He loved her. Her heart had been subject to a sudden jolt at that admission from him, to say the least, pounding against her throat painfully.

But what should have come next, according to all conventional instinct, did not. There were no passionate kisses, sighs of longing, or moans of pleasure. Not lost within his bedsheets in a sweaty, rapturous tangle, they remained on top of the sheets of his bunk, fully dressed.

"Are you alright?" He whispered into the darkness. Only a vague, low hum confirmed she had heard him, head tucked beneath his chin, breath warming his neck.

"I'm fine." She knows as the words leave her lips that her response would do little to satisfy him. She can feel the taunt pinch of tension across her shoulders, the set of her jaw as she clenched it.

"That bad, huh?"

She laughed a little, though it died on her lips. She does not have the energy to sustain it.

"It's just… I… I thought… I'd hoped…"

"I told you," His chest hitches under the press of her arm as he inhales sharply, breath escaping in a flurry as he sighed. "I would not risk you then. Just because the world might end tomorrow, I won't risk you now."

He inhales audibly again, but this time he hesitates. There was something else on his mind, something he wanted to say that he anticipated would upset her further.

"Go ahead," She prompts him, propping herself on her elbow to look him in the eye. He had been in enough arguments with women to know that this was not going well, already.

"I would understand if you chose to spend your time elsewhere. I have no expectations of you."

Time was not the true currency he referenced, of course, and while she had anticipated this, it stung nonetheless.

"There you go. You really said it, huh." She sits upright, acutely aware of the chill her removal of his proximity leaves behind. "As if you think caring for you was an option, a choice I made, and can unmake just as easily. I know you warned me about this and that all along - that doesn't change things in the slightest, Vincent, and you know it."

"I only meant-"

She is on her feet now, fists at her hips, seething. "Oh, I know what you meant. I can go and fuck someone else willing? As if that's the only thing that matters to me - willingness!"

"No, I… Tifa please. I didn't mean that at all. I meant I did not wish you to feel obligated to spend time with me if it is too difficult, too painful."

"You know full well it's fucking painful. Don't concern yourself with that because it's too damn late - I love you, you bone-head. I'm all in, regardless of what happens next. I can't switch that off. And…"

He is on his feet too, posture the yin to her yang; Sagged and defeated. "You love me?"

"Of course I do, for fuck's sake." She growled, all five foot four of her drawn up and glowering up at him. "Don't look so sad about it. And don't–" She barked at him, stalling his movement towards her. "– touch me."

She reached for the door handle, turning it forcefully and yanking the door open into the room.

The clank of her footfalls down the hallway sound in time with his wretched heart.

-0-

The hourglass was her enemy. Long before she became conscious of it, life's most precious resource had been slipping away through her fingers, threads of fate pulled taut and fraying, a tightrope beneath her weary feet. Somehow, the twilight hours feel safest - They were not travelling toward their final battle, paused to rest for the night. If she resisted sleep, she did not become its thrall, a dreamer dancing to its tune, then her time was her own.

The ever-burning bonfire at the heart of the village of Cosmo Canyon pops and crackles comfortingly, the heat drying her eyes as she stares, unfocused and least unblinking. She is not alone, yet she feels it. Vincent sits at her side, a respectful arms length away, perhaps conscious of her internal battle. There was nothing left to be said, and little more to be done.

There was no time, and yet, it was all she really had left, in the end.

-0-

He risked a glance at her from time to time when he thought it was safe to do so; when she is accompanied by the other members of Avalanche in Cosmo Candle, or else has her face averted from his general direction. He'd gotten good at studying her over the months they had travelled together, for what good it did him now. He did not need to consult with his memory or debate with logic to see that Tifa was deeply hurt, isolated and touch-starved, longing for a reconciliation with a lover who could not, purely from concern for her safety, countenance intimate physical contact.

And in that regard he was the last person on this planet who could bring her comfort.

"Not quite the romantic reconciliation you'd hoped for, eh?"

The rough-hewn wooden bench sagged under Cid's weight as he straddled it, joining Vincent at the rear of the tavern where he had found a gloomy corner to inhabit. Better out of sight, all things considered.

"I hoped for nothing." Vincent intoned softly, running a hand over his face in a weary gesture. "But Tifa…"

"I getcha."

They lapse into companionable silence for a while, watching, through the blue-grey haze of Cid's habitual cigarette smoke, as the rest of their group chatted and drank, mingling with the Canyon's locals and scholars. Reeve and Tifa were in animated discussion, seated upon stools at the counter, bodies half turned to include Barret who stood between them. The latter was holding a beer in his fist, mentally elsewhere.

Cid's easy presence was a balm to Vincent. There was never any expectation to talk with him; no ulterior motives. He may ask a brash question from time to time, sure, but with casual indifference were a response to be denied or his question rebutted. He didn't mind, and he was there no matter what.

Cid breaks the silence first. "You ready for what's comin'?"

"Are you?"

"Chuh - I asked first. But I ain't got nothing clever to say, 'part from im shitting my pants alright, but… I'm as ready as I'm gunna be. But back to you - do we uh, know what to expect?"

He knew Cid's meaning well enough. "Honestly? No. I… I have given a lot of thought to what happens if… when I transform. I still don't know what the right thing to do, is."

"My two cents? Let's go and find out first."

"What?"

"You heard. Let's get ahead of it. Everyone's busy, and distracted. We could slip out into the canyon valley, get into a few fights…"

" – But Cid, what about–"

"listen - I already thought o' that. I'll hightail it outta there first sign of trouble, give you some space, like. I can look after myself, y'know, if it comes to it."

"If I hurt you in any way -"

"I won't let you. If it comes to it, like I said - I can take care of myself."

"But the others…"

"It won't come to that."

" –but –"

"No more bullshitting, Vince," Cid slapped his gloves palm flat upon the table, sending the empty beer bottles bouncing.

The sound catches everyone's attention briefly, a lull in the hubbub of conversation more alarming to Vincent than the bang that caused it. A moment passes, before the threads of chatter resume: It was clearly not considered unusual for Cid to be rambunctious. Vincent is aware of Tifa's suspicious frown in his peripheral vision, gaze lingering on them for a little longer before she returns to her conversation with Reeve.

"Handsome fella, that Tuesti." Cid commented, gruffly, popping the still smouldering end of his spent cigarette into the neck of an abandoned beer bottle. It hissed and fizzled, the flame going out. "Right, are we doing this or not?"

-0-

The valley carried a sharp chill after sundown. Vincent is regretful he did not go back to his room to obtain his cape, but decides it was probably for the best; It would have been rather obvious to the others that he and Cid were up to something, and the last thing he needed was an audience for what they planned to do.

Cid's speartip flashes in the silver moonlight, their shadows long in the waxing Gibbous. At least their way would be lit without the aid of lanterns. Again, he preferred it that way. The less attention, the better. He considered the choice to take mountain chocobos from the stable a prudent one - preferable for Cid and his need to make a swift escape, and also necessary to convey them to their chosen hunting ground, the lush forest that nestled between the North East cliffs, only recently navigable thanks to Weapon's destruction upon the land. Strange monsters had been sighted there, as though they had sprouted from the ancient earth. Vincent supposed the lifestream rushing to the surface was to blame for their appearance.

"I… I appreciate you doing this, Cid."

"Well, sunshine, you're welcome. But let's be absolutely crystal; I ain't doing it just for you, mind. I'm looking out for my own ass, too. The more we know…"

"Better the Devil you know."

Cid shoots a glance across at his companion, the crow's feet at the creases of his eyes deepening. Vincent is sorry the moonlight was bright enough that he could make out the pity that dwelled there.

"You think that? You really think you're a monster, huh."

"You've seen it –What else would you call it?"

Cid clucked his tongue, encouraging the chocobo to increase its pace, directing it by a twitch of the reins to head for the rocky scree that was the start of their ascent. "Un-fuckin'-lucky is what I'd call it."

The only sound for a time is the soft click-clack of stones beneath the feet of their chocobos, tackling the ascent with relative ease, though progress was creeping, their mounts slowing considerably to pick a careful, zig-zagging path up the steep gradient.

"You remembered your ribbon, right?" Cid asks over his shoulder - he had taken the lead along a particularly narrow crag - slapping his palm to his own bicep.

They were sure to face a variety of unknown foes and considering the swiftness of their decision to come here, there had not been time to pack, nor would they have had space for provisions for multiple eventualities.

"Of course - though it is a little late to be reminding me of it."

"Better late than never, I always say." Cid grunts. "An' it ain't too late to turn back, if you change your mind." He adds.

"This was your idea Cid," He reminds him, though of course he knows nothing could possibly have compelled him on this venture if he had not wished for it. "But I appreciate the backdoor all the same."

The landscape changes around them as their ascent nears its summit. Much of their landscape thus far had been bare, craggy rock faces, devoid of vegetation save for the odd creeping vine and desiccated seedling finding purchase in cracked rocks. Upon cresting the summit, they are afforded an astonishing view into the hidden valley, nestled in the surrounding arms of the cliffs.

Dismounting their Chocobos, they tether them to a nearby tree, though they need not have concerned themselves so; the birds were trained well enough to await their rider's return.

They plunge into the vegetation together, wading through deep pools of ferns, clusters of bright bromeliads and striking calatheas, footfalls cushioned by a spongy bed of lichen and moss. Under the canopy of the trees, the bright moonlight does not filter through enough to guide their path. Eyesight unhindered by such trivial things as limited light conditions, Vincent is more concerned his companion would, possibly quite literally, be running blind, avoiding a twisted ankle himself by stepping over a jutting tree root.

"Regretting not bringing a torch?"

"Possibly." Cid muttered, remaining close enough to brush elbows.

"Hold on - looks like a path up ahead."

Sure enough, within a few minutes they emerge into a sort of clearing. Roots and vegetation had been worn away by the repeated passage of hooves, claws and paws over time, compressing the moss to leave a low depression. While the gap between the trees was not considerable, it was enough to enable slices of moonbeams to light their way.

"East or west – choose your own adventure." Cid thrusts his hands in his pockets, tone hardly jovial enough to distract Vincent from their task, yet he appreciates the effort nonetheless.

"Let's keep east – it's less of a decline by the looks of it, so should you choose to make a run for it, it'll be easier on your knees."

"That a fuckin' joke, Valentine? I'm thirty not sixty, you cheeky fuck." He gives a throaty laugh.

Vincent takes the lead - the path wide enough to permit single file only - winding between tree trunks, taking care in places to side-step due to a sudden steep descent, to navigate a tangled network of tree roots that criss-crossed the path or else to duck beneath low hanging bows.

They travelled for a quarter of an hour or so in this manner along the path, clothing quickly becoming sticky with sweat, the air humid beneath the tree's canopy.

"Ow!" Vincent glanced back over his shoulder, fingers twitching at the gun at his hip, relaxing upon noting Cid slapped at his neck. "Fuckin' mosquitos."

"Maybe try and avoid yelling out in pain like that unless it's a real emergency, Highwind."

"Feelin' twitchy?"

"Maybe… Does something feel off to you? I thought this place was meant to be crawling with monsters."

"Yeah.. Maybe we're jus' not deep enough in or–"

The path abruptly opens into a sort of glade. Moonlight danced upon the surface of a small lake as the water rippled prettily. A chorus of frogs, momentarily interrupted by their arrival, burst back into song once again, hopping to and fro across a network of giant lily pads that Vincent wagered might hold the weight of a man, were he to distribute himself cleverly enough. A sweet, cloying scent danced upon the light breeze that ruffled pleasantly at their sweat-dampened foreheads.

"Well, fuck. Ain't this pretty. How nice of you to bring me to such a romantic spot."

The pool appeared to be fed from a nearby spring, bubbles rising energetically to the surface. The Northern edge of the pool was backed by a cliff edge, rising sharply up some hundreds of metres - so they had come as far east as they could go, it seemed. Scanning the treeline, it seemed the pig-trot paths twisted and wound both to the North and the South. The latter Vincent supposed would circle back around to where they started, and so that left them with only one option.

"We take the North path."

"So soon?"

He turns, frowning. Cid stood with his neck craned back, gazing upward wistfully at the skies.

"You alright, Highwind?" The heavens were beautiful, that was for sure; the lack of pollution here meant the stars popped against their inky backdrop, fighting to shine the brightest against the lilac cosmic dust of the galaxy's spiralling arms. Yet this was not new for the canyon, and in fact Cid had spent time at the telescope earlier. Why should it entrance him now?

Then again, with the high-rise of the cliffs and the framing of the forest canopy, there was no threat of meteor to spoil the view. Perhaps it was this that enamoured his companion, a moment rare for its peace and beauty, when teetering so on the edge of destruction.

"Maybe we could stay here for a bit." Cid plonked himself down on the moss, starfished on his back so he could stare on at the heavens unhindered by an aching neck. The musical bubble of the spring lulled away all sense of time, while that beautiful, intoxicating scent seemed to intensify in the air.

Their errand here had been serious - urgent, even - driven by necessity and a desire to get it done as soon as possible, to avoid concerning the rest of their party. Yet out here, beneath the vast open skies, two humans paling in cosmic insignificance, it suddenly didn't seem to matter anymore. Did any of it matter? – Perhaps Cid was right to linger. Vincent considers that he could just remain here by this pool and inhale the heady perfume of flowers, forgotten and hidden out of sight in this isolated valle to wait in oblivious bliss til his end.

He shakes his head. Something wasn't right.

"Cid, get up." Vincent fights against every compulsion of his own limbs to remain standing and awake, reaching out with his foot to nudge the pilot in the ribs. "There's something wrong here."

"Stop being such a stiff, Vince - jus' wanna rest my eyes for a moment…"

"The others are waiting."

"They don't even know we're here…" He protested weakly, squinting up at Vincent with a scowl.

"Exactly. We shouldn't have-"

Cid never got to hear Vincent's rejoining argument. While they had been talking, a vine had snaked along the soft cushion of moss to slide up Cid's pant leg, circling his ankle a few times before tightening and giving him a viscous tug toward the still surface of the pool.

Except it was not still now - the surface boiled, waves lapping violently against the banks and tipping frogs from their perches upon the lily pads. His hypnotism shattered, Cid clawed violently at the moss to find purchase, digging in the toe of his boot of his untethered leg into the soft muddy ground of the pond's shore to no avail.

"Lil' help here Vince," He grunted, startling his companion into action by tossing him his spear. Catching it deftly by the smooth shaft, Vincent upends it, placing his foot along the vine to hold it in place while he drives the point of Cid's spear into the vine, severing it clean. An inhuman shriek sounds from beneath the water's surface.

Hooking a hand beneath the Captain's armpit, he drags him back from the pool's edge somewhat unceremoniously. Restoring the spear to its rightful owner, Vincent withdrew his weapon.

"What the hell was that?" Cid breathed, righting himself with a huff, shrugging his shoulders to set his jacket back into place.

"I think we're about to find out."

The pool erupts, drenching them to the skin and leaving them covered in clinging tendrils of pondweed. There, nestled deep in soft mud was a plant monster hybrid neither Cid nor Vincent had seen the like of before on their travels. This alone was enough to make them wary - underestimating their foe was the surest way to leave this place injured, or else to not leave at all.

It stretched some metres in the air, anchored into the pond bed by thick green roots of unknown depth. A bulb-shaped body squat upon its root-haunches pulsed wetly, sliced across by a grotesque, pink-lipped mouth lined with rows of needle-like barbed teeth. Snapping and waving overhead were more of the vine-like tendril arms that Vincent had severed from Cid's leg moments ago, clearly able to be operated independently and with great agility. Each tendril is topped by a prehensile, gripping hand, mimicking a budding purple flower. Vincent is suddenly certain of the source of the intoxicating perfume.

To demonstrate its capability, one tendril whipped through the air with an audible crack, making right for Vincent's head. He dives out of the way just in time to the sound of splintering wood.

"Don't just stand there, Cid - ATTACK IT."

"I thought the fuckin' point was for it to provoke you, asshole." Cid screamed, scrambling to dodge another flailing vine.

He squeezed off a fire spell from the dirt, sure that it would be effective to use against a plant-based monster. Sure enough, the spell hits it where its eyes should be, its cry of agony at such a pitch that Vincent clamped his hands over his ears, bent double.

Unable to achieve an easy victory against them, for perhaps its usual prey proved less of a challenge, it begins to writhe, twisting its engorged torso from side to side with prolonged squelching sounds as it fights to release its body from its anchored port.

"Oh lawd, he comin'." Cid growled, casting a barrier spell upon himself, and turning to replicate this for Vincent.

His offer is denied with a shake of Vincent's head. "No. Let him come. Like you said - this was the point of coming here."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Vince."

"So do I."

As more of the monster's lower limbs are revealed, slick and glistening with mud, Vincent angled his head to reinforce their agreement. "Remember - no heroics. I start turning you get the hell out of here. Make for the Chocobo, and don't look back."

"Don't flatter yourself."

Finally it comes free with a sickening gelatinous popping sound, lurching forward on gnarled, root-like limbs toward them with surprising speed. Vincent and Cid circle it, taking one side each, unsure exactly how it made note of their position on the battlefield with its apparent lack of eyes.

Vincent wonders if, from its lair beneath the water, it were able to locate them by the vibration of their feet on the forest floor. To test this, he drives his weight down onto one stomping foot. Sure enough, the tendrils pivot in his direction.

He raised his weapon in the air overhead, and fired. The subsequent deafening crack echoed from the cliff and was likely heard for miles across the valley. The monster turns its bulk towards him, terrifying razor-toothed maw splitting open, strings of sticky saliva-like fluid collecting and dangling from its glistening ruby lips.

Taking aim again, he fires off a couple more shots directly into its open mouth. Something told him he'd just be pissing it off, which was of course the goal.

The monster contracted into itself, becoming squatter, hideous mouth widening further until the very crest of the creature's head split apart, 3 cranial segments peeling back to reveal the shiny innards; a well of fluid was gathered in a depression inside of its skull, a likely trap for thirsty birds or small mammals. The split enabled the vine-arms to reach further and higher.

That was when the first vine slap came. Slightly miscalculated, clumsy even, from the recoil of the gunshots it took, it swipes across Vincent's cheek. He snaps his neck back to avoid it, yet still there is a sharp sting and a sudden heat, as venom enters his bloodstream. His fingertips come back gleaming crimson. The second swipe is lower, cutting right through the fabric of his shirt and biting deeper. The third has him on his knees, having taken the blunt force of it in the stomach.

Cid hovered uncertainty in the background; standing and watching had to have been part of the gamble, but he didn't like it all the same. Trained to recognise the symptoms of Vincent's transformations by now, he studies him carefully now for signs. He is doubled over on his hands and knees, retching - the venom coursed violently through his veins, so swift that the anti-venom effects of Ribbon struggled to keep pace in fighting it - blood vessels rising to the surface of his skin with an unnatural amethyst hue. Bile on his tongue, his vision begins to cloud, and his head spins.

A searing heat festers beneath the surface of Vincent's skin, radiating from the epicentres at his torso and chest, reaching his fingertips and setting them tingling. Everywhere itched, as though biting ants patrolled his bloodstream, and spots began to burst in his vision.

"C'mon, Vince…" Cid bounced on the balls of his feet, fighting his instincts to distract the monster until it felt absolutely necessary.

Shakily, Vincent gets to his feet again, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. He looked pissed, Cid observed, baring his teeth, shoulders rising and falling in time with heaving breaths.

Yet something appears to distract him, tearing his eyes away from the beast before him to scour the treeline. What he found there seemed to swallow him with a dread Cid suspected was nothing to do with an emerging threat. Nor a direct one, at least.

Vincent's world tilts. This couldn't be happening - he was hallucinating, surely - she shouldn't be here. And yet she was.

Tifa, framed between a pair of silvering tree trunks. Tifa, eyes wide with horror as she takes in the scene before her. Tifa, readying her fists and preparing to enter the fray to save her friends, unaware of the deal that had been struck.

Cid released a stream of curses that would make the Turks blush, confirming her reality to Vincent.

"What is going on?!"

Her alarmed cry distracts the overgrown carnivorous plant from its main quarry, the already weakened Vincent. It pivots, moving away from Vincent at a speed that did not feel possible, rounding to loom over Tifa, saliva secreting from the corners of its mouth in anticipation of yet another potential meal.

If he had been in doubt that this encounter would result in a transformation before, what happens in the next few seconds removed the doubt entirely. One swipe of a razor sharp vine caught Tifa upon the jaw, sending her careering backward from the force, the back of her head colliding with the dry bark of a tree trunk with an audible crack.

"TIFA!" The pilot roared, without thinking.

Cid blinks at finding Vincent gone, replaced instead with the Galian beast. Hardly the apparition he expected, but for the moment, and given the circumstances, he is grateful. He doesn't have time to dwell on his appreciation however - his shout had given the monster his precise location. A swiping vine to the side of the head knocked him out cold.

Head swimming, Tifa groaned, winded from the impact against the tree and unsure which way was up. The large indistinct green shape of the creature twisted and writhed in her vision, occasionally splitting into two before rejoining. Turning her head sent her head spinning, yet she endures, focussing on the still prone body of Cid, His spear embedded point first in the dirt.

Deep, reverberating growls layer with keening high pitched screeching, as amaranthine blurs and entwines with acid-green. She recognises two things at once - that the indistinct purple shape was Galian, and that the vibrations of the pounding of the monster's feet upon the mossy ground was getting closer to her.

She needed to move.

Rising unsteadily into a sort of crouch, she staggered, half-crawling, towards Cid's lifeless form, stumbling to avoid a flailing vine, and narrowly avoiding a spurt of putrid green venom. The moss began to hiss and smoke where it landed. She reaches him at last, steadying herself on the upright spear.

"We gotta move, Captain." She hauls him by his wrists, leaving a trail in the dirt.

She manages to manhandle him beneath the canopy of the trees a few metres away, figuring it was safe enough for the time being. She checks his pulse point, satisfied upon finding it throbbing against her fingertips.

"Right." The front of her white tank top drenched in blood from the cut on her jaw, she tries to stand upon unsteady feet like a newborn deer, while something burrowed beneath the surface of her skin, emanating from her jaw and pulsing slowly down her neck and her clavicle. The fucking plant must have poisoned me.

She takes a step forward, and then another, feet as unsure as though she had imbibed half a bottle of whisky. Reaching and holding herself steady with the shaft of Cid's weapon, she takes a moment to gather herself and take stock of the battlefield.

Galian's foe seemed to be weakening. He had been biting, scratching, tearing at the creature until only one vine remained but it seemed he had suffered for it, rich purple hide criss-crossed with deep, reddened gouges concentrated around his snout and upper torso. He circled it, considering his next move, weakened body weighing up the risk of that single remaining vine, plus that stretched, glistening maw.

She decides he needed a hand after all; with a viscous yank the lance came free. She tested the balance of it in her hand, before thinking better of it - She didn't have Cid's proficiency, even without debilitating venom clouding her senses. She had to trust her strength.

Carefully stepping forward, placing each foot carefully, she is able to gain upon it, form hunkered down low, borrowed weapon gripped tightly in both hands in a wide stance. Once she had gotten as close as she dared, She summons up a bravery she did not feel.

"HEY UGLY!"

That did the trick. The monster she addressed pivoted, albeit lacking its earlier agility due to the damage Galian had inflicted.

The parted petal-like panels revealed a vulnerable fleshy centre - There! - the fluid well, likely the source of its venom, or else gastric juice; She wonders how she might be able to open it wide enough to target that spot, operating purely on a hunch - but it was all she had right now - that the creature may not be immune to its own acid. Other than that, she did not see an obvious way to hurt it. Unless it was flammable?

Then the idea hits her. It couldn't see - it responds to sound. If she could make it attack… She begins twirling the spear in her hands, picking up speed. It begins to whomp through the air, blurring into a moving wheel as it spins. The sound is confusing to her own eardrums, inner ear struggling to attenuate to the sound and place its source. She only surmised it was similarly disorienting for her quarry.

The lonely vine undulated in the air, as if entranced by the rhythmic wave of sound. She knew better - it was pinpointing her. Triumphant that she had its full attention, she stops the movement suddenly, wasting no time; She had seen how fast the thing could react, after all. She arches back, and throws the spear as heavily as she can toward the cliff face with her remaining strength, some fifteen or so metres to her left. It strikes the rock with a resounding clang where small chunks of stone are dislodged, tumbling and falling into the now shallow pool with a plop as it from the spring.

Her gamble pays off - it turns and strikes, lurching forward toward the spear it assumed was its target, hurtling at full speed toward the rock, evidently tired of playing cat and mouse and seeking to crush its resistance with its sheer bulk. It collides with the spear's point with a disgusting squelching sound. The inner lining breaches, the gleaming fluid from its inner trap spilling and reacting violently with the soft green outer side of its body, the flesh immediately beginning to fizz and bubble, releasing a sharp acidic scent as it slowly begins to digest itself. The ear-splitting screeches cease after a few moments, and the final vine goes limp.

A low grunt sounds from her right, reminding her of her battle partner's presence.

"Galian." She sighs wearily, collapsing to her knees before him with suddenly chattering teeth, body wracked with shivers caused by the venom.

Body heat radiating from powerful purple limbs, he butts his head softly against hers, an animalistic action acknowledging a pack-mate, though it is enough to knock her to the ground in her weakened state, gleaming golden irises close enough that she can see her own reflection in them; Small, weak and bleeding.

She closes her eyes at the first inevitable tongue swipe across her clavicle, shuddering from the contact, short sharp snuffling exhales ruffle the tiny hairs upon her skin as he sought out the source of the blood. Her fingers slide into the garnet fur at his crest, submitted to his attention for now, ignoring as best she can the squirming sensation in the crease of her knees, the little jolts in her abdomen that stutter her exhalation.

She writhes beneath him at the long laps of his tongue at her throat, then tenderly at the site of the wound upon her jaw, brushing the edges of her mouth, the soft graze of his claws at her bicep as he holds her still. It felt good, she admits to herself, though she battled with a sense of betrayal to Vincent himself, sequestered away somewhere within Galian's mind.

This was what he feared. Losing control, and acting upon the base, primal urges with her, in this form. Yet Tifa feared this for a different reason entirely - What if it wasn't dangerous at all? What if she liked it?

Because she does. She liked the sense of submission, the raw power of him, the animalistic protective urge he exhibited in battle, defending her from harm and licking her wounds clean. She didn't know if that was as far as it could go. Doesn't know if she wants it to.

"Vincent?" She calls out tenderly, brushing her hands through his fur, freeing all sorts of detritus; moss, soil, fragments of tree bark and leaves. Her hands return smeared in his blood, too. She wiped around them tenderly with her thumbs, checking if any were likely to require further attention. "Vincent, are you in there?"

Galian released a low chuffing sound, wet nose burrowing at the juncture of her ear and throat. He was… happy? A low moan bursts from her pinched lips at the sensation. Then, a deeper rumble, almost a growl, reverbing low in his chest cavity, and through her body.

No, not happy… something else.

She can sense the tremor in his muscles - he was changing back, then. She is relieved, until his clawed paw grips hard enough to leave bruises at her tender throat, her breathing hindered in coughs and gasps.

"Vin-c—" She cannot get the words out, and as Galian's head snaps back, she takes in the irises, golden still, but burning against skin that was as black as the night. Her mouth opens but no sound escapes.

This was not Galian.

A monster that wore Vincent's face stared back at her, twisting his mouth into a sneer revealing sharp, pointed canines. A blackened tongue darts out to swipe at her chin where Galian had so gently tended her moments ago in a gesture that feels lewd, and is unwanted. She winced at the contact.

"Hm. What's wrong? Am I not monster enough for you?"

He lifts her by her throat, striding backward to slam her back against the tree trunk she had slumped against earlier. Her boots scrabbled desperately for better purchase, toes barely touching the ground while fingernails clawed desperately at his arms to no avail.

"P-pleasss –" She hissed out from choking lips. "Vinccc–"

"Go ahead and beg - he can hear you. The more you struggle, the more he mourns that he can do absolutely-nothing-to-help-you." His last words are enunciated through gritted teeth, mouth fixed in a terrifying grin.

She struggles to focus on him, in the dark and haze of the abating venom, on this latest horrifying transformation that could only be Chaos; Pointed, bat-like wings, currently folded down his back; sharp ear tips protruding from long black hair - Vincent's hair - while a molton golden light leaked from deep cracks in the hardened carapace-like chest. His hands were tipped with tapered claws, black and gleaming.

"What-are-you?" She manages to choke out, finding a knot in the tree behind her with the heel of her boot. Leaning on it, she alleviates a little of the pressure on her windpipe.

"I am what the ancients themselves feared. A devil in their world, who dared to love one of their own. When they discovered our love, and its product, they trapped me. Bound me to rock, destined never to join the lifestream. So I festered, and I waited for my revenge."

She doesn't know why she chose this tactic - it seemed foolhardy at best - yet the instinct is undeniable. She laughs. That earns her a slap, the heel of his palm clipping her temple, setting stars bursting in her vision. Yet the tightness of her throat releases a little. So she had him interested, at least.

"You stupid fuck." She continued to grin up at him, blood collecting in her mouth and staining her teeth red. She took some pleasure in observing that Chaos was a little perturbed. "You think you're something the Ancients feared? Boy, you've really been living in a cave for thousands of years, huh."

"Explain yourself."

"Whoever you are, nobody remembers you. The calamity from the skies came, and the Ancients were so terrified of it they buried it deep in the earth. Jenova. Her name is Jenova and she… It's her and her son that we are fighting."

He studies her face carefully, as though sensing for lies and finding none. "You are… telling the truth."

"What reason would I have to lie to you?"

"You have several, as far as I can tell." Chaos tightens his grip at her throat. "I might find them at the place you call Cosmo Canyon, no?"

"Exactly - that's why I'm telling the truth. If you want your revenge on the Ancients, you're picking a fight with the wrong person. We - Vincent and I - we are hunting the so-called final Ancient down."

"This… Jenova?"

"Yes." She hisses for emphasis. "And her son - Sephiroth. If you join us - fight with us - then we can defeat him for good."

A movement in the trees behind Chaos, unseen by him, catches her eye. She resists the urge to look, but a flash of silver confirms her suspicion - Cid, and he'd retrieved his spear - his figure moving slowly, weapon poised. It does little to comfort her - far from it. She feels she is getting through to Chaos. Cid sneaking up on him like that filled her with dread, for he had no compunction about hurting them, unlike Galian. She tried to shake her head slowly, in such a way it could be attributed to her discomfort, desperately hoping to give any signal at all to stall his slow creep forwards.

"I don't need to join you - I can just kill you."

"You can. But Vincent - the man whose body you have stolen - he will not go on without us. You cannot hurt us."

"You raise an interesting point. Try as I might, I cannot get through, and when I do it is not for long."

At her smile of satisfaction, he slaps her again but this time at her jaw, the barely scabbed over wound splitting open again with a howl of pain. "Do not rejoice. I will find a way, and I will kill you, but only when I am done with you - You will beg for death from me first."

As quick as he arrived, he is gone. Cid lowered the poisoned speartip with some relief as Vincent slammed back into his own body, panting and gasping, eyes wide with horror.

For his fingers still lingered, gripping tightly around her throat.