Chapter 20

Stick Around

"Oh, Carlos—good. Just store those in the conference room for now, and we'll sort everything later. Reeve is on his way, and we can talk about your trip." Professor Rayleigh pointed toward the meeting room surrounded by windows. Sybil lagged behind Carlos as he pushed the cart to the wall, then both sat at the table and prepared their notes.

The small meeting room was nestled into a corner and adjacent to Rayleigh's large office within the laboratory. Tifa felt uncomfortable in this part of the hospital. Still, nothing compared to their traumas endured when they battled for their lives through the old ShinRa labs. No three-headed genetic mutations floating in containers longed to be released to exact revenge. No tables with straps, no harnesses, and no machines designed to test the limits of involuntary specimens waited for the next victim. Only clean tables spread across the room with computers and medical equipment that seemed reasonable for a science lab devoted to human health.

Vincent left her standing by Cloud, approaching Professor Rayleigh and speaking to her in a hushed tone. He tapped one of the boxes Carlos had dropped in the conference room. The one with Lucrecia's journal, Tifa assumed, and some of Hojo's more horrific reports. He lifted it at Rayleigh's bidding and carried the box into her office as she led the way.

Tifa lingered next to Cloud, not wanting to disturb the other scientists continuing to work despite the noise. Even though she was still annoyed with him, his presence offered a trace of comfort in the unfamiliar space.

Across the laboratory, Tifa was surprised to see Shalua perched atop a stool by her sister. The two of them intently studied data flashing across the computer screens at Shelke's workstation. Tifa hadn't seen the woman leave her hospital room since she'd been admitted a few weeks ago.

Tifa reluctantly shadowed Cloud as he approached Shalua and said hello to her.

"Cloud," She said with a startled gasp, standing at his greeting before she gave Tifa a gracious smile.

"Hi, Shalua. How are you feeling?" Tifa kept her tone soft, continuing to speak to the woman the way they had for weeks as she laid in the hospital bed.

"Much better now, thank you." Shalua cast her head downward at her sister as the smaller woman continued to analyze the computer screen. "Shelke, they're back. Don't you want to say hi?"

"Hello, Cloud Strife. Hello, Tifa Lockhart," Shelke greeted without losing her concentration.

Shalua shrugged and shook her head at her younger sister. "Well, at least one of us is progressing." She watched Cloud, blinking at his awkward silence while Tifa attempted to alleviate the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"Yeah, it's so good to see you up and about. Already working, too!" Tifa nodded at her with an affable grin, giving Cloud a side-eye for his inelegant reticence. She fought the urge to jab his ribs with her elbow.

"I thought it better to get back rather than waste too much time in bed. I've rested enough," Shalua replied back with a tense laugh. "I just—"

Shalua's eyes wavered with unease, darting up at Cloud for a second. He remained mute, gazing at her with his brows drawn together. Tifa stepped away a few feet, perusing the lab with the pretense of curiosity. Shalua might prefer to speak to him privately, but Tifa blatantly eavesdropped with a peek or two over her shoulder.

"I just wanted to tell you, thank you. For visiting me so often over the last few weeks." Shalua gave Cloud a lopsided grin and squeezed his bicep.

Cloud drew his lips into a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. He moved his mouth to respond but lost the will when a muffled voice called to them from the conference room. Reeve waved a hand, motioning for them to join. Cloud nearly sprinted to the meeting, leaving Shalua to observe his clumsy retreat with a bemused shake of her head.

Tifa gave her an apologetic smile. "Um—we'll catch up later, Shalua. I'm glad you're feeling well." Shalua nodded at her slowly, and Tifa backed away with a politeness never displayed by her taciturn roommate.

Vincent had already joined the meeting, leaning against a wall and predictably refusing a place at the table. Tifa took a seat next to Carlos as Cloud settled himself against the door, also declining to sit.

"Well, Dr. Bernard," Reeve addressed the young doctor. "Why don't you begin? I know that we'll be receiving a report from Vincent and yourselves with a full account of your endeavors, so we can keep this meeting quick. It's late in the day for everyone as it is."

"Yes, sir." Carlos briefly shuffled his notes before reading off the critical points of his observations and their collected treasure. "We collected 4 hard drives, though we're not certain yet what research they contain—275 journals, reports, and white papers specific to the Jenova Project's focus on fetal development. There were three successful births documented under Projects G and S from late 1979 through 1980. Although most of the research in Nibelheim detailed the first birth with Project G and the last with Project S, along with a few years of the S baby's milestones. Project G was moved to Banora in 1980, so we found nothing on the other birth."

"Yes, and all of that was lost in a precision missile hit on the town years later." Reeve shook his head, then smiled at the young doctor, the warm exchange making it evident the young man was well-liked by the commissioner.

As Carlos continued his account, Tifa wondered why Reeve insisted she and Cloud stick around for the debrief. He could've talked to the doctors without them here. Tifa didn't need to hear all these details, and Cloud had closed his eyes several minutes ago. He shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, the only clue he remained awake.

"Do you have anything to add, Dr. Shelly?"

Tifa watched the young woman sitting near Professor Rayleigh at the head of the table. Sybil was impatient to speak and tapped a pencil on her ream of notes, which appeared more abundant than Carlos's few doodled sentences.

"Commissioner, I handled most of the cataloging of the archives that remain in the mansion. Although, I did manage to collect quite a few notes on those and made copies of the photos." She paused as she looked briefly at Cloud.

Tifa's skin crawled. She made copies of the photos?

Tifa pondered Cloud's indifference, then Vincent's apathetic expression as he casually regarded the doctor and her oral report. It hadn't occurred to Tifa before—so engrossed as she had been only searching for the Jenova volumes. There probably were dozens of photos of both men collecting dust in those journals beneath the mansion.

Tifa sucked in a small gasp. Her friends' faces were unreadable, neither giving any indication the doctor's words bothered them. Sybil scanned the room with a self-satisfied smirk for the knowledge Tifa didn't want her to have. Some of those pictures included the torture inflicted upon her family. She wanted them burned.

"You made copies of them?" Tifa asked her, incredulous. She caught movement from Cloud as he finally lifted his head upon hearing her voice.

"Of course, Ms. Lockhart." Tifa felt her temperature rise at the woman's condescending tone. "We were sent there to collect as much documentation as possible. The WRO expects a full accounting of the experiments during the Jenova project in its entirety. I thought it best to preserve at least the photos to keep the integrity of our—"

"Sybil, that wasn't necessary. You were asked to catalog what we didn't need immediately, not store photo evidence on your tablet. It is for the commissioner to decide what the WRO requires, not you." Rayleigh snapped at her, and Sybil childishly slouched into her chair with arms akimbo.

"Yes, well—uh, Dr. Shelly," Reeve gently intoned after the stinging reprimand. "We'll consider the remainder when we've reached a satisfactory comfort level with our progress on the pregnancy research."

Tifa surmised that Dr. Sybil Shelly's popularity did not match her male colleague. Even Reeve didn't come to the girl's defense as the professor admonished her.

Vincent remained as he had been, giving no sign of visible distress at the woman's overreach. Tifa knew Cloud hated it but wouldn't object with such a mixed audience.

Tifa drew in a breath to say something but was interrupted as Professor Rayleigh spoke, "I think we can release them, Reeve. Unless you need anything else?"

"No, Sandra. We'll go over the reports when you've completed them. Tomorrow afternoon should give you plenty of time to review and send to my desk."

"Yes, that will be all," Rayleigh said as she nodded at Carlos and Sybil.

Tifa didn't miss the glare Sybil aimed at her. Cloud pulled the door ajar, quickly shutting it behind him as the two walked out and reclaimed his position as he watched Reeve.

"Did you need to talk to me?" Cloud asked the man impatiently.

"Thanks for sticking around, you two. I did want to talk to you, Cloud. I'm not sure if you are aware, but many of your contemporaries have agreed to work with Professor Rayleigh's team." Reeve rose and approached Cloud, sitting on the table in closer proximity to him.

"Work with her team?" Cloud asked as he squinted at the professor, who tried her best to give him a warm, professional smile.

"Yes, Cloud." She said as she took Reeve's cue and moved nearer. "I remember what you did for me all those years ago. And—I'd like to repay your courage when you rescued me."

Tifa looked from Rayleigh to Cloud in uncertainty, noticing his brows drawn together in further confusion. He closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them, Tifa caught that old, familiar vacant expression briefly flicker across his face. Tifa shot up from her chair and approached him.

"What are you talking about exactly, professor?" Tifa asked Rayleigh as she tenderly stroked Cloud's forearm, hoping this wouldn't cause another catatonic episode.

She could feel Vincent's eyes on her and quickly shot a glimpse at him. His eyes bore into Cloud and slowly dragged to where her hand massaged at his arm.

"Just what she means, Tifa," Reeve answered, and Tifa focused her attention on him. "When Cloud was a cadet, he was part of an operation that saved Sandra from a kidnapping."

"Oh!" Tifa said in genuine astonishment and turned back to Cloud, who now viewed Rayleigh with recognition.

Cloud slowly nodded. "I remember, professor. But I'm not sure that makes me courageous."

"We all know that's not true, Cloud," Reeve assured him. "We were hoping you could come to the labs once or twice a month to aid her team's—uh," he stammered, searching the right words to finish his appeal. "Well, to put it bluntly—Sandra's team is studying former SOLDIERs—"

"I've about had enough of scientists," Cloud snapped at Reeve, unable to hide his irritation at the request. "I don't think I can help you."

Cloud suddenly spun around before anyone could respond and tore the door open, stomping from the room toward the exit.

Reeve rushed forward to chase Cloud through the lab. "Wait here. I'll talk to him."

Vincent followed and left the room without uttering a single sound to anyone, much to Tifa's chagrin. She didn't think they would help the situation, but she was too curious about this courageous incident.

"Umm—professor?" She approached Rayleigh and leaned against the table next to the older woman. "What operation are you talking about? Cloud never mentioned saving anyone when he was a cadet."

Rayleigh displayed a full grin at her, more than willing to regale the tale to Tifa. "Just what I said, Tifa. If it weren't for Cloud—well, I don't think I'd be sitting here talking to you right now."

Cloud paced the corridor outside the lab, a hand digging into his hip as Reeve reached to grab his arm.

"At least hear us out, Cloud," Reeve said as Vincent caught up to them.

"Hear what, Reeve? You expect me to agree so crackpot scientists can do gods know what? What guarantee do you have they'll do what they promise?" Cloud nearly shouted at him.

Vincent could understand the younger man's anger. Reeve probably should have talked to him alone first. A meeting was no place to introduce the subject. Cloud never liked being put on the spot.

"Many former SOLDIERs have offered to help. And the only thing they're being asked to do," Reeve explained, lifting his hands in a defensive, placating gesture, "is relay personal health information—any changes they've noticed. Do a physical with Dr. Simon or Dr. Bernard. They're both very professional, caring doctors. And you would give a blood sample to be evaluated." Reeve lowered his hands as Cloud seemed to mull it over.

Vincent watched the blonde intently, and a sudden compulsion swept over him. He would cooperate with the scientists too, though they hadn't asked him. This would be the right course for him to take, perhaps solve his own particular challenges. Vincent had no hesitation—he would volunteer himself, same as Shelke. He voiced it before giving a second thought, "I'm going to give my blood to Dr. Simon."

Cloud jerked his head in Vincent's direction. "You're joking." He was incredulous, and derision coated his doubt. Reeve took a step back at the rage contorting Cloud's face.

Vincent shook his head and moved slightly in front of Reeve. Cloud wasn't usually this quick to anger during calm discussions. But coming off the Nibelheim trip where everyone's emotions were flayed raw—Vincent couldn't be too careful.

"The WRO is trying to correct a lot of things, Cloud. They might be able to help us." Vincent knew if the man had time to think things over, maybe he would reconsider. Tifa needed to be brought into the discussion. She would know what to say better than himself or Reeve.

"Maybe Tifa—" Vincent began as he canted his head in the direction of the labs where she talked with Professor Rayleigh.

"What's she got to do with this?" Cloud growled at him, and Reeve nervously retreated another step down the corridor.

"Vincent is right, Cloud. Let's talk to Tifa; maybe we can get her opinion." Reeve backstepped further, making as if to head back as he scrutinized Cloud warily.

"I don't think Vincent has her opinion in mind." Cloud spat at Reeve before glaring at Vincent with sheer contempt.

Vincent cast a quick side-glance at Reeve, feeling a tinge of resentment at Cloud for choosing this moment to confront him over his growing relationship with their friend.

Reeve stopped moving, and Vincent sensed the sympathetic shame the commissioner felt as he spoke, "I'm quite certain Vincent—"

"How can you be certain of anything where he's concerned?" Cloud's voice rose with increased antagonism. "Are you doing this for her?" Cloud asked as he stared at the target of his ire.

Vincent leveled a steely glare on Cloud, daring him to continue with this line of questioning. "I'm not sure I understand your full meaning," Vincent said gruffly as he squared off to Cloud.

"You know damn well what I mean," Cloud snarled back, taking a step forward.

"Don't you think it's time you moved on, Cloud?" Vincent shot back, refusing to be intimidated. If Cloud wanted a fight, Vincent would oblige. "Tifa deserves to get on with her life. Maybe you should start taking care of yourself for a change so she can have one." Vincent barely restrained himself through gritted teeth.

"Is that right?" Cloud asked with a sneer, and Vincent slowly nodded at him as he crossed his arms.

"That's right, Cloud. Isn't it time you stop hurting her? Your frequent absences have taken their toll," Vincent responded with a venomous hiss.

Cloud grabbed at the hilt of his sword suddenly, though Vincent made no movement in kind. "Now, gentlemen," Reeve called to them, not daring to approach their escalating argument. "We're all friends here—and you've just had an emotional journey to the past."

"Emotional?" Cloud scoffed without dropping his glare at Vincent. "And what about you, Vincent? How long is it that you'd be willing to stick around, huh?"

Vincent furrowed his brows in consternation, caught off guard at the unfounded accusation in the question. Cloud lowered his hand at Vincent's unexpected expression.

"How long exactly?" Cloud continued his probing, not giving Vincent a moment to recover from the swing in the conversation. "How long will you stick around and take care of her? How long are you willing to watch her? Huh? As she grows older?"

Vincent lifted his eyebrows at the revelation of his meaning. So, this is the reason Cloud has been angry at him? Not merely jealousy?

Vincent shamefully lowered his head, unwilling to meet Cloud's gaze. It's not that the thought had never occurred to him, but someone else voicing it carried more weight. Especially coming from her childhood friend—Vincent's friend. One of the few he had left in this gods-forsaken world.

Cloud let out a heavy sigh, putting a hand back on his hip as he spoke with less hostility. "Are you really willing to hurt her," he asked Vincent with genuine worry. "Cause that's the only way I see this ending."

No one spoke as Cloud's words washed over Vincent's conscience like ice water. He could feel Reeve's eyes on his back and suddenly wanted to be anywhere but in this corridor where everyone could see his emotions roil to the surface.

"The answer is no, Reeve." Cloud finally answered firmly and stalked off down the hallway, leaving Reeve and Vincent to brood together in the hallway.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Reeve spoke to Vincent with a gentle, supportive tone. "I'll walk Tifa to their truck, Vincent. Why don't you go home—and we can talk tomorrow."

Vincent bowed his head slightly in Reeve's direction, a small acknowledgment that he heard his friend's suggestion. As Reeve retreated into the labs, Vincent began to head the opposite way but stopped abruptly when a familiar ache manifested deep in his flesh. He rubbed at his neck, silently praying he could calm his reaction to at least forestall any upcoming change—but the Galian Beast stirred within, and he could see the monster's eyes glow in his mind.

"Dammit!" Shudders wracked down his spine sooner than he anticipated, and he braced a hand against the wall to steady himself. Vincent blew out a blast of air as though expelling the demon clamoring to assert dominion over his body.

"You will not!" he exclaimed to the onslaught, concentrating on a vision of himself in relaxation at home—the old him, before the experiments when he was free and whole and only a man. The trembling rush subdued from his neck to his feet, and the beast tamed for the moment.

Placing a hand to his chest, Vincent inhaled deeply, eyes closed as he emptied his thoughts. The shudder calmed, and he slowly exhaled in relief. He clenched his teeth, frustrated with himself that these lapses were occurring again. It had been a long time since he'd been troubled with the lack of fortitude needed to exert control of the demons within.

When he heard the lab doors, he sensed Tifa entering the hallway with Reeve trailing close behind.

"Where'd they go?" she asked Reeve.

Not waiting to hear the answer, Vincent tore down the hall and through an emergency exit before she could see him. He would not be good company this night.

Tifa paced around the truck, wondering where Cloud had gone. She wanted to get home, unpack and drink a cold beer in front of the TV. Let her mind cease with the constant churning.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She hoped it wasn't another group chat. She didn't have the energy for 7-person banter.

Cloud—Go on without me. Gonna head out to the waste to blow off some steam.

Well, that's just great. She'd already been waiting in the garage for him for 15 minutes. He couldn't have texted that sooner? Tifa wrenched the door open and flopped into the driver's seat. At least she could enjoy the ride back without another person to make the silence suffocating.

It wasn't Nibelheim that bothered Cloud. Tifa had known the conversation in the hallway wouldn't go well; Reeve only confirmed it.

As she pulled out of the garage, Tifa mused on the words the commissioner spoke to her when he escorted her to the truck. They'd slowly traversed the corridors in friendly conversation. He wanted to know how she was doing, how it all went. Tifa doesn't write reports. Reeve would learn of her experiences the old-fashioned way.

Then he'd brought up the discussion in the hallway. Tifa didn't know if she felt angry or mortified.

"I'm guessing you already know Cloud's answer," Reeve said with a grim smile. He stared at the ground in front of them as they walked, every now and then peering at her through the corner of his eye.

"Don't worry about it, Reeve," she said in assurance. "I'll talk to him. Maybe even suggest Kunsel or Pete try to reason with him. He may not ultimately agree, but let's give him a chance to come around."

They entered the elevator leading up to the parking garage, pausing their conversation as workers poured into the carriage. Reeve gave her an understanding smile. Neither spoke again as their fellow passengers filed out at each floor heading up. Once they stepped outside, no one else remained but the two of them. Tifa preferred the top floor's vacancy.

Reeve checked the parking lot as though ensuring no one else listened. She stopped when he did, alarmed at his nervous expression.

Tifa hooked a left out of the garage, hoping to avoid the campus's rush hour exodus. The WRO was a massive organization and probably the largest single employer in Edge. Navigating its narrow streets was challenging, especially when coupled with weary employees eager to get home. She lowered the window, feeling stifled within the confines of the small truck cabin.

"Tifa," he began, very reluctantly. "I would never presume to get involved, but—well, I guess I didn't fully realize the situation for what it was." He balked at eye contact, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

"What situation?" She was growing more anxious. Just what had they talked about?

"I don't know how to say this—" Reeve clasped his hands in front of himself in embarrassment as he continued, "but Cloud brought up something with Vincent that I confess I found a little—uh, alarming."

"Reeve, what is it?" Tifa was starting to get annoyed. Why does everyone have a problem with Vincent these days?

She stopped behind a crosswalk as several suited office workers ambled across, chatting their way to a bus stop. With her windows rolled down, she could hear their debate on which bar to visit for happy hour. Tifa hoped it wouldn't be hers. She didn't have the patience to lend a comforting ear to their ordinary problems.

"I suppose I should simply come out and ask," he said, finally meeting her eyes. "Just how close have you and Vincent become the last couple of months?"

Tifa stared back at him, wide-eyed with shock. "Did he—I mean," she stammered, growing more livid by the moment. Tifa took a deep breath, realizing the direction their hallway discussion had gone. "What did Cloud say?" Her lips drew together in a tight, thin line.

"Now, hold on," he cajoled and placed his hands on her shoulders once he recognized her anger. He squeezed her arms, sincerely hoping to pacify her. "I don't think Cloud has any ulterior motives; he's only being protective of you. I'm guessing he's already talked to you about his concerns?" Reeve regarded her with a fatherly glint to his eyes.

Tifa crossed her arms, almost defiantly. Suddenly her love life—even as lackluster as it was—seemed the world's business, and she had the least say in it!

She rolled onto the main thoroughfare, sighing irritably as a multitude of cars and trucks joined her, bumper to bumper. The drive would take at least half an hour before she arrived back home. Good thing Cloud wasn't here to field her bitterness. He'd rightly chosen to dodge the ride back with her. The way she was feeling now—

Reeve studied her face, pursing his lips before he spoke again. "So, are you and Vincent—I mean." He struggled to find the right words.

"Why is everyone so concerned about me and Vincent?!" Tifa complained, resenting his prying question.

"I know, dear. And I don't mean any offense." Reeve paused for several seconds, granting her a brief respite from the inquisition. Tifa knew Reeve was sincere. He would never deliberately upset her or the balance of friendship their group maintained.

Remorse shrouded her eyes, and Reeve heavily sighed at her rueful expression, settling on a different tack. "It's easy to forget sometimes, even for me—that Vincent is chronologically over 60 now." He scanned her face a moment before continuing, "I often wonder what it must be like for him and then—what it will be like for him once we're all gone."

Her eyes brimmed, and she turned away, not wanting Reeve to see the reaction the truth evoked from her. She'd learned not long after meeting Vincent that it was easier to converse with him and relate to him when not thinking about his fate. He deserved—wanted to be treated with dignity, not piteous awe.

Tifa braked at a red light, feeling like she'd very much been reprimanded by a parent. When she was a child, she'd always been a good kid, listening well to adults' advice. Tifa never disappointed her father and worked hard to make him proud after her mom died. Conversations about boys were always difficult. Her dad encouraged her to seek out a purpose for herself, one removing her from the presence of hormonal classmates.

Now Reeve was knighting himself in that fatherly role? Ineptly broaching a topic his demeanor signaled he would rather sidestep? Seemed like he'd wanted to crawl under her truck and melt into the asphalt.

She laughed aloud as the light flashed green, resting her elbow on the door as she placed her hand to her forehead. Tifa fought the tears again welling up in her eyes.

"Immortality—whatever that means—the kind of dream you have when you're young, I suppose." Reeve was contemplative as he continued," but as you get older, start losing those you love—well, living a long time without them doesn't seem all that great in retrospect. I confess that I don't envy Vincent's condition."

She wiped the wet streaks from her cheeks and stared back at him, hoping there was an easy answer to convince him—and even herself that everything would work out. Tifa knew there wasn't.

He waited a moment as he stared at his shoes before speaking again, "I'm quite certain Vincent gets very lonely at times. And seeing folks around him starting families, having relationships—well, that must be difficult."

Reeve waited for her to look back at him. He lectured her with a gentler tone, "especially knowing that any potential companion he does endear to himself will grow old while he stays young. And then—what would life be like for her? That would be a bitter heartbreak."

She bent her head and sobbed quietly as Reeve wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't want you hurt," he gently hummed into her hair.

Tifa circled the roundabout, careful to merge into her lane to veer off toward the bar. She sighed in relief, thankful that traffic on this side of town had died down to a manageable degree.

A scoff involuntarily escaped her lips, "Tch! Everyone's overreacting!" Vincent hadn't even kissed her yet!

Tifa pulled back and stared at him with a resolved, hard facade. She rubbed at her eyes before speaking. "This isn't the right time for this. There's so much going on now. And to tell you the truth, Vincent and I haven't really—you know, started anything beyond friendship. We've just—spent time together." Tifa's eyebrows furrowed as she recalled that was the phrase Vincent had used to describe his budding relationship with Lucrecia.

"Well," Reeve said, a little relieved and self-consciously wiping his hands along his pantlegs. "Maybe we're all getting worked up for nothing. Vincent certainly needs friends, and you've always been the best ear to anyone needing someone to talk to. Just promise me you will consider every obstacle—ok, young lady?" He gently chuckled, pinching her chin between his finger and thumb.

She nodded reluctantly, smiling weakly. Tifa knew Reeve cared, and even though she needed to make up with Cloud, she knew he did too. But these were issues for her and Vincent to worry about, their decision, not everyone else's.

Reeve kissed her forehead in a very older brother manner. He gave her a small smile before pushing her toward her vehicle. "Now, go home and get some rest. I know this mission was an emotional roller coaster. Goodnight, Tifa."

Tifa finally pulled into her driveway, exhausted from the mission, the flight back, the meeting, her talk with Reeve—traffic. She felt like she was 60.

When the garage door lifted, she stopped the truck. Cloud was inside pacing. He'd already come back home and had been waiting for her. He shuffled out of the way, standing in the doorway as she pulled in and cut the engine. She stared at him almost a full minute as he met her gaze, aware that Reeve relayed to her the hallway chat with Vincent.

Neither one of them spoke as they headed upstairs and into the living room. He scratched at his head, gazing at the couch. Tifa didn't wait for him to gather his thoughts and dragged her feet to her room. She would at least get comfortable first. When she returned wearing a comfortable pair of sweats and puffy socks, Cloud was seated, holding out a beer to her.

"Thanks," she said, sitting on her legs at the opposite end of the couch and taking a full-throated swig from her bottle.

"He's my friend too, you know?" Cloud began uneasily.

"I know," Tifa replied meekly, peeling at the bottle label absentmindedly. "So—what did he say?" She looked up at Cloud, stunned to see that he was watching her with a sorrowful glint in his eyes.

Cloud pressed his lips together, giving his face a gloomy expression. "He didn't really say anything, I guess. Just got quiet. He was surprised I brought it up."

"Well, what did you say?" she asked, slightly accusatory.

"Nothing but the truth, Tifa. There's a million reasons for me to object to this." He leaned forward and covered her free hand with his own. "Any guy would kill to have you—"

"Don't you dare, Cloud," she snapped at him, her eyes flashing with animosity. "You don't get to say that to me."

"I'm sorry," he quickly responded, not letting her pull her hand back. "You're right. I don't get to say that. I fucked up, and I know it. I'm sorry."

She glared, fighting the tears threatening to fall. His eyes shined with regret, and her anger softened as she stared at his face, seeing the boy she once knew. All big-eyed and naïve about the world. She realized he didn't want this difficulty between them but felt that he also knew things were now irreparably different.

Tifa unfolded her legs beneath her, finally removing her hand from his. "I know you care," she began, and he averted his eyes, emotionless as he brought his hand back to his lap. "But it's not up to you—or Reeve."

"Tifa," he pled with her to listen to his words. "At least—I dunno, take things into consideration. You're my only family. I don't want to see you with the same grief I caused you. I hate myself for doing that to you. And I know Vincent—there's no way a guy like him can stick around, potentially put you in danger. Trust me, we're too alike."

The tears finally fell onto her cheeks, and Cloud scooted across the couch to wrap his arms around her. She didn't want to think about any of this, only wanted to slip into her bed and forget this mission, this day—these talks ever happened.

Cloud was right. She knew it, could feel the truth of it deep in her chest. He and Vincent were similar in many ways. And Vincent likely hadn't liked the public venue Cloud chose to voice his opinions.

She extricated herself from Cloud's embrace, examining the clock on the wall. It wasn't quite bedtime, but the hour was close enough. "I'm heading to bed, Cloud."

He remained silent as she trudged toward her room. Tifa didn't bother with the lights and plopped down onto her bed, defeated by stress and worry. Cloud followed her and stood at her bedroom door, telling her to sleep in the next day. As she laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, sleep overtook her before Cloud had closed the door behind him.