I'm sorry for killing Vincent and Cloud. Really, I love the boys, but I decided to cut them loose for this story. Part of it was for the value of going against the 'everyone is alive and fancy free' aspect in a lot of post-Meteor stories, but the more I thought it over, I decided on those two, for the plot. A plot which will be detailed in Tifa's part in this shindig. Coincidentally, this is a Tifa part. Ooh la la.

Vincent was dying.

For the fiftieth goddamn time, he was dying. And those blood-red eyes were open, staring...

Right at her.

She wanted to do something, but every time was exactly the same as the last. Exactly the same as the first. His right hand pulling her down, pulling her in so close that their wounds were close enough for their exposed guts to touch, and his mouth against hers, nearly kissing her as he sighed out his last words.

"Never wanted to die alone, Tifa. Always thought..."

And she had kissed him then, a friendly, parting gesture.

But she still felt like a monster. Even as he let out his last feeble gasp of air, his blood pooling out from his stomach, from his leg, she was pushing him, rolling him slightly to grab his cape and rip it free, half frantic in her attempts to get the clasps undone, her bloodied hands slipping on the polished metal.

Once she had gotten it free, she tore at it, frenzied like an animal, and once she had stripped enough of it away, she reached up, grasping at the slick weight of her exposed intestines, shoving them back into the wound, sucking in a tight breath as she held them there, bandaging it up.

That done, she'd cast as many cure spells as she could, trying to slow the bleeding down to a trickle, enough so that she could hold on, a green glow from her gauntlet nearly blinding her, before dissolving back...

Right to the start again. Right to the hot, sliding point of friction against her side, zipping her open, the strangled sound from Vincent as whatever had clipped her hit him dead-on. The sensation of being thrown through the air, weightless for a moment before gravity caught up and she slammed back down against the deck, eyes screwed shut, breath nearly bursting in her lungs, unable to breathe.

And then pushing herself up once they stopped, on her hands and knees, and looking down, seeing her guts pushed out, hanging, dangling towards the ground, and then seeing Vincent, crawling in close to him, seeing just how awful his injuries were, her right hand, sopping with blood reaching out toward his face hesitantly. And then the hand on her wrist gripping desperate and vice-like, hauling her in close until they were face to face, wound-to-wound, and those eyes staring at her...

"Never wanted to die alone, Tifa. Always thought..."

She didn't want to have to keep doing this. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. Sure, she'd done terrible things, all for some nearly all-consuming desire to make Shinra pay for every bad, sneaky, God-awful thing they'd ever done. That little dunk she'd taken in the Lifestream, all those dead voices shrieking at her no matter how she tried to justify what she'd done, it was all too obvious.

But even so, this was too cruel, even for Hell.

It had to be Hell. Had to. Why else would she be forced to go through seeing Vincent die over and over and over, not even being able to do anything? It was like she was some third-party fly on the wall watching the same loop again and again...

So why Vincent? She'd done nothing to him, save for care about him. They'd been comrades, friends... she'd never hurt him. So why be forced to watch his death? Why his, and not that lackey of Corneo's? She'd killed him; pulled him off of Aerith, got an arm around his throat and then twisted with a sharp snap, dropping the dead weight of his body, leaving him face-down on the floor of a seedy Slum whorehouse.

Then again, she had felt no remorse at that. If anything, she'd felt justified. Bad example. What of those that were still lying crushed and decaying beneath the ruins of the Sector Seven plate? It had been AVALANCHE's fault that Shinra had ordered that. All those people killed for the sake of trying to exterminate some 'vermin'. So why wasn't she knee-deep in squalling, grasping corpses shrieking for retribution?

Vincent had spoken to her of atonement, his way of attempting to deal with his own torments; his regret over what had happened in the past to turn him into the man he was now.

Or rather, the man he had been. For the fifty-second time now, she was kissing him goodbye, already reaching for his cloak, needing it to make bandages, lest she end up like him.

Atoning... Was that what this was? Atonement? Was having to watch this again and again going to put her back on the level after what she had done? If so, how long was this going to go on for? Fifty more times? A hundred years worth? Forever?

At least she'd been able to say goodbye to him, in a way. Yuffie had gone back to sleep, never knowing how bad it really was. She had told Cid, and then had hit him with a Sleepel spell, not wanting to have to face him, well, as much as she could, given the barrier between them.

Barret. She hadn't been able to say goodbye to Barret.

Or Nanaki.

Or Cloud.

In the end, she'd curled up next to Vincent, his still-warm blood soaking into her clothes, mingling with the blood already on her. Resigned to her fate, she leaned her head on his shoulder, knees tucked up to her chest, and let herself drift off.

But had she known that this would be awaiting her, she would have tried to stay awake, would have listened to Cid. It would probably have ended up the same, but at least she would have tried to avoid this fate in the afterlife, rather than laying down and accepting it.

"Never wanted to die alone, Tifa. Always thought..."

Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring hazily through one eye into an all consuming whiteness. Was this...

Had she finally been moved on to the next level of Hell? No more Vincent; no more red eyes and dying whispers? Was it over now, was she free?

"You're awake." A voice murmured from off to her side, sounding almost surprised, but at the same time, not sounding all that moved by the observation.

Her head rolled to the side, and she blinked her right eye slowly, scrutinizing the speaker. A man was sitting there, in a military green-colored vinyl chair. One leg was crossed over the other, and he wore a blue suit; neatly pressed.

He was looking at her oddly, expression impossible to read. He had fine Wutaian features, with an almost effeminate quality to them, and immaculate, jet-black hair, which was combed back from his forehead, hanging straight to about his shoulders.

She knew him.

And he was...

He was dead too.

So this was going to be the next level, was it? Stuck in a room with a dead Turk for a good slice of eternity. What would be next? Working as a receptionist for Corneo?

Oh, don't give them any ideas.

"Yeah, I guess." She muttered finally, put off by the whole situation. She sighed, reaching up with her left hand, touching at her forehead, where it had been all cut up, feeling gauze and bandages covering the wound, and her left eye as well. There were tubes up her nose, and as she shifted her left arm experimentally, feeling little pin-prick tugs of pain, she noticed there were also tubes in her arm, and something clamped over her finger. Her side and her right arm ached, throbbing dull and demanding, but it still didn't explain what that Turk was doing here in the room with her.

Well, it was Hell, so it didn't have to make sense. Besides, when they'd found him at the Temple of the Ancients, wounded as he was, they could have helped him; probably could have saved him. But they had just walked right by, leaving him where he was slouched against the wall.

Understandable. So why was she so banged up? Had her wounds from the crash carried over into this part of her afterlife? Glorious. And now she had Tseng, formerly of the Turks, playing nursemaid to her for the next little stretch of forever.

Let the good times roll.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, still sounding like he didn't particularly care to hear the answer.

What kind of question…..

"Like I've died." She bit out tiredly, rolling her eyes. "You know the feeling, I'm sure."

Surprisingly, he offered a small smile, as if they shared some secret, personal joke between them, a slight chuff of laughter making his shoulders tremble.

"Yes, yes. I suppose I do know the feeling. Not exactly pleasant, is it Miss Lockhart?" Her mouth quirked a little, lips pressed together. Unless he was going to spend the next millennia smothering her with a pillow, maybe this wouldn't be as bad. Always polite, Tseng. Even when he had chased her down through the Shinra building, nearly decapitated her, he had been nothing but polite. Compared to the Turks under his command, he'd been a downright gentleman.

Not that that was much of a consolation.

"What are you here for?" She asked finally, following his glance towards something across the room. He was looking at the clock mounted on the wall, which almost read two o'clock. It looked dark outside, so it might have been two in the morning. But then again, her spot in the afterlife was probably always going to be dark.

"Well, I won't be here much longer, but we've been asked to keep an eye on you."

"Who asked?"

But she didn't receive an answer as the door suddenly banged open, and Reno backed into the room, hands up placatingly, an innocent expression on his face as someone from out in the hall continued cursing at him. He had his suit jacket off, sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and she could see the thick leather cuffs around his wrists, steel rings dangling from them.

She stared at them, suddenly remembering how much she had hated those fucking things. He hadn't had them the first time they'd fought, but the next time, when the Turks had ambushed them in Gongaga, she had kicked the mag-rod out of his hand, and gone in for another hit, expecting the weapon to skitter off to the side and leave him momentarily open. But those cuffs were there, hidden under the sleeves of his jacket. The mag-rod was tethered to the steel ring; just a swing of his wrist, and the weapon was back in his hand and close enough that the crackle of electricity managed to singe some of the hair on her right temple.

The smell of the burnt hair came to mind, and her stomach shrank in on itself a little, both from the memory, and the thought that trailed along after it.

Oh. Oh God. Was this going to be her next level of Hell? Stuck in a bed as an invalid with both Tseng and Reno? Was she going to get impromptu shock treatments forever while the redhead chattered away in that almost perpetually joking tone, and Tseng callously urged him to crank up the volts?

And while she was thinking about it, would her eyeballs burst, or melt? Would her jaw lock, severing her own tongue as she screeched and convulsed? And would things go back to normal; would she go back to normal after he was done, only to let him start the whole thing all over again?

Ugh. Morbid much?

"Highwind, yo, give it a rest, huh? Look, if anything changes, we'll give you a heads up, alright? But until then, hanging around and goggling Sleeping Beauty" He paused, jerking a thumb in the direction of her bed "Is pretty much our gig. It's not like you guys hovering over her and hanging on every breath she sucks in is going to push her along on the way to actually coming around."

Cid?

Cid was here too? But he wasn't...

She stared dumbly toward the door, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. She saw a hand shoot through the dwindling open space of the door as Reno squeezed through, too-thick fingers scrabbling dumbly at the collar of his shirt. The redhead just leaned back, avoiding the grab, his lips pressed together in a thin, unamused line.

"I don't care! We haven't been allowed to see her since she was put in here. The kid's been in tears about it all-"

"Yeah, I know. She's been bitching at us, you've been bitching at us, shit, now that the big guy's coherent again, he's bitching at us. And... oh, don't start with that again. You've already decked me enough times as it is. I don't think that's doing much for your recovery time. Besides, visiting hours are way beyond over. So toddle on back to bed, dude. Reeve's already all over my ass."

It was quiet for a moment, all of the humor gone from Reno's voice. He had straightened up from his normally slouched posture, and the easy, mocking grin, the carefree attitude, had all seemed to evaporate as he stared Cid down, not willing to budge.

The door clicked shut, locked, and she heard Reno sigh tiredly.

"Love this job, Tseng. Love it. At least their dog's been chill about this whole situation. I don't get it anyway. The broad probably isn't even going to wak….." He stopped short, realizing that the 'broad' in question was sitting up and frowning at him, right eye narrowed at him indistinguishably. His business face melted away into a slightly sheepish, guilty expression, and he gave her a bright, almost appallingly overdone grin "Oh, hiiiiiii Tifa. Good to see you back among the living and all that."

Back among the living?

What did that…..

Why was he…..

What did that…..

What did that mean?

Unless….. unless.

"What's going on?" Tifa finally asked, sitting up a little straighter, picking uneasily at the tape across her cheekbone. Her eye hurt, and the adhesive itched. It had tacked slightly at one corner, curling back from her skin, giving her a bit of purchase to pick at it. She glanced back and forth between Reno, who was still giving her an obscenely overdone smile, and Tseng, who regarded her coolly, as if waiting for her to make up her mind to speak. Her eye shifted over them, back and forth, back and forth, scrutinizing the bruises and the black eye marring the left side of Reno's face. What the Hell had happened to him?

"What's the last thing you remember?" Tseng asked after a moment, standing up. She just shook her head, gesturing inarticulately for a moment, seeing Vincent's dulling eyes staring balefully up at her.

"I went to sleep next to Vincent. I was dying anyway, and..." She paused, looked at Reno, looked at Tseng, before her left hand came up, rubbing at her temples. A headache, both from the almost overpowering scent of sterility in the room, and from her tired mind running itself sick, was starting right at the base of her eyes. Oooooh boy. Now it was starting to make sense. She kept her head down, gesturing tiredly in Tseng's direction. "You... you're not dead, are you?"

A small, rueful smile touched Tseng's lips, and he shook his head.

"No more than you are, Miss Lockhart. Where did you think you were? Hell?"

She just sighed, staring at the IV needles in her arm. Reno snorted derisively, as if he found this all very amusing, and Tseng just clicked his tongue, chuckling lightly.

"No offense." She muttered dourly.

"No; none taken. You were in bad sorts when we found you, but apparently, death doesn't seem to suit you." He paused, sniffing disdainfully "Which, I suppose, happens to be something you've grown accustomed to."

"Yeah," Reno chimed in, extending his right forearm, wrist up, and smacking the skin by the crook of his elbow, where a slight bruise had formed "You've got two pints of Reno in ya, baby!"

Tifa pulled a face at him, horrified. Two pints of any of Reno's bodily fluids anywhere near her was two pints too many.

"I mean, Hell" Reno went on; oblivious of the look she gave him "We're pretty much ready to give you honorary Turk status on that fact alone."

"Well, my shift is over." Tseng announced, still looking at the clock. "Miss Lockhart, it has been a pleasure." He bowed slightly, respectful, before heading toward the door. "Would you care for me to inform Mr. Highwind of your status?"

She just shook her head silently, plucking at a frayed thread at the edge of the blanket. She didn't want to have to see him right now. Not like this. He'd be upset about her putting him to sleep; he'd probably want to know why she had done that. It had been the last thing he said before he'd fallen asleep, after all.

"Well, shit, when we do break the news to them, you do it. Guy's decked me, like, ten times already. And those casts hurt." Reno called after him. The door opened and shut, leaving her alone with the redhead.

It was silent for a while, until Reno, tired of the silence, ambled over, leaning with his forearms on the hospital bed, staring up at her.

"Soooooo..." He started casually, drumming his fingers against her thigh. He was looking at her almost expectantly "Can I get you something, or, uh... something?" He tried, sounding rather out of place in talking to her, trying to be polite; nice.

He was probably under orders by Reeve, or Tseng, or….. somebody to try and not be such a condescending ass. Or maybe he was laying off for now because she had almost died. It probably wouldn't last long though.

She didn't really want to wait for him to break form and go back to his regular, mocking self. But from the looks of it, she couldn't really ignore him and wait for him to leave, now could she? Apparently the Turks were on round the clock surveillance of them for….. well, for whatever reason they were. And for now, confined to her bed, sick and disoriented as she was, there was only him, and the maddening itch of the loosening adhesive beneath her left eye. She blinked sluggishly at the offending veil of gauze, feeling the slight pressure as her eyelashes grazed against it. Going back to sleep was by no means a tantalizing escape either. If she went back to sleep, would Vincent be there again, snagging her by the wrist to start that all over again?

Vincent...

"Who else" She started finally, glancing up at him, face set "Who else died?"

"Well, you know about Valentine, I'm positive" He shrugged, mouth turning down at the edges, again losing the smirk "Your boy Strife was the only other casualty. Broken neck. If anything, it was fast; yanno, painless. Reeve's going to want to talk to you once he finds out you're up. Funeral arrangements and all that. He figures that you'd, ah, probably have the best idea as to where to….. put them." He trailed off lamely, glancing away from her one visible, bewildered eye, shrugging again as he stared out the window, even though there was really nothing to look at. Probably anything to avoid looking at her after what he'd just told her.

She just stared at him, shocked. The information sank in with surprising ease.

Cloud was gone too. Just like that. He...

He was with Aerith now.

She could take some small solace in that; what he wanted all along, ever since...

Her left hand came up to her mouth, teeth catching her index finger, biting down a little in case the tears started to come.

And they did, wetting the gauze covering her left eye. But not for the reason that she thought they would. Reno saw this and jerked back, hand coming off of her thigh, hovering a few inches from the bed, as if he weren't able to put them back down. His eyes were wide, almost horrified, as if he'd never expected to see the day that she would break down in tears.

"Oh. Oh no... Um." He was sputtering, reaching out, before his hand snaked back, and then finally, he reached back out, hands awkwardly hovering around her, moving, as if he didn't know what to do with them; where to put them. Or even if he should risk touching her or not. He finally got her shoulders in a clumsy, too-tight vice grip, almost in a bargain-basement excuse for a hug. Either that, or her was contemplating whether or not to start shaking her and yelling for her to stop crying.

The uncertainty of his actions was funny; almost. In that dark little corner of her mind, she was certain that if this situation were any less horrible, and he were anything close to a friend, she might have found it in herself to push him away, mustering up a little, tear-choked laugh at his reaction. He didn't know what to do.

She didn't know what to do.

Cloud and Vincent were dead. She had accepted the fact that she was going to die too. But now, she hadn't.

But, oh God. She should have.

She should have.

What was there now? For the past five years, after nearly dying in Nibelheim, her old life completely torn away, she had gone against the Shinra; tried to save the Planet. It had been her sole, all-consuming focus. But that was all over now. Done. So, her life was done too. That was it. She'd gotten her revenge, she'd helped save the Planet. Two lives already, done and finished. What was the point of starting a third? Starting from nothing?

There was nothing left.

"Oh G….." She muttered, against the skin of her hand, taking in a shaky gasp of air, shoulders twitching to try and get Reno to let go of her. "Damn it all."