Chapter 6: A Decision

She worked diligently, long hair swiftly tied back in a hasty bun as she kept herself busy for most of the afternoon. Opening time was approaching fast, and there were floors to be mopped, glasses to be washed and put away, chairs and tables manoeuvred into place. The windows had been thrown open to alleviate her sudden hot flush, and to allow the room to breathe and release the overwhelming fumes of furniture polish and bleach. A delicate breeze wafted in, plucking at errant strands of hair that had escaped her bun.

Puffing out a breath as she paused to rest, she finally acknowledged the time. The hour hand of the clock as creeping toward four; it was about time to make some lunch.

She re-entered into the main house, bumping into Vincent as he descended from upstairs. She had kitted out the spare room with fresh sheets and had supplied him with towels, the scent of soap and shampoo lingering about his person informing her he had made use of them. He glanced around the room swiftly before looking at her. She became conscious of her hair, slightly erratic through energetic cleaning. Tifa took in his new scent, and his clean clothes, slightly more casual by Vincent's standards; a plain black t-shirt and black pants.

"Do you need help with anything?" He asked, a little awkward all of a sudden. He became aware of the subtle trace of furniture polish still lingering in the air.

"I was going to make stew, I think." She smiled, attempting to ease the discomfort. He nodded in acquiescence, following her into the kitchen.

She was really in her element here, he thought, required only to watch as she tossed all kinds of different things into a bubbling stew pot; vegetables, herbs and stock, and some things which he would never have thought to use. When she presented him with a spoon full of her creation to sample, his senses were pleasantly stimulated by the flavours it encountered.

"It's my Dad's famous winter stew. Do you like it?" She smiled easily, stirring the mixture as she talked. "When I say famous, I mean, I loved it as a kid." she gave a small laugh, shaking her head in reminiscence.

"It's good." He gifted her with a rare, genuine smile. She lowered her gaze, turning her flushed face back to her stew pot.

"Right, it'll take a while to cook, so I'm justgoing to get changed..."

-0-

She excused herself from the kitchen quietly, feeling suddenly flustered, dashing up to her room and snapping the door shut behind her. Pulled off her clothes dirtied by the morning's work, she entered her bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping under the hot stream of water with closed eyes.

Vincent had arrived in Kalm unwilling and closed, and despite his anger at her selfish actions, he had saved her from her woes in a single heartbeat. He had taken her under a reluctant wing. It may be anything but warm there at times, she noted, but at least she was safe.

It all came back to Lucrecia, of course. Perhaps his staying had something to do with atoning, as he often put it, for his past mistakes. Perhaps part of her predicament had stirred something within his darkest memories, some haunting recollection of a woman he loved suffering because he was not strong enough to stop it.

Vincent had a compassionate side to him, should she ever need to appeal to it. His temper was something she didn't ever want to be subject to though; His fury had been something to behold that night, hands trembling as they helped her to her feet, reluctant as they tried to comfort her. All the while, rage burned in his eyes, never quite forgotten.

There was just something about the way his ruby eyes seared into her, the way his skin was so offset by hair the colour of midnight… and though he may seem cold, and heartless, she knew otherwise.

That smile before, as rare as Cosmo snow, had unsettled feelings within her that she'd been battling with for the past couple of days. A tremor had passed through her body, setting butterflies loose in her stomach and sending blood flowing to her cheeks.

Yes, she found Vincent attractive. Though never had she had so much cause to confront this realisation before. It almost felt like an obtrusion, a betrayal of trust, just to think so… Yet the bathroom door was locked, and Vincent was downstairs, out of sight and earshot.

Smiling as the scalding water brought new life to dead skin, she leant back against the tiles and reached for the soap. Her bones seemed to protrude more these days, hips and ribs sharp beneath her fingers. Her breasts were still full beneath her small palms, though her thighs lacked the muscle and strength they once possessed. One day, she promised herself, she would get it all back.

Then maybe, just maybe… her teeth caught on her bottom lip as she sighed. She would be the woman she had always wanted to be.

After lunch, it was time for Tifa to open up the bar for the evening. Vincent assisted her in righting all of the furniture and ensuring everything was in working order before she unlocked the doors and opened them onto the street. A warm breeze was coming over the meadow, bringing with it the scent of flowers and fresh grass. Tifa stretched in the doorway, leaning on the frame to watch the people out on the square going about their business, calling an occasional greeting to a passing villager.

The barmaid from the night before entered, laughing loudly, at some joke she had shared with Tifa as they greeted one another. Her smile faltered upon noticing Vincent, stood sentinel by the bar.

"Hi..." She said, almost breathlessly. "I didn't know you were staying- Vincent isn't it?" She stretched out her hand in a well-mannered gesture. They shook hands. "I'm Alex- The barmaid." She rolled her eyes.

"Stop talking and get to work Alex," Tifa rolled her eyes before winking at the redhead to show no ill-will, though something else seemed to have caught Alex's attention. Tifa's sleeves were still rolled up slightly- Perhaps she had forgotten to roll them down after they had finished setting up- revealing to Alex her bandaged wrists. Tifa hurriedly tried to hide them, but it was too late. Alex was frowning as she reached forwards, taking Tifa's hands between hers.

"Tifa what the hell happened?" She exclaimed, turning over Tifa's hands, then gazing up through her red curls into Tifa's amber eyes.

"I..." Tifa glanced across Vincent for support. His mouth had tightened, gaze lowering in defeat. She would have to explain herself. Tifa's strength crumpled. Alex moved towards her with a female's practised efficiency, leading her back into her living room. Vincent followed at a distance, lingering in the doorway.

"That scumbag!" She cursed, pulling Tifa into a tight embrace. The girl had obviously had her suspicions. "Why didn't you tell anyone Tif?"

Eventually the whole story came out, and Vincent felt the same mixture of disgust and fury all over again; watching Tifa cry, looking at her broken into pieces right before him once more.

He felt so helpless, so goddamn useless. Just like the last time. No amount of words of comfort, spilled from lips so unfamiliar with the word, could help her. Nothing he could do would change the past, or improve her future. She needed warmth, kindness, and protection, to act as resin to piece her back together. The sad thing was, he wasn't ready to give her such things.

Damn it all.

After a while Alex could no longer ignore the bar, returning to work at Tifa's insistence that she would sit with Vincent until she had calmed down enough to work. Alex had nodded and shut the door, leaving Vincent aware of the painfully large gap between where he was standing, and where she was hunched, her life still broken in her hands.

"Why was I so pathetic Vincent?" She asked of him, as he stood awkwardly before her. "How could I have been so weak?"

"Tifa don't blame yourself." He knelt before her, lifting her face to look at him. "That was my mistake." Tifa gazed at him with open surprise. Vincent never mentioned his past.

"How so?"

"For years, I….blamed Lucrecia's death on myself. But... I did everything I could to try and stop her." His stomach seemed to churn at his words. Did he really believe that? Did he really do everything he could? "And still, she…"

He shook his head slowly. It was foolish to even dwell on it now. "Take the chance that you have been given, and move forward. That is what the Tifa I know would do." Tifa wiped her tears away, the action serving to bring the bandages to her attention.

"I'm not ashamed..." She whispered quietly, though she drew strength from these words. "I'll… I'll be down in a few minutes."

Vincent watched her go upstairs, and set his jaw. If he hadn't done everything he could before, well he wanted to make sure he did this time. Tifa's suffering was certainly not of her own making. She deserved so much more.

When she returned downstairs, she was wearing a short sleeved shirt with the bandages off, revealing a staccato of healing, but still angry-looking wounds across her once smooth white forearms. She smiled gently, saying nothing before re-entering the bar, with Vincent following silently behind.

That was Tifa; Proud, wearing her heart- or in this case her scars- on her sleeves. He watched her all night; how she winced in pain every so often, yet never failing to produce a smile on demand, laugh it off if necessary.

The night passed in a blur with people coming and going, until before he knew it Tifa was locking the doors and Alex was doing one last sweep for glasses about the room.

"Right, I'll just go and cash up." Tifa sighed, taking out the till tray and entering into the house, leaving Alex and Vincent alone in the bar.

"You came here by chance?" Alex wasted no time, folding her arms as she sat cross-legged on a chair across from his. Her foot was jiggling, tell-tale of her agitation. Perhaps she had wanted to grill him all night. "'Cause I'm so glad you did. I never knew, didn't see what that bastard was doing to her." Alex lit a cigarette and exhaled smoke angrily to one side. "Promise me you'll stay with her, Vincent. There's no way she'd manage here in this place on her own, she'd go crazy."

"I know. I'm doing all I can." Vincent sighed, listening out for Tifa's footsteps upstairs; a rapidly developing habit of his. "She's... so fragile." He found himself admitting that realisation out loud. Saying it made it seem so much more frightening.

"She's talked about you before, y'know?" Alex gazed at him through her spiralling smoke. Vincent couldn't help the sense of mild curiosity aroused by this statement, raising his eyebrows slightly. "She said she often wondered where you were. Never knew what you were going to do next, you'd not been in touch for over a year."

"Yes, I believe I saw her on Christmas Eve last year. She was drunk at Cid and Shera's house." He answered, narrowing his eyes. He didn't like where this conversation was headed. He wasn't prepared to be exposed to the anger of someone he didn't know.

"You didn't see it then? Fuck, was she that good an actor? No one called her to check up on her! No one has been here all the time I've worked here- hell all the time she's lived here no-one came!"

"I think you'll find that I was partly responsible for that." Tifa said quietly, entering the bar, her face blank. "I didn't want to let them see how fragile our so-called relationship was. It was much easier to forget; to have to have separate beds because there was a lack of space, to busy myself with Marlene, and evade everyone's questions about how thin I was, to..." Tifa paused, and swallowed. "If they would have known for even a second they would have taken me to the safest pace they knew. Alex, it's my fault, not Vincent's. I owe Vincent... much more than he will ever know." Tifa rested her hand on the bar, gazing down at her fingers.

"I'm sorry Tif, I-" Alex began, but Tifa raised her hand to stop her.

"Don't apologise, Alex." Tifa embraced the girl, rubbing her shoulders fondly. "You've been like a sister to me these two years. And... I've made a decision to close the bar." Vincent and Alex both looked shocked by this revelation.

"What? And where will you go?" Tifa smiled at the girl's selflessness. Never mind that she was losing her job- where was Tifa going, would she be ok? She was glad that for every evil son of a bitch out there in the world, she knew at least eight people who were the most caring friends that she could have ever hoped for.

"I... don't know. But I've realised that in order to move on, I'll need to let go of the past. And living here, with so many memories of Cloud..."

Tifa glanced around the bar, remembering how wrecked the place had been when they had first stumbled across it. They had come here looking for a new place to live, buoyed on love and new dreams, and had fallen head over heels for the old place. She recalled the scent of plaster and of old wood when they had entered, remembered loving every bit of it. Then were the good times, when Cloud was trying, When Tifa was trying, when they had made love there, on the floor of the bar...

She covered her face with her hands. God it was going to be so hard. But she knew that it was the right thing to do. She would call Cid or Barrett in the morning and try to find a place to go, when she finally found the courage to sell the place. But she knew that one person would stay with her and make sure she went through with it.

She couldn't have been happier to have Vincent there with her, for when at that moment when she felt so drained, so full of conflicting emotions to continue the semblance of normalcy and conversation, he bade farewell to Alex, locked the doors, and turned off the lights…

…And took her into his arms, allowed her to lean against him, and cry.

-0-

A/N: Plodding on gradually with this! So much better. Tried to introduce a little bit more sexuality to this, obviously Tifa and Vincent are human after all. One slightly more so than the other, but still…