:: Heart Less Love ::

"Man wants to live, but it is useless to hope that this desire will dictate all his actions."
- Albert Camus

Part Seventeen: Rapture

The world is such a beautiful place.

Every moment I am alive, I thank whatever forces have brought me here. I thank Gods and spirits for blessing me with a life filled with both sorrow and joy, that I might learn from it, that I might transcend it. Each day, I look towards the dawn with renewed senses of courage, hope and strength. I seek out those challenges others would find daunting, I crest the waves of adversity and rise from the crashing water, stronger and transformed every time; not every transformation visible to the eye, even the smallest and most subtle mutation is one I have earned.

Today, I am delighted and content. Tomorrow, who can say if I will feel the same, but that's part of the excitement and drama of life. Tomorrow I could be as high as the stratosphere and continuing to climb higher and higher, to touch the stars and dance across the clouds where angels rest.

And this world where it all begins and ends, where life blooms and fades, where laughter rings and echoes to a lonely wolf call across uncaring rifts of cliffs and surging seas; this world is my home, and my time walking it has been well spent. And so, that makes it the most beautiful place I have ever known.

So this time... maybe this time, I can do something more...

Tifa's hands were gentle as they wiped off the stains of red.

Her lover and best friend sat on the edge of a trolley in the San of the airship, staring out of one of the portholes with a far-away expression in her green eyes. Tifa said little as she traced the soft, damp cloth through the folds of skin, picking up the dregs of rusty blood and cleaning Aerith as best she could along the way. The beautiful outfit Aerith had chosen for the day had been burned in the lower engine decks, an act that Tifa had sent Vincent to do, unable to watch even the clothes that had been stained red.

Aerith had been as docile as a lamb after Cloud and Cid had brought her along from the hospital. The local authority had been involved rather heavily in the investigation that had hampered their progress for two days, and only just now saw them cruising along at a gentle speed over the southern eastern continent.

"Tifa," Aerith said, still staring out of the window, "I haven't once said, I am sorry, have I?"

Tifa looked up at the gentle woman, her soft eyes and pursed lips and tears that glistened only faintly on velvet skin, kissed by the sunshine. The halo of gold surrounding her was a trick of the light, as evening drew on, and she could only barely distinguish the sound of one of Aerith's feet tapping a nervous staccato on the trolley over the hum of the airship engines. She thought for a long moment, still carefully cleaning the blood from her lovers' arms.

"No, I suppose not."

Aerith smiled a little, a touch sadly, "Well I am. And now, things have changed further than ever. I have changed."

"People tend to do that, Cetra or Human." Tifa put down her washrag and turned, to pick up the pale pink and red dress, long sleeved with an a-line set to the skirt. "It is only natural, stagnation kills everything."

"I killed a man."

It hung there between them, awkward and loud, and Tifa gripped the material in her hands briefly, digging nails to her palms even through the simple layers of cotton. Aerith however, just sighed and slipped from the trolley to her feet, and began removing the surgical gown so she could dress.

What do I say to her? What do I do?

Tifa cleared her throat and handed the dress to the nude and seemingly unfazed Aerith, briefly noting with a wandering eye how chilly the air was to the ancient. "I have killed too."

"I am not you, I don't understand how to cope with this," Aerith shrugged herself into the dress, voice muffled, "I don't know if I'm meant to cope with it at all. I feel numb. Killing someone else, it's as if I sheared off part of my soul as I did it," her head emerged from the neckline, "as if they gripped it and dragged it away with them. I don't destroy, I create, I heal..."

Tifa watched as Aerith's hands began to tremble, settling the skirt that came to mid-calf and then attempting to pull her hair free of the dress. Unable to bear it any longer, she stepped up close and threaded her fingers into the golden-brown strands and helped with a tender motion, moving to press her cheek against Aerith's as she did so, grazing her lips along the line of her cheekbone. "It doesn't matter to me, what you've done; you're Aerith, my Aerith. It doesn't matter at all. If you must cry, cry. If you must be angry, be so. But don't hold it inside, I made that mistake and it nearly killed me. I was afraid too, once upon a time, but this fairy tale is different, things are different. Like you said, we have changed not only you but me too; but that doesn't mean we can't build more dreams on those new directions together."

"Tifa, why do you always know the right things to say," the green eyes looking up at her were almost overwhelmed with tears.

"I speak from the heart," she replied truthfully.

"A heart locked up," Aerith said softly, the distance between them making her eyelashes almost brush Tifa's nose tip.

"No," Tifa disagreed, "Not now. I have nothing left to hide from you." Desperation, perhaps irritation tinged her voice, "you're the only mystery left in my life, Aer'. You speak in riddles sometimes, you stare into space and your lips move without sound, you wake in the dead of night to look up stars and cry when only silence prevails. You laugh, and yet how can you, with what has been behind you in your past? You look to a future only you can clearly see as a blueprint, but you neglect to show us directions, assuming we will follow right behind you, and perhaps it is to our discredit that we blindly do so. You love without discrimination, you forgive without a second thought and you accept as easily as the wind through a willow tree, bending so you never break."

"Am I being scolded or complimented," the Cetra couldn't help but perk a faint smile.

"A bit of both."

"Am I really such a closed book to you?"

"More like an open book in a language I'm barely beginning to understand." Tifa sifted her fingers through the brown strands, adding gently, "and however much you won't want to hear this, it'll only get harder from now on. There's going to be more obstacles in our path."

"She wasn't at Mideel," Aerith looked down.

"No," Tifa kissed the brown strands, and then folded the shorter girl close tightly to her chest, "That leaves only one place."

Aerith leaned in, willing as much comfort as she could, anything to try and stem her endless shaking. There was another ugly truth hiding out around the corner of her eyes, she just couldn't precisely pin it down. Instead she whispered, with lips that trembled as much as her hands, "Midgar."

Tifa nodded, "...Everything begins and ends there."

Aerith suddenly changed the subject, making Tifa blink somewhat uncertainly and lean back a way so she could peer down at the slight woman enfolded close, "What I did back there..." there was a faint reproachful smile, "Don't worry, I'll try not to fall headfirst into maudlin discussion! But... my magic..."

"Something happened?"

"I think I've changed, or evolved, magically. You know how I've always had the ability to freeze monsters, or even encourage you guys when you were fighting?"

Tifa nodded; of course she remembered, the first time a wolf had come leaping for her throat and the way her own scream had chilled her own blood. She had been frozen to the spot, unable to force her muscles to move. It was, at the time, looking at death coming for her. They had only been a little way outside of Kalm at the time, starting their great trek onward to the chocobo farm and the swamplands where they would find the giant swamp snake and the trail of Sephiroth.

As she had screamed, the wolf has seemed to slow down inch by inch until it was frozen there, held from the ground and motion as if by invisible hands. She had cast her eyes about, thinking maybe this was all some dream she was having, only to see Aerith off to one side, hands outstretched and her skin marked with faint sweat. But her green eyes shone with triumph, her usually sweet mouth pressed into a line of concentration, and that was when Tifa knew that it was Aerith's power that was holding the wolf at bay and had saved her again.

"I remember it very clearly, a little too much," Tifa chuckled. "You looked so smug."

"Smug?" Aerith couldn't help but smile a little, "Maybe. But, when I was in that room, when I was held down and I didn't think I could do anything... it was as it everything had slowed down, then froze. Everything, not just one enemy. I moved outside of that moment and I had the time I needed to get free. And after that, it was if I was still moving faster, my thoughts and actions were operating at a higher level than you or I or anyone is used to. I think I could do it again, if I tried..." Her eyes shone a touch, "I think my magic is evolving and what it is becoming... it scares me, it's not as clear cut as healing magic... there's a million and more applications for time based magic."

"Aerith, how many magical schools did the Cetra have?"

She shrugged helplessly, "As many as there are types of Materia, is all I can guess."

"What does Materia have to do with it?"

"Well... Hojo used to say, 'Materia is the bridge that can connect humans with the knowledge and the wisdom of the Ancients, it's that interaction that produces powers. The more evolved the communication between the well of knowledge and the user is via the materia, or rather, the more evolved the skill is, the greater the magical effect produced.' I think it's like that."

"Hmm," Tifa fought hard to repress a shudder. She remembered Sephiroth saying similar things when they had found that natural materia vein and the mako fountain, in the caves high on the Nibelheim Mountains.

"The different types of materia are just ways to interact with those various wells of knowledge the Cetra had. Of course, being Cetra myself, I've never needed a curative materia in order to access healing... and now I don't need a materia that deals with Time magic either." Aerith smiled, "I feel scared and excited. More scared, I think, because I don't know where this will take me."

Tifa shook her head, and tightened her hold, "No, no one knows. Either way, it's going to take us a few hours to get to Edge and then..."

"Midgar," Aerith breathed, her voice hardened, "and Yuffie... and the black materia."

The dark-haired warrior said nothing now, just staring thoughtfully at the golden brown hair of the ancient that snuggled into her, relaxing tense, thin muscles. Inwardly, she groped and wrestled, searching for solutions to all the problems that kept cropping up with a despair she couldn't voice.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

I watched from the bow of the ship, looking down from the metal planking and rails that penned me in as the crew, namely the world famous Avalanche met with the local government who had come forth to meet them. As luck had have it, ShinRa had also been in the area, working out new deals, the kind of 'proto' energy source that Reeve was working on.

I remember looking at Rufus across the crowd and from above the heads of those who had gathered and were talking. He took his time about it, but I knew his eyes would eventually come to meet mine and when they did, the flash of a sometime friendship resided there, woken from a long slumber and still fresh, still good to go.

He parted ways from the government as they set up inside the local mayoral offices to discuss the plans and plots with Tifa and Cloud, to get on the phone to the Cosmo Canyon, to Corel and to Wutai; to all the major nerve centres of the known world that weren't directly connected on this continent. He came to where I stood like a pallid wraith by the metal railings, and in his impeccable cream suit edged with a soft green faintly floral embroidery, the black shirt with the cream necktie and his dark auburn hair swept back from a noble, handsome face; it was there I felt his hand cover mine.

It was as if years had fallen away from between us with this one gesture.

I was the lonely, terrified girl that hid beneath his father's desk from the rampage of Hojo, seeking out my blood and genetics. His was the tentative hand that crept with gentle fingers towards my hands, that dried my tears and offered me shyly sweets he'd been given as a way of 'keeping him quiet' when his father was busy with work, always too busy to pay attention to his kind, growing son.

I hardened my jaw, but my hand closed reflexively on his fingers.

This was one of those things I found difficult to put into words; words that Tifa, Cloud or Cid could understand.

To me, Rufus ShinRa was as much an intimate detail of my life as the Turks, as Hojo, as Zack...

"You came," I said, my voice wavering uncertainly.

Rufus' fingers tightened more, until he was gripping me hard. He held me fast to that place, this special series of moments I could always look back on and draw a kind of odd spiritual strength from. "I wasn't able to be a protector or hero for you the last time," he apologised, as from the blue.

I looked up at him, his eyes were harder, older but inside those depths I saw kindness, love and friendship. I saw the young man he had been forced to hide from the world, and I reached out for him. I reached out for my Rufus.

"Besides," he added softly, "Isn't it me who should be saying the same to you, Aerith? You came, even though you were about to break."

I felt the tears welling up, as he leaned in closer, "Rufus..."

"I think that's a good sign."

I wanted to laugh at the irony of his words, but a bubble of tears was all that came out, a shameful river of blubbering as I collapsed into his waiting arms. I don't know what I really wanted to say, but when I found enough strength to push away, I caught sight of Tseng.

He was much older now, his hair had been shorn short in a style that closely resembled a male bob-cut, his painted dot remained though and a scar over his left temple was a recent addition. His dark eyes were wiser, and his mouth lined. I found myself looking at a man grown thin with worries, still neatly folded into an immaculate tailored black suit. "Tseng."

"Aerith," he replied, "You're going to run off and do something dangerous again, aren't you?"

I pouted a touch, "Maybe... maybe."

"I thought, well..." he crossed the distance to me, pulling forth a single letter that looked years and years old, worn and well cared for despite the battering the outer envelope had taken. "I kept this for you."

"For me?"

I took the letter, turning it over as Tseng continued, "Your last letter, to Zack. I have others, ones that never made it after he was placed into the scientific programme Hojo was running at Nibelheim. I... I wanted to... apologise. For everything, for Zack, for hurting you..."

"Tseng," my voice caught, "I never once blamed you."

"I know and that makes it all harder to bear. A little blame now and then, it could help us lesser mortals along," his smile was deprecating and crooked. The starlight gave everything, including his face a luminous hard edge.

"I have missed you, both of you," I whispered.

Rufus came to stand close by and bent his head a little, whispering, "Don't go alone this time then. Don't race off without us all. You're planning it; I saw the same look in your eyes so many times, so defiant and proud. Wait for us, we're almost there too, everyone, even that blond idiot."

"Even Cloud?" I said, and laughed softly, but my heart was laced with doubt and sudden nervousness. Maybe, IF I could get away... if I could...

His words drowned out the thoughts, as it seemed Avalanche had negotiated the talks successfully and were boarding back on ship. I regretfully let Rufus' hand slip from mine, the warmth of my sometime-shadow Tseng fading from somewhere next to me. I watched them leave, my eyes roving the crowd as people had gathered to riotously see off the most famous people in the world: On another life or death mission, for the will of the Planet and all her peoples.

I crumpled my letter close, turning my eyes to the stars, and trying to find that same determination within me, cold like steel, once more.

Cloud booked in the last of the preparations at the restaurant in Kalm, where they had all elected to spend the night before going into the heart of Midgar. His eyes regretfully roved over the credit card that he turned over in his calloused fingers. "I once had money..." he threw a doleful look in Tifa's direction.

She sniffed, loudly but not without a hint of a smile, "Money means little, Mr Strife! Live for the moment, I say!"

"You never used to. I think you went to the toilet and lists came out. Lists and forms and accounts..."

"...Okay well maybe once upon a time, Tifa Lackhart," Tifa smirked a little and he blushed hard (He didn't expect her to remember that unkind childhood insult) "Was a bit anally retentive."

"A bit?"

"A whole lot, but those lists also helped to keep me calm and organised when other people would panic. I had a lot of problems as a kid, but, most kids do. You're not entirely without blame in that department."

"Oh don't I know it," he sighed and tucked the credit card back into his wallet, "Feels empty in there..."

"We can earn more back. But, think of it like this... it's a little like going in reverse."

Cloud looked up at her as they stepped into the street outside, the morning sun overhead and birds singing. People milled about, it was market day in the town square and preparations were in full swing for the upcoming Meteor Day.

"Thinking about it more, it's a repetition and reverse." Cloud followed her towards the Inn, past chocobos that cooed softly at them as they passed, "We're getting close to Meteor Day. One story came to a powerful culmination on this day years ago. In another sense, we're retracing our steps back, to Midgar, even staying here. Events are being mirrored, not always in order or in sense."

Tifa opened the Inn front door to the jangling of a bell, "God I hope another meteor doesn't drop on us this time..."

Aeris turned the fluted glass about in her hands, then look across the round table at the faces of her friends, those few that could be gathered there with them. It was that strange feeling again, the night before all things would crash into motion. Tifa wore a lovely dark red skirt with a crème coloured blouse and her hair was worn up in a dark red, glittering band, the fringe controlled by a set of hairclips also in a glittering red.

Next to her, Cloud wore a dark blue shirt and black trousers and a pair of open toed sandals, so he could wriggle his toes in pleasant comfort. He said years of wearing hard boots made the sensation of having his toes out in the open a wonderful one that he didn't often get to relish. To his right was Vincent, the man wore his usual dark clothing – a black mandarin collared shirt, black trousers and a black neck scarf.

At Tifa's left lounged Cid. Cid was, as ever and thankfully, ruffled, rumpled and thoroughly unwilling to make the effort. His shirt bore a telltale hint of engine grease at the left hip. His jeans were faded, especially at the knees, and stitched multiple times in an effort to keep them from seeing the garbage heap. He smoked with an ashtray sitting next to his plate.

They had finished eating and were in the process of toasting. Tifa smiled at her from over the table. Aerith had chosen a green dress today, with elbow length sleeves, a ruffled collar and a skirt that hung to the floor but was split just so, showing the faint hint of a white underskirt. In a dim part of her mind she thought she looked a little like an upside down lily flower. She wasn't sure she liked her dress, but Tifa had said she looked lovely in it. Anything for her, Aerith reasoned, throwing back the smile.

"Another ending," Cid growled, tossing back another whisky. He had declined the expensive champagne that Cloud had been bullied into purchasing by Tifa.

"To another ending," they all echoed. Aerith didn't raise her voice much over a whisper.

She wasn't so sure it was going to be as black and white as Cid was hoping for.

"And then, thank you to Cloud for buying this dinner out, so generously." Tifa grinned.

Vincent added, "Very philanthropic."

Cloud gave them all dark looks and massaged a hand over his trouser pocket, acquiring an injured expression, "My poor bank balance, and look at how quickly it was scoffed up!"

"Cloud, please," Tifa snorted, "You ate a whole rack of ribs by yourself."

"I want to get MY money's worth." He grinned back at her, cheekily and picked up his glass, "Besides, it's a special night, all of us together like this."

"Who knows when we'll next have this chance," the ex-Turk leaned back, and then stood up. "This being said, I have enjoyed our time together."

"You're going somewhere," Cloud looked up.

He nodded, pushing his seat back into the table smoothly, "I have a lot of things to think over, things that I need to sort in my own mind before we approach Midgar tomorrow. I'll see you all in the morning." Vincent turned and walked away, out of the restaurant's front door, all lit with firefly lights around the archway.

Cid peered after him, and then stubbed out his cigar. "Probably off to go drink him some blood, damned Vampire." But his usual cursing seemed hollow, and he shook his blond and grey haired head. "I don't know, maybe he's got the right of it. It's a night where we all should be talking to loved ones, thinking the future over, preparing ourselves. It's a war out there."

"Remember, we did this twice before," Cloud sighed.

"The one at the northern crater was the worst," Tifa's eyes glazed a little in memory, "When we all went our separate ways, hunting out our reasons to continue fighting. We all visited our homes and loved ones..."

The blond Soldier's face was pained, "Except for us."

She nodded her agreement, "Yes, except for us."

"But," Aerith suddenly said, her voice cracking slightly. She cleared her throat and continued, "But, you had each other."

"We had our memories together, the old Nibelheim." Tifa looked at Cloud, "We had years of lies and a new world of truth opened up before us."

"We had the people we had become to talk things over between." Cloud looked at Aerith, "and we had our pain."

"I'm sorry," she said without thinking, looking between Cloud and Tifa, "I didn't mean... I..."

"Well, that's as maybe, but tonight I think I'm gonna take Spike here and take him to the closest bar so he can learn the fine art of falling into a gutter and waking up with the world's biggest headache." Cid grinned as he stood up, reaching over to grab Cloud by the back of his shirt and hauling him to his feet, however unwilling.

"Hey!"

"C'mon, I'm sure they have things to discuss. I ain't ever been the type to be subtle or sweet, but I get the feeling we need to go elsewhere. Tifa," Cid inclined his head, then said in a much softer tone, "sweet little Aerith."

"Cid," she said warmly, as Tifa laughed.

"Aw come on!"

Soon enough, it was the two of them again, and Tifa stood up gracefully, coming around the table to where Aerith was. She held out a slim, faintly scarred hand. Aerith looked up the length of that lovely arm, to the beautiful face of her determined, wilful lover.

"It's a beautiful night out, let's go look at the stars together."

"Okay," she took the hand.

It took them perhaps ten minutes to reach the town outskirts, and another ten to be far enough away from the city that the artificial lights didn't bleed into the sky, masking the brilliant night. They stood, hand in hand in the long tickling grass, as Aerith's eyes drank in the night, alive and illuminated with stars. Tifa kept leading her gently, to a small crest, where there already was a log, obviously dragged out and pre-laden with a gingham checked blanket for them to sit on.

Aerith had always secretly suspected Tifa of being a deep romantic soul.

Together they sat down, and looked towards the heavens, breathtaking with the amount of stars overhead. She took in the air, the cloudless sky, the long grass that smelled sweetly of summer and flowers. Then she turned her head to the side to look at Tifa, who was still staring upwards, a faint, relaxed smile in place.

"A long, long time ago," Tifa said in a voice that promised to tell a story, "I was a young girl, filled with dreams, as most young girls are prone to. I dreamed of a world where my mother was alive and my father wasn't so bittersweet about the whole affair. I would meet a nice guy, I'd settle down. Maybe I would have taken up being a pianist; maybe I would have opened my own dojo like my martial arts master. But beyond all of this, all I really wanted to do was to fall in love and be rescued by a hero, like the damsels in those silly fairy tales I read far too many of.

"But as time went on, I realised that I'd have to take steps to get my fairy tale ending. So I forced Cloud into a promise, that if I was ever in trouble, that if I ever needed saving, he would show up and pull me out of the flames before I could burn. It wasn't a perfect promise; Cloud eventually left to join Soldier, failed and was put into the horrific experiments that Hojo conducted on human beings. I, in time, became a lot more self reliant. I didn't need Cloud to save me; I didn't need someone to be the hand held out to me.

"At least, not in the way I could see. After Sephiroth's madness destroyed our small mountain town, I woke to a world filled with pain. Not just physical pain," Tifa touched her chest sadly, "Though I will carry those scars forever. But a world where my emotional pain was almost suffocating, all I wanted was revenge and it drove me halfway across the world, seeking out other wounded souls like myself. I wanted to see ShinRa burn, the way I had watched our village burn. I wanted them to suffer and damn the world if I wouldn't see it through.

"I joined the mercenary group you know as Avalanche; we weren't much at time though, a few ragtag people with bits and pieces of specialised knowledge. I knew my place in that organisation. I was the person who operated within the law, who gave them a hideaway to come to, who healed their wounds of heart and mind and took care of them. Every day that they went out, my heart ached to go with them, to be out there. I wanted to help. In time, I found Cloud, sick and alone at the train station. He barely knew his own name, my name... he didn't even act like the Cloud I knew and spoke of events he should have absolutely no knowledge of."

Tifa lowered her hand from massaging her scar, and looked up at the stars again, eyes filling with tears, "What I hadn't realised was that Cloud had been there, as a regular grunt. He'd done all he could to keep me from harm's way, out of the fire. I didn't remember him, not right away, but how could I have forgotten? Then, when Cloud joined with us, and once we'd managed to wring some semblance of sanity out of his mako soaked and confused mind; I made the decision to go along with his little lies. I figured it would be, for the moment at least, kinder to him. Events began to move faster, like we were being pulled inexorably towards something.

"And that something was you." Tifa looked at her now and Aerith couldn't help but blush. "But who were you, to come out of nowhere with the skills I couldn't ever have? I grudgingly respected you at first, but before I even knew it, I was feeling for you things I had wanted in a fairy tale. Real love, not a childish infatuation with promises and dreams; and I wanted you to love me too. When you met me, Aerith, you didn't just save Cloud, you didn't protect Barrett with your loving acceptance in Corel, you didn't just help Red put to rest the painful ghosts of his past and open up a new path for him to walk; you reached out your hand to everyone... and I reached back. So you know, you pulled me out of the flames I'd been burning in; the doubt, the hatred, the despair. I thought I'd forgotten how to actually feel behind this shell I hid myself behind.

"I loved you, so much and to my surprise, it continued and still continues to grow each day. So, I brought you here, to say to you; no matter where we go, or what we do, as long as we are together, I will always fight for you. I will always love you. I will always be by your side." Tifa slid off the log, to her knee. Her hands were busy, fumbling with something, and then they were outstretched. A small velvet box was held in them, with a ring. It was platinum, with two emeralds and a single, pristine diamond. Aerith didn't need to have her extraordinary ability to read people to know that Tifa had chosen this ring specifically because of the connotations in the stone placement: two emeralds for Aerith's green eyes, a diamond for the holy materia. "Marry me, Aerith Gainsborough, and let's have a fairy tale ending."

"Yes," she breathed, the ring going onto her finger, "Always, Tifa, always!"

And for now, she can be happy.

As Tifa kissed her, embracing her tightly with tears of joy in her eyes, Aerith held back, but with a different sort of fervour. She held tighter, because she knew exactly what she was going to do again.

She was going to break Tifa's heart.

Things have certain symmetry about them, and if this is true, and this night is like the other then there is only one thing I can do. I'm so sorry Tifa, I love you, but you can grow to hate me.

It was several hours before dawn.

She moved from the bed in the near total darkness, Kalm was silent outside but for the sparse drunks returning home. Her partner lay sleeping soundly in bed, mouth a little open and arm thrown up over her head in repose. Her skin reflected the moonlight and the glitter of lanterns hung beyond their inn window. Her hair was left loose on the pillows, dark with the night. She cast an eye over the form of her sleeping lover, trying to fix it into her mind.

Without much care for the amount of noise she was making, she turned around and then knelt, groping underneath their bed until she found her backpack and drew it out. She was dressed for the day, in hard wearing clothes. With a quick and determined eye she checked over the materia she had chosen to take with her.

"It won't be easy," she said softly.

Putting the backpack on her shoulder, she cast one final look into the room, then began to walk down the corridor, not worrying too much over waking Cloud or Cid up; they had torn the town up with drinking and passed out almost as soon as they had come home. She'd been thoughtful enough to leave letters for each of them, explaining certain things. One of them was a letter that could be considered more like a will.

After all, I don't expect to come out of this alive. Alive just doesn't happen where Jenova is concerned.

She began her long journey out of the inn front door and continued it out of the town, with an even pace. After about fifteen minutes of walking, she turned and pulled a dark cloak out of her pack; it was hooded and would keep some of the chill of the night off her skin. As she was putting it on, fingers that were a little cold fumbling with the ties about the neck, she froze.

"Going somewhere?" Vincent said.

She swore under her breath; she'd forgotten about Vincent. It was easy enough to do, the man was such a shadow. She turned to face him. He was stood like she was, in the long grass, in the same dark suit he'd worn to their dinner party that evening. There was no real point to lying, so she smiled sweetly, "I figure it'd be the only way."

"You're doing this to protect her, and us, aren't you?"

"Sometimes you have to roll the dice," She lowered her eyes, "I can't just wait."

"What do you want me to tell them?"

Her heart fluttered; he wasn't going to stop her? "Vincent-" she began.

He held up a hand, "I won't stop you. You have your reasons for doing this. I have thought a lot about things this evening. I have found troubling things, lying in my heart. I shouldn't feel these things but I do. I, too, wish to join with you and rush to the heart of Midgar, to the Deepground, to where Yuffie is so that I might save her. I have wondered for a while about these feelings, were they the worries of an older brother, as I have long striven to maintain with her? No. I have watched her grow, mature into a woman. My feelings are those of a man to a woman."

"Oh," she said in some surprise, then smiled, "I see. Well then, I will find her and wait for you to come and save her."

"Like she did for you?"

"Of course, every girl needs a hero. Tell them I used the sleepel materia so I could make my getaway. Say I overpowered you, I wouldn't mind if you lied; I think we'd be fairly matched given my urgency. If you could, keep her safe, until I come back."

"Will you come back or will we find the ghost of you, this time?"

Tifa just smiled, and with a wave of her hand, resumed her walk towards Midgar through the long flowing grass, backpack on her shoulder and determination screwed up as tightly as she could manage.

...tick...tick...tick...