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Chapter II – Upon a Cloud

They had done it. It was official. Barret Wallace was the, 'Best Dad in the huge entire world!' Well, according to one seven-year-old Marlene Wallace he was, anyway. After seeing 'her' firework that Barret had arranged with the townsfolk in charge of the display, she had proclaimed his new title with vigour. They had stayed for a good hour or so afterwards in which a group of refugees had come and set up a rather modest hot dog stand, though modest was putting it kindly: the counter was made from a bunch of rather soiled cardboard boxes lined up in a haphazard row.

Despite the appearance, the smell had drawn most of the crowd over as the festivities continued and this included their own little group. After ordering their hot dogs with their own preferred toppings (Marlene and Denzel both wanted ketchup, Barret with a big helping of mustard and chilli which made the children cringe, then Tifa with a humble dollop of relish), they decided to make the short walk back home. Seventh Heaven, otherwise known as Tifa's bar.

"This is really good!" Marlene said sunnily as she took another bite, holding Barret's hand and lightly swinging his arm to and fro as she walked.

"Yeumph its realph goofh," Denzel managed to speak around the roll currently stuffed halfway in his mouth.

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Denzel," Tifa lightly chided. "These do taste amazing though." She took the last bite of her relish hot dog and dusted the bun's residual white powder from her hands.

"I gotta say, they outdid themselves with this one here!" As Barret took a huge chomp from the remains of his mustard and chilli creation, his other three companions all shared a congruous look between each other. Fortunately, this went unnoticed by the muscular man.

Soon they came upon Tifa's bar which sat against a backdrop of worn concrete buildings complete with bent girders and rusty steel bolts. The building itself looked worn too, framed by the same steel and metal salvage that originated from the ruins of Midgar. The bar itself retained a traditional feel, fashioned from wood with its set glass windows and smooth oak finish. However, much like a drunkard who clung to a railing, it looked like the surrounding metal was the only thing keeping it standing.

As Tifa hopped up the front steps and gathered her keys from the utility pouch woven on the front of her duster, she was followed up by the yawns of two children. Shuffling their feet, Denzel and Marlene trailed up the small set of stairs after her. She empathised with their lack of energy as she momentarily fumbled with her keys, soon locating the correct one and unlocking the front door with a nudge of her shoulder.

"Come on, kids, time fer bed," Barret said, wasting no time guiding them across the threshold and up towards the second floor. Tifa watched their retreating backs for a moment before securing the front door and untacking the notice which read, 'Bar closed due to third After Crisis festival'. Ensuring Seventh Heaven's open sign was indeed flipped to show 'Closed', she made a quick check of the bar to ensure everything was in its place. Her eye caught a stubborn ring stain on the counter which begged for attention, so she tugged out her cleaning cloth from behind the till to polish it from the wood.

Her mind was abuzz with questions and simply not enough answers. Denzel's admission troubled her greatly. They were all hurt by Cloud's sudden disappearance. Simply thinking about it made her creep closer to relapsing into depression, but she kept a brave face for the sake of the others. She had the children to care for, after all. It wound her greatly to learn that Denzel blamed himself for Cloud's unexpected absence: that knowledge almost stung more than her friend's disappearance itself.

The stain was now gone with nothing more than a gleam left in its place. Tifa allowed herself a selfish moment, her shoulders falling with her head as she leaned against the bar to the ticking of the wall clock. After a few sluggish minutes, she swallowed the threat of tears and composed herself. It wouldn't do to show her true feelings. After no small amount of mental steeling, she took to the stairs with heavy feet.

As she rounded the corner to step into the doorway of the children's room, she crossed her arms and propped herself against the door frame. The sight which met her brought a smile to her face. Barret was just tucking in a sleepy Marlene, the girl already donned in her light-blue pyjamas with white Jumping hopping across the fabric – as the bunny rabbit-like creatures were wont to do. She yawned as she clutched at the duvet, murmuring something to her father as he kissed her forehead.

Tifa was almost certain she heard the words 'tickly' and 'beard'.

"... Tifa?"

The weary call pulled her attention to find Denzel peering at her from behind his own covers with half-lid eyes. She moved to the side of his bed and gently sat down beside him, her leather duster a cool embrace at her calves.

"Yeah, sweetie?" She tucked and smoothed his duvet a little more neatly before running a hand through his messy locks.

"I'm sorry... about earlier. I don't want to be any trouble..."

Tifa's fingers paused mid-comb and she stifled an oncoming sigh, this time one of resigned frustration.

"Denzel," she began softly, any hint of vexation at the situation completely under lock and key in her heart. "You're never any trouble. You never have been and you never will be... alright?" She ended her words with a playful ruffle and mussed his hair from side to side. Normally this would have prompted a slew of complaints from the boy, but he was simply too tired to protest.

Instead he gave a lazy shake of his head. "I just thought... if I was good enough and didn't cause any trouble... Cloud might come back."

Tifa immediately stopped her good-natured solacement. Her arm fell to her side. Everything was getting to be a little too much. The fighter fought to swallow back tears as a heavy weight fell upon her shoulders. It took her a moment to realise it was more physical than emotional when she felt the squeeze of Barret's hand. She glanced towards Marlene to find the girl sound asleep, patterned duvet rising and falling like a calm night's tide.

"Cloud..." Tifa began, voice thick and words raw. "Cloud just has some things to sort out, that's all. Things that can't be sorted out here. With us. So he decided to leave and... get these things taken care of. When he's done, he'll come back. Regardless of how much trouble you cause or not." Tifa couldn't really believe her own words and didn't expect Denzel to either, but the boy gave a quiet air of acceptance in the following silence.

"... Sure?" His sleep-laden voice filled the room.

"I'm positive." Tifa blessed him with a weak smile that was anything but and placed a light kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight, Denzel."

She gained no response, the orphan's eyes fluttering shut as he began to embrace his dreams.

As she tip-toed out the room and pulled the door softly to, Barret, who had been waiting for her in the hallway, didn't hesitate to pull her into his arms and into a strong and comforting embrace.

"Now I know that couldn't 'ave been easy, girl," he grumbled.

Tifa paused for a moment before returning the embrace in silence.

"What'd he mean by he was 'sorry 'bout earlier'?" Barret asked.

The fighter took a deep, steadying breath, one she usually reserved for pre-combat, before she began to explain the boy's words to her old friend. As she retraced the events that followed once Barret left with Marlene to seek out a blue firework for Denzel, she could feel his reaction more than see it by the tightening of thick arm muscles. She steeled her own grip with soft pressure in response.

Wrapping up her recollection in a single breath, Barret blew out a sigh of his own. He released her from his hold to run a hand over his cornrow-styled hair.

"Well shit, Tif'... that kid sure has been through the works. But hey, it sounded like you took pretty good care of it in there."

"Did I?" She snapped her gaze up to his face. "I lied to him, Barret. I didn't know what else to say. Cloud's gone and none of us know why, and now an eleven-year-old boy has got it into his head that he's the one with the problem, when we all know who the real problem is!"

Barret urgently hushed her with a single, giant finger pressed against thick lips and Tifa realised she'd raised her voice with a start. She planted her feet to centre herself, like her martial arts tutor Zangan had taught her time and time again, and swallowed down the rest of her frustrations.

Barret began, "... If I get my hands on that scrawny lil' piece'a shi–"

"Barret," she warned, but it was no use.

"– I'll stick my gun-arm right up his skinny lil' as–"

"Barret!" she smothered her shout with a whisper and proceeded to deliver a straight punch to his arm. Her old friend stopped with a slight wince before grumbling out.

"Ow."

Tifa couldn't help but crack a smile and, when he rubbed the patch of his arm her fist had made contact with, stifled a laugh.

"Say what you want about Tifa Lockhart," he grinned, "but she can still throw one helluva punch."

Her smile faded after a moment. She peered at Barret with a glimmer of russet eyes, a salient note of sobriety held in their depths.

"Thanks, Barret. I don't know how I would have handled the kids for the last couple of days."

He rubbed his nose with the index finger of his prosthetic. "Don't mention it. Anything for my fightin' gal." He paused for a brief second before continuing, "We'll find him, Tif'. We will."

She responded weakly, "Yeah." And they stood in the hallway in silence.

Time trickled by with companionable ease as they made themselves comfortable against the corridor walls, moonlight spilling through the end window to splash silver down the hallway. Both parties fell into quiet reflection.

A thought suddenly struck Barret and the man almost jumped forward from the epiphany, ushering the fighter and himself away from the door to the children's room with urgency.

"Wha– what's wrong... ?!" Tifa stammered out. When the dark-skinned man didn't respond, she placed a firm hand on his left, natural arm to draw his attention. "Barret, you're scaring me. You haven't been yourself since the fireworks display–"

He cut her off as soon as they were far enough from the bedroom door and out of earshot for his own comfort. "Yeah, 'bout that. Listen, I was sure at the time but... I think I may have saw a phantom or summit."

Tifa shot him a skeptic's eye, one which practically screamed after his own welfare.

"What?"

"Bear wit' me here." Barret braced himself for his next words with a gravitas furrow of his brow. "I think... naw, I'm pretty damn sure of it..."

Tifa's patience had worn thin about two hours ago. When Barret's own uncertainty lapsed him back into reminiscence, her patience was virtually made threadbare.

Her final reserves of composure subdued her voice as she blurted out, "Sure of what?!"

"I'm sure I saw Vince!"

Tifa fell winded. Stunned, she blinked back a few times with owlish demeanour, mouth slightly agape.

"Yeah, I know. Ridiculous, right?" Barret almost laughed to himself. "It's been, what? Three years?"

Tifa quickly recovered. "Vince? Vincent? You mean... OUR Vincent?"

"Yeah. OUR Vincent," Barret mimicked her term for him. "When Denzel fell I saw 'im lookin' towards the alleyway. He looked scared outta his mind an' I swear I saw Vincent's cloak. Only one guy I know who wears a cloak like that." He paused, then continued, "Only one guy I know who can scare the shit outta lil' kids and adults like that, too."

Tifa shot him a disapproving glance and somehow managed to look concerned all at the same time. 'So Denzel didn't fall from looking up too high...' she thought.

"So Denzel saw him? Why didn't you tell me?"

Barret scratched the back of his trunk-like neck with giant steel fingers at her question. "I didn't jes' wanna bring up the fact you and me may personally know what scared the crap outta him. I dunno what Denzel saw and even then I wasn't fully sure myself." The gun-armed man faltered in his recollection, visibly struggling with himself. "Shit, I dunno. I just made the decision and rolled wit' it. I didn't wanna bring it up during the festival."

"It's alright, Barret, I understand," Tifa sympathised. "Denzel seems okay but I think we, or well, you," (Barret raised an eyebrow at her here) "should talk with him about it."

"Why me, man?" He crossed his mighty arms.

"Well, you're the one who saw him, right?" The fighter placed her hands on her hips in turn.

"Well, yeah but..." his protest fell weak.

He knew Tifa was right. He was never any good at the whole 'giving a talk' thing and, as such, went out of his way to avoid it. While both of them knew Vincent, Barret was the one who may have caught sight of him, so it was with sensible reason that Barret should speak to Denzel about what he may – or may not have – saw.

Now it was a question of how do you tell a kid you know an almost-sort-of-living-suspected vampire and that he was actually a friend and saviour?

"Great! Well, that's settled," Tifa said with the finality only a woman could deliver, shortly followed by a leisurely yawn.

While she didn't know the exact time, her general senses and internal clock told her it was well past midnight. However, she didn't think she would be able to sleep even if she tried now. Vincent Valentine, the living enigma who had disappeared for three years, may or may not have been sighted! But she trusted Barret and, if he was pretty sure he saw him, then she'd very well believe it too.

"Come on," her old friend rumbled. "Let's get some rest. We'll talk about this shit in the mornin'."

Barret guided Tifa to her own bedroom before heading towards Cloud's own designated quarters: his temporary accommodation for the duration of his stay. He wished her goodnight, but not before assuring her he was just in the next room if needed. She watched as he pulled the door latch shut with a soft click before heading to her own room and towards her much needed bed.

She stood for a moment in the dark, slivers of pale moonlight from the window scrubbing the floorboards to an ivory shine. The luminescent beams stretched her shadow towards the endless void that occupied the very darkest corners of the room to be swallowed whole. She briefly entertained the notion that her heavy heart was responsible for her heavy footsteps, though she knew the more reasonable explanation was lack of sleep. Pushing herself forward on her toes, she fell face-first onto the bed and let herself bounce lightly on the springs before burying her face deep into the pillow. After a few minutes of languid thoughts, she rolled onto her back and gazed up at the pipes that wove in and around the ceiling like indecisive vines.

Failing to find any comfort in their intricate structure, she turned her attention towards the window and her thoughts towards two men as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

'Cloud... Vincent... I wonder where you both are now?'