A/N: Playlist suggestion for this chapter. Anything by Birdy, particularly Skinny Love, or I'll Never Forget you.

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"There's no force behind my mouth

but in those three words he brings you down."

Still- Bombay Bicycle Club

Chapter 8: A Death

A few weesks had passed, and tonight, a live band was playing in her bar; some sort of local entertainers it seemed, from the familiarity of the band members with the patrons. Vincent found their composition odd; a cello and a piano made up the instruments, and the singer was a young, elfin-like female. As soon as they began to play though, the lights lowered, tables lit by flickering candles in jam jars—Alex and Vincent's idea- he couldn't deny their chemistry, nor how their music was achingly beautiful.

A few people whistled before the music had started, though Tifa seemed deep in thought as the first notes from the piano struck the room into absolute silence. The gentle thrum of the cello's opening chord stirred something within Vincent that he couldn't explain. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, which only seemed to flutter within his chest cavity instead.

Vincent shot a glance at Tifa, leaning upon the bar top with her elbows. She'd done something different with her hair tonight, tying it out of the way in a twisting knot at the base of her neck. The paly of light upon her skin was quite something, he hated to admit. She was watching the band play with an intensity that conveyed to him her futile attempts at trying not to cry.

She was desperate for protection, friendship, love; some things which Vincent was unable to—or rather refused to- offer her. He swore under his breath.

"Are you alright?" Tifa gave a gentle chuckle, wiping away her tears with the palm of her hand.

"Yes, sorry, it's just... I get a little overwhelmed at times. Sometimes its ok to be, right? Hm. don't listen to me, I'll be fine, really."

That was Tifa. She wouldn't let people worry about her, wouldn't want people to go to any trouble. Perhaps her tears were a sign that she was reflecting, not regretting.

She had finally gotten around to calling Barrett and Cid a few weeks back, at Vincent's insistence that she couldn't avoid them forever. They had arrived before the day was over, and Tifa had told the whole story. Barrett had yelled, more upset than angry that she hadn't thought to call him, hadn't asked for any help. She had shared her plans to sell the bar and move elsewhere, and they had voiced their support, each offering her a place in their home if she should need it.

She had declined politely, insisting she needed to keep the bar running in order to save the money to buy a new place. Vincent had promised to stay with her for a few more weeks; Cid had to work, Barrett had to take care of Marlene. Vincent understood that.

It had been several weeks since the dream, and since he had put extra effort into maintaining a distance between himself and Tifa. He knew she had definitely noticed. She did not speak of it, however, and they continued their steady existence, day, by day, by day.

And they had remained as they were. Tifa hadn't given any sign that she knew about his dream, but Vincent suspected she had gathered the information herself. She was careful what she did around him; always dressing fully before leaving the shower (no more crossing the hallway in a towel any more), and she never tried coming into him at night if she heard him wake. She didn't even try too hard to engage him in conversation as much as she might have done before. He partly missed that though. He missed their banter, and how she used to feel comfortable around him.

But he didn't want that did he? So he said nothing. And so it went on.

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They closed the bar as normal, clearing out the patrons so that they could set about clearing the bar for the morning. Tifa seemed a little withdrawn. She was not responding to conversation from Alex, who gave Vincent a meaningful glance as she moved about the bar. He sighed. He was going to have to say something. Though, not before he'd had time to think through his approach.

He paused in what he was doing- currently turning chairs up and onto the tables so that Tifa could mop the floors with ease the following morning- noticing that she was drawn to the piano. Catching her caught in her own thoughts, he continued what he was doing, so as not to alert her to his attention.

Her curious fingertips gently brushed over the heavy wooden lid, currently shut down over the keys. He'd never noticed the instrument before; it had been covered up prior to this evening, shoved away in a corner of the bar, never used. It seemed as though she was really seeing it for the first time. She tentatively gripped the edges of the lid before slipping her fingers under the lip and lifting it up. The hinges creaked dully, as she set the lid resting against the back with a gentle thump. The music paper still set in the stand crackled a little.

With a gentle clattering from the back tell-tale of Alex still cleaning glasses, and Vincent's footsteps moving back and too across the wooden floorboards, Tifa felt a safety net of comfortable background sound. It had been years since she'd touched the piano like this, as she lowered her body awkwardly onto the piano stool. Her fingers seemed gnarled and stiff, poised over the yellowing ivory of the keys. The smooth coolness beneath the pads of her fingers awakened many a forgotten melody, and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth subconsciously, she began to play; testily at first, as she battled with her mental block, but then she began to remember the songs.

Vincent released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, allowing his hand to rest upon the back of the chair he'd been pretending to move for several moments. It only took a few moments before Alex's curiosity was aroused from the adjoining room. She came into the main bar, wiping her hands dry, brows furrowed.

Tifa's hands were drifting over the keys, fingers flexing and flowing as she shifted into a beautiful, gentle melody. After a moment, it seemed Alex recognised it, a grin replacing her frown. She stepped closer to the piano yet left Tifa her space, taking the chair that Vincent had neglected and seating herself upon it. At the next break in the melody, she took a breath and then started to sing along. Vincent found her vocals pleasing, gentle, carrying the tune with a certain delicacy that ached with fragility and hope.

The rest of the chairs were left forgotten as he watched Tifa's shoulders sink into a more relaxed stance as she fell into her song, her voice rising to join Alex's at the chorus.

His chest ached a little, a small smile upon his lips.

It was a rare, beautiful moment.

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He left Tifa to her own devices in the bar, his mind clouded by strange stirred-up emotions. He needed to take a shower, his body sticky from alcohol and sweaty from moving around furniture. He turned the jets to hot, letting them beat down onto his back until the skin was red and tingling. Once finished, he shut off the water and stood in the steamy dark room, eyes closed.

Soon, she would have the money she needed to move on. She would no longer need him, but the scariest part was that he was beginning to wish that day was not so close.

He swore under his breath.

Damn her.

He dressed, though neglected to button his shirt. Upon exiting into the hallway, he found her seated atop the stairs, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. He wondered if she had been waiting for him to come out. She acknowledged him by standing. He noticed she had been crying again, her eyes rimmed red, her lip trembling slightly as she breathed out.

His throat constricted. Why so beautiful now, when he needed to keep every ounce of his resolve about him?

"I'm sorry Vincent..." She began, drawing her jumper around herself tightly, trapping out a coldness she was no doubt feeling. His coldness.

"Please Tifa... you know I am here for you, if you need me." Better. Less harsh. Her face crumpled.

Oh god.

"I wish you would be Vincent, but I know as well as you do that you can't be." She slumped against the wall, gazing upon him with desperation in her eyes. Outside, the wind was howling, rattling the roof tiles and whistled through the gables. The clouds that had been threatening rain finally burst, beating wave after wave of torrential rain against the window panes.

"What do you mean?" He almost wished he hadn't asked.

"I mean that… ever since that night, you've not looked at me." Vincent's stomach tightened. So she did know. "What exactly have I done?"

"You have done nothing, Tifa; I don't understand what you mean." He decided to bluff, though instantly regretting it when her face contorted, rage bubbling over after what must have been weeks of trying to keep it to herself.

"You do! Just because you dreamt about sleeping with me-" He took her by the arm, perhaps gripping little too tight, squaring up to her as she cowered her into the wall. She let out a small cry of surprise and pain and he swore, letting go immediately.

It was a stupid thing to do; after all she had been through. His anger melted away, guilt biting away at it ravenously. He raised trembling fingertips to touch her face in a gesture that was meant to undo any harm he had done.

"I'm sorry Tifa, I shouldn't have done that."

She sniffed, leaning her head against his chest and curling into his hold. He allowed himself to relax a little at their proximity for once, surprised at how easy it came to him to act in this manner.

"You did dream about me, didn't you?" She wasn't really focusing on anything in particular, her arm resting against Vincent's chest. It was then she realised it was skin, not fabric that she felt beneath her cool fingers. It was warm. She closed her eyes for a moment, slowly trailing her hands up to his shoulders, feeling the sharp bones there, the smooth muscles under his skin. He realised too late what she was doing, took her arms in his hands, trying to move her away, before her destructive touch could do more damage.

Daring to open her eyes, she saw what she never thought she would see; Hard muscles, sharp hip bones, tapering off into a narrow waist, solid arms braced against her hands. His chest rose and fell unsteadily, his eyes screwed shut, resisting her. She felt guilty; she shouldn't be doing this. He had a weakness for her, she knew- But part of her craved to know what his skin felt like beneath her curious hands, what it was like to press her body against his. Her previous tears rested on her cheeks, one trembling on her lip.

"Tifa, stop." He was surprised by her strength, yet didn't try and get away fast enough before she was too close, her breath against his neck too warm, too reminiscent of another woman's breath on his collarbone, but in another time, another room.

He was averting his face, not moving any closer to her. But also, she clung onto the fact that he was not moving farther away. He was tempted. The memory of her kiss still lingered.

Damn her, and damn him for letting it happen. So careful they had been, yet one moment of laxness and it spiralled into a situation beyond their control. He had been aware of the attraction. But he had underestimated how dangerous simple attraction could be.

Damn her, she should know it too.

"You don't have to be this way, Vincent…" she whispered, leaning into him, her lips almost brushing his ear. He was unable to suppress his shiver.

"Tifa please…" he increased his pressure on her arms, warning her not to come too close. He knew he was weakening.

"You have the right to be happy, Vincent. You'll always have my friendship. But if only you'd reach out and take it… it could be more."

Vincent swallowed. In a moment of lacking clarity, he didn't stop her coming closer, didn't prevent her lips moving to claim his before it was too late, and their mouths brushed. Hesitating at first, she then grew braver; when his lips parted slightly, she captured his bottom lip in hers.

His resistance was crumbling away like sand on a breeze, and his self-control was wavering also. He needed to stop this, and stop it now, before…

"Tifa no!" a gentle, but assertive push seemed to snap her out of her trance; she stumbled backwards a little, her hands rising to her heated face, realising what she had done. Vincent stood with his back against the wall of her hallway, his shirt still open, doing nothing to hide his body that her eyes had, not a few moments ago, looked so longingly upon.

"Oh god Vincent… I'm so sorry…" She slid down the wall slowly, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I am so sorry…."

Vincent screwed his eyes shut and shook his head slowly form side to side, dark hair falling about his face. Goddamn it all. Why did she have to overstep the barrier and ruin the security they had created, both maintained for so long? Just when he was starting to think that her neediness was abating, she had to go and succumb to her urges.

But he could only blame himself. He had seen the look in her eyes, a look he had seen before. He could have stopped it sooner.

She had seen too much of his weakness to know that she could break his defences down sooner or later. He didn't want it to ever get that far. He had a lot of respect for Tifa, and wished only for her to regain some self-respect, become independent again. Now he could see that his presence was only making her more vulnerable.

"I'm so sorry for always doing this… spoiling what peace we have created. It's not fair on you Vincent, you've done so much for me…" she wiped away her newly fallen tears stubbornly with the heel of her hand.

"I… can't stay here any longer Tifa." he admitted, turning away from her to stare down the hall, towards nothing in particular. He suddenly became aware of the rain outside, lashing against the roof tiles and the windows. "It's... destroying us both." he heard her sob behind him.

"I know! I'm so fucking weak, Vincent. So ungrateful! After everything you have done for me, I… oh god Vincent. Please forgive me…"

She was crying harder now, her voice thick with tears. Vincent turned to face her. He was going to have to try and repair the damage before he left, in order that the progress they had made should not be undone. He crouched by her side, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"I understand your reasons." He admitted after a while. "It's not easy getting through what you did. And I apologise if I ever gave you the impression that a physical relationship between us was possible."

"A relationship?" she hiccoughed, fury bursting into her eyes. "Is that why you think I did this? Jesus Vincent, you really don't understand me do you? You talk like a goddamn robot, like nothing affects you; but I've seen it Vincent, don't try and deny it. It's there when you close your eyes and turn away from me, that little voice in your head that says it might be possible."

"Tifa…"

"I know you think—hell, if I weren't such a fucked up mess you might actually consider reciprocating."

"Tifa!" he yelled, surprising them both. Both of them were standing now, facing each other. She gazed at him in shock, her mouth slightly open, lips trembling slightly, her fists clenched.

His intention was to remove her from a self-destructive mood, and to get back to herself; A Tifa who realised the injustices that she was suffering, and a Tifa who was actually making a stand against them. Vincent's objective all along, but he hadn't bargained that she would use her newfound strength against him.

"I do not think that you are a fucked up mess." He controlled his tone. She did not reply. "I came here to help you, not to replace Cloud."

Her jaw was set as she maintained her silence, turning away to stare resolutely out of the window in the hall way, gazing out onto the rain-battered.

"However, it seems I… I have done nothing but make it worse." Vincent sighed, finally fastening the buttons of his shirt. "I will call Cid or Barrett and have them collect you."

"You're really going to leave aren't you?" she looked afraid. He sighed and approached her, placing a hand on her bare shoulder. She shivered, not turning to look at him, instead continuing to gaze outside. "Don't touch me." She whispered, her voice wavering.

He left her there in the darkened hallway, jaw clenched and unable to shake the sensation of uneasiness in spite of his decision. His signature red travelling cloak still hung in the cupboard where it had been housed for the two months he had been here. He threw it over his shoulders, teeth gritting as he tried not to notice the scent of fabric softener that washed over him. Tifa must have… He made a mental note to thank her later.

He fastened the belt around his waist that secured his side arms before entering into the empty darkened bar for the last time, the lightning penetrating the blinds lighting up the room in a staccato of purple flashes. He heaved a sigh, realising he was about to leave her here alone, all because he was angry.

But he had done more than enough for Tifa, and all she ever did was cross the boundaries and do everything possible to make him feel uncomfortable. He did not deserve to endure that. Yet her words haunted his mind.

…It's there when you close your eyes and turn away from me, that little voice in your head that says it might be possible….

She knew that he was attracted to her. But she also knew he would never act upon it, that he believed himself to be, and resented being a replacement, an outlet for suppressed passion.

She was appealing to a long dead part of him that was open to love and misadventure, but the ever cautious Vincent that he had become wasn't about to let that notion spring back to life. He had allowed his heart to rule once, and it had ruined his life.

He stepped out into the downpoar, rain so heavy he became instantly soaked to the skin. He could smell the fabric softener once more. He turned on his heel upon reaching the square, casting his gaze back toward the bar. A flash of lightning illuminated the houses, and he could barely make out her lonely figure stood at the window, her palm pressed against the glass.

Her outline was blurred and distorted; yet noticed the shadow behind her. The bar door stood open to the night. Wet footsteps were visible on the wooden floor. His boots had been dry upon leaving…

Vincent's heart stopped beating for one brief moment that seemed to last an eternity.

Lights began to flicker on in the windows of the surrounding houses, the residents clearly alarmed to the sound of two shots being fired into the night. Looking out of their windows, three shapes could be distinguished out in the storm, lying on the pavement. Many residents rushed out of their houses, some having the sense to bring weapons of their own, one man carrying with him a briefcase that Vincent assumed belonged to a doctor.

His gun lay forgotten on the ground by his feet, two bullets missing from the magazine, the scent of gunpowder clinging to his dampened skin. Blood gushed out onto his hands to be washed away by the rain, only to be stained again. He applied as much pressure as his faintness would allow, the figure beneath him motionless and silent.

"Tifa!" a few people had recognised her body, her tangled wet hair surrounding her expressionless face, eyes still open, lips slightly parted. One man pointed his gun at Vincent's temple, ordering him to step away from her. His words fell on deaf ears.

One woman started to scream, pointing to where a sword glinted in the brief flashes of lightning punctuating the dark; a large, double-edged broad sword, lying not a few inches away from the unmoving fingertips of another man. Cloud had not been seen by anyone in the town for months since the arrival of this stranger, a stranger who had become known to all as Tifa's strange, mysterious friend.

"I'll take her legs, you take her arms." The young doctor yelled over the storm, staring hard at Vincent, employing all of his training to get through to this man. "We lift on three. 1…2…3.

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A\N: A lot of stuff had to be changed in this chapter. I took out the song, mainly because at the time I was obsessed with it so much I was trying to ram it down everyone's throats.

Enjoy.

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