Chapter 38

Daily Grind

Her kiss woke Vincent from a blissful, deep sleep. "What's got you up?" He pulled her close, smiling as she nuzzled his hair.

"Your phone vibrated," she grumbled.

"Probably Yuffie." He squinted, annoyed at the blinking notification. "How do I block her?"

"Too early for her," she said through a tired laugh.

He swiped the screen. "It's Elena." He felt Tifa's stare boring into his temple.

"Elena?" she asked, rising to her elbows. At her possessive tone, Vincent lifted one corner of his mouth. "Even for a Turk, it's too early."

Elena—Trip on hold until Cissnei gets better. Will send updated itinerary. Sorry for the inconvenience.

"Our trip is delayed," he said.

"Wonderful," Tifa replied, sliding a thigh to straddle his hips. "Do you have a lot of work today?"

"Just going to the labs later, then search the ruins."

"That can wait," she said, lowering her head. He grinned into her kiss, lips widening when she grasped his wrists, pinning his hands against the mattress.

Simon withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton swab to Vincent's skin as Berry observed from his stool. Together, the two scientists looked on, anticipating, eager even.

Vincent breathed evenly, keen to his neutral expression under their dual scrutiny. "That it?" he asked, almost snapping.

Disappointment lined Simon's eyes. "Well, I'm not sure. Shelke described a sensation in her muscles within a few seconds."

"A sensation?"

"A sensation." Simon nodded.

Vincent mentally searched his body. The corruption stirred as if called, buzzing below his sternum, no different than before.

"Nothing?" Berry asked.

"Nothing."

Their shoulders simultaneously hunched, dejected. Berry sighed with a sad smile. "That was only the first dose," his aged voice rattled. "Let's observe another 30 minutes. Then, we'll draw more blood to research any cellular changes tomorrow."

Vincent resisted a grimace, certain Gaia's scientists must conspire to permanently strap him to a table for pokes and prods and needles and scalpels.

"The corruption is another matter, however," Simon said. "Shelke's test serum uses a Mako healing derivative that accelerates healthy cell regeneration, which we learned from reversing Brukho's research. Of course, I'm not thrilled that his experiments proved useful, but…well—"

Vincent gave him a dubious stare, thinking of the countless gruesome deaths Brukho's theories caused. But Vincent trusted Berry and Simon and was almost sure they couldn't kill him.

"In the meantime, you still have V serum?" Simon asked.

The case had remained safely tucked in his pocket since the Taggert incident at Seventh Heaven. "Just two," Vincent answered, rolling down his sleeve.

Simon's face turned grim as he nodded, but Vincent already knew he had no more to offer. So Vincent left in the same condition he'd arrived in, no closer to solving his own medical conundrums and no further away from his lab rat life.

A voice hailed him from the elevator bank. Pete scampered from the carriage as the doors shut. "Vincent! Glad to run into you." He smiled. "We're a man short today. Talk you into a Deepground run?"

"Until the job is done," Vincent replied.

Cloud felt empathy—though it wasn't his strongest emotion. Nevertheless, he tried to be understanding, stiffen his spine and be the friend she wanted instead of the one she needed. And maybe Tifa was right, and it was her business. Their business.

Still, Cloud had valid concerns, and they needed to talk. But just when he'd caught her alone, Vincent showed—with Pete! Traitor.

"What's with the murder face?"

"Huh?" Cloud looked at Pete. "What's what?"

"Dude! You've been glaring their way for the last five minutes," Pete answered. "Wanna talk about it?"

The lovebirds cozied up together in a booth. No customers, so she grabbed her boyfriend as soon as he appeared.

"Guess you gotta get used to it," Pete said, nudging Cloud as he nodded toward them. "You knew she would move on someday."

"Never would've expected Vincent," Cloud said, shrugging.

Pete snorted. "What?" he asked at Cloud's glare.

As if Pete didn't know 'what.' The situation wasn't funny. It could tear Cloud's family apart, and Tifa should've considered that—and Vincent—should've known better.

"I dunno, man," Pete continued, smirking. "It's not a mirror image, but you and Vincent have a lot in common."

Cloud didn't flinch, pretended not to hear.

Pete stood and clapped Cloud's shoulder before downing his beer. "Sorry to cut the melodrama short, but Bernard thinks Molly is primed to pop."

Cloud walked him out, then watched Pete drive away and waited on the stoop, reluctant to re-enter the bar, just like in times past when he'd been gone too long. Cloud dreaded those receptions, deliberately taking the long route home. This moment felt no different, except that it wasn't her anger or unhappiness with him that he wanted to avoid.

It was the heartbreak he felt was impending, that he knew she would endure. Heartbreak that would be far worse than any he'd caused since Aerith's death.

He cringed as the jingling bell betrayed him. He limped as fast as his gimpy leg allowed, then mounted the stairs without acknowledging the canoodling pair. Best not to play witness to the train wreck waiting to happen. Not tonight.

Vincent frowned at Cloud's unsubtle snub, a continual rejection of friendship. The man limped upstairs with a pained expression. And Tifa seemed ready to spring from her seat if he tripped.

"He refuses to keep it wrapped," she muttered.

The mood cooled, worry edging out her coquettish smiles instantly, tugging Vincent's mouth into a thin line.

"Want to get out of here?" he asked, voice sheepish, hopeful. "My place— dancing?"

She considered a moment, then smiled. "Ok, but no dancing. How about just the two of us?" Woman of his dreams.

He followed her outside and started for her truck, but she kept walking and reached for his hand. "How about a walk?" she asked. "It's not hot tonight."

Warm enough.

As if in contradiction to his thoughts, she seemed to shiver. He removed his cape, intending to cover her shoulders, but she took it from his hands and draped it across her forearm. They hooked arms and strolled in silence. She seemed contemplative, not really present—different since they'd chosen each other and intimacy.

"I'm glad you don't mind the quiet," Tifa said. "Feels like I rarely enjoy a relaxing night with nothing and no one blaring in my ear."

She hugged his arm, throwing glances at the rebirth of civilization from Midgar's ruins. She gave a wistful sigh but didn't speak, only kept walking, clutching his arm tighter as she looked around with sadness.

"Tell me," he cajoled with a soft touch at her wrist.

"Am I that obvious?" she asked.

"I haven't seen that look in weeks."

Tifa pinched his side, a coy smile replacing the frown. "Wonder why that is."

He answered with a lopsided grin, intertwining their fingers. "I've got nothing but time."

She snorted adorably before a heavy sigh. "I guess… there's so much progress. But—if you look closely, not everything is keeping up."

They came upon Johnny's ramshackle bar, built from rotted siding. The countertop, where Johnny served his barely edible fare, leaned sideways against an old stove. Bar stools didn't match, a few jerry-rigged to stand upright against all odds. The tiny establishment presented a stark difference from Tifa's sturdy bar.

She lowered her head as they passed, silent again.

"And this is why you're melancholy?"

"Hm, sort of," she answered. "Just thinking. People are the same way." That long sigh again. "Some take longer than others to build a better life as best they can."

This wasn't about Johnny.

"And when things are finally headed to a good place, something happens. A setback."

Like a snake bite.

Vincent's mood soured as he thought of Tifa's penchant for putting herself second.

Ever Cloud's caretaker.

WRO's daily grind didn't improve Vincent's mood the next day. Especially when meeting with the Lord of Wutai.

The video call was not Vincent's favorite technological breakthrough, making it harder to know who listened or watched. And it reminded him of TV shows popular during his childhood in which galactic heroes sporting colorful jumpsuits and fought sentient robots. Imperial captains used remote hologram communications to threaten aliens with scaly-toothed smiles.

Godo didn't have scales, nor was he smiling.

"So, there's been no progress?" Godo groused, appearing solo and regal on the monitor.

Thankfully, Yuffie wasn't present. Vincent wasn't feeling calm enough for her whining.

Reeve folded his hands, cringing through a grim smile. "We're chasing a few leads, Lord Godo. Hopefully—we can determine an unfortunate clerical error that we'll immediately rectify."

Godo's jaw clenched, and a muscle ticked in his cheek. "An unfortunate clerical error?"

"Regarding our medical questions, perhaps," Reeve changed topic carefully, "the family would furnish the young woman's medical records—"

"Absolutely not! Review the reports my physicians provided. We'll not be pawns to the East's science experiments, which appears to still have a thriving historical leaning."

"Lord Godo, WRO scientists are not Hojo!" Reeve snapped back, blustering with offense.

"No? Many worked with Hojo! And—I might add—only resigned from ShinRa's employ due to the apocalyptic failures of their experiments gone haywire!" The video feed cut out abruptly.

Reeve's chair creaked as he slumped inward. "Why does he refuse to acknowledge our progress?! We're correcting ShinRa's mistakes!"

"Godo can't have setbacks," Vincent offered calmly. "He needs his people to trust him since Meteor. Since ShinRa. Some see the WRO as another version of the same."

Reeve looked tired. "I know, Vincent. Research is stalling. Wish he'd send those medical records!"

"Rayleigh's team has a dozen patients to study."

"Ah," Reeve shook his head, defeated. "Every bit helps. Rayleigh admitted another patient to the hospital. Her husband is on Pete's team—Dan."

Vincent recalled the tall SOLDIER. Affable and energetic, like Pete.

"It's not looking promising for her. Or… Luxiere's wife, for that matter."

Vincent absorbed the news as Reeve's mouth stretched into a grim line, looking more exhausted by the second. "Let's just focus on what we can do now. I'm sure you and Yuffie have things to investigate, Vincent."

Vincent returned to his office and, as he sipped his tea, thought of how to help Yuffie with this investigation.

"Feel like I'm playing cleanup so the labs can dodge blame," Yuffie grumbled, gritting her teeth when a harried nurse bumped shoulders.

They weaved through the crowded hallways. Yuffie gave a spiteful grin as a startled few nurses and orderlies jumped out of the way when they spotted Vincent.

"It's an investigation, Yuffie," Vincent said. "Finding the culprit, if one exists, is our responsibility."

"Culprit A.K.A. Sybil Shelly! I'd bet all the materia in my right pocket it's her!" Yuffie knew time would prove her suspicions correct. "I'm not wrong! And heads should roll—courtesy of the WRIPers!"

"WRO scientists aren't ShinRa, Yuffie."

"Pfft! Not anymore, you mean!" Yuffie huffed. Why did Vincent always admonish her like an annoyed older brother?

Whatever.

She confidently strode past the line forming outside the pharmacy pickup window. Her clearance outranked the security restrictions mere lower-level employees adhered to. And her badge predictably unlocked the personnel door latch. Ha! No part of the WRO was off-limits. Yuffie's chest swelled with importance.

"Hey! You're not allowed—" a young technician audibly gulped. Yuffie smirked when the woman's eyes fearfully shrank as she blinked at Vincent.

"Relax. He's not gonna drink your blood or anything." Yuffie snorted when the woman whimpered. "Seriously, uh—Panelo, is it? Nice name tag with the little moogles stickers. Anyway, chill out."

Panelo withered, hands shaking as she lowered them to her lap. "Are—y—you here about the meds sent to Wutai?"

Vincent turned away from Yuffie when she shot him a slow glance. He faced the shelves, taking a leisurely stroll around the pharmacy as Yuffie's eyes narrowed. "I see you've been warned."

"Co—Commissioner Tuesti called and said to cooperate with your investigation." A trembling hand shoved a stack of folders at Yuffie. "Those are the orders. They—go back to January."

Yuffie thumbed through the printouts. "Wait a second. The authorization signature and destinations are redacted!" Yuffie slapped the papers against her thigh and shot Panelo a glare. "Why is this concealed? We're supposed to get everything."

"But—" Panelo swiveled in her chair, and Yuffie bit her cheek as the woman watched the shelves Vincent disappeared behind, desperately searching for him in a full-fledged panic. "I d—don't have authorization. It requires director-level approval to access, and I lack clearance to request—"

"And who does?" A rumbling baritone called behind the woman's workstation.

Panelo yelped, jumping as Vincent reappeared from thin air. "Um—I don't know. Ma—maybe the assistant manager, Shad Taggert?"

"Taggert?" Vincent's echo carried an edge, eyes cutting to Yuffie.

"Um—he's not in yet. But Tag can request—" Panelo's voice drifted off as Vincent stepped toward Yuffie menacingly.

Yuffie wilted under her partner's glare. "Uh—heh! Let's just ask Reeve."

The pharmacy caved in; Yuffie needed to escape. But he stalked, chased her toward the Commissioner's office. "Look, in my defense, I had no clue Taggert was a creep!"

Some things might be—a little bit—her fault.

The ninja's speed impressed Vincent, though he guessed her motivation to avoid his wrath bolstered the hustle. That he even knew Shad 'Tag' Taggert was Yuffie's fault.

She beat him to Reeve's office. And from the startled cry echoing down the hallway, no forewarning had announced her presence.

Reeve rose from a crouch, righting his chair as though he had toppled over only moments before. He dusted off his suit and glared at the princess. "What urgent matter compelled you to crash in here like a meteor?!"

Yuffie only feigned innocence and shrugged. "What? We're investigating and need emergency authorization. You could've jumped on the phone when we have super top-secret WRIPer interrogations to tackle!"

Vincent watched their interactions in silence, amazed that Reeve had so much patience, but knowing the man relied on Yuffie for some of the same skills they found so annoying.

Reeve balled up a fist and pressed it to his forehead. "Yuffie," he began, breathing through his nose. "For the last time, it's not WRIPers. We don't need an acronym—"

"I know. I know! Lizards!" She cocked her hip and rolled her eyes. "It'll catch on if you let it! Anyway, about that authorization. What's your password to unlock pharmacy orders."

The Commissioner straightened to his full height and slowly lowered himself back into his chair. Vincent could feel Reeve's patience thinning. Yuffie was difficult on the best of days.

"Why would you need my authorization to access the pharmacy logs?"

"Because Taggert classified them, which means you have to unlock them." The princess rolled her eyes again. "Great Leviathan, do I have to explain everything?"

Reeve counted under his breath—Vincent might need to intervene. But Reeve forced a smile and tapped onto his keyboard, seeming to chase whatever violent thoughts he'd considered.

"I admit," Reeve said, scratching his beard. "It's unusual to have something in the pharmacy classified. Typically, we initiate director-level authorization with lab work and weapons development."

Reeve keyed into his computer as Yuffie pointed him in the right direction. "I do run the organization," he said to her with exasperation.

"There!" Yuffie said, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Alright, just—let me—punch in—my password. There we are," Reeve squinted at his screen while Yuffie leaned closer, Vincent approaching from behind.

"Looks like the unauthorized meds were authorized for shipment to our Wutaiian counterparts and a private company named—Pilpub Inc," Reeve said.

Yuffie looked between the two men. "What's Pilpub Inc?"

Reeve brushed a knuckle across his beard and looked at Vincent. "Doesn't ring a bell. Vincent?"

Vincent shook his head. He put a hand on Reeve's desk and peered closer at the screen. "Who authorized the shipments?"

"These would require direct approval from a senior researcher in the labs." Reeve frowned at his screen. "Hmm. This can't be correct." He typed a few more entries, looking over several logs and authorizations of the same shipments. "Dr. Taka."

"Taka?"

Reeve swung his chair toward Vincent as the printer whirred to life. "Taka was on Rayleigh's team until the spring. Unfortunately, he suffered fatal wounds when attacked during a collection mission."

"Attacked by what?" Yuffie asked and snatched up a copy from the printer. "This is exactly what I needed!" She looked between the two men.

"Good question," Vincent said. "And what was he collecting?"

"Research samples near a mako spring in Mideel. He traveled with a security detail. But—a corrupted bandragana caught him near the pool, and the rescue was too late."

"If he's dead, how is he still approving shipments?" Yuffie waved a printout at Reeve. "This last one was a week ago!"

"The lab and pharmacy managers are responsible for updating approval authority," Reeve sighed, standing up. "I'll have Rayleigh rescind outdated authorizers immediately."

Vincent mulled it over, eyeing the signatures on the order form. "What do you know about Taggert?"

"Taggert?" Reeve asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He's a harmless pharmacy tech. You know him?"

Tag skittered back, startled and obviously frightened, face paling under Vincent's stare. Reactions like that almost had Vincent feeling his suffering had been worth it.

"Why does everyone have that reaction to you?" Yuffie's elbow dug into Vincent's ribcage. "I'm surprised you even have a girlfriend. But Tifa likes tough guys. Right, Tag?"

"That's enough, Ms. Kisaragi," Reeve said, waltzing in with Rayleigh quick on his heels. "It seems there's been an administrative oversight."

"Yes," Rayleigh said. "It was a clerical error that reverted new orders to a template Dr. Taka had created, which included the meds Dr. Shelly took over researching after his death. Mr. Taggert, would you mind pulling up my latest work order? I sent it before walking over."

"Sure thing, professor." Taggert eyed Vincent and returned to his workstation. Vincent nearly laughed at the cowardly retreat.

"Thank you," Rayleigh said. "See where it's prompting you for additional approval? Try to authenticate."

Taggert's eyes shifted around the room nervously. He finally looked back to the screen, clicking the mouse with furrowed brows. He looked up after a moment, guilt mixing with an unreadable emotion passing over his face.

"Ah, see there?" Rayleigh straightened, smiling at Reeve. "Credentials are updated."

"Yes, thank you, Sandra. Uh—Mr. Taggert," Reeve began, a stern expression in his eyes as he looked down his nose at the technician. "How are these orders processed?"

Taggert blustered, looking as though he wished to disappear through the floor. His thoughts finally caught up, and he blurted out a response. "I just follow protocol, Mr. Commissioner, sir." His breath picked up as his eyes darted between Vincent and Reeve. Vincent stepped forward, enjoying Taggert's sink into his chair. "The orders come the same, and all I do is authenticate. I didn't notice any change since January, so there was no reason to be suspicious."

"You don't double-check who placed it?" Yuffie's high-pitched squeal rang.

"Look. All I know is—I receive authentication when I plug into the system, then the approval clears, or it doesn't. I don't question Rayleigh's team," Shad held his hands up defensively.

"Approval from a dead guy?" Yuffie snapped, and Tag paled under her glare.

Vincent enjoyed this. Even Yuffie could scare the lowlife.

Taggert's face morphed into a fish out of water look. "It—it's the labs that write prescriptions. I only fill them." He glanced at Reeve desperately. "How'm I supposed to know every doctor working in the hospital? We get orders from Healen pretty frequently, too! And Junon! There's hundreds of doc—"

Reeve patted Taggert's shoulder. "No one's blaming you, Mr. Taggert."

"Well, I think we'll need to take this inquiry back to the labs," Rayleigh said as she walked toward the door. "Mr. Taggert, we'll update the meds list for additional approvals on certain shipments. I'll let Amy know myself."

"Y—yes, professor." Taggert slumped in his chair and avoided meeting Yuffie's gaze as Reeve grabbed her by the elbow as Vincent followed them out.

Rayleigh shrugged, guilt written across her face. "It's possible these are simply duplicate orders from Dr. Taka that were never updated once he passed. I'll delete them personally and create new templates for future orders."

"This is all—a misunderstanding," Reeve said. "Down to a clerical error, it seems."

"What?!" Yuffie snatched her arm from Reeve's grasp. "Clerical error, my ass!" She stomped away, leaving Vincent with a very tired-looking Reeve.

Vincent stepped in front of him. "A misunderstanding? You know my suspicions about Shelly," he said as Reeve looked away, obviously reluctant to meet Vincent's eyes. "She's savvy enough, and Taggert's been rumored to be skimming the stores."

Reeve's head snapped up. "This is the first I've heard of theft."

"I have my source," Vincent said. "If I had to guess, this ties into the Turks' investigations," he continued, unmoved by Reeve's thinning lips.

The Commissioner exhaled. "We'll install more security cameras in the pharmacy. That will have to suffice for now. Everyone has suffered enough since Meteor and Geostigma. Consider the accusations unproven until we catch someone red-handed. Right now—Rayleigh has reassigned Sybil and will personally review any new orders."

Vincent didn't press the issue; he had no proof

"You have dinner plans?" Reeve asked, suddenly looking a little embarrassed, as though wanting to soothe any discontent from their professional disagreement.

"Seventh," Vincent answered.

"That sounds…like a good idea. Let's carpool after I return a few calls."

As Reeve took his leave, Vincent noticed a SOLDIER approaching from an adjacent hallway. Luxiere marched toward the pharmacy, glaring at Vincent as he lazed against the counter window. "Hey, Tag!" He whistled, then winked at Vincent, a cocky grin stretching across his face.

Vincent curled his hand, driving a fingernail into his palm as Luxiere saluted. He turned to follow Reeve, thinking how satisfying it would be—and wished for a brief second he could summon Chaos on the arrogant SOLDIER.

She had locked herself in the bathroom, deaf to the timer blaring through the apartment. Cloud knocked. "Tifa? The oven alarm is on. I think your—"

The door wrenched open, and Tifa barreled past him to sprint downstairs. "How long has it been beeping?"

She was fanning smoke out of the window by the time he limped to the kitchen. "You couldn't have pulled it out? I'll have to make another batch!" She was mad. He was used to it—though it was odd for Tifa to burn dinner.

"That another new dress?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, hands in his pockets.

The spoon clattered onto the counter, and Tifa glared at him with hands on her hips. "Don't start."

He shrugged, seating himself to stretch his leg as a truck rumbled in their driveway. A minute later, the kids threw their book bags on the table, and the kitchen suddenly clamored with noise.

"Can I make macaroni?" Marlene stood on her tiptoes, supervising as Tifa spooned vegetables onto a serving platter. Cloud watched them silently. Tifa seemed to relax and forget her anger as she helped Marlene fill a pot with water and measure the right amount of pasta.

"Whoa! Lemme see." Denzel squatted in front of him, and Cloud lifted his pantleg, angling his foot. "Wicked! How big were the fangs?"

"Gross! Is it gonna stay all green?" Marlene ran over, scrunching her nose as she inspected the wound.

"Of course not!" Tifa answered. "Help me set the table."

Cloud grimaced as Marlene hopped over his leg, then glanced over his shoulder when the garage door slammed shut. So quiet five minutes ago.

"Where you want me to put all these apples?" Barret called down the hall.

"Oh!" Tifa, wearing a new pair of pumps, clacked across the hardwood floor, and Cloud squeezed his eyes shut, head pounding, leg throbbing with each heel strike. "Let's put them in the cellar."

As Tifa headed downstairs, Barret eyed Cloud's leg. "That gonna fall off?"

Cloud snorted. "Nah. Mako's healing it."

"Anything I need to know about?" Barret asked, thumbing toward the cellar. "What's with the—" He flared a hand low, and Cloud assumed he meant Tifa's dress.

Cloud shrugged and rolled his eyes in response. He irritably reached into a pocket for the pain reliever Simon had prescribed. With all the pains wracking his body, adding the annoyance of Tifa and Vincent—he didn't have the energy.

"Aight—gonna be one of those nights, I guess," Barret said and stomped down the stairs behind Tifa.

"What are you two doing here?"

Yuffie pivoted toward the voice, clutching the door handle with one hand and her husband's sleeve with the other. "Ha! We beat you here," she said, grinning as Reeve and Vincent waited at the foot of the porch. "You know I have a standing invitation, right? Besides," she reached into the box Yuri carried and lifted a bottle. "I'm bringing Tifa another case of Wutain Whiskey."

Yuffie huffed with annoyance, surprised at the couple sitting at Tifa's table. "Just set the crate there." She waved Yuri to the pantry, eyeing Marlene as the little girl happily chatted up Tifa's pregnant friend and her SOLDIER baby daddy. "Looks like our entire neighborhood showed up."

Marlene showed off a new drawing, colored pencils scattered before her as the couple looked on. "And this is the house my daddy built. We have a swing in the backyard. And my best friend comes over every day after school. And Daddy and Denzel built a treehouse—"

"Hey. Hey, Miss Ninja." Barret snapped his fingers. "You bring that whiskey?"

"Hello to you too, Mr. Dad!" She sidled around Vincent and Reeve still loitering in the entry, and wiggled into the pantry as Yuri lumbered out. "Too—ugh—crowded!" She slinked her fingers around a bottle, then finally emerged and slammed the liquor on the table. "Let's not go through all of it in one night. Kay, Big B? This stuff is hard to come by, even for me."

Though he had a way of being inconspicuous, everyone noticed when Vincent disappeared through the swinging door to the bar. Nor did Yuffie miss Cloud's scowl. He managed to look even grumpier than usual.

Not a minute later, Tifa appeared through the door, blushing like a new bride, Vincent following, nearly hot on her heels and sporting a lopsided grin. An actual grin!

"Awkward," Yuffie mouthed to Yuri. "So—uh," She claimed an empty seat and piled a bowl with a hefty dollop of Tifa's stew. "How are you feeling, Molly?" That was the pregnant lady's name, right?

"Oh, as expected," Molly said, and Yuffie nodded politely. "My feet are swollen every mornin. I keep cheerful spirits despite the backache—"

Yuffie continued a slow nod, feigning interest as she shoveled food into her mouth, skillful spy's ear trained around the room.

Everyone yammered on about Tifa's cooking, though she herself hardly noticed the accolades, so engrossed as she was in trading flirty winks with her demonic boyfriend. Neither of them seemed to care what anyone thought with their goofy grins. Communicating without words with eyes and coy touches and—eww!

Yuffie didn't know what grossed her out more, their overt cuteness or that Vincent was old enough to be Tifa's father.

If Cloud could put on his big boy face and ignore them, so could Yuffie. She dug into her dinner, disregarding the lovebirds for mouthfuls of beef stew and fluffy rolls.

Eventually, the kids grew bored with adult conversation, crowding around Cloud and Pete, amused by their similar injuries. Cloud raised his pant leg when Denzel asked to compare its color to Pete's arm.

"Cloud's shimmers like my moogle stickers!" Marlene poked Cloud's shin, giggling when he hissed.

Yuffie peeked long enough to catch a glimpse of the rainbow-colored, glossy sheen under the gangrenous skin covering Cloud's lower leg, then quickly looked away, content to eat her dinner rather than wear it.

"His leg is so pretty because my blood is the antidote," Pete joked.

Marlene's eyes widened. "Really?" Several chuckles brought a sweet blush to her cheeks.

Yuffie nudged her arm. "Hey, shorty. What did Tifa make for dessert?"

A little hand cupped Yuffie's ear. "It's in the fridge," Marlene whispered.

At least this would give them both something to do. But, unfortunately, between the kissy face and zombie limbs, Yuffie felt more nauseated by the minute, like she was strapped to Cid's airship in a torrent of turbulence and vertigo.

"Well, I, for one, am glad that arm is looking better," Molly said.

"A few more weeks of treatment, Doc Simon says." Pete flexed his arm, and Yuffie hid her line of sight with the refrigerator door.

"Don't need to see that," she muttered.

"And if the scars don't clear up, Mol's gonna get matching tattoos. Aren't you, sweet?" Pete brushed his lips on her wrist.

"You betcha, baby," she replied and nearly sucked his lips into her gaping maw.

"Ick. I'm gonna be sick." Marlene made a gagging face.

"You said it," Yuffie agreed and handed Marlene one of Tifa's pies.

"Hopefully, I don't have that long to wait for this to heal!" Cloud complained. "Pete's antidote tastes like ShinRa piss!"

Everyone laughed while Yuffie felt her face shade green. "Seriously about to hurl."

"What was that?" Tifa had glanced up from her seat. She held onto Vincent's thigh under the table, only thinking the act inconspicuous.

"Oh, nothing. Just wish we could talk about something other than Cloud's necrotic leg."

"You'd rather discuss work?" Vincent asked, accepting a plate of pie from Marlene.

Yuffie rolled her eyes. "As if!" She took a liberal bit of her pie. "Mot mime em'll moo amee gamud."

"About as good as talking with your mouth full." Tifa handed her a napkin, eliciting a grouse as Yuffie chewed. "What's going on at work?"

Yuffie swallowed hard, eyes watering. "Same ol' problems with new mysteries. I'm no closer to proving who sent those meds to Wutai. But now I have to figure out what this company is that no one has heard of!"

"Maybe you should try asking around," Reeve pointed out.

Yuffie thought better of sticking her tongue out at him, huffing instead. "Ugh. Fine! We'll do it the old people way."

"What's it called?" Tifa asked.

"Pilpub Inc.," Yuffie shrugged. "Stupid name, if you ask me."

"Doesn't sound familiar."

Yuffie looked to Barret, who only shook his head. "Don't look at me. Sounds like some topside joint."

She circled her gaze around the table, meeting Molly's eyes as the woman shrugged. Denzel shoveled pie into his mouth and avoided eye contact.

"Brat," Yuffie gritted out at him. "How about you, shorty?" She tucked a strand of hair behind Marlene's ear.

"Maybe it's a weird bug," the girl answered. "I'll ask my teacher at school tomorrow."

"You're such a good little helper." Yuffie poked Marlene's nose. She looked to the zombies at the end of the table, but it appeared Pete and Cloud hadn't heard the topic change. They amused themselves, undressing and parading the numerous scars that even their enhanced blood found impossible to heal completely. Denzel watched in awe, listening to both men regale how they won their bragging rights.

"You call that a bite?" Pete snickered, then lifted his shirt to reveal pale indentations formed from a monstrous bite. "The smallest fangs were 6 inches."

Yuffie rapped her fingers on the table rapidly. "Ahem!"

Cloud twisted, flaunting his own battle triumphs written on his back. "That was a king behemoth. Took me an hour to take it down."

"Where? I don't see anything." Pete made a show of squinting at Cloud's blemished skin.

"You blind or something? The claw marks stretch from my shoulder blades to—"

"Pfft! Oh, what? Did you cry?" Pete plucked an ice cube from his glass and pressed it against Cloud's skin. The blonde yelped, contorting away from the unprovoked attack.

Yuffie snorted as Denzel cackled a second before Cloud put the boy in a headlock for his betrayal. But she lacked tolerance for their shenanigans.

"Hey!" All three snapped their heads in Yuffie's direction. "Want to join the rest of us?" Her question only earned blank stares. She huffed—for the third time. "Ugh! Pay attention! Pilpub? Anyone?"

Sudden coughing had every head turning. Molly patted her husband's back. "Baby? You, ok?"

Pete covered his mouth and reached for a napkin as he hacked up Tifa's dessert. He looked at Yuffie with watering eyes and disbelief. "Did you—cough—cough—say Pilpub?"

Yuffie traded a glance with Vincent. "That I did," she answered, hopeful at Pete's apparent recognition. "Guess you've heard of it?"

Nodding, a melancholy smile passed across Pete's face. "It was a nickname for a bar on the plates."

Yuffie's eyes widened. "You're kidding!"

"Nope," Pete replied. "It was Angeal Hewley's favorite. So, of course," he snickered before continuing, "the rest of us followed. Geal said the Pilferer's Pub was too long to pronounce, so he shortened it. It was in Sector 8."

Yuffie typed a note into her phone, then gave Reeve a satisfied smile. "Well, that is an interesting revelation." But Vincent appeared unmoved, no longer following the discussion. Tifa spoke low to him, only for his ears. The two had again forgotten they were in a semi-public venue. Yuffie rolled her eyes and silently hoped their smooching wouldn't become a habit.

Thankfully, the kids didn't fuss when Barret said it was time to go, and everyone took it as a sign to leave. And once Cloud had hobbled and hopped his way upstairs, Vincent pulled Tifa into a tight embrace, his patience for her thoroughly spent after a long day—a long week. He wanted to forget the daily grind, forget strained friendships, and lose himself in her warmth.

But she was distracted, watching Cloud's feet disappear up the stairs until his limping gait faded through the apartment.

Vincent sighed through his nose and traced his lips along her temple.

"Mm," she hummed. "What is it?"

"Hm?"

"I can feel your wheels spinning." She ran a finger along his chin. He leaned into her touch. "Gonna tell me?"

He linked their fingers and kissed her knuckles. "Why don't we head to my place?"

Her brows furrowed slightly, and her eyes darted to the ceiling before meeting Vincent's gaze again. "Tonight?"

"Yeah, tonight." He could sense her hesitation. "Cloud can take care of himself."

"It's not that—it's just—"

He waited for her to finish, but she only stared back with remorse shading her eyes.

"It's fine," he said, bringing his lips to her palm. "You'll just worry all night."

"You sure?"

"Mm-hm." He veiled his disappointment with a kiss.

Much later, she slept in contentment. A sight from his most wondrous dreams—Tifa lying beside him in a euphoric sleep. Vincent never imagined his life could take this blissful turn after—everything.

He trailed a finger along her cheek and tucked a stray lock of her dark hair behind her ear. She sighed and nuzzled herself closer. This almost felt too perfect. Too precarious. As though any misunderstanding or friendly, well-meaning intervention would shatter this happiness. A foreboding slipped into Vincent's gut—this bliss was temporary.

He lifted his head from the pillow and stared at the door. Movement echoed through the dark apartment, and light filtered under the doorway. Bare footsteps padded down the hall, then stopped just outside Tifa's room.

Shadows stilled on the floor under the door. Someone stood motionless on the other side.

Cloud.

The doorknob rattled faintly as if a hand rested upon the metal. He could feel Cloud's indecision. Several seconds passed. Shadows didn't move, and the doorknob didn't turn. He doubted that Cloud suspected Vincent had stayed.

Then, the knob shook a moment, a soft click in the jamb, and the shadows retreated. The footsteps carried down the hall and into the living room.

Vincent waited.

Sounds of trickling water from the bathroom were the only disturbance over the next minute before the footsteps returned and passed Tifa's door. The light in the hallway faded as another door closed.

Aggravation snaked around Vincent's contentment, fragmenting his already uneasy ecstasy. He rested his head back on the pillow and kissed Tifa's forehead.