A/N: I know the timeline I use in this chapter may be a little off. However, please forgive any discrepancy (ish) or months/years you just plain disagree with. Translations of SE's published timeline give 'circa' ranges for the Jenova project's beginning through Sephiroth's birth and Vincent's death and reawakening. I confess I disagree with a few since they don't line up. So, in this chapter, I've just smooshed it all into the years when it makes the most sense to me personally from my own gameplay and research.
Chapter 17
So Much Time Alone
He arrived first at the bar, assuming the others were showering to scrub away the spiderwebs and dust from the day's work. Cloud didn't bother trying to sit next to Vincent, instead choosing a seat at the counter's center, which suited Vincent fine. The younger man had yet to voice his opposition to the growing relationship between himself and Tifa. Maybe the village wasn't the best place to have it out anyway. They've got the wrong audience, so putting it off makes sense for now.
When Reno and Rude showed for dinner, they merely nodded in Vincent's direction, choosing a secluded table where they could view the entire restaurant from one position. They drank happily in their little corner until the scientists walked in. Reno whispered several things to his partner. Vincent couldn't make out every word but understood that Reno found the young Dr. Shelly a creepy chick. Vincent had to agree. She'd shown alarming interest in research that would have disgusted her colleagues.
Vincent wasn't surprised at Tifa's absence. Coming to Nibelheim was never her idea, but she always helps when asked, no matter the cost to herself. She'd been quieter than usual during their trek down into the basements, barely speaking when Dr. Bernard tried to engage her in conversation. And on the way back, contemplative, watching her feet as she kicked up dust.
Vincent sipped at his beer, thankful for the quiet but uneasy Tifa was enduring the evening alone. The village was hard to think about in the best of times. But he also knew she wouldn't place the burden on anyone else to finish this job. Vincent would talk to Reeve upon their return. Tifa should sit the next few missions out, let her recover, and heal her tender heart before burdening her again with ShinRa's mistakes.
The silence didn't last long with the redhead around. The little Turk guffawed at his own joke, his partner giving a single nod and smirking Cloud's direction. Reno suddenly left his seat and approached the bar, sitting a couple of stools away from the blonde, who snubbed the unwanted company.
"Hey, Strife. I've been wondering, yo." Reno drawled with a crooked smile. "What's up with you and Lockhart, huh? She doesn't seem to like you much anymore."
"Back off, Reno," Cloud snapped at him.
"Woohoo, hoo! Easy there, Mr. First Class. Just asking. You know, from one guy to another." Reno laughed, throwing a glance at his partner.
Rude joined them at the bar, approaching the two with the same unreadable expression he was known for. Carlos and Sybil watched the ensuing drama from their table, wide-eyed and mute. The bar's local patrons focused intently on their meals and pints of beer—nothing to see here.
"She looks fairly available, yo. And since I'm a gentleman, just thought I'd check if you'd mind if I—"
Cloud sprung from his stool and lunged at Reno, who was rescued as his partner pulled him just out of Cloud's reach. Vincent also rose to his feet, grabbing the blonde by the biceps and gently dragging him back to his seat. Cloud glared at Vincent, shrugging free from the grasp with a jerk of his shoulders.
With one last glare at Reno, he threw a few pieces of Gil onto the counter, then wordlessly stomped out of the bar.
"Tch. Man, he's too sensitive, yo." Reno winked at Vincent before sitting at the corner table where Rude had already returned.
Vincent slowly followed, leaning over the table into Reno's face. The younger Turk turned white as Vincent glowered at him.
"I suggest," Vincent growled, taking pleasure at the fear emanating from the young man's eyes. "That you cool it and learn to play well with others—Reno." Vincent tapped the redhead's goggles with his gauntlet at the last word, then straightened himself to his full height.
Reno didn't dare utter a word, only watched the former Turk with the demeanor of a small child who feared the consequences of his actions.
"We have a couple more days to work together. I'd hate to think of what could happen to someone who disrupted the friendly working atmosphere." Vincent shot Reno one final glare. The threat in his words was apparent, and the younger man seemed thoroughly chagrined as Vincent turned away.
Vincent overheard Reno scoff behind him but resumed ignoring the Turk as he paid for his uneaten meal. His social meter was drained, and solitude appealed to him more than bar fights.
Walking outside, the scuffing of boots on timber drew his attention to the water tower where Tifa slowly paced, lost in her thoughts. Vincent watched her stroll as she absentmindedly braided a lock of hair. He contemplated whether to join her but surmised he wouldn't be good company this night. His emotions were run ragged, too. Vincent chose to leave her to ruminate on her feelings alone while he made his way back to the inn to do the same.
Tifa watched Vincent enter the building. Maybe everyone would benefit from some alone time tonight.
She had anticipated feeling some sadness and angst upon their return to the village, though she hadn't realized she would yearn for solitude. Tifa wasn't usually the type. But the thought of spending the evening near Reno or feigning friendship with that creepy doctor would take more social energy than she could expend. If Vincent felt this way all the time, she could well understand his penchant for privacy.
Nibelheim. But not her Nibelheim, she reminded herself as she looked around at the replicated community. Cloud's house. Her house. But not truly. They were the fake. The lie. No, this wasn't her Nibelheim. She doesn't belong here. And once this mission was complete, she would never return.
The steps on the ladder creaked. Tifa peered over her shoulder to see Cloud clambering over the top. He gave her an apologetic look, hesitating as he joined her on the deck. She smiled at him, but only with a feeble effort.
Tifa tucked her chin and gave a bittersweet smile, reminiscing a night the two of them met in this very spot before Cloud left town to seek fame as a hero. Long ago, she would have been thrilled for him to follow her up the ladder.
He began the conversation, also a change from their past.
"Every time we come back here, it's like a battle with memories." He leaned forward on his hands as his feet dangled over the edge beside hers. "I can't really place the odd feeling I get when we're here."
His eyes hollowed out with that vacant expression again, instantly making her worry where his mind was lost.
"You know something," she began, and he looked at her with an unfocused stare. "That look you get always worries me. What are you thinking when it happens?"
Maybe this wasn't the best time to bring it up, but those looks had been occurring at a greater frequency the more time he had spent visiting Shalua.
Cloud looked away from her as his brow furrowed slightly in confusion.
"Oh—I'm sorry, Cloud. Forget I asked." The last thing she wanted was to hurl him into a depressive episode—or worse and possibly cause another breakdown. Their shared anxiety already had them teetering off a cliff.
"No, Tifa. It's fine." He squared his shoulders to her, eyes focused as he reached and covered her hand with his own. "Honestly, it's me who should apologize to you."
He lit a single candle sitting on the table near the window. Vincent wasn't in the mood to chase shadows. Let them come.
He pulled out a chair, lowering himself with an exhausted flop as he peered through the window, spying Tifa's small form on the tower. She rested upon the top where Cloud had joined her.
He held his breath when Cloud placed his hand on hers. She didn't pull away but didn't react other than say something back to him. Vincent guessed they needed to talk. Even from this distance, the conversation appeared complex. They shared history together in the village. One that led them to their current future together, challenging as it had become. It was best he not read too much into the gesture.
Vincent's gaze drifted up to the moon, shining bright this evening and helping light his room just enough for his enhanced vision. He freed the journal from his cape pocket, exhaling heavily before opening the first page. Lucrecia's script danced before his eyes.
His brow furrowed, recalling the times—hours, days, and weeks he'd spent beneath the mansion, pouring through years of research, and he'd never once found her diary.
Hojo had likely been the one to hide it and had stricken her name from the official Jenova Project archives. Only her Chaos Theory survived in ShinRa records. No wonder Sephiroth hadn't discovered her memoirs during his week-long seclusion in the library—just before his break with sanity. Vincent couldn't help but contemplate how things might have turned out differently if the young man—
He shook his head to banish those thoughts. The last thing Vincent wanted was to lose himself in an 'if only' loop of brooding.
He glanced down at the journal, which revealed Lucrecia's thoughts from each day she spent in Nibelheim. Her obsessive work with the Jenova Project, penned in a lovely cursive style, would be useful to Rayleigh's team. However, most of the diary included her private thoughts about their work and the people around her.
October 15, 1977—I will be joining the Jenova Project soon. This is an exciting time to be in medical science. Professor Gast has a dazzling mind. I hope in time, he will see the merit of the Chaos studies. Dr. Valentine believed in it, and he spoke highly of Gast's open mind to emerging theories.
Vincent read on, eyes skimming over passages about her desire to move forward from her Chaos experiment's fatal mishap. She wanted to make a positive impact on the world. She requested her assignment to work with the most gifted and renowned scientists of the day.
November 4, 1977—This is my first morning in this small mountain village called Nibelheim (such a strange name for a town). I'm nervous about working with a new team, but a Cetra's discovery is too tempting to pass up.
Turks are present all the time to escort us wherever we go beyond the house. I guess it's for security since working with the dead Cetra is the most classified project within the company. It's a little strange being followed everywhere. But they do not bother anyone and make the enormous mansion feel less big and scary.
She had hoped she would be able to promote her Chaos report to Gast. The account detailed her frustration with the criticism she'd received on her theory. She found difficulty convincing lead researchers to trust her again after his father's passing. She had believed Nibelheim would be different.
December 12, 1977—I met Dr. Valentine's son today. He looks so like him. He's one of the Turks assigned here for security.
I would rather not deal with this, but to voice an objection would be unprofessional and spotlight my failure. Plus, Dr. Valentine wouldn't want me to avoid his son. He deserved so much better than what happened. Even if it was an accident, I know it was my fault. He was only trying to encourage me as my mentor.
I hope Vincent never discovers the truth.
February 22, 1978—Gast is accepting proposals on the direction of our research. He believes the discovery of the Cetra could enrich our entire race. The team is genuinely hopeful for the future, with endless possibilities—cures for diseases and increased longevity. Not to mention enhanced mental abilities, materia control, and strength. I couldn't be more excited to be working with this department.
April 28, 1978—The project is finally starting preliminary testing. A few scientists volunteered to receive the initial treatment imbued with the Cetra cells.
Hollander named his project after one of the subjects. Project G (Gillian Hewley).
Professor Hojo has started another, and I've asked to be put on his team. He's so brilliant! I'm not sure what he thinks of my Chaos Theory, but I did catch him reading through it recently.
A memory of her danced into Vincent's mind. He had overheard her talking with a colleague in the kitchen one night, lamenting that their peers laughed at her Chaos findings. She had hoped to one day be taken as seriously as the scientists offering their own bodies to the research.
May 18, 1978—Hojo is quite unhappy with our test subjects. One is not following instructions with the diet he's recommended and, unfortunately, is not responding well to treatments. Another has lost too much weight, and Hojo doesn't think he'll survive increased doses. The last appears to be developing a psychosis, demonstrating catatonic episodes for hours after injection, followed by memory lapses and strange visions. We've already begun looking for replacements.
June 25, 1978—I spotted Dr. Valentine's son basking in the sun. Just relaxing under a tree like a kid watching the clouds go by!
It was so funny. I'm sure I startled him. Not everyone can sneak up on a Turk!
Vincent is such a serious soul. I find him very mysterious and quite handsome. I cannot help but notice how he is like his father.
He spends so much time alone, so I thought I would say hello.
Vincent smirked; he had barely gotten to know her before then, only engaging her in conversation to introduce himself or polite office chatter, occupied as he was observing his security duties. Certainly, he'd noticed her tall, elegant beauty. She was the most attractive woman he had ever seen. But a love affair had been far from his mind at the time.
August 8, 1978—Human testing illustrates varied results with the injected cells. Subjects respond best when receiving booster shots of Mako. Gillian's bloodwork shows the most promise. Her firsthand accounts of the changes she's experiencing are fascinating.
Vincent continued to browse over many sections. Some of which noted the competition heating up between the scientists working within the project.
October 13, 1978—Professor Hollander wants to infuse a fetus with cells from Gillian. She has meticulously kept the team apprised of any physical changes to her body, and the bloodwork appears sound.
Gast is not yet convinced that is an appropriate path. He's asked both teams to conduct more non-human fetus testing before commencing this course of action.
Hojo agrees. He sees the flaws in Hollander's work. Hojo is certain his formulas will eventually prove superior, and I have no doubt they will. We only need more time. His genius is on par with Dr. Valentine.
November 14, 1978—I convinced Vincent to dance with me, finally! He was so reluctant at first but really warmed up to it once I was in his arms. I know I'm falling for him, but I still worry sometimes. What if he finds out about his father?
He'll be taking a vacation soon. Honestly, I'll probably get more work done while he's gone. He has the most irresistible eyes!
December 31, 1978—I was pleasantly surprised last night. Vincent took me dancing at the bar in town. Apparently, his mother taught him while he was on leave, and he'd been practicing on his own. I feel so lucky. It was the most romantic evening I've ever experienced.
Vincent smiled as he recalled his mother's delighted shock when he asked her to dance. He'd been helping her clean the kitchen and held out a soapy hand to her as she reminded him not to put food covered plates into the dishwasher. She'd giggled at his antics, and he had adored her.
Vincent leaned his head back as he took a moment to remember his parents together. Although his father would be absent for long periods working on his hypotheses, they had an envious relationship. His mother had wanted more children, but unfortunately, she had been unable.
February 19, 1979—He hasn't admitted it publicly, but I'm starting to believe Gast is questioning our research direction. He's stopped approving new test subjects. The president will be furious if we can't produce tangible results soon.
March 2, 1979—Vincent is so shy with women. I practically must throw myself at him for a kiss. But he's warmed up so much. I really enjoy his company.
April 5, 1979—Hojo granted me one of his smaller labs today. This will give me an opportunity to pursue some of my own independent studies, not only with the Jenova Project theories but my former corrupt Lifestream hypothesis. I would still like to investigate its effects on organisms, as it's a naturally occurring phenomenon. That the corruption can latch onto a live host is fascinating. How can any creature survive such a parasitic relationship?
I don't have much spare time, though. Neither Vincent nor Hojo gives me much to myself.
April 20, 1979—I'm thinking of volunteering as a test subject. Hojo has been displeased with every candidate so far, which I agree with wholeheartedly. Each one has not tested well with the preliminary battery from the new mixture. So, I analyzed my own blood and was pleasantly surprised at the results when I introduced the treatment.
I don't think Vincent will agree if I volunteer. He's become quite serious about me, but I sometimes suspect that he's not altogether behind our work here.
Vincent absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder as a cramp manifested deep within his flesh. If the ache grew sharp enough, it signaled an upcoming conversion—a warning, not unlike an old man's achy knees before a storm.
He stared out of the window, massaging his chest as he tried to resist the urge to watch Tifa and Cloud on the tower. But his curiosity, and maybe even a hint of possessiveness, kept luring his eyes in their direction.
His eyebrows drew together when Cloud reached out and palmed her chin and cheek. Vincent looked down at his gauntlet, recalling the first moment he had witnessed Lucrecia doing the same to Hojo. The jealousy had consumed him.
Tifa's forehead wrinkled in confusion at her roommate.
"Maybe this isn't the best place to talk about all of this," Cloud looked away, struggling with his apology. "But I know it was unfair to you when I wouldn't communicate what was happening to me."
Tifa stilled herself at his words, feeling that she would finally learn what was transpiring in that brain of his.
"I just—sometimes I just empty out. And I think it's my mind's way of protecting itself. From the confusion, or the way memories get jumbled up from that time. I stopped trying to figure it out—so I guess I just go blank, and it helps the moment pass."
He shrugged his shoulders as his lips formed a lopsided smile at the explanation, assuming it was unsatisfying. But Tifa knew it was the only explanation he had, and it was good enough.
"There's always something urgent we need to be doing, you know? I can't waste time worrying about something from back then anymore. I push out the thought as soon as it comes. It's the only way I can live for the here and now. And the future."
"And with Shalua?" She dared to ask, wondering about their growing friendship was eating her up.
Cloud looked down at his knees, slightly embarrassed at the question.
"I don't want anyone else going through it. And I think it helps her to know she's not the only one. So, I just sit there. She doesn't have to talk if she doesn't want—and sometimes that was all I wanted." He gave a short laugh at that. "For just—everyone to shut the fuck up and let me think. Or not think if I wanted."
Tifa wiped her finger across her cheek as a sudden tear escaped. "I'm sorry, Cloud. I tried so hard to be what you wanted at any given time. Even leaving you alone when you needed your space."
"Don't, Tifa," he said as he gently pulled her chin to face him. "You never did anything wrong. It was all just me and this internal problem. How could you do anything about that? I think—all I've needed was time."
Tifa nodded in understanding. His revelation wasn't surprising to her, any more than her changed feelings toward him. She could only have pined for him for so long. Tifa had known for a while that he'd changed.
Vincent's curiosity in their conversation bothered him to no small degree. He fought an impulse to exit the inn and sneak close enough to overhear. But he knew Tifa well enough to recognize that she would consider that behavior an intrusion.
Refocusing himself, he turned his attention back to Lucrecia's journal, noticing another entry with his name.
May 26, 1979—I tried to hide it as long as I could, but Vincent finally learned that I was the one working with his father when he died. He knows, and I don't think I can continue like this. It's just too hard. And I need to be able to focus on my work.
If I'm honest with myself, I'm a scientist first. Hojo understands that.
June 15, 1979—Gast is increasingly displeased, and the president is furious the project has stalled. Hollander reintroduced his proposal to begin fetus trials. Gast reluctantly agreed.
Trials will initiate next week. Candidates have been located and will be brought for the first treatment.
August 28, 1979—I've been working late with Hojo most nights. It really helps keep my mind off other distractions.
We're making considerable progress and soon will have a new treatment available to start testing on a human subject. And none too soon as President ShinRa is now demanding answers.
October 6, 1979—It's all so sudden, but I've married Hojo. He understands me in a way no other ever has. We're both scientists and have devoted our lives to our research.
November 3, 1979—Such exciting news. A child—a baby has been born after successful infusion with the Project G cells. Unfortunately, the mother did not survive. Hojo blames Hollander's rush to produce results and that she had not received his recommended full series of Mako boosters.
The baby's vitals are fine, and he has the cutest little tuft of red hair. He squalls so loud!
Vincent skipped several pages devoted to the newborn child until he noticed a passage with his name on it.
December 13, 1979—Vincent looks so unhappy. I wonder why he doesn't ask for a transfer. I feel so guilty over everything that happened between us. I never meant to hurt him. I never meant a lot of things.
January 9, 1980—Professor Hollander was approved to move his research to Banora. I don't know how I feel about the Jenova Project diverging in two vastly different directions.
I'm quite sad little Genesis will be leaving with them. He's such an adorable baby with the cutest temper. His tiny face turns so red when he gets angry! But I had hoped to mark more of his milestones. The mini-man is already sitting up and crawling around on all fours. Quite incredible for a baby only 2 months old!
Hojo thinks Hollander's methods are a waste of time. I'm still hopeful that everyone succeeds. I can just imagine all the great things to be accomplished for humankind!
January 15, 1980—We've learned some exciting news. Gillian is pregnant, three months along with her own child. I was not aware she was romantically involved with anyone. It's so extraordinary! She's able to reproduce naturally!
Hollander is confident these children will be the future.
January 22, 1980—It's official! I am pregnant, too! I'm not as far along as Gillian, but we couldn't be more thrilled. I'm throwing an impromptu party in the kitchens tonight. I hope it's a boy!
January 26, 1980—I've decided to volunteer myself and our child for our project. We're determined to see this through. And I believe in our work so passionately, I will start the injections this week.
February 3, 1980—I can't tell if my nausea is usual morning sickness or adverse reactions to Mako overdosing. Hojo and I are varying the doses. I'm confident we'll find the right combination soon.
Vincent scoffed at some portions of her journal, appearing as any other woman's would during her pregnancy. But the entries were more scientific than motherly. Marveling at the changes in her body, but with scientific terms. Excitement growing over the imminent arrival of a little wee one put in perspective of measurements from ultrasounds.
Vincent's eyes trailed down to another entry with his name.
February 12, 1980—Vincent won't stop meddling. Honestly, it's getting to be too much.
He confronted Hojo today. I walked in on the argument. He doesn't understand, and I'm offended that he would think I would do anything to harm my own child. We are at the forefront of modern genetics. This will change our species forever. To think, I will be the mother of a Cetra. No one will doubt me again.
I won't let anyone ruin this for me. I couldn't be more ecstatic at my pregnancy.
Details from her pregnancy were mixed with her personal feelings about Vincent and Hojo. As he continued to read her entries, he felt anger at himself surge for not recognizing the entire situation more clearly back then. He should have noticed her obsessive nature. Lucrecia made decisions like a scientist—but never considered if the experiments should have been conducted in the first place. The ethics were utterly disregarded. Consequences never crossed her mind, much the same as when she had worked with his father.
Her notes marveled more about the science than her future motherhood and the life her child would lead. There were fewer entries about her hopes and wishes for her baby than he would expect from an expectant mother. Tifa would have never reacted the same. She would have put her child first and above all else.
Vincent was sure Tifa would look adorable—
"Are you ok?" Cloud asked suddenly, and Tifa glanced back at him to see a grimace flit across his face.
"Yeah, I'm ok," she said with a shrug. "You?"
"Yeah." He breathed with a short laugh. "And I've realized—actually, I've known for a long time that you don't really need me."
Her eyes darted between his as her brow drew together in deeper consternation. What is he getting at now?
"That promise we made, sitting right here on this tower." He tapped the boards a few times with his hands. "You never needed anyone to save you. It was always me that needed the saving."
Tifa smirked at him and canted her head. "Cloud, I wouldn't say that. You protected me lots of times. And it's much easier to work the bar when you're around. Your presence alone keeps the jerks in line."
"I know, but that's not really what I mean, and you know it." Cloud gave a lazy smile back at her and tucked a stray lock behind her ear. "I want you to be happy."
Vincent shook his head and chuckled at himself. Thoughts always drifted to Tifa the past couple of months, even when his mind churned—fraught with unpleasant memories. Maybe he would finally do something about it upon their return to Edge.
March 13, 1980—We're in Banora to look over Professor Hollander's results. The child was born, and he is such a big boy! Imagine our delight when he arrived healthy and hearty following a premature birth. Three months early but is already the size of a 6-month-old.
He is so good, though. Hardly makes a fuss compared to his red-haired "brother." Ha! I can't wait to see the test results on both boys and how their bloodwork compares.
Hojo made few notes on the children, and I don't think he liked them very much. He referred to them as failures at least 3 times.
Her adoration of the babies part of Project G was evident. But the passages mixed with her enamored views of Hojo's methods for Project S. The longer she worked with him, the more she believed in his brilliance. Vincent inwardly cringed when he recalled how he'd felt about it back then.
April 2, 1980—I've had nightmares lately. Quite alarming, honestly. Still, I think they're caused by everyday pregnancy-related worries that all women go through. I talked it over with Gillian by phone, and she said there were many nights she couldn't sleep and had strange dreams about her own son, and Genesis, too. She said in some, the boys even had angel's wings. Flying, no less!
Lucrecia's nightmares became more vivid as her stomach pains increased. The stress began to appear in her handwriting when she made her entry about Vincent's final confrontation with Hojo.
April 10, 1980—It's all my fault. Hojo shot Vincent. Just like his father before him (illegible). It's all my fault.
May 17, 1980—The data is all wrong. He won't wake up. How long can I keep him in the container?
May 31, 1980—My son, my baby! Hojo won't let me see him. None of the assistants will tell me where he is. They've started locking me in my lab. And Vincent is in stasis. Everything I've touched has (illegible).
He couldn't bear to look the rest, knowing it included his own experimentations, by Hojo's hands and hers. Many of the entries became tear-stained and unreadable since the ink had smudged with what he assumed were tears. He questioned why he'd never felt the anger at the time, musing it was because he'd been horrified at the experiments—and her rejection of him. He had been stupidly still holding on to his love for her. He should have asked to be reassigned.
No point in rehashing all the things he should have done. They still did what they did to him. And they did what they did to their own child, even if she later regretted everything.
Vincent wondered at the way time and distance changed his feelings. He only wanted to look forward to the future and learn to live again. He had long ago forgiven Lucrecia, come to terms with his transformations—had even become thankful that she saved him from death. Although, it's been a mixed blessing.
He didn't want to think about it, but he must hand the journal over to Rayleigh. Vincent massaged his shoulder, embarrassment at the prospect increasing his stress and leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He ambled to the bathroom and filled a cup with water, gulping the liquid down in a single swallow.
Looking in the mirror, he resigned himself to what he must do, knowing well that Professor Rayleigh and Dr. Simon would have the utmost professionalism. Maybe something in Lucrecia's diary will aid their progress with the pregnancies, as well as Shelke's issue.
He returned to the window and closed the journal when a shudder suddenly swept from his chest through his gut.
Vincent took a deep breath as the trembling subsided and watched Tifa and Cloud talking atop the water tower. He felt relief as his control washed over him and the shivering passed.
He readied himself for bed, suddenly feeling a soreness deep in his muscles from the struggle.
"Cloud." Her surprise was evident in her tone. "I am happy. Don't worry about that. I want you to be happy, too." She shook her head at him and smiled weakly, tears forming beneath her lids.
"Thing is—are you sure you know what you're doing?"
She eyed him with confusion at his abrupt shift. "What do you mean? I think I know how to take care of myself and—"
"That's not what I mean," he watched her as the misunderstanding set into her features. "Vincent. Have you really thought of what you're getting yourself into with him?"
Shock worked its way from her tummy to the top of her head, and she felt herself heat with mortification. His question was not only out of line, but she also found it offensive.
"Cloud, nothing has happened between us yet that—"
"Come on, Tifa," he interrupted her again, not letting her dodge the topic. "I've seen what's going on between you. My mind may be confused about my life, but that doesn't mean I can't see what's going on with yours."
"And just what is going on with my life, Cloud?" The anger was starting to burst in her chest as she snorted and crossed her arms. The conversation had taken a nosedive and wasn't going to right itself.
"Have you really thought this through?" Anger tinged his voice, as well. His eyes met hers with a seriousness usually reserved for battle. "I mean, you know what he is—what's been done to him. The demons he changes into—have you really thought about that?"
"He's my friend, and I know exactly what's been done to him and what he is," she snapped angrily and stood up. "Vincent is a man, Cloud. Same as you." She poked him forcefully in the chest as he rose next to her.
"I think there's quite a difference between us—"
"No, Cloud! There isn't!" It was her turn to interrupt as she yelled at him, her voice echoing over the rooftops. Cloud had been experimented on too. How dare he suggest Vincent was something less than human—or monstrous for what he had endured.
He indulged his curiosity and peered up again in time to witness their discussion growing more heated. Vincent let out a sigh as he turned away, not wanting to watch their friendship devolve. The two of them needed space from each other. To get on with their lives. He suddenly heard her muffled yell through the window, "No, Cloud. There isn't!"
Maybe there was nothing to be jealous of after all if they couldn't even get along anymore.
Vincent pushed himself away from the window, content that nothing romantic would come from the evening tower rendezvous. Tifa was so vastly different from Lucrecia. Where Lucrecia was obsessive about her research, Tifa was disciplined about taking care of herself and others. Not to mention thoughtful. Although both were easily the most beautiful in any room full of people.
Vincent unhooked his gauntlet and threw it on the nightstand, frustrated with himself for making the comparisons. He was over Lucrecia. Completely. He'd wasted too much time behaving as though she was perched on a pedestal. He couldn't wait to get out of Nibelheim and put this damned collection effort behind everyone. Thinking about Lucrecia every minute again was exhausting emotionally, mentally—even physically.
His body wracked with another shudder, and he clenched his teeth in rage at his sudden relapse in control. He threw himself on the bed and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would not elude him. Just one more day.
Cloud angrily grabbed her arms, forcing her to look up at him. "My demons don't explode out of my chest when I get mad, Tifa."
She grabbed onto his forearms in response to his hold but looked away from him. Shame swept over her body when the words tumbled out of his mouth, humiliation on Vincent's behalf. She'd never been more ashamed of Cloud than that moment, and she fought to hold the tears welling up in her eyes.
"And I'm not old enough to be your father!" As yelled in her face, he shook her, jerking her back and forth as he tried to force her to look back at him. Fury ignited in her chest that he would dare treat her with such demeaning abuse.
Tifa stepped into his hold and shot an elbow up between their arms, hooking him under the chin with all the strength she could muster. Cloud stumbled back to the edge of the tower from the force of her unexpected strike. His feet teetered on the brink for a moment before gravity finally won out, and his imbalance tipped him over.
Tifa flipped off the top, landing next to his form lying in a haze of dust on the ground. She glared down at him as he pushed himself up to his elbows and gave her a shocked expression.
"Don't you ever grab me like that again!" She spat out, pointing her finger into his angry face. "And stop it with the nonsense about Vincent. You're acting like a jealous ex-boyfriend."
Tifa turned on her heel and marched back toward the inn. She ignored the cackle coming from the bar porch where Reno stood next to his partner, pointing at Cloud's prone body under the tower.
A tremor stirred deep in his stomach again, and he sucked in a breath, holding it as long as his lungs would permit.
Vincent clenched every muscle in his body, holding the transformation at bay while he sat in a hunched position, re-strapping his gauntlet. He stood with immense effort, grasping every piece of furniture for support as he struggled to make it out of the room. He hobbled into the corridor, searching for any quick access out of the inn.
He stumbled downstairs, clutching his arms to his chest in desperation when he spied the back door leading into the wood line. Vincent crashed through the door, ignoring a shocked stare from the innkeeper as he tore through the trees when the transformation finally completed its cycle and broke his demons free.