Storm Clouds
By: Illusion of the Mirror
It had taken nearly two hours for the analyst to thoroughly question Marlene, and Barret was in no mood to let her out of his sight when she finally raced out of the council's tent and into his waiting arms. "Hey, baby girl," he had crooned as she squeezed his neck and planted kiss after kiss on his weathered cheeks. "I missed you, too."
Then she asked him to help her find Cid. Now he was perfectly aware that she had missed them all while kept in a cell be Darknation, but Barret couldn't help the stab of jealousy at her request. But something in her sweet, brown eyes melted him, like it always did, and he agreed.
As they walked, she slipped her little hand into his and he recalled how brave his baby girl had been these past few days. She had not only escaped from Darknation's fortress by herself, she had hitched a ride with a complete stranger, gone to the hospital, and answered every inquiry from the Resistance's analyst without so much as shedding a tear.
The blonde doctor asked question after question trying to gather information about Darknation's plans and it didn't take long before Marlene was repeating the same statements again. Finally, she had leaned forward in her chair and looked directly into the adult's eyes. "I don't know anything else about it, ma'am. But if we don't save Emily, they're gonna kill her."
Yuffie had sucked in a breath. Cid muttered a low curse and stalked off. James Bordeaux laid a hand on the therapist's shoulder and told her that they were finished.
"There he is," Marlene pointed off to their right her soft voice pulling him from the memory. She looked up at her father and gave his fingers a squeeze. "I'll be back, Daddy." With that, she let go of his hand and approached the pilot.
Cid was sitting on a folding bench, staring into a dying fire, his brows drawn low across his weathered face. When Marlene sat next to him, he looked up. From where he stood, Barret couldn't hear what the pilot muttered or what his little girl said back, but he still watched as they spoke in hushed tones. Then, something happened that Barret didn't think he'd ever witnessed. Cid, lowered his face into his hands and began to weep. A moment passed in silence. Then, Marlene got up on her knees and slowly wrapped her arms around him, stroking his stubbly cheek with her slim fingers.
Though Barret's first instinct was to say something to his friend to cheer him up, his daughter's action stayed him. Not once had Cid really let himself grieve since Shera was taken…he needed this, and Marlene had been the one to see that.
"She's incredibly intuitive for her age, isn't she?"
Barret turned to see Nanaki sitting behind him, his eye on the rare scene before them. His lips curled up into a slight smile as he stood and approached his large friend.
"Yeah," Barret replied with a grin of his own. Then it faded. "So what's up?"
Nanaki flicked his tail and cast his gaze over his shoulder. "We appear to finally have a plan of attack."
Barret huffed, his bulky arms crossing over his chest. "'Bout time shit went down."
--- O ---
It burned, the way the ropes cut into her wrists, and there was nothing she could do, no movement that would give her relief. Moving actually made the coarse fibers bite harder into her flesh. She could no longer feel her fingers, but she was painfully aware of the stretching of the muscles in her arms. Try as she might to keep from swaying as she hung from a rafter, her feet a foot from the ground, each labored breath she took caused her to quiver and in turn, fresh pain would grit at her skin.
She focused on her breathing…tried to keep it shallow and even. She counted the seconds in between each breath…but she had long since lost track of how long she'd been suspended in this dark, clammy room. It reeked of decay and human waste; she almost missed the interrogation room, with its bright light and stark white walls. At least there she had been allowed to sit, even if she was beaten every time she refused to answer a question.
But she hadn't answered any. She hadn't betrayed anyone. Yet…
The sound of grinding metal broke the silence and the thick door to the dungeon swung open. Emily opened her eyes, blinking a little in the light filtering through, but did not look up. She focused her attention on the shadows of the three figures that entered the room in single file.
"Have you changed your tune yet, girl?"
She grit her teeth and kept as still as she was able. She would not gratify this monster with so much as a shake of the head.
Sebastian Malcolm flung out a hand and roughly grabbed hold of her face. "Don't make me repeat myself." Emily remained silent.
"Very well. Azaezal…make this little bitch sing."
The bent old man bowed and reached into black bag he had toted through the door with. Emily watched the shadow of the third man as he was handed something and then promptly she felt two large and very rough hands on her hips. There was a clink of something metal and a coarse ripping sound; she suddenly felt very cold as the remnants of her black shirt fell to the floor, leaving her goose-pimpled skin open to the air.
The big man stepped back and flipped some sort of switch. Grinding gears shrieked and Emily felt herself lowering until her toes were touching the cold stone below. Peering through her downcast eyes, she saw the old letch, Azaezal, shackling her ankles to some contraption on the stone floor.
Fear ate at her stomach even harder than the ropes ate at her flesh. She had no idea what was going on…but she knew it would be painful…most likely very painful. But no matter the pain, no matter the fear, she must not speak! She would not.
"Now," Malcolm hissed into her ear. "Let's see if we can't loosen that tongue."
--- O ---
Tifa knew what was coming as Marlene exited the Council's tent. She overheard Andrew O'Connor talking in hushed tones to his son. They were planning a siege of Darknation's fortress, a siege she would NOT be invited to join. It was only a matter of moments before they would summon her in to give her all the reasons that she must stay behind, stay safe. She was the chosen one or some such malarkey. As she paused outside the entrance to the tent, Tifa had a feeling similar to when she was in grade school and had been called to the main office, which was silly because she hadn't done anything wrong…well…
Swallowing her doubts, Tifa threw her head back, squared her shoulders and stalked confidently into the tent.
Andrew started as she threw aside the entrance flap and crossed directly over to him, arms forced down at her sides and face schooled into a look of what she hoped was passivity.
"Why, Miss Lockheart," Andrew greeted after he had once again settled back into his usual businesslike expression. It was really starting to annoy her, actually…how professional all these people were. "We were just going to send for you."
Tifa resisted the urge to let loose a rather unladylike snort. "Really?"
"Yes." He continued, his features morphing into a look of practiced sympathy. "I understand that you're friend is still held in captivity by Darknation, but regrettably, we're going to need you to remain in the camp. Kale…Malcolm is looking for the one who possesses the Gift. He is looking for you. We can't let him succeed in finding you." He nodded to emphasize his words.
James Bordeaux, who had approached moments before grunted his agreement, and took a breath, undoubtedly in preparation for a long speech he had prepared in order to convince her to stay behind, or shame her into it. Tifa held up a hand before he could begin.
"I understand, gentlemen. The last thing I want to do is jeopardize the mission."
Andrew looked to James, who looked to Aiden, who shrugged. Then the older O'Connor awarded her with a smile. "Yes. Good. I'm glad that you see what we are trying to say."
Just then, a pair of men clothed in all black entered the tent and stepped up to Tifa's right without even affording her a glance. "The men are ready for the Council's orders, sir," the taller of the two stated in a raspy voice.
"Very good," Andrew huffed, rubbing his hands together. Both he and James started for the exit, but James paused, offering Tifa a tired smile. "Please don't hesitate to get some rest, Miss Lockheart. You've had a trying day."
Trying, huh? I couldn't agree more, Tifa thought tersely as the men left her behind in the empty tent.
--- O ---
"Are you really going to stay behind, Tifa?"
Tifa turned and met curious eyes. For a moment, she thought about lying to the child, but the question had been posed in such a way, that the girl had obviously already known the answer. Tifa sighed in concession and sat on the cot next to Marlene. "Can you keep a secret?"
Marlene's eyes lit up and she leaned closer, nodding conspiratorially. "I'm going to stow away and go with."
"But you told Daddy and Cid that you were gonna sleep," the girl mimicked Tifa's whisper.
"I know…but if the Resistance people find out that I'm not going to do what they say to, they'll make me stay."
"And you want to rescue Aunt Shera and Emily." Tifa noted this was not a question, but a statement.
She reached up and smoothed the girl's hair from her forehead. "That's right."
"Are you going to tell Vincent?"
"Well-I," Tifa answered slowly, taken aback by the question. "Actually, I couldn't find him." She waited as Marlene looked down at her hands, wondering what was going through the child's mind. Her father's voice floated dreamily into her mind. "Penny for your thoughts, Tif?"
Earnest brown eyes looked up at her then. "I won't tell your secret, Tifa." The girl rose from her cross-legged position and hopped to the ground. "And if anyone comes by, I'll just tell them you're sleeping."
Tifa stood as well, Marlene's shoulder a squeeze. "That sounds like an ingenious idea."
"But Tifa," the urgency in the child's voice cause Tifa to kneel, her face level with Marlene's, hand still on her shoulder. "You should tell Vincent the secret. I think he'd be sad if you didn't."
--- O ---
She's very intuitive, for someone her age, Tifa thought as she stole through the dark woods away from the Resistance camp. Moonlight spilled through the quivering leaves overhead, forging silver paths down to the trampled brush below. Cold stars burned overhead, yielding ample light to navigate and it wasn't long before Tifa reached the tree line, the lawn beyond dyed gray by the moon.
"Alright," she whispered to no one in particular. "There's the house." Up ahead the silhouette of the structure loomed ominously in the night, its dark expanse seeming to gobble up the starry sky. Letting her muscles coil, Tifa prepared herself for the sprint to the impenetrable shadow created by the side of the old house. She counted silently down from three and then pushed off, traversing the empty space and skidding to a stop before throwing her back against the rough wooden wall.
Tifa strained to hear any sign that she had been spotted, but the dancing wind only brought the whisper of rustling leaves and the hoot of an owl. Any other noise was drowned out by the beating of her own heart in her ears. Satisfied that she was undiscovered, Tifa sidled around the house and climbed the front porch steps. She pulled her spare key from underneath the creaking porch swing and with little resistance, pushed the heavy front door open.
Dust motes floated lazily through the moonbeams that cut through the room. Tifa crossed to her endtable, where she kept one of her many flashlights and then, after pocketing an extra set of batteries, clicked it on, shutting the front door with a click that seemed to echo in the empty rooms of the house. "I'm home," Tifa whispered into the inky blackness, the sound of her voice barely registering in the expanse.
Sweeping the room with the bright beam of her flashlight, she made her way to the stairs. It struck her as odd how foreign the rooms looked in the yawning darkness. Climbing the steps, Tifa's thoughts drifted back to Marlene. "Tell Vincent" she had said. Well, Tifa hadn't lied when she said she couldn't find him. He had seemingly vanished as soon as Marlene had returned to the camp. Guilt tugged at Tifa's gut. She had felt mildly relieved that she didn't find him; she would've had to explain her plans and verbalizing them to an adult, even Vincent, she would have felt foolish…maybe even selfish.
By this time, Tifa had reached her own room and, keeping the beam of her flashlight low, crossed the room. After snapping the curtains on the side window shut, she dropped to her hands and knees, peering under the bed. A large white box sat under the foot of the bed, right where she had stowed it months ago when she moved in. She pulled the box out and blew a layer of dust off the top, coughing mildly as some of the particles puffed into her nostrils.
Rising to her feet, Tifa pulled off the lid and set an endtable before sinking down onto the bed. With halting, almost reverent hands, she reached into the box, her fingers gripping the cool leather inside. Slipping the garments from their resting place, a myriad of memories flooded Tifa's mind: Shinra, Jenova, Geostigma.
Setting the box aside, she slowly stood, holding the black leather outfit before her. She hadn't worn it since defeat of Sephiroth's clones, hadn't touched it since the day Cloud walked out and didn't come back. It had been painful; she'd intended to close that chapter of her life, to live normally packing school lunches and mixing drinks. But, if she was honest with herself, mundane life never suited her. She craved adventure, a reason to fight, a way to matter.
Divesting herself of her torn and dingy clothing, Tifa slid into the crisp attire and after tugging the last zipper home, let her eyes drop to the box and what remained inside. Picking up the limp black gloves, she felt a familiar pang of adrenaline shoot down her spine.
Outside her window, a flurry of bats streaked by, their squeaks rousing Tifa from her waking reverie. Pocketing the gloves, she grabbed her flashlight with her other hand and headed for the door. She had lingered long enough.
Eyes now somewhat accustomed to the still darkness, Tifa opted to conserve her flashlight batteries. They always seem to die just when you need them most. In the hallway, a warm breeze ruffled her stray hairs. Tifa paused. There's no breeze inside.
Suddenly, she had the overwhelming feeling that she was not alone, that someone was watching her from the dark shadows that pooled in the corners and behind bookshelves. Business as usual, Tifa thought as she forced herself to make her way toward the front door, but now her senses were on full alert. As she descended the stairs and approached the entryway, a sliver of silver light appeared. The door was ajar. She had definitely closed it.
Tifa halted in her steps, not even daring to breathe. The drafty old house offered up ample distractions of whistling wind and creaking floorboards. Somewhere, a mouse scratched away inside the wall. A chill shot down her spine, and Tifa whirled around, certain that someone was right behind her. But despite the wild beating of her heart, nobody was there. "Hello, Nobody," she murmured to the darkness.
"Good evening," a baritone voice answered from behind her, and Tifa nearly leapt out of her skin. She spun around, swinging her elbow at an arc meant to break or weaken the jaw bone, but the intruder had anticipated her strike and her arm met only air. "I had wondered why you agreed so readily to staying behind."
It was Vincent. Of course it was Vincent! Tifa took a step back, not attempting to hide her fury. "So you thought that stalking me, scaring me out of my wits, and being an all around sneaky bastard was the best way to find out?" She crossed her arms and huffed, attempting to shoot daggers at him in the darkness. "Bad plan, Valentine."
Vincent was unruffled. "Hm."
Silence settled into the gap while he seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer. Tifa was damned if she'd oblige him, not after he'd done something so…well, so…come to think of it, Vincent's always a sneaky bastard. It didn't matter. She was still mad.
Tifa took a step toward the door and realized that Vincent was effectively blocking her exit. She attempted to step around him, but to no avail, he thwarted her efforts each time. "You're in my way," she stated lamely, crossing her arms in what she knew was a childish pout.
"Hm," Vincent replied.
"So move." Tifa let her annoyance lace into her words.
Vincent didn't reply. He didn't move either.
Tifa reached past him to pull the door open, but a booted foot stopped it where it was. She let out an aggravated sigh and gave the handle a firm tug. In reply, Vincent kicked the door shut and in one swift movement, clicked the deadbolt into place.
Thoroughly nonplussed and more than a little exasperated, Tifa backed away arms akimbo. "Fine. I'll use the back door then." She turned to do just that, but in a blur of shadow and violent stirring of the still air, Vincent had effectively blocked the arch leading into the kitchen.
"What? So you're just going to keep me here? Babysit me like a five year old?" Tifa let loose a mirthless chuckle. Then cut him an icy glare. "Not gonna happen. This Malcolm guy played me for a fool. I owe him a couple of broken bones."
Vincent was unmoved.
Tifa decided to try a different route and softened her voice. "Please, Vincent, I'm sick of being left behind. I can help."
A beam of moonlight that cut through one of the many paned windows illuminated his face. Her pleas had seemingly no effect on him. Ire bubbled to the surface once again. "Let me pass, Vincent."
The expressionless face tilted to one side: a gesture that almost seemed to say "make me."
Very well.
Tifa made to turn and head back toward the front room, but suddenly whirled around, bringing a solid knee up to meet Vincent's stomach. At least, that's what it was supposed to do. Instead, her shin collided with his crossed forearms, an effective shield. Vincent smirked. Tifa glowered and swung an elbow around in an attempt to strike the side of his bowed head.
In one fluid movement, Vincent ducked below the blow and spun off to her side. Seizing the opportunity, Tifa charged the back door, but one of the kitchen chairs slid across the floor, effectively delaying her and then he was blocking her once more. "So that's how it's gonna be," Tifa hissed.
"Hm," Vincent replied.
In a flash, Tifa threw herself forward, dropping to one knee and sweeping with her right leg. Vincent managed to leap over her attack, but it was close and Tifa was encouraged. In a single move, she spun to her feet and then launched into a series of punches, each directed at the vital points she'd been trained to strike, but only met air and hard muscle as Vincent dodged and blocked her barrage with relative ease.
But her goal wasn't to land a hit; it was to get out the door. Though landing a hit was looking more and more satisfying. She shot a fist toward his gut and, as anticipated, he blocked with his forearm. But rather than recoiling for another shot, Tifa grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him foreword, bringing in a high kick so that he would dodge to the side in order to break her hold.
It worked! Flinging herself at the door, Tifa yanked the knob but as soon as it opened the door slammed shut once more. She looked up to see Vincent's hand holding the door in place and dropped to the floor. Placing her back against the door, she kicked with both legs at once, sending him far enough away that she could have time to escape.
Surprised at her success, Tifa flung the door open and scrambled out into the night air. But her victory was short-lived, and she realized that she wasn't home free just yet. Spinning around, Tifa took a stance facing the open door. Darkness lurked inside the threshold, but Vincent was nowhere in sight. This just got a whole lot harder. Night was Vincent's element. Inside, she could at least see him, hear him. He was contained. But out in the open…the advantage was obviously his. Suddenly, Tifa felt very much like a hunted animal.
"So, what?" she whispered in a voice she was sure he could hear. "You're on their side?" Tifa spun around, checking her flank. No matter which way she faced, she always felt like he was just behind her. "You gonna keep me in a box just like Cloud?"
Somewhere in the immediate darkness, Vincent hissed.
Tifa took a cautious step to the side, her ears straining to hear any sign of him, even though she knew she wouldn't. "All those people…all those people at the hangar are dead, Vincent!" Anger shot out with his name and Tifa felt hot tears poking at the back of her eyes. "And if I hadn't…if I hadn't been so damn curious-" She spun around again, unable to shake the feeling that he was somehow circling her in the shadows. "Malcolm would have never found out!"
Tifa took a step backward, her vision clouded with tears. "He wouldn't have found them…" she trailed off, dropping her fists to her sides, but not unclenching them. "There were children…and I…I'm the one who…OOF!" Out of the darkness, Vincent sprang, tackling Tifa where she stood. Vainly, she struggled against him as he grappled her flailing arms and pinned her to the ground. Even as she fought against him, her strength was waning and the tears were coming in earnest now.
"Tifa."
His low, serious tone nearly demanded she look at him. Reluctantly obliging, she turned her bleary eyes toward him and felt a heavy weight pool behind her breastbone. Vincent wasn't angry; in fact, his countenance didn't even betray a hint of annoyance. Instead, he looked down at her with something not unlike sadness. Tifa went rigid beneath his gaze. Marlene was right…she had made him sad.
"Tifa." He exhaled her name in a nearly inaudible whisper. Even though it was breaking her heart, she couldn't tear her eyes from his. "It's not your fault."
"B-but I-"
Vincent released his hold on one of her wrists and laid his fingertips over her lips. "No," he murmured gently. "None of it." He relinquished his hold on her other wrist, but didn't move to stand up. A forgotten tear forged a path down the side of Tifa's cheek, and with a dip of his head, Vincent kissed the droplet away, his lips still lingering to spill hot breath over the tender flesh near her ear.
The hollow feeling in her chest swelled and suddenly Tifa was so sorry. She was sorry for not trusting him. She was sorry for lying and evading. And most of all, she was sorry that she had never told him that she loved him.
Vincent's head shot up, his severe eyes capturing hers and Tifa realized that she had just said everything out loud. Slowly, he pulled away from her and rose to his feet. Tifa covered her face with her hands; all she wanted to do was curl up and cry for hours.
"Tifa."
The brunette peered through her fingers to see Vincent leaning down, his hand held out to help her to her feet. She took hold reluctantly and then, once standing, busied herself with dusting invisible dirt from her clothes. He waited silently until she was finished.
Reluctantly, she met his eyes and found that he was smiling; not a smirk, but an actual honest-to-goodness smile! He placed his right hand over his chest and cleared his throat.
"I, Vincent Valentine, hereby absolve you, Tifa Lockheart, of any guilt regarding myself or those things that are beyond mortal control, such as reading the future." He quirked an eyebrow at her open-mouthed expression and lowered his open hand. "No more 'angsting'. Now shake on it."
Tifa merely stared, that is until she realized what was going on. She threw her head back and let out a musical laugh then shook his hand firmly. "Smart words," she teased good-naturedly. "You must've learned them from a real genius."
His smile itself was gone, but it still lingered in his eyes. "Something like that."
--- O ---
Greetings Readers! I'm back!
I'm all done with University for the year and now it is summer time, and that means more time to finish unfinished projects! So, I'm endeavoring to complete this fic by the start of the new school year. It has been plaguing me for over 3 years now. Things will be moving fast coming up and the exciting conclusion is nigh! So stay tuned and make sure to review! (If you don't know how…it's the little button below the text!)
Shout out to Ghedea, brokenmaelstrom, wolf of infinity, Darial Kuznetsova, forevermare, TifaValentine99, Shtit, 3phemerA, hunter777, and Darkangelwp05. Also, a great welcome to my newest readers and rapid reviewers H. J. Noxera and Pyra Sanada. All you guys make me happy, like, WOW.
A big thanks to my betas Kimmit the Ferg and P. Batman Owen for their continued patience and support…and editing, lol.
And shout out to my readers from SWEDEN, MALAYSIA, and BRAZIL! I love the fact that I have readers from everywhere! It makes me do dances in my head and sometimes for real!
If you have any questions, concerns, or suggestions, please don't hesitate to shoot me a message. Your opinions matter to MEEEEE! *omnomnom*
ALSO! If any of you out there are VinTif writers, I am open in the beta community and will give precedence to those who are my readers. Just throwing it out there because my betas help me so very much…everyone should have some sort of help like that, even if it's just to cross I's and dot T's. lol Okay, off my soapbox now.
So until next time,
Adjö, Selamat Malam, and Adiós!
Fight the Power!
-- Illusion of the Mirror --
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