Chapter 41

Milestones

The gourmet coffee wobbled, and Reeve bit his tongue, straining to balance his breakfast offering as he mounted the porch stairs leading to Seventh Heaven's family kitchen. He barely raised his fist to knock when the door swung wide.

"Morning, Tif—oh—Vincent!" He closed his mouth. Seeing Vincent at the bar was nothing to be shocked over—but it was only seven o'clock in the morning.

Footsteps pattered on the tile behind the taller man. "Let me just get the brewer going. I'm gonna hop in the shower and—why are you standing at the door?" Tifa stepped next to Vincent, and Reeve saw nothing but naked legs.

She squealed with a high-pitched gasp. "Great Shiva!" She tugged at her t-shirt, stretching the fabric to cover lacey hips as she hid behind Vincent. "Reeve! I wasn't expecting you this morning!"

Reeve had the decency to study his shoes. "Sorry to intrude, Tifa," he said, embarrassed as he passed his drink carrier through the doorway to Vincent. "Just wanted to stop by and bring you coffee and conversation before work. Uh…my apologies. I didn't think to order a third—"

"Nonsense! I've got some brewing. Um…come in, and I'll just be back in a second."

Reeve made a show of picking lint off his blazer, long enough to hear her run upstairs before shuffling past Vincent, unsure how to proceed with nonchalance. "Ahem. Forgive me, Vincent. I seem to be interrupting." He knew the two had started dating but never considered catching Vincent in the presence of a disheveled Tifa before rush hour. Well, too late to offer advice now.

"A little early for family dinner night," Vincent greeted dryly, closing the door.

"Yes, well. I thought to chat with Tifa about—" Reeve paused, hesitant to divulge Tifa's interest in Liza's baby. He doubted she would mind. However, fostering or adoption was usually a couple's decision when in a relationship. Not a choice made solo, with no consultation of a partner.

Light feet descended the stairs. "I hope you brought my favorite vanilla mocha," Tifa said, dressed conservatively in knee-length shorts and a hoodie.

"Of course, of course!" Reeve handed her the coffee. "Uh, Vincent? Do you like cinnamon in your coffee? You're welcome to mine. I should probably cut back on calories, to be honest."

Vincent shook his head. "I'll indulge in my favorite tea."

Tifa sat first, and Reeve joined her at the table as Vincent dropped a tea bag into his cup. "How is Luxiere doing?" Tifa asked nervously. "Is he still under watch? Have arrangements been made for Liza's…funeral?"

"He is doing better, Tifa. His grief is immense, understandably. But he was adamant we allow him to see his child before I left last night."

"Well, that's good news, then," she replied, eyes sorrowful. "It made me sad to think of the baby alone in the labs, with no one to cuddle him, hitting those important milestones, and no family to care. You know?"

Reeve squeezed her hand. "I know, Tifa. One thing I'm sure of in this world is your big heart." He gave her a grin of confidence. She nodded and smiled as her cheeks pinkened, and an awkward silence followed. Reeve sipped his drink and turned to Vincent. "So, you just returned from Wutai, I assume? How did it go?"

"Flight landed a few hours ago. I was about to head over to the labs and give Curie's journals to Rayleigh."

"Ah! Sounds good. Let's commute together." Reeve grabbed Tifa's hand as she rose from the table. "Sorry to cut this short, Tifa. I knew you'd been worried about the situation with the baby."

She shook her head. "It's alright. Just keep me posted if anything changes or you need help." She hugged him before turning to Vincent.

Sensing an impending lover's farewell, Reeve exited the kitchen without looking back. He started his car's ignition, not waiting long before Vincent climbed into the passenger seat.

As Seventh Heaven disappeared in the rearview mirror, Vincent spoke. "The Turks have operations on the western continent."

"Not surprising," Reeve replied. "ShinRa never truly abandoned their ambitions."

"They're collecting samples from the trash SOLDIERs left in the caves. Testing it at a storefront in the city. A travel agency."

"Are they conducting experiments?" Reeve tried to hold his shock and disgust. He couldn't fathom ShinRa returning to its old ways.

"No, that's not their purpose. They're looking for something. Some sort of connection."

"A connection? To what?"

"Not to what—to who." Vincent stared at Reeve before he continued. "I'm going to leave for Modeoheim today. The sooner I find Brukho, the sooner we can sleep easier."

Reeve quieted as he stopped at a red light and thought for a moment. "Don't misunderstand, Vincent. The scientist is high on my priority list. But the truth is that we've got to show Godo something soon. And Turks uncovering these SOLDIER hideouts in Wutai doesn't strengthen our position. The emperor sees WRO labors as an extension of ShinRa's better days. I'd prefer you delay your search of the northern continent and help Yuffie's investigation. It will go quicker—smoother—if you help her."

He waited for Vincent to disagree, to say that he preferred to work independently and trusted Yuffie to solve the case on her own.

"I'll speak to her, make sure she's on the right track."

Reeve sighed, relieved. "Thank you, Vincent. Who knows…maybe this is all related." He flashed a smile. "Wouldn't that be lucky?"

"Hm." Vincent leaned forward, adjusting himself to face Reeve. "About the baby."

"Yes?"

"He can't grow up in a lab, Reeve. I won't allow it. Take Tifa's offer if the SOLDIER proves unfit."

Reeve nodded. "You don't have to worry about that, Vincent. I wouldn't dream of repeating ShinRa's mistake. You have my word."

A familiar sight greeted Vincent when he returned to the labs with Curie's journals. He paused midstride upon seeing Shelke perched high atop a console seat with a neurotransmitter helmet secure atop her head. Her eyes were distant, mind tapped into the network. Vincent approached her, surveying the screen at her feet to catch a glimpse of her work. He couldn't make sense of the series of digits dancing vertically across the screen. The data meant nothing to him.

"Hello, Vincent Valentine." Shelke lifted the helmet, placing it on the armrest before she hopped down. She stretched herself with chest jutting outward. "I've achieved another inch in height. And if you notice," she said, lowering her chin to stare at her shirt. "I now display what many would refer to as a budding bosom."

Vincent recoiled, stepping back as though hit with an unpleasant odor, then turned as someone coughed and a chair scraped against the floor. Carlos winced, a painful smile stretching across his face as he feigned ignorance of the mortifying topic.

"Uh—" Vincent clutched the box of journals tighter.

"Oh, Vincent." He finally breathed as the young woman's sister joined them. "You're back already." Shalua arched a quizzical brow. "Is—everything ok?"

"I was just demonstrating to Vincent Valentine that my pubertal milestones are now visible to the naked eye. Although I have yet to fill out an adult-sized bra, I believe in time I will reach a genetic potential similar to Tifa Lo—mrfert—"

Shalua clamped her hand over her sister's mouth and laughed awkwardly at Vincent. Shelke angrily yanked at the hand covering her mouth. "What are—mfou—dommrr. Stop tha—mrrrt."

"Kids these days," Shalua laughed again.

Vincent fled quickly into the conference room and set the journals on the table, thinking over Shelke's progress. Could he dare to hope? Her reversal could hold promise for his own predicament. The possibility was there. He'd have to ask Simon or Berry about it later.

The scientists slowly filed into the conference room behind him, Simon wheeling Berry inside as the older man's eyes lit up at the old research. They scattered the journals across the table and began thumbing through Curie's notes and analyses, skimming through decades-old research that hadn't seen daylight in almost 40 years.

Berry let out a weary chuckle. "You know something," he began, voice wheezy and tremulous behind a solemn smile. "My wife hated Nibelheim. I bought her a small house on the south side of town. Do you remember?" Vincent looked away as the doctor's smile turned down. "But she never liked it," Berry continued. "She—just like Madeline—thought the town was creepy."

Vincent refused to indulge this melancholic musing and turned as Reeve arrived moments later, Rayleigh in tow with the arms full of documents. "It's fortuitous you're all in attendance," the commissioner said, dropping a stack of photos onto the table. "Agent Kisaragi finally received customs logs of the pharmaceuticals shipped to our counterparts in Wutai, as well as to this phantom company—Pilpub Inc—which has no viable address."

The doctors thumbed through the logs, and Simon let out a gasp. "There's so much of the unauthorized serum."

"I agree, Daniel. We should examine the remainder in our stores. There's no accounting for this many shipments, and our inventories show nothing missing," Rayleigh said.

Vincent noted that Dr. Sybil Shelley was no longer part of their meetings, assigned to their toxins department. He should feel better about the arrangement, but the knowledge the WRO kept her employed made him uneasy.

"Hmm, yes," Reeve said, lowering himself to a seat. "Vincent, Yuffie is reviewing independently in her office. I was hoping to get your analysis, as well."

Vincent nodded. "I have a theory." He peered at handwritten annotations on some copies, noting dozens of orders for the shadow company. "But you're not going to like it."

Rayleigh and her team looked startled at Vincent's words, though he ignored their shocked faces. "I'll summarize in my report on the trip to Wutai." He left them gaping over their pencils and research, preferring solitude in his office while they once again revisited Nibelheim and its lingering tragedies.

Drafting reports irritated Vincent as much as it did in his Turk days. But Reeve would be tied up with Rayleigh for some time, and Vincent wanted to get this finished. So he fired up his computer and gathered his thoughts, smiling as he thought of the old days when he'd had to hand jam a collection report by typewriter. Of course, the computer was far more efficient, but it still annoyed him to have to complete the task.

He quickly typed up his meeting with Curie, noting her sickened condition, living arrangements with her niece, her familiarity with current Turk staff, and knowledge of the investigation into Brukho.

Curie believed suspect hiding in Modeoheim region. Recalled his fondness for snowy climates and private property in mountains.

Vincent leaned back in his chair and studied his short report, formulating his thoughts about the Turks' investigations. Vincent's theory would probably shock the commissioner. But Reeve needed to be prepared. Vincent typed quickly, detailing every cave, along with the coordinates, then included his short conversation with Tseng and Elena upon their return.

Vincent had almost forgotten Reeve's morning request until his office door's security latch clicked, and a certain ninja peered in. When the hell did she get access to this office?!

She pushed in, not waiting for an invitation. "So, just how cozy have you become with those turkeys?" Yuffie asked, hands on her hips, chin downturned in disapproval.

Vincent had enough patience for a bored stare.

"Come on," she whined, pouting. "Tell me what's going on. I know something is up. Why are you covering for them?"

"What do you think?" he asked.

She toed the generic carpet, seeming to consider her words, something she should practice more often. "You think they're up to something. But they aren't doing anything to hurt our efforts. Just—" she hesitated, either thinking it over again or waiting for his agreement. Vincent gave her no encouragement or clue that her conclusions were on the right track. "They're trying to prevent a media storm against their poor prince's image."

"Bingo," he replied, rising from his seat to pinch her nose between his knuckles.

"Ow! Not necessary!" Yuffie batted his hand away. "Anyway," she continued, rubbing her nose. "They're waiting for you again in the WRIPer chatterbox."

"WRIPer chatter—" He paused at her innocent blinking. "Fine." Vincent saved his report and locked his computer. "You want to join?

"Really?"

He nodded at the door.

"Sweet! We can team up and force their secrets from their screaming maws!" Yuffie sprang through the door, and Vincent prayed for no regrets.

Maybe letting Yuffie pretend to be a bad cop—as Vincent knew she would attempt—might shake Tseng enough to make a mistake.

He stopped in front of the meeting room on the WROID floor. A small plaque had been installed.

WRIPer Chatter Box

Vincent chuckled low, thinking of the face Reeve would make when the commissioner read the display.

Yuffie slammed her palms on the table. "Tell us what Cissnei was up to in Wutai!"

Tseng blinked stupidly and looked at Vincent. To Yuffie's trained eye, the turkey appeared unprepared for this round of spy games.

But she was just getting started. "According to my reports from an anonymous source, you believed she had Mako poisoning for weeks!" Her eyes narrowed at her target. "Why is that?"

He traded a glance with Elena—a guilty, suspicious glance. Vincent continued to let Yuffie lead, supporting her strategy silently as she interrogated these experts of espionage.

Yuffie had to keep the pressure up. "Then you realized—she'd gotten herself knocked up by a SOLDIER boy!" Tseng actually looked down at his hands in shame. Who's the professional now, turkey?

"And then!" Yuffie sliced a hand through the air and pointed her finger at the two of them. "You had medicine shipped!" She raised her foot and rested it on a chair before leaning an elbow on her knee to better glare at the director and his underling. "And just who made Cissnei's meds? Who's your supplier?!"

Tseng's eyes begged Vincent for help. Pfft! This stooge was out of his league. But he remained tight-lipped and silent. He could hold a poker face when the situation warranted. Yuffie would give him that.

The silence broke when the little blonde snorted. Elena's throat cleared as Yuffie cut her a sharp look, obviously tense from their vulnerable position. Yuffie gauged how much she could get out of the youngest Turk. They had a precarious friendship of sorts—a camaraderie borne of shared trauma—earned when a slimy crime lord had kidnapped them together years ago.

Perhaps she could use her past with Elena to an advantage. Yuffie straightened, conjuring a softer smile before reaching into a cabinet along the wall. She passed a water bottle and a little bag of chocolate candies to the other woman, the gift offered as bait into her victim's unsuspecting hands.

The Turk smiled, shooting a puzzled glance at her boss. "Uh—thanks." Elena twisted the bottlecap. "We have a team at Healen researching and preparing medications. They've been working in tandem with Rayleigh's team. I believe they have weekly calls. As… I'm sure you're aware."

Yuffie's face reddened. "Pfft! Of course, I knew that!"

"What's your agenda today?" Vincent asked suddenly.

Straight to the point, a good tactic. Yuffie winked at him as sly as she could manage before crossing her arms as she looked back at their uninvited guests. Turks showing up unannounced meant they needed info—or had info—and wanted more info. Or maybe just wanted their rivals to think they had info so they could get info. The old fake-out to lead the WRIPers astray. She claimed a chair across from Elena and propped up onto her elbows, a well-executed power position to show these turkeys who's in charge here.

That trademark, robotic smile plastered itself onto Tseng's face. Yuffie wondered if his mouth could make any other expression. "More cooperation I wanted to deliver in person," he finally replied.

Tseng fished into his pocket and pulled out a small, leather-bound case. It exchanged hands like a bad mafia movie, with Tseng sliding it across the table to Elena, who dropped a coy shoulder like she was a good luck charm at a high-stakes card game. She presented the case to Vincent like it held the rarest materia. Now it was Yuffie's turn to snort.

Vincent opened the case and plucked out a flash drive. "What's this?"

"The location of every SOLDIER hideout we were able to uncover."

Yuffie straightened in alarm. "Hideouts? What—more hideouts in Wutai? Are they planning an invasion or something?"

"No, Princess Kisaragi," the director replied gently. "These show locations worldwide that are hideouts only—from what we've gathered. But their goals are not aligned with disruption or a challenge to Wutai's sovereignty. We consider them a potential terrorist organization against ShinRa's interest, as well as the WRO."

"Why are you sharing this now?"

That infuriating smile returned. "A sign of good faith, Princess," he replied. "And you are correct to assume the president has ulterior motives. President ShinRa is aware Lord Godo seeks to root out all former ShinRa employees from his continent. We hope our intelligence will help his endeavors." Tseng didn't back down as Yuffie's glare hardened. "The president also hopes to extend business—clean energy options—to Wutai in order to begin to make amends for his father's policies. And hopes you will aid in seeking this approval and commitment from your father."

"Money is king, huh?"

Tseng lowered his head like a demur debutante. "We know this will strengthen the WRO's position with your father, as well. A position we've come to understand has recently met with some strain."

"What kind of terroristic threats have the SOLDIERs made against ShinRa?" Vincent asked. "The WRO hasn't received this kind of intel."

"Information, Mr. Valentine." Smile, smile, smile.

"What kind of information?" Yuffie gritted out, drumming her fingers. Why did this Turk make wrangling information out of him feel like she was shaving a raging behemoth?

"Thus far, they've only revealed their numbers, claiming they currently have hundreds—though we suspect those claims are inflated." Tseng began and steepled his hands under his chin. "They seek to extort the president for medicines, scientific research, and equipment." His brows drew together. "The kind of equipment and scientific research that Hojo would have employed. They have also threatened to reveal certain truths about their health condition to the media if he does not comply. Even if they only had a handful of SOLDIERs in their insurgency—they would be a formidable threat."

Yuffie felt her chest squeeze. "That certainly sounds foreboding." She looked at her partner, but his face remained blank.

Tseng stood as his chest buzzed, pulling a phone from his suit jacket. "Excuse me a moment," he apologized. "Is there a private office I can take this call?"

Yuffie mechanically rose to point him into a small, unoccupied office outside the conference room. Elena moved to follow, but Yuffie grabbed her arm, a sudden idea springing to mind.

"Elena—uh—I really like those earrings. Are they new?" She glanced at Vincent over Elena's shoulder as he rubbed a knuckle under his chin. Hopefully, he would go along with this tack.

"Oh, you think so?" Elena touched the pearl hanging from her earlobe, cheeks blushing.

"Ho—how was your trip to Wutai? You—uh—get much sightseeing in while you were there?"

Elena sighed. "Not really. Would've liked to, but this trip wasn't for pleasure. Mission execution was the priority."

"But—you got to see the city and some outlying areas, right?"

The Turk smiled. "Only a fraction of what's on my bucket list. But I was at least able to narrow down more locations where Professor Brukho isn't hiding."

"Oh?" Yuffie perked up, stealing a glance at Vincent for his reaction. He arched an eyebrow, and she blinked at him in silent communication. "You crossed out some potential sites?"

"Yeah," Elena replied. "A couple of cave systems that might have drawn his attention. We were worried he might be hiding there, too. That's how we stumbled onto a few hideouts."

Yuffie cut Vincent a wide-eyed look. She considered the information, and another coincidence planted itself fresh in her brain. "So, uh...you're going to be an auntie soon, right? Maybe help Cissnei pick out some brat—tuh—baby names?"

"We—are—so—excited!" Elena giggled, missing Yuffie's little slip-of-the-tongue. "They don't like any names I've recommended, but Reno keeps calling her a Turk Turd. And you should see the look on Kunsel's face every time he says it!"

"Ha-ha!" Yuffie guffawed, slapping her thigh. "Gross! Har har! I used to call Marlene Little Bug, but she's kinda grown out of it. So maybe—uh—Turk Bug?"

"SOLDIER Slug?" Elena blurted, and they laughed together.

From the corner of her eye, Yuffie could see Vincent watching, probably with a bored expression. She cleared her throat. The only way to know was to simply go for it!

"What about Pilpub?" Yuffie squirmed when Vincent covered his face with a hand.

"What is that?" Elena canted her head.

"Yeah—uh—I don't know what it means. But it's got sort of a cute insect sound to it. Don-cha think?"

No response as the door reopened, and Tseng apologized for his brief absence. He reclaimed his seat and glanced around the table expectantly. "Another vote against Reno, Tseng," Elena snickered.

"Hmm?" he asked, bewildered.

"Yuffie thinks Turk Turd is a terrible nickname, too. But! She came up with one that sounds adorable. Pilbug!"

"Pil—pub," Yuffie corrected, and Elena mouthed an oh.

Tseng's face evolved as his eyebrows shot upward, as though something slowly dawned him. His chin jerked subtly as he directed his gaze at Yuffie. And with a sudden shift, his mask fell into place like a curtain. "Where did you hear that name?" he asked.

"Oh—around," Yuffie shrugged. "You've heard it before?"

He seemed to consider a moment, then said, "Unique baby names are all the fashion." That damn smile! "Or so I'm told."

The Turks quickly said their goodbyes and didn't linger for round two, but Yuffie was convinced her methods were fruitful. "That went well, right? They were looking for Brukho in Wutai. He's not there! And did you see the look on Tseng's face when he heard the word Pilpub? It's like he saw a ghost!" Yuffie heard nothing in reply, so she turned to look at Vincent, who stared at her like she was a three-headed moogle. "What?"

"The meeting went perfectly well," he finally said. "That is until your motormouth won the battle against better judgment."

"What did I say?"

"Next time," he bent closer, invading her personal space like an ashamed parental figure. "Quit while you're ahead. Innocent questions reveal too much of our knowledge."

A pout settled on her face, and as the doddering old specter slinked out of the room, she stuck her tongue out at him. What did he know, anyway? She thought the meeting valuable. Yuffie followed him. She'd set him straight. Her techniques were as helpful as his own, even if they differed.

He sighed when he caught on that she trailed him. "Now what?"

"Oh, nothing…just wondering why you can't admit maybe my interrogation got us good leads." Yuffie lifted her chin at his taciturn, rueful stare. He couldn't deny it.

They heard a bell ding from the intercom. "What is that?" Vincent asked.

"Oh!" Yuffie clapped her hands together. "It works! Ha! Don't worry. It's the new doorbell I had installed outside the WRIPer office. Reeve thought it wasn't useful. But no one mans the door, and I want to know if we have lurkers!"

"Lurkers wouldn't use the doorbell."

Yuffie smirked. What did he know, anyway? The doorbell wasn't a button on the wall! No… she's craftier than that. She had the switch installed under the doormat. Step on it, and DING!

Vincent shook his head at his much younger colleague. She was as bright as she was annoying. But he had other annoyances to tend, like this report, which he needed to complete if he wanted to leave for Modeoheim before sunset. Not for the first time, he wished telekinetic powers were part of his augmentations. Then, he could think the words and the keys would initiate the electric impulses necessary to convey in a neat, digital format. At least he no longer had to contend with a typewriter and gooey corrector paste. Perhaps Vincent could challenge Berry or Simon to tailor his meds to add an extrasensory element to his enhancements.

There was no denying the ninja had her uses. Though Elena was known to inadvertently reveal secrets, Yuffie's tactics left the youngest Turk none the wiser. He smiled as he typed out his assessments.

Strongly confident—Former ShinRa employees part of elite SOLDIER units likely receiving aid from former ShinRa scientists. All parties should be considered rogue.

Fairly confident—Rogue SOLDIER units could be providing protection and concealment to Brukho.

Rogue SOLDIER units' current location UNKNOWN.

A very muffled and warmly feminine voice laughed from outside his door. Tifa?The security latch clicked, then the door swung wide, and Vincent's mouth curled up to one side as Tifa stepped through the door.Yuffie ruined the moment when her head peeked over Tifa's shoulder.

"Alright, I've escorted you," she said and hugged Tifa. "This is worth at least one free shot."

"All your shots are free at Seventh, Yuffie," Tifa reminded her.

"Oh, but I mean when we have a girls' night out." Yuffie winked before departing with a turn of her heel.

Tifa held up a brown paper bag. "How about some lunch?"

"Girls' night out?" he questioned, taking the bag and ushering Tifa through the door.

She giggled at what he assumed was a jealous look on his face. "More like babysitting Yuffie night!" She helped him clear space on his desk.

"So, what made you decide to surprise me today?" he asked.

Tifa shrugged. "To be honest, you weren't on my agenda. I came to hang out with Molly and Cissnei." At his raised eyebrow, she rolled her yes. "Fine. I came to see the baby, but everyone is

napping."

He leaned over the desk and pecked her mouth. "Seems my luck, then."

"Mm, mine, too." She emptied the takeout bag and crafted improvised place settings with napkins and food wrappings. "I hope you like salty, fried onion flavor."

Sandwiches with purple lettuce and green chips spread neatly across makeshift plates on his desk. "Where did this come from?" He couldn't recall Tifa ever making the same at her bar.

"The café next door. It's the one Shalua goes to all the time. I bet their main customers are WRO."

"Even Reeve has to eat," he replied before tossing a chip into his mouth.

Tifa chewed and considered Vincent as he ate like a ravenous puppy. She swallowed a bite. "Do you—need—to eat?"

His eyes crinkled with amusement. "I hunger if I haven't eaten in a while, though I can't starve."

"That must be an awful feeling."

"It's a hollowness. A hungry bear waking from hibernation is the closest approximation. My body functions—or seems to—as a habit. I don't know how Hojo accomplished what he did. I used to think I operated like a zombie symbiote." He chuckled at her confusion. "Similar to a fungal parasite and insect. The parasite controls the limbs and muscles, but the insect is…dead. Not in control. Its body is a vessel, a vehicle for the parasite.

"That's not what I am," he continued. "The corrupted cells are sustained by Mako flowing in my veins. Hojo somehow created a new stream—apart from the Lifestream's river—out of my veins. It's the reason Chaos couldn't escape me for years. It was trapped as much as I was. And we helped each other. I can live on—" He glanced into her eyes, the hard stare almost revealing anguish with the words. "And so can the corruptions—in a way."

"It's a marvel you were ever able to control it."

"Lucrecia—that was her accomplishment," he replied, staring into his sandwich.

"Are you glad that she did?" Tifa was nervous to ask. They rarely discussed Lucrecia.

He didn't hesitate in his answer. "More now than ever." And she smiled brightly, sighing with relief.

"At least I can finally relax knowing you're not a vampire," she teased.

"Are you sure?" Vincent asked and snapped his teeth at her. Tifa giggled.

Vincent turned his head toward the door, hearing a noise too hushed for Tifa's ears. "Don't come in!" he called out.

The next second, Tifa heard a loud click, then Yuffie stuck her head through the door with one eye squinting open. "Good," the ninja said, stepping through the portal. "You're both dressed."

"I said don't come in, Yuffie."

"You're gonna want me to interrupt for this," she said, ignoring him as she barged in and scanned the food on his desk. She slammed a stack of documents on his sandwich and propped her hands on her hips. "Pilpub uses a fake address!"

"No kidding," Vincent replied. Tifa stifled a laugh at the incredulous look on his face. "Incredible detective work," he continued, folding his arms.

"Hold on to your gauntlet, cape man. I'm not finished. The address they're using is actually an alley!" Yuffie paused dramatically, waiting for a response.

"But—alleys don't have a postal address, Yuffie," Tifa offered when Vincent didn't play along.

"Exactly! So, I went to the 'street,'" she said, miming air quotes. "And guess what?! It's a back road that loops around the WRO parking lot, which no one really uses because it heads east into the wastes—but the numbers begin at a café and—"

"Which café?" Vincent finally looked interested.

Yuffie reached down to the mess on his desk and plucked Tifa's lunch receipt from a pile of napkins and sandwich wrappings. "I give you the Main Street Café—AKA Pilpub Inc!

"Feels like we've hit an important milestone." Yuffie drove her hands together, fist in palm, mean look in her eyes. "Like we're uncovering one little clue that will be an avalanche of actionable intelligence."

Tifa almost grinned at her excitement, feeling some pride at the progression of her younger friend's analytic and detective skills. She began cleaning Vincent's desk. "Guess that cuts the surprise lunch short. Seems like you two have urgent work."

Yuffie waved her hand under Tifa's nose. "Nah. Relax. Yuri is on it."

"Yuri?" Vincent asked with a dubious tone.

"Yeah, I gave him a manual on information gathering. He's got that thing bookmarked and earmarked and dogeared and highlighted. He's a good student," she said, lifting a chip from Vincent's stash and popping it into her mouth. "I'll bet—crunch—he's got it memorized. Later."

As the door shut behind the princess, Tifa sighed, hating to cut their impromptu date short. "Seems like you better chase after them."

"Hm," he said. "They're on the right track. I'll check up on their progress tomorrow."

"Yeah?"

"I need to go to Modeoheim. There's a scientist I should capture."

"Oh," she replied.

His mouth curved as he reached for her and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Tifa hesitated, then grabbed Vincent's belt and tugged him closer. "Does this mean you have some time?" She rubbed her chest against his and gave him a seductive smile. "I've got…time."

His breath trailed against her neck as he slid a hand up her thigh, and Tifa wrapped a leg around his hips, hissing as his hand gently scratched at her lace panties. She hadn't planned on making sex part of their meal, but he was too tempting. "How much time do we have exactly?" she simpered.

He traced his tongue down her neck. "I can put off my trip to Modeoheim for an…hour or so."

Tifa sighed as he kissed her collarbone. "Ok…I'm parked close. Let's get outta here." She ran her fingers through his hair, libido screaming as he unbuttoned her shirt and nipped at her breasts. "And we can…continue lunch in my apartment."

"Or," he said and lifted her onto his desk. "You could come north with me." He pulled her toward the edge and rocked his hips between her legs.

"Mm. I wish." He was driving her mad with need. Whose idea was this seduction? He was going to leave on another trip, and she wanted nothing more than his naked feel between her thighs. "But I need to run the bar tonight. Only Roni is scheduled."

Tifa gasped as he latched onto her panties and yanked them down from under her skirt. "Then, we'll have to do this now."

Her eyes widened. "Right now?! Won't someone hear?"

He coiled his fingers, knotting her panties at her knees and trapping her legs together. "You'll have to be silent then." He pushed her bent knees to one side, and she laid bare to him from the waist down. She shivered as he gazed at her nakedness. This was…an unexpected side of Vincent. That he would take this scandalous risk—but then—he could hear anyone approaching long before she could.

Any thought she had to stop his advance ended when he slid his thumb over her folds and pressed against her clit. Tifa felt herself instantly moisten for him and let out a moan. Somehow, the thought of letting this play out in his office, where someone might walk in at any moment, intensified her desire. She wanted him to be rough and quick. And later, she could replay this rendezvous in her mind as she waited for him to return from his trip.

He unbuckled his belt and trousers in a blur of movement, and in the next instant, he filled her and kissed her mouth to muffle the moans. She came apart, crying out softly at the explosive pleasure, unprepared for the orgasm that raced through her as he drove into her. The intensity of her climax didn't abate. It flooded and rushed for several minutes, all the while Vincent claimed her with greedy, rough strokes and kissed her with grazing teeth. He clutched her with desperation. The danger of being caught—he must feel the heightened risk, too.

His eyes suddenly flashed gold, and Tifa dug her nails into his shoulders as another orgasm sparked low, erupting deep within her. She cried out, and he grabbed her neck, groaning into her mouth and finally slowing his thrusts as he lifted her hips closer to his. His strength left her panting and boneless. His hold and touch felt divine, his body molding against her in coital bliss, a state of heavenly perfection.

Vincent rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard into her hair. Tifa wanted to memorize the expression on his face. He was so beautiful to her, with his eyes shuttered and holding onto her like she was the only woman in the world.

He finally pulled away, and she hissed again at the too-sensitive rub against her skin. She kissed him. "I miss you already."

"I'm addicted to you," he said, grazing her chin.

Tifa smiled. "Good. Then maybe you'll hurry back." She felt her heart drop at the thought of his absence for another few days. "When do you expect to return?"

"Before you wake."

"Thank Shiva," she said.

Another possessive kiss answered her as he cleaned them with their lunch napkins. "Thank you for lunch," he said. "Can I order that every day?"

"Only if you promise to keep Yuffie out."

"Done."

Modeoheim glistened under the moonlight. Everything was buried deep from a rare hundred-year late-summer blizzard. Even the old ShinRa factory and abandoned warehouses drowned in snow, only their rooftops jutting out from an icy tomb.

No trails, roads, or any hint of human traffic could be traced. He sensed nothing. Any life nearby was likely burrowed too deep for his notice. Vincent checked the weather reports on his phone. It would take weeks for any locals to clear the roads, and few needed to travel so far west. He would have to wait out the eventual melt; unfortunately, forecasts called for warm enough temperatures weeks away.

Vincent gritted his teeth. This was as close as he'd gotten to finding the scientist since discovering the unsanctioned lab and rescuing Shalua. With any luck, the man would be buried under an avalanche.

He returned just as fast to Edge and surprised a singing Tifa as she cleaned her bar after last call. "Well, that was fast," she said, smiling.

He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. "I missed you too much to linger where I couldn't feel you."