Chapter 27

Just a Friend

Fingers snapped in front of Tifa's nose as she glared at Barret's retreating form.

"Hey, over here," Yuffie said, incredulous even as she popped a chip into her mouth. "Were you even listening? Mm—these chips are good. You got any more dip, Shera?"

Shera pursed her lips at Tifa before getting up from her barstool. "Let me see, sweetie." She bustled around the messy kitchen, searching the counters covered with various appetizers and alcoholic beverages. The table fared no better. Shera had ordered a buffet that they'd all picked at over the last several hours. The woman's entire kitchen was littered with half-eaten finger foods, desserts, soda cans, and beer bottles. Shera found the bean dip and set it in front of Yuffie, reseating herself with a slight huff. Both women turned to Tifa with bated breath and waited patiently for a response to their questioning.

Tifa ignored their stares, not allowing their judgment to lessen her reluctance to reveal what's bothering her. She wasn't sure how much they knew. Vincent and Cloud would never gossip. She could trust Barret and Reeve to remain tightlipped, though they might be cajoled into expressing concern if the other women pushed.

"You need to get out more," Shera said a little harshly.

"I'll drink to that!" Yuffie swallowed lime green liquid from a shot glass, grimacing as she wiped her mouth dry. "Mm! Spicy Cactaur Juice! Just what we need to liven up this party poop. Come on, Teefs. I'll make you one."

Tifa grimaced at the unappetizing offer. As a bartender, she knew the troubles that lurked at the bottom of a drink. Drowning her sorrows in a drunken stupor would change nothing. She'd still feel the sting of loneliness no matter how miserable the hangover.

"So," Shera began in a secretive tone, interrupting Tifa's personal pity party. "Are we going to talk about all of these side-eyed glances and woeful expressions?" She blinked at Tifa with a face that wouldn't tolerate backing out of the conversation.

"What?" Tifa pled innocence, not wanting to delve into the void of her love life.

"Oh right, Teefs," Yuffie snorted. "Like we don't see it. What the hell is going on between you and hot grandpa?"

"Nothing," Tifa lilted with a stuttered laugh. "Nothing is going on."

"Mmkay, let's pretend like your dance at my wedding and again at my party didn't almost end with a love child right in front of everybody. I mean, don't get me wrong, that was some pretty steamy moves. But you guys were one twirl away from naked, and I was getting ready to cash in on some soft porn video—if you know what I mean."

Tifa's face heated at Yuffie's suggestion. Why was Tifa's love life always so on display and considered good conversation for everyone and their chocobo?

"It was just dancing." Tifa knew her voice betrayed her. The lie wavered, though, and she couldn't even convince herself of the words.

Yuffie rolled her eyes. "Oh—ok. We're doing this, I guess. So, you're telling me this 'just dancing' was meaningless? And I guess all those intimate dinners were 'just dinner?'

"He's a friend," Tifa forced herself to say, despite the skeptical stares her continued fibbing earned. "There's nothing intimate about a friend coming by for dinner sometimes."

"Sometimes?!" Yuffie straightened up in her seat.

"Honey, I don't know everything that's happened over the last few months," Shera began gently. "But after all this time he's been spending with you—has he expressed any interest beyond friendship?"

Though she stubbornly refused to admit to anything, Tifa's mind stirred with memories—his bashfulness, harmless flirting, chaste innuendos, light touches, the dances, helping with dinner, the conversations—so many moments. But Shera was right. It was all still too friendly.

Shera shook her head with a knowing, thin-lipped smile. "I imagine Vincent has a good many worries going on in his own head," Shera said in almost a whisper. "Have you considered he may not be capable—or even want romantic involvement? He endured quite a lot, and he'll never recover from the experiments, honey. Never."

"He's just a friend," Tifa reiterated earnestly.

"Ok, well then, Miss He's-just-a-friend," Yuffie said dubiously and wholly unconcerned with Tifa's discomfort. "If nothing is going on, then you need to go on that date I promised for you a month ago."

"What date?"

"Don't you remember? Shad Taggert! He was all worked up for you at the ball but then utterly dejected you didn't hang out with him at my party."

"That's a wonderful idea!" Shera joined in helpfully, though Tifa wasn't appreciative of the help in the least. "This would do wonders for you, my dear. I think it would be good for you to get out of the bar and get to know someone other than Cloud. And maybe put some distance between you and Vincent, as well."

Obviously, Shera was in full knowledge of all the lurid details. No doubt Cloud's confrontation with Vincent sparked too much interest and overly concerned group discussions on how to handle the situation, now that Tifa thought about it. Still, she preferred her relationship woes weren't under public review.

"I don't know. I'll think about it." She heard movement behind her but saw no one when she quickly peeked over her shoulder.

"What's there to think about?" Yuffie asked with a hand on her hip. "He's single. You're definitely single. He wants a date. You need a date. Just go. Get some freak out of your system."

"Yuffie's right, dear." Shera placed a hand over Tifa's, trying her best to offer comfort. "See who else the world has to offer you."

Tifa sighed heavily. They weren't going to make this easy on her. "I guess so."

"Whoop! That's my girl! Don't worry, he's super hot, and I heard he's got a great sense of humor. I think you'll have fun."

Tifa rose from her seat, suddenly needing to put distance between herself and the girl talk. She'd agreed, she would go—let that be the end of it for now.

She left the kitchen, intending to walk around the neighborhood for a while. Nanaki laid on the porch, wagging his fiery tail like a languishing housecat. He stretched and yawned when she stopped beside him.

"Asleep already?"

"The hour is later than I'm accustomed to," Nanaki replied, standing next to her and peering through the windows of the house. "It doesn't sound like they're slowing down."

Tifa followed his gaze into the kitchen. Yuffie was setting up more shots, having convinced Cid and Barret to partake with her. "Not likely. Care to join me? Was just going to stretch my legs a bit."

They descended the porch and strolled toward the hangar in silence for a few moments before Nanaki spoke. "You seem sad again, Tifa. In a way I have not witnessed in quite some time."

She hugged her arms and peered down at him, embarrassed that yet another person perceived her despair.

"I'm just tired of the same," Tifa replied. "I'm at a point now that I want life to be different. I want to be done with routine and just surviving and going through the motions. I want the life I dreamed of as a girl. I want to live." And love.

They circled the hangar, unable to hear the party from the house. Tifa liked the silence and understood the reason Vincent often sought it out. The quiet made unloading a heavy mind easier.

"It seems your desires echo Vincent's, as well," Nanaki said.

Tifa stopped walking and faced him. "What do you mean?"

Nanaki studied her a moment with his head canted, then looked around them as though searching for any eavesdroppers. "I considered telling you sooner but did not want to burden you with worry or betray Vincent's confidence."

Tifa stopped breathing, feeling that Nanaki was about to divulge some deep, dark secret that Vincent had confessed to only him.

"After Yuffie's nuptials, he accompanied me to the canyon and spoke with the elders. He asked many questions about the Lifestream and its corruptions."

"What did he want to know?"

"He asked them what would happen if someone like him entered the Lifestream."

Nanaki paused as her brows furrowed. "Why would he want to know that?" she asked.

"I believe it had something to do with research he came across in the mansion. But do not fear. He assured me that he endeavors to live and seek out a more fulfilling life for himself. I suspect that is why he works more closely with Reeve. However, I wanted you to know that his own condition continues to weigh heavily on him."

She did not doubt this and didn't need Nanaki's confirmation. They resumed walking and rounded the opposite side of the hangar to head back toward the house. Her thoughts churned faster. His anxiety over his condition. The recent change in his ability to control his transformation. His determination to find a solution for scientists' studies into the Jenova Project.

Then it occurred to her—he wants to find a solution to cure himself, too. But it didn't seem to be working for him, which was probably the reason he'd pulled away from her and become absent of late.

"Thank you for telling me, Nanaki," she said finally.

"I still worry for him, Tifa," Nanaki replied, stopping at the bottom of the porch as she climbed the steps.

Tifa looked at him over her shoulder. "Same, Nanaki. Hopefully, he can overcome soon."

She re-entered the house, hoping for solitude and a place to sulk. A movement from the sitting room caught her eye, and she spied Vincent sitting alone in the dark, staring at his phone.

Vincent stared at the app Barret sent him and wondered if Tifa ever used it. Perhaps, she had a profile with a pretty, smiling picture.

Voices drifted through the house to where he sat alone in the dark. The front sitting room was far from the party, and he welcomed the seclusion.

He hadn't meant to overhear the kitchen chatter or her refer to him as 'just a friend.' And the pang of jealousy cut deep in his chest when Tifa agreed to a date with another man.

But what right did he have to the feeling? They'd made no promises, and neither had made any real effort since Nibelheim to call on each other. The one evening he had visited her, the demons surged and tore at him until he had to sprint away into the night.

What could he offer her truly? With his demons? And age? And corrupted blood? And sinful past?

Stress now triggered the demons he'd learned to hold back, forcing him to rely on powders and needles at just the right moment to stifle the change. It happened just the previous day upon seeing a face from his past, the unexpected welling of emotion nearly tipping him into a full-bodied morph in Dr. Berry's living room. How could he hope to find solutions to his condition when it had recently worsened? Artificial intervention was an undesirable and temporary solution that he couldn't rely on for an extended period.

Tifa would be right to follow Shera's advice, and though he wished he hadn't heard their words, the truth was undeniable. It would be unfair to burden her with his problems and possibly put her in danger.

He eyed his phone again, daring himself to initiate the application if only to glimpse for himself a world not meant for him. Dating. Romance. Relationships. What could he do?

His phone vibrated in his hand.

"Sounds like you got a message."

Lost in his own sorry thoughts, Vincent didn't hear Tifa's approach. He blushed as he darkened the phone's screen and fumbled for a response. "Uh—just looking into Edge—places to visit." It wasn't a convincing response.

"There's not much there yet. Even with all the improvements." Her friendly smile was timid, missing its usual warmth. "What's your message?"

"Not sure," he replied with an involuntary smirk. "Everyone I know is here."

He opened the message and stared at a picture of Tifa, pressing a finger to her cheek with a girlish smile on her lips. She'd been standing in the foyer and apparently had taken the picture only moments ago. He could spy himself in the shadows, his silhouette outlined from the glow of his phone.

His eyes crinkled into his smile. "That's a nice one."

"Well, thanks. You looked like you could use a break from whatever was thundering in your head." She giggled nervously, then said sweetly, "it can't be healthy to always sit alone in the dark, right?"

"Just need to recharge the social battery." He didn't want to sound defensive; she knew him well enough by now.

She misunderstood anyway. "Oh, right. I'll just—leave you to it then."

"No, stay." Just a few moments would be safe.

Tifa crossed her arms, grabbing an elbow with one hand as she regarded him with unrestrained anxiety. She hesitantly asked him, "Is everything ok?" Her voice wavered with worry. He recognized when she tried to suppress her fear, knowing her well enough, too. But she continued as though she hid her struggle, "I mean—is something bothering you?"

Vincent wasn't sure how much he should reveal but didn't want to talk about his own problems. She'd witnessed a hint of it a few nights before, and he wouldn't bring it up unless he were sure she wanted to know.

"It was strange," he replied, uncertain this topic was any better. But it would at least take the focus off his challenges with the demons. He'd used the powder again and had a few autoinjectors left. "Meeting someone from my past—Dr. Berry. Someone I hadn't seen since before—everything."

"What was he like?"

"Old. Nearly as old as my father would've been had he lived."

"Did he know them? Did he know—"

"Yes," Vincent replied, knowing who Tifa referred to without her having to say the names. He glanced in her direction and regretted the embarrassment etched into her face. He never meant to make her feel that she couldn't mention Lucrecia's name, though he supposed he'd been different since the Nibelheim mission. Tifa wore her heart on her sleeve too blatantly. Lucrecia was someone he didn't want her thinking or fretting about.

Vincent knew he should say something to ease her discomfort, let her know she hadn't upset him. But he couldn't find the words. Saying anything at this point without acknowledging what had been occurring between the two of them would feel disingenuous. He needed to solve his problems first or move the hell on and not drag out this misery.

She spoke anyway, taking the burden off him. "If ever you need to talk about anything—anything at all, I'm always willing to listen, Vincent."

When he didn't reply, she pressed on, "The past few months have been good, you know." She rushed her words. "It's been good for us to get to know you better."

Without thinking twice, he replied, "I've enjoyed it, spending time at the bar. It's been—less lonely, and I've gotten more out of life than I did before."

"That's good." Her warm, genuine smile returned.

"Having a purpose—helping the world recover beats the alternative," Vincent added awkwardly. "What about you?"

"Hmm?"

"Anything new going on?" He didn't imagine she would mention any upcoming dates or even recognize that he might be referring to the conversation he overheard.

"Not really. Just some tentative plans to get out a little more."

"That sounds like an adventure."

She snorted before answering. "Well—with Yuffie involved, you never know for sure."

"Sounds risky." He smiled only to hide the jealousy. Maybe he could wring information out of the ninja later.

Barret appeared in the hallway, searching the darkness before spying the two of them. "Reeve said a car is comin up the road. Your ride must be here."

Tifa looked awkwardly between the two men, guilt written all over her face before she said goodnight and turned toward the kitchen. Barret cut a slight glare at Vincent before following her.

Vincent didn't have time to worry about whatever drama Barret might cause. The man said what he wanted to say; now they could all go back to normal.

It was nearly time, so Vincent strode to the hangar to await the Turks' arrival. Cloud lazed in the cushions and pallet laid out for their sleepover, playing some odd handheld video game device with Denzel. The boy laughed at intervals, teasing his adopted father on his lack of skill. It was all thumbs to Vincent, but the sight was refreshing. He wondered if Cloud was satisfied with the last couple of weeks, with Vincent's absence.

The side door from the house interior opened, and Tifa appeared, Nanaki following close behind her. She nodded at Vincent awkwardly and joined the others on the pallet. Vincent felt a surge of envy again biting at his chest, jealous that she could talk so comfortably with them.

Cloud finally noticed Vincent standing at the garage doors and rose to ready himself for the trip to Wutai. A car pulled into the hangar, stopping short of full entry.

"Are we leaving now?" Cloud asked.

Vincent felt resentful of Reeve's interference but nodded at Cloud. The mission would go smoother with the younger man's presence, though Vincent would never admit aloud.