Chapter 7: A Dream

Her surroundings were slightly unfamiliar, yet in spite of this, she had slept better than she had in a long while. She didn't even remember getting there, huddled under the blankets of the guest room. Vincent must have put her to bed, and had some reasoning for avoiding placing her in her own; it seemed he had understood her perfectly that night, and had taken steps to help her, however he could.

He knew she hadn't been sleeping well; heck, he'd known that almost as long as he'd known her. She had been staring at the walls for too long, trying to ignore his sleepless form beside her in the dark. Many nights, week in and week out had been spent staring at the ceiling of her own bedroom, a place that should mean rest and comfort, a room where lovers whispered and sighed between the sheets. No such meaningless words were spoken here, and no such explorations occurred either.

There had been sex of course, for they were a couple after all. But after a while it became less of what Tifa had dreamt it to be, to being more like what Tifa dreaded. It was hollow, and meaningless; No kisses, no warm, exhausted embraces- just sex for the sake of sex. It became a pass time, nothing left between them except that expectation of physicality.

Gazing up at the ceiling tonight, she examined the cracks in the paintwork, barely concealed beneath a few carefully applied layers. Had she hidden it that well? Or had she felt the same all along; desolate, dry, and empty, truly lonely for the first time in her life.

There had been her father when she lost her mother; she had found solace in Barrett when she had lost her home, and in Avalanche when she lost her bar. There had always been Cloud, until recently.

Now, there was Vincent.

She found herself questioning why she hadn't called upon her friends when things had reached rock bottom, why she had never thought about just walking out, away from it all. Tifa believed in that whole 'you've made your bed' philosophical bullshit, as Cid might say. Maybe her life with Cloud was all she felt she deserved. So naïve, age had taught her that love was as you made it, yet denial had clouded her judgement.

Because it couldn't be more different now.

She was gradually awakening to the tantalising realisation that much more was possible; an epiphany stemming from one single event, one stupid careless moment when her weakness had overwhelmed her. That stupid kiss! That one brief encounter when she caught him with his walls down, and she'd almost ruined everything.

She couldn't fully comprehend his motives for staying. Vincent was hard enough to figure out as it was. Yet sometimes she was able to read emotions from their subtle play upon his features. Anger, followed by a slow breath, closed eyes- the self-admonishment- as he calmed himself. His facial muscles would relax, his voice carefully controlled to contain neither too much nor too little emotion.

He was making many sacrifices simply by being here, breaking all the rules which he so carefully laid out. She reminded herself to thank him one day, to make him see that his presence and his protection was greatly appreciated. Even more than that, she wanted to be able to show him how strong she was; that she could start again without Cloud, that she could live without him.

And also Without Vincent.

She couldn't imagine how she would manage without him. He had been so important in her self-development since he came that night; silenced her when she was too hysterical, comforted her-in his own way- when she was broken. He even smiled sometimes, if he thought she wasn't looking.

But she always managed to break the comfortable silences, by saying something stupid. Cloud would have gotten angry with her, and she would have cried and broken a few dishes.

With Vincent though, things couldn't have been more different. All those stupid things she had said, hurtful, thoughtless things, had been forgotten. Or at least, apparently so. If he bore a grudge or any ill-will, he hid it well. He would only sigh, leaving her feeling foolish and child-like.

This was one grand mess alright, her becoming so reliant upon the most unwilling person there was. Yet, she argued with herself, hardly daring to hope, he had stayed. He had cooked with her, eaten with her, sat in her living room and read books with her in companionable silence. They had cleaned together, talked, and they'd even laughed together once.

She chuckled bitterly to in the darkness.

Such a fool to think he cares enough to love you. Yet hope was all she had to hold onto now.

Such a fool, Lockheart.

-0-

Vincent had lain awake for hours, not allowing himself to get comfortable in the bed which held Tifa's scent so strongly. He didn't want to associate her with being warm and secure, didn't want to let his guard down. Not again.

As every day went by, he was less able to deny that Tifa was becoming his weakness. A beautiful woman with tears on her face- what kind of man didn't feel like he should be holding her close, devoting himself to her protection? And hadn't he done just that?

God damn him. So weak. He would have to remain on his guard, stay strong, if not for himself, then for the both of them.

…But the sheets were soft and his tired muscles eventually melted away as the mattress accommodated him, and he felt himself slipping away completely into sleep. It came so rarely that he did little to fight it; on the rare occurrences where sleep finally took him, it was riddled with vexing dreams, horrific nightmares, causing him to wake with a severe headache, cold sweat trembling over feverish skin...

...awakening to find Tifa at his side, sleep-warm skin pressing against his, her mouth parted and wanting. They were both naked under the sheets, all tongue and breath and fumbling hands, lips wandering…

Such a fool.

-0-

Tifa's restlessness finally found some relief when she became aware of movement coming from her own room, followed by a strange, strangled cry, sudden intakes of breath, and the crinkle of sheets being moved aside. She realised it was probably Vincent and one of his nightmares. She considered leaving him alone, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. But then again she wasn't ready for sleep, and Vincent was far too much of a gentleman to ask her to leave if she chose to invade his privacy. Perhaps it would work in her favour that he was in her room.

So she slid her legs out of the sheets and placed her feet softly upon the carpet, padding softly out onto the landing. Vincent had left both his and her doors ajar, should he have needed to listen out for her in the night. She smiled softly to herself, and then slid the door open fully.

-0-

Vincent had awakened abruptly, reality only serving to intensify the dream he had bolted awake from. It took a few moments regain control of his rapid breathing, lying motionless in the unfamiliar bed, taking in his surroundings with darting pupils as though trying to validate its permanence. He kicked the sheets off that had entwined around his ankles and got shakily to his feet, crossing to the blackened window.

The intensity of the dream lingered in his mind; the feeling of ecstasy ebbing and waving in his chest, his lips seeming to burn as though from the absence of a kiss, his fingers shaking, as though trying to recover the sensation of skin.

The door to his room opened unexpectedly and Tifa entered the room, the hem of her nightdress fluttering at the level of her thigh, Vincent couldn't help but to notice. "Are you alright Vincent, I heard you moving…?"

"I'm fine, just a dream." he spoke rather severely, pulling his arms tight across his chest and turning away from her. He felt his face flush.

"Are you sure? You don't want to talk or anything?"

He could see her worried reflection in the windowpane as he faced it, her face framed by her long, slightly ruffled hair. It only served as another delicate reminder.

"I'm fine, please just go."

"Alright… But you know where I am Vincent, if you need me."

He shuddered to think that she might just say yes, should he go to her with his current base needs in mind.

Tifa shut the door after her, biting her lip anxiously as she lingered behind it, as if expecting him to call her back. Sighing because she knew he never would, she re-entered her temporary room and slipped back in-between her sheets, lying awake for some time, knowing full well that he was doing the same.

-0-

It took a while for his heart to calm its erratic rhythm; nonetheless Vincent was powerless to shake the tantalising recollections from his mind.

Why now?

He'd never dreamt that way about a woman in a long time, not since Lucrecia. His hot bloodedness had somewhat altered its tangent since awakening in Nibelheim. Any remnants of humanity that remained within him were devoted to simply keeping amicable relations with those around him. Since discovering what horrors slept beneath the surface of his skin, he'd vowed never to let anyone close enough to find out what lurked there. Yet Tifa knew about Chaos, Galian beast; all of them in fact. And she didn't seem to fear him in the slightest.

Releasing a long slow breath that ruffled those annoying strands of hair that never stayed out of his eyes, he threw himself back onto the mattress, lying long and silent in the dark. He stared unblinking at the ceiling for some time, focussing on his breathing, and trying not to think about her…

The thing that dazed him the most was the realism of it, he acknowledged, unable to avoid it regardless of his meditations; he could recall every detail, if he allowed himself to. The taste of her mouth, so full and flushed as he caught her bottom lip in his teeth, the scent of her hair, her skin and the hormones as they lay flush, her body shifting and writhing beneath his own...

Oh, oh god...

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, gritting his teeth and curling his hands into fists. He knew he would not sleep again that night.