Chapter 4: A New Start

Tifa was still leant against the bar, her head resting on her knees, bloody arms wrapped tightly around her legs. I holstered my gun and wordlessly made my way to her side.

"Tifa?" I asked as gently as I could. Her face lifted to look at me. Brushing her hair out of her face with her fingers left a small smear of blood on her left cheek.

"Yes?"

"Where is your first aid kit?" Though my previous anger was forgotten for now, my words sounded far from comforting. I sighed internally, but maintained my gaze into her eyes, trying to be the strong one, for once.

"Under the cash register." She answered softly. Her hazy stare followed me as I walked past her, and then returned with the green box.

Silently, I crouched next to her and gently rolled back the sleeves of her green jumper, taking note of the many lacerations and the sparkling of the still-present glass fragments stuck in her skin. I frowned. I did the best I could to remove them using the medical tweezers, before setting about cleaning and bandaging her wounds. I repeated the process on her other arm. Several deep cuts, newly healed along her wrists did not escape my notice; Ones that were definitely not caused by the glass.

I took a deep breath before gripping her elbows and pulling her upright, aware of her whimpering slightly in pain. Without a word, I led her around the bar and through to the rear property, where she lived with Cloud. Or used to, as it was now.

The room that opened up before me was comfortable, a smouldering fire illuminating the shadows of a sofa and solid wood furniture lining the walls of the living space. There sofa was squashy-looking, and when I led her to it and sat her down, it seemed to swallow her defeated frame.

"Tifa. When did all of this start?" I asked, leaning back slightly on the sofa. I sensed her stiffen.

"Over the last couple of months." She intoned softly, drawing her arms around herself.

"Why?" I urged, suddenly feeling like I should be out there putting a bullet in his head.

"When I'd wake up in the middle of the night he'd be crying. I tried to ignore it but… but… I couldn't help it." she wiped away a few stray tears with a dismissive hand. "I asked him why …at four in the morning, and he told me it was nothing to do with me and to go back to sleep. But I knew it was for her. He can't let go of her. He didn't love me. He has been acting strangely for a while now… not eating, talking in his sleep…A few nights after that night I… asked him again." Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

"And he said…" I urged her again.

"He was drunk at the time when he told me…" her sobs were more frequent now.

"Tifa that is no excuse." I told her sternly. Reassured, she continued.

"He said that I wasn't the woman he wanted, and that I would never be. And he wished that it was me, Instead of Aeris, that had… been killed."

My blood ran cold. No–one should ever wish death on someone, swapping one life for another, hoping to chance what was already done. I had spent years of my life regretting what I had seen and what I had allowed to happen, but never would I wish it upon anyone else.

These were my demons, and I would deal with them myself.

Part of me could understand the way Cloud must have felt; so grief-stricken by his loss it was easy to lash out and hurt those around him, so lost and without purpose that nothing else matters anymore.

But it was nothing compared to what she must have felt. Cast aside and forgotten, a pretty thing left to gather dust on the shelf.

Never had I cause to relate myself to anyone, yet here was Tifa, going through something so awfully parallel, I could not deny it. Yet Cloud lived, where Lucrecia remained only a memory.

My heart was thudding painfully in my chest, my fury rushing to the surface, and I felt the urge to run out the front door, hunt the bastard down and empty a magazine or two into his skull. It was all he deserved. My compassion surprised even me, but Tifa was under my protection now. Everything else would have to wait.

"Why didn't you call on us?" of course, I was talking about the Avalanche members, me included. Should she have contacted me, I would have done everything to help her. As hard a person as I was, I would never leave anyone in the same situation as me.

"I was desperate... and I didn't know who to call… who could get me out."

I knew she had tried to get out- More than once- The ugly scars along her wrists told me as much. It made me wonder what other scars she bore under her clothing.

I got to my feet, my bone aching in the lag of all that adrenaline. She would need time, I realised as I approached the window, trying not to listen to her sobbing behind me.

The others in Avalanche might not have seen her true fears until it was too late. She would insist that she was fine, talk about her hopes for Cloud to suddenly change, to love her. And she would be dead, leaving them with a heavy-laden conscience.

I knew what it was like to want to die. From experience, I knew Tifa needed to realise things on her own. Nobody else could make her strong enough to move forward, save for herself.

I halted my tumbling thoughts to listen. Tifa wasn't crying anymore. I turned and almost sighed with relief. She had fallen asleep, her head resting on a large cushion, her legs were tucked up and under her body, arms folded tightly before her. For the first time in a long while she could sleep easily. I was here, just like she had wanted, and I wasn't going to leave until I was sure she was going to be all right.

I removed my cloak and draped in across her, watching as her fingers gripped it loosely.

Sleep well Tifa. I promise I will still be here when you wake up.

-0-

She woke in the night, as she often did, to find that she was sharing the darkness with a stranger. He was sat upright, the sweat on his forehead visibly gleaming in the little moonlight leaking through a gap in the curtains.

Vincent…

Of course. Now she remembered what he was doing here.

Instantly, she slipped her legs out from beneath the heavy fabric which enclosed her, and placed her feet on the carpet. She returned from a short trip to the bathroom, a dampened facecloth in hand. Without a word she perched on the edge of the sofa and raised the cool cloth to his face, tenderly wiping away the cold sweat from his skin. To her surprise he allowed this to occur without objection, almost leaning on her. Their bare arms were touching; Sleep warm skin on cool.

"A bad dream?" It was no more a question than a statement, yet she found herself searching his eyes with her own. His face was stoic as always, yet the wideness of his pupils alluded to fear. Her assertion was more of a reminder that he was only dreaming, that he was safe.

She could distinguish all the minute details of his face, the shadow of his eyelashes cast across his cheeks by the moonlight. So pale… his hair a bold black against ivory, eyes an unmistakable hue verging on ruby. What was it about Vincent that sucked her into a whirlwind a mixture of fear and apprehension, as though he was looking right into her being, as though he knew everything about her? She felt stripped naked in his presence.

It seemed to her that if she dared to gaze into his eyes for too long, it might expose truths best left unspoken, because they hurt even just to acknowledge. In that moment, when her lips had unintentionally, ever so slightly, brushed the soft skin of his neck, she had felt a weakness. For her, it was a little hurt to heal the pain. But to Vincent, her weakness was poison.

"Vincent…" she whispered, his name slipping past her lips easily. His sombre eyes travelled to her face, questioningly. "Thank you, for staying with me. I don't know what I was doing here all this time with Cloud, I…" She looked down at her folded hands, picking at her nails absently.

"You do not have to justify yourself to me. All you have to do now is seize this new chance to start again."

She swallowed, a shiver unravelling her spine, subject to his iron gaze. "I was drunk last night." she admitted, a blush crossing her cheeks. "I am sorry if I offended you in any way." She humbly met his gaze, which was returned with a flash of something Tifa couldn't place. A slight tightening of the brow, a quick downcast glance, before he collected himself.

"Forget it." he accepted her apology with a swift deflection, lowering his eyes once more, allowing Tifa to believe he perhaps felt a little embarrassed thinking back on the mistaken kiss they had shared, not hours ago.

Feeling she had said enough while the air of comfort had lasted, she returned to her sofa, retreating beneath the warmth of Vincent's cloak.

She was afraid that Cloud would return, simply walk in here and kill her- even kill them both. But even more than that, she was afraid of being alone. She didn't want to have to shiver herself to sleep at night, every night, for the rest of her life.

She wanted to feel strong protective arms around her, wanted to hear another's breathing, see another smile and taste another's kiss. Although it was foolish of her to even think so, she still wanted that man to be Cloud. He had been able to give her all of those things, for a while. He was the man she thought she wanted. But even as a young girl she had learned the value of the words 'you can't always get the things you want'.

For a moment, though, she forgot how afraid she was; set her fear aside, the fear of being alone: because she wasn't alone.

"I'm not afraid anymore, Vincent." She mumbled absently, resting her head on pillows that had been propped there for that purpose.

"Why's that?" He responded lazily from his spot on the adjacent couch.

"Because you're here, now." she sounded a little shy, a childish bashfulness that came with sleep. Not long afterwards, she drifted off, breathing steadily and lightly. Probably, he thought, for the first time in a while.

-0-