Exploration

By: Illusion of the Mirror

Mist swirled about the ground in snaky tendrils, the rain from the previous day leaving the air cool and moist. Tifa sipped a cup of hazelnut coffee as she watched the early morning light refract off the dew dappled grass. It was six-thirty in the morning, but she hadn't been able to stay abed for long, opting to start her day with a hot shower and a warm brew. She continued to gaze out the kitchen window her hands robotically stirring a bowl of pancake batter.

Flipping her thick chocolate braid over her shoulder, she turned to the range and began pouring the mix into a huge pan, a satisfied smile on her lips as a pleasing aroma filled the air. It wasn't long before she caught a movement in her peripheral and glanced over her shoulder to see her houseguest leaning against the door frame.

"Good morning," she chirped, flipping the flapjacks over with a spatula. "Looks like I beat you to it today."

Vincent quirked an eyebrow and approached the already set kitchen table. "So it would seem."

Finishing up her cooking and then turning to set a plate full of warm, fluffy buttermilk pancakes on the table, Tifa took a moment to note Vincent's choice of clothing for the day. He was wearing a black, long sleeved t-shirt, a pair of dark-washed denim jeans, and black, slightly worn work boots.

"Jeans?" she asked, dishing him up two of the cakes.

He murmured a thank you and then folded his hands before him, fixing her with a mirth laced gaze. "I thought perhaps these would be more appropriate for the day's activities than my usual attire."

Right…the attic. Tifa sank into her chair, a thoughtful look on her face. "True. I'll have to get in touch with whoever's supervising the diner today and let them know I won't be in."

Vincent lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.

"I've hired a handful of college students. They're pretty hard workers and they bring a new perspective. A couple of them have good business sense." She paused and her companion waited patiently for her to continue. "I've been having a…stressful week, so I've been taking a few days it off, thought maybe I could get some work done around the house." She smiled brightly at him before taking a bite of syrup soaked pancake. "Turns out I was right."

- O -

The blast of musty, humid air that rolled down with the attic door nearly caused Tifa to stumble backward. Already, the day was heating up, but the temperature had been so comfortable while in the kitchen that it hadn't occurred to her how sweaty this work was going to be. 'Oh well, there's no turning back now.'

Vincent stepped aside and gestured for her to climb up first; she rewarded his chivalry with a smile. Grabbing hold of the rough wooden ladder, she began her ascent.

Poking her head up into the dark, cavernous space, Tifa clicked on the small silver flashlight she'd stowed in the pocket of her overalls. The tiny light cast ominous shadows along the rafters and it took a moment for her to spot the metal chain hanging a scant arm's reach away. Giving the chain a tug, Tifa blinked as the bare bulb shone down, swirling dust motes reflecting the light.

As Vincent scaled the ladder, Tifa took a few moments to survey the attic, or the parts that she could see. Precariously leaning stacks of cardboard boxes towered nearly to the rafters; crates and trunks with unknown cargo filled the floor below. A slew of bundled, yellowing newspapers littered the space beyond and still further Tifa could make out the silhouettes of piled furniture. The far wall was completely obscured from her view.

Tifa took in a deep breath, the stuffy, mildewed air settling in her lungs like a weight. "Well…this is more…daunting than I thought it would be."

Vincent chuckled, a gentle and altogether pleasing sound. "Perhaps we should begin by bagging up the newspapers."

Tifa smiled, a bead of sweat forging a path down her forehead. "Alright, let's get to it."

And so they did. They filled an entire industrial-sized garbage bag with all the newspapers, some of which dated back nearly seventy years. That particular chore finished, they began to tackle the boxes. Several times, Tifa had to take a break, the mold and disturbed dust making her nose run and eyes water. It took over an hour, but she and Vincent finally finished hauling all of the cardboard boxes and their questionable contents down to the dumpster behind the diner.

The duo then set to opening, bagging, and dumping the contents of the crates and trunks, Tifa often pausing to inspect the objects, thoroughly curious about the previous owners of the archaic house that so bewitched her. One particularly heavy trunk, found shoved back into the short space where the sloped ceiling met the floor, contained dozens of glass jars, each labeled a different year, none of which were within the last few decades. Tifa picked up a jar at random, finding it to be filled with a clear liquid. She turned the container over in her hands to see the word "raindrops" written in a graceful cursive.

Replacing the collected raindrops, Tifa decided to leave the trunk where it was. It seemed a shame to toss out such a painstakingly collected compilation.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when they reached the halfway point, the rough planks of the floor now visible. Tifa allowed herself a moment to feel accomplished, letting a fresh breeze blowing in from one of the dormer windows they'd uncovered cool the droplets of sweat gathered on her upper lip and across the bridge of her nose. She turned slightly to watch Vincent as he finished stacking the bits and bobs she had opted to keep up against the wall, marveling at the way his muscles moved beneath the thin, damp fabric of his shirt. She distractedly twirled a strand of her hair as she allowed her greedy eyes to slide up and down his form and bit her lip when he paused to push his sleeves back over his elbows and swiping the glistening beads of perspiration from his face with the back of his hand.

"I see why you enlisted my help." Vincent stated matter-of-factly, placing his hands on his hips.

"Hm? Oh!" Tifa jerked back into the moment, hoping her face was already red enough from the heat so that he wouldn't see her blush. "Yeah…this is way more than I could have handled."

Tifa approached him, gauging how far they had left to go. She brushed past Vincent and clamored over a mound of broken furniture, having found another window. It stuck at first, but after she slammed the jamb with her elbow, the pane gave, swinging outward. She eagerly filled her lungs with the fresh, pine scented air.

Turning back to Vincent with a contented smile, she noticed him staring off in the direction of the ladder, his head tilted to the side, brows drawn together in concentration…as though he were listening for something.

"Is something the matter, Vincent?" she asked, leaning against a dilapidated chaise lounge.

He remained still another moment and Tifa willed her heartbeat to stop, narrowed her eyes, and strained to hear what had him so vexed. The sound of the breeze flipping the pages of an open book was the only thing that reached her ears.

"It's nothing," he answered finally, his expression betraying a hint of lingering misgivings.

Tifa shrugged. If Vincent wasn't going to clue her in on what had him on edge, she wasn't going to worry about it.

By the time they had cleared most of the remaining junk out, the dumpster was almost full. Of course there were a few antique pieces of furniture Tifa decided to keep, but most of the heap was dragged down the ladder, out the back door and left by the dumpster: a barrel of full broken lawn gnomes, a lamp made out of popsicle sticks, a posse of stuffed squirrels, and a gargantuan wicker head her favorites of the bunch.

It was nearly 3:00 in the afternoon when Tifa finally stood in front of the far wall, her eyes traveling across the huge, ebony wardrobe against it. "Well," she sighed, "This is it." She attempted to pull the doors of the armoire open, but they were stuck tight. Not one to give up easily, especially when she was pitted against an inanimate object, Tifa placed a booted foot against the wall and jerked back on the handles with all her weight.

The doors flew wide open and a dozen black bats burst forth in a flurry of wings and fangs. Tifa shrieked and flailed her arms to keep the creatures from her face, terrified they would get caught in her hair.

Vincent calmly observed as the tiny mammals escaped through a third dormer in the far corner, the glass of which had been broken. He hummed in understanding then turned his attention back to the trembling woman before him.

Tifa flushed scarlet, utterly humiliated by her girly scream. She busied herself with brushing the layer of dust from her clothing. "Well, that was completely horrific."

Vincent arched an eyebrow, mirth tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Oh c'mon! Didn't you see the size of those things?"

Vincent fought to suppress a smirk and lost out. "Yes, and I'm sure the poor creatures will be suffering from post traumatic stress for quite some time."

"Funny," Tifa dead-panned. "I'm all smiles and giggles."

- O -

While Vincent searched for building materials in the shed out back, Tifa washed up and began making the two of them some sandwiches. She had forgiven him for his teasing once he offered to board up the broken window for her. If she was honest, she hadn't truly been upset. She enjoyed Vincent's dry sense of humor and was inwardly thrilled that he felt comfortable enough around her to engage in witty banter.

She looked up from her ministrations when the back door opened and Vincent entered, carrying an armful of two-by-fours. He set his burden in one of the kitchen chairs and regarded her contemplatively. "Tifa?"

"Mm-hmm?" She continued assembling the cold cut, cheese and sourdough sandwiches, licking a blurb of mustard from her thumb.

"While in the attic…did the room seem disproportionate to the rest of the house?"

Finished with her work, Tifa handed an expertly built sandwich to him then leaned back against the counter. "I didn't get that sense. Why? You did?"

Vincent shook his head, the few strands of ebony that had escaped from his ponytail falling in front of his eyes. "Merely an odd observation. I could very well be wrong."

Tifa smiled and took a bit of her own sandwich. "Well, feel free to investigate to your heart's content just so long as you make it so those flying rodents can't get back in.

He met her eyes with his, amusement dancing in their depths. "Agreed."

- O -

A faint pounding echoed through the upstairs hallway and tumbled down the stairs, bringing a warm smile to Tifa's face. She was becoming increasingly fond of having Vincent around. 'Hmm…I'm going to have to think of another reason to keep him here…'

Tick!

Tifa looked up from receipts she had strewn on the kitchen table and turned around in her chair. She had heard some sort of sound…like a pebble striking glass. Rising from her seat, Tifa craned her neck to peer out the window and into the back yard. She couldn't see anyone. Completely prepared to write the incident off, Tifa shrugged and turned back to her finances.

Click!

Okay, that time she was sure she'd heard it. Tifa crossed to the back door and pushed aside the curtain over the window. Nothing. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Drawing her brows together in confusion, Tifa slowly turned from the door only to hear a solid "thunk" as something larger hit the window above the sink.

Sighing, Tifa remembered how the picture window above the sink seemed to be a common target for birds hoping to get inside. Opening the back door and leaning out, she scanned the ground for any downed sparrows. Once again, she found absolutely nothing. Pausing to listen for anything suspicious, Tifa placed her hands on her hips. A breeze rustled the leaves of the densely wooded forest…the old grandfather clock in the front room ticked hollowly…somewhere far off, a hound bayed; nothing out of the ordinary.

The rhythmic pounding from the attic stopped, and Tifa turned to go back inside. Vincent's uneasiness was starting to get to her.

Suddenly, something hard collided with the back of Tifa's skull. Reeling, she tried to grab hold of the doorframe, but her vision was blurring at the edges. She missed her target completely and tumbled headlong into the kitchen, her flailing arms knocking a glass tumbler from the counter to shatter on the floor, head smacking painfully against the tile. The last thing Tifa was aware of before she lost consciousness was the pounding of Vincent's boots as he raced down the steps.

- O -

Pain, a throbbing ache that made all else obsolete, filled Tifa's senses as she regained awareness. "Ugh..."

She lifted a trembling hand to her forehead, her fingertips brushing rough cloth. "Dammit." She opened her eyes. Everything was fuzzy at first, but her sight slowly adjusted; it was mercifully dark. Rain was once again tapping the window pane. Tifa groaned again, louder this time.

With a faint whisper of fabric, a silhouette appeared above her. "Tifa, can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm…ugh, I'm in my room. Vincent?" Even in the darkness, she could see the intensity of his eyes. "What happened?"

Vincent reached over to the nightstand and picked up a blood-stained rock. He held it out to her. It was the size of her fist.

"Someone threw a rock at me?" Tifa was not in too much pain to be absolutely livid. "Why the hell would someone do that?"

Vincent's expression hardened, if only slightly. He handed her a glass of water and three small, brown pills. "Take these, they will ease the pain."

Tifa obeyed and then looked up at him. "You did this, didn't you?" She motioned to the bandage.

"Yes. You have a minor cut on the back of your head and some bruising on your face. Mostly, your pain will be from the concussion."

Tifa smiled weakly. "You sound like a doctor." She tried to sit up, but thought better of it when the room started to spin. "Did you see who it was that did this?" Inching into a sitting position, she propped herself up against her pillows.

Vincent looked out the window at nothing in particular and spoke very softly. "I'm afraid that this incident is my fault."

"Don't be ridiculous. You didn't throw this rock at me."

Vincent didn't meet her eyes. "Tifa, there are some very dangerous men who are very unhappy with me right now." He looked down. "I did not mean to bring this to your doorstep."

"Look Vincent, it's not your fault someone pegged me with a rock. Anyway, how can you know it was these 'dangerous men' and not some kid?"

Vincent reached into his pocket and produced a crumpled piece of paper. He held it out to her.

"What's this?"

He gestured for her to read it. She unfolded it slowly and strained to make sense of the scrawling penmanship. She reached over and turned on her bedside lamp.

Valentine,

You can't hide from us. We want what you have taken. Since you failed to deliver it when we asked so very nicely you have forced us into an awfully bad mood. You say that you have nothing to lose. What about your lady bartender friend? Think of her. Make the wise choice. Give us what is ours. We'll be in touch.

K.

Tifa was more confused than angry. "What is this? What exactly is this thing that they say you took?"

"An object of great value."

'A characteristically vague answer.'
"Did you?"

"No." Vincent clenched his hands into fists. "I should never have come here."

Tifa grimaced, crossing her arms over her chest. "Vincent, this K's empty threats don't scare me. They won't hurt me."

Vincent turned to her. His jaw set, eyes blazing. "Just like they didn't hurt you tonight?"

"I wasn't aware that I was in any danger, otherwise I would've been more careful." Tifa had to stop and force the irritation from her voice. Head injuries made her cranky. Then, a thought occurred to her. "The 'altercation' a few days back…that was because of these guys, wasn't it?"

He nodded grimly in reply.

Frustration was working its way back into her words. "So why didn't you tell me so then?"

"I did not wish to concern you."

"Well, it certainly concerns me now!" Dropping her head in her hand, Tifa pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped. It's just…well, what do we do now?"

Vincent lowered himself onto the edge of her bed. "I don't know." He looked up into her eyes; the fire had left them and now some other emotion had seeped in. "Now that they know who and where you are, I cannot leave you here alone."

Tifa heaved a sigh and gently massaged her temples. "That's fine with me, Vincent, but do you really think these people will just let you stay here in peace. Have you told them you don't have what they're looking for?"

"I have." Vincent raked his fingers through his loose ebony locks. "I had planned on simply lying low until the object turned up and my name was cleared. But now…" He plucked a cell phone out of his pocket of his jeans. "I'll just have to stop them before they can do any more damage."

Tifa blinked, dropping her hands limply into her lap as she tried to absorb this new information into her scrambled brain. "These wouldn't happen to be the gun-toting, kill-babies kind of bad guys, would they?"

The look Vincent turned to her was utterly devoid of emotion, his deep baritone voice taking on a dark edge. "The very kind."

"I was afraid of that." She bit her lip as a wave of dizziness came over her and opted to lie back down. Hearing the musical beeps of a phone dialing, she opened an eye and trained it on her silent companion. "Who are you calling?"

Vincent grimaced. "Back-up."

- O -

12