. Barret and Denzel were right behind her, but Vincent didn't have the chance to greet them because Marlene smacked into his side and began pulling on his shirt. "Is the rest of the day for me, Vincent?"

He smiled down at her, unable to help himself. "Yes, Marlene."

"We," She stated, "are going to the park, and you are going to push me on the swing. Because," She shot a look over her shoulder, "someone never pushes me high enough."

Barret sighed, and Vincent laughed. He stood from his chair as Marlene clapped her hands. "But first, lunch!" She grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the door again. "There's this place that Daddy takes me to…"

Vincent got Barret's eyes over her head. "No tomato," Barret told him. Vincent nodded and caught Yuffie watching him still, her face so serious that it made his heart twist.

"You can come as well, Denzel, if you'd like," Vincent said, and Denzel nodded, smiling. Vincent turned to look at Marlene. "I'll meet you outside." She sped up the stairs, and Vincent turned back to Yuffie.

He leaned his good hand on the table and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Thank you, Yuffie."

She smiled up at him, bright again as he pulled away. "Anytime."

Marlene appeared with stuffed chocobo in tow, and herded him out the door. "Come on, Vincent!" Denzel rolled his eyes at the younger girl and she grinned up at him. "He'll push you on the swings, too, Denzel, so quit pouting!"

Vincent gave Yuffie a smile as Marlene tugged him out the door, and Barret moved toward the young woman sitting at table as the door shut behind them.

He spent the rest of the afternoon listening to the kids laugh, and hoped that Yuffie was being truthful when she told him it was all right. Vincent realized that there was nothing else in his life he wanted to lose, not even a friendship with the most obnoxious ninja to ever come out of Wutai.