Chapter 2

A Dance for the Lonely

Ire and embarrassment colored her ears at a stifled snicker from where Cloud and Barret stood. The other target of the bride's impropriety shuffled his feet, likely hearing the jeer just as plainly as Tifa. Vincent stared down at her, lips pursed and eyes rueful. With a hand opened in an invitation, he waited patiently for her response.

"Just one, perhaps?" His voice rumbled, nearly seductive.

She blinked, bewildered at the unexpected proposal.

"Wedding gift for the bride—maybe she'll let us be miserable after?" He smiled sheepishly.

Tifa glanced between his outstretched hand and his face, not believing what she was seeing. His features carried a gentle promise of security and protection. And he was suddenly so noble—in that gallant way the old movies—

Snapping back to her senses, Tifa considered his offer only a moment before placing her hand in his, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.

"Thank you for that." She exhaled gratefully as they walked together. "At least someone asked me to dance tonight. Even if it required a little ninja force." She teased with a wink.

Once on the dance floor, he stood perplexed, holding her fingertips as though wondering what he should do. She was sure it had been many years since he had attended any musical venue that included dancing. The music playing was a new and fresh Junon swing number, released with a video of choreographed moves that all the kids had memorized by heart. Vincent pulled Tifa closer, sidestepping to dodge Yuffie's friends as they danced circles around him.

"I—uh—don't know the steps." An apology tugged at his eyes, darting, panic setting in. Dread filled the pit of Tifa's stomach. He was about to bail. He needed encouragement before he stranded her like she was an undesirable pariah.

"Maybe we can improvise," she smiled and rocked her hips back and forth to the beat while pumping her arms in a cute drumming cadence.

He watched, hands drifting to his sides. The look on his face signaled an inward retreat, warning he would soon give up on this unusual and uncharacteristic invitation.

As an apology formed on his lips, the band finished the tune with a pounding crash, leaving an uncomfortable ringing in the ears. She smiled weakly at him, inwardly hoping the next song would be more amenable to his tastes.

Following a brief huddle on their stage, the band struck up a slow ballad, much easier on the ears and to the delight of many squealing young ladies. Dancers searched out suitable partners and moved around an emptier dance floor in small circles.

The electric guitar peeled a mellow crescendo, joined a measure later by the singer's lilting serenade. They crooned in harmony, recounting a melodic, epic poem for lovers. A lyrical tale of a lonely prince who had endured years of longing for his lost love, torn from his arms by a domineering king. The prince searched his long life but never found her until his forlorn elder years. Then his heart swelled, and he vowed to never lose her again.

It was sadly beautiful and an oldie-but-goody favorite Tifa's mother often sang to her father when they thought her sleeping.

"Ah, I think I can figure this one out," Vincent said.

She raised her eyebrows as he reached for her. His right hand tenderly grasped her waist while his left held her opposite hand in the air. She nervously wrapped her free arm around his shoulder and tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth, trying and failing to hide her bashful smile. His chivalry was a pleasant surprise.

Slowly and in time with music, he began to guide her in rock step, feeling out her aptitude for his lead. Tifa followed his movements with ease. A giggle erupted as she glanced at him, praying he wouldn't notice the blush rising from her neck to the top of her head. He had taken her by surprise. Who knew the usually aloof and cold former Turk could be so dashing?

Her breath hitched as he swept her into a graceful turn, pulling her body closer to his and using their momentum to spin in several successive revolutions. She stifled the teenage squeal that threatened to erupt from her mouth and instead let out a short yelp and squeezed her eyes shut. When she looked up at his face as they exited the turn, he flashed a rare smile, which she returned with a genuine grin.

"I had no idea you could dance like this, Vincent."

"I did lead a semi-normal life way back when, you know."

"You've been hiding an extraordinary talent, I think."

"It's a wedding. Pretty girls should be dancing."

"You think I'm pretty?" she teased, raising a coquettish shoulder.

He looked her up and down as if to offer a short appraisal.

"Yes," he replied, a wolfish grin appearing briefly.

Tifa answered with a nervous smile, unsure how much of his response was a jest. His stare burned into her. As he twirled her gently, she found unexpected comfort in his embrace, her confidence boosted by his attentive guidance. She couldn't suppress the thrill that rose in her tummy at each swaying step and rotation. And the grin on his face that never entirely dimmed warmed her heart, pleasing her to be part of this change in his demeanor.

After enduring months without affection, no touch, no hugs, Vincent's embrace felt intimate to her starved desires. And in his perpetually lonely and heartbroken eyes, she saw a kinship of understanding. He understood her pointless vigil and judged her for nothing.

But could Vincent know this dance, his embrace, suddenly made her feel desirable again? As if she were indeed a feminine creature worthy of a lover's respect and admiration? In her heart, she didn't care. Tifa rolled her head back and savored the moment, letting the man guide her through the music, and accepted his chaste embrace as nourishment for her neglected yearnings.

As the song ended, Vincent steered her into an underarm turn with his left hand and then back toward the security of his arms. He took a step back and bowed. His smile outlined a self-satisfied amusement.

Another giggle erupted as she gave him a small curtsey. Then, as the other dancers shuffled away, Tifa's delight waned, replaced by a tinge of disappointment the dance was done.

As the band eased into another ballad, she smiled at him, hopeful that he might be inclined a second time.

"Do you like this song?" She poured as much sweetness as she could muster into the question.

Still holding her hand, he cocked his head, listening to the new tune. This one was familiar. It had been a favorite of his during adolescence. The melody relied on a strong and high to low note interval provided by the bass guitar, while the singer's harmony provided the accompaniment. The band played their own modern and hip rendition. Still, the familiarity made Tifa's sweet-laced invitation even more appealing.

"Actually, I do like this one," he growled at her seductively, grinning at the reaction his voice elicited in her eyes. His hand slid around her waist. Then, without hesitating, he lunged backward and turned them about in a circle to start again. She gasped at his sudden launch into the dance and squeezed her eyes shut as her cheeks flushed a deeper red, and her coy demeanor returned.

The trembling vibrato of the electric guitar cast his mood nostalgic. The song was the first he had danced to with a girl at a sweetheart ball during his school days. He didn't dance well, then. His partner had smiled graciously when he stepped on her toes, accepting his apology with a smile. She had been a pretty blond with bright green eyes and a sweet, almost timid disposition. If she had survived everything, she was likely a grandmother by now. He noted the stark contrast between her and the young woman he now held. Just as beautiful, kind, and warm-hearted, but polar opposite in every other way.

Vincent stared at Tifa's downturned eyes, admiring the lashes against her fair skin. Physically, they were close in age now. He thought of his prolonged sleep under the mansion, the many years of living he had lost. His years of slumber spanned the entirety of her childhood. She had nearly caught up to him in age in the time he had known her. The traces of childhood that he witnessed at their first meeting when she was barely twenty no longer lingered on her face. She had fully grown and had more experiences in her young life than many who had reached their twilight years. In truth, she had nearly as many years of experience as he did. He had missed out on so much.

And now he held Tifa in his arms, which he had never anticipated but immensely enjoyed. He found delight in her femininity and all that she was and had become. Stunning and bright. Friendly and openhearted. Giving and lovely. Alive and thirsty for romantic devotion.

The buzz of altered cells dwindled in his sternum to a faint hum, so diminished he could almost believe he was cured. He studied his partner's face, gorgeous and vibrant. He wasn't sure if the cause was Tifa or the music. Still, the lessened pressure of his corruptions allowed his body to awaken other deprived senses.

The melody haunted as the singer crooned praise to long-dead gods for delivering love at last. The lyrics pervaded Vincent's subconscious thought, revealing a truth he had ignored for many years.

Vincent had not held a woman in more than three decades. He'd come to believe that part of him was long dead with his mortality.

But he couldn't ignore this closer view of the beauty he led in a waltz. After all that befallen him, he was still a man, and a primordial instinct took physical notice of her proximity. Her skin felt smooth and soft beneath his fingers. The movement of her hair fascinated him, brushing against her chest before sweeping over her shoulder at each spin.

Having Tifa close awakened the desires he had not entertained since he had long ago lost in love. Every turn in their dance brought her body closer to his and stirred his imagination. Her movement captivated—her loveliness seized him completely. He found his gaze mesmerized by her smile. His body magnetized to the feel of her warmth in his arms. The rhythm of her hips beneath his hand hypnotized every conscious thought.

His breathing shallowed as her perfume permeated the air around him. He closed his eyes and envisioned pulling Tifa against him.

Pictured her leaning forward and reaching her arms around his neck. Imagined her soft breasts pressing against his chest, hair tangled in his fingers.

He wanted his arms locked around her waist, holding her body close with his cheeks brushing against her face and his hands exploring.

Maybe her lips against his.

His body responded to his sinful thoughts.

He watched her in fascination as she leaned back, her head rolled in a look of ecstasy that he found alluring. His arm tightened around her waist as he felt transfixed by the graceful curve of her neck and shoulders. Tifa slowly raised her head to look into his eyes. He closed his then and moved her closer, her breath breezing against his face.

"Vincent," she purred with a warm smile.

"Yes," he whispered, voice husky with lust. He opened his eyes to find hers staring up at him. Tifa was so lovely. The warmth in her face implied encouragement, and he leaned his head down toward her.

"The song stopped," she giggled.

Her words rushed over him like a cold waterfall.

The dance floor was empty, save the two of them. Even the band was gone. He abruptly released his hold on her and retreated two steps in mild embarrassment.

Cloud and Barret watched them, each holding a beer. Barret barely contained his amusement at the awkward scene, fist to his mouth as his shoulders shook almost imperceptibly. Cloud's expression was unreadable, but the intensity of his stare showed he took notice.

Unaccustomed to scrutiny, Vincent hastily turned the opposite direction, cape dramatically fanning out before he snapped it to his side and exited the ballroom to seek fresh air and solitude.

Tifa watched his swift retreat with some regret. Vincent had seemed so lost in thought. And she had felt so amazingly desirable in his embrace, letting him continue minutes after the band had ended their performance. She glanced around and saw Cloud deliberately avoiding her gaze. He must have noticed them.

She didn't wonder if Vincent would return to dance with her again. She knew he wouldn't. Tifa returned to her table, feeling an unexpected loss at Vincent's departure, and tried to ignore the men behind her.

Cloud and Barret loudly cleared their throats, wordlessly agreeing not to bother her. They left the hall to decorate Yuri's motorcycle with obligatory Just Got Married adornments, leaving Tifa to her thoughts.