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Chapter VI – To Heal a Fighter
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Pain. Anguish. That was all Tifa could register. Everything was distorted. A mixture of voices and movement, too muffled, yet too loud. Too much. She suddenly felt numb, the pain but a phantom. She just made out the trickle of tears running down her face as awareness faded in and out. The floor soon disappeared from beneath her.
When she came to, she was sitting on what felt like the familiar padding of one of her own bar stools, her back propped against something solid. Pain and noise – too much noise – enclosed around her. Suddenly aware of the gentle wipes across her face from what felt like soft tissue, she leaned into the adjoining hand. Clarity returned in bouts and, with it, understanding of language. The dissonance all flooded in at once.
"What the hell were you thinkin'?!" – "There isn't time for this." – "Everyone keep it doon!" – "This looks like a scapula fracture." – "How are you aware of this?" – "I don't care what it is, heal it!" – "Yer gonna wake up the bairns!"
"St-stop it..." she tried to shout over the cacophony of voices all speaking at once, but it came out as a feeble mutter lost on all ears.
"Where's the Cure Materia?!" – "Like hell would I know?!" – "I'll gan look foor it!" – "I will assist you." – "You ain't goin' nowhere, I ain't done wit' you yet!" – "I will return so you can 'be done' with me then."
Tifa cleared the thickness from her throat and tried again, and her squeak came out louder this time, "Stop it." But her plea was lost in the sheer volume of resulting noise.
"Look, you f***in' smart ass! She wouldn't be hurt if it wasn't fer you!" – "I had no part in this–" – "LIKE HELL YOU DID! IT'S YOUR MOTHERF***IN' FAULT, VINCENT!"
Tifa summoned up every last ounce of her strength and screamed out, "STOP IT!"
The room fell soundless.
Gasping for air, she felt the last vestiges of willpower ebb away. Drained, as if the noise had been suffocating her until then, she struggled to speak again. "N-not Vincent..." she slurred, tongue heavy as her head drooped to one side, "not his fault..." All strength left her. The little blurs of colour she could distinguish clashed and swirled, spinning down some sort of imaginary plug in her mind like a brain drain. Darkness crept up and fed upon her eyes.
Black.
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~ oOo ~
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Tifa groaned, eyelids fluttering with the heaviness of sleep. Her whole body ached. Disorientated and bleary, she cracked her eyes open and immediately regret it. She squirmed and flinched away from the harsh sunlight spilling in from the nearby window. Taking a moment to squeeze her eyes shut and refocus her blurred vision, she peeked out from sore lids with a lot more caution than before. She could just make out a sky of pure blue with clouds drifting by wistfully as if on a stroll. A beautiful day.
"Good morning."
Startled, she snapped her head towards the voice and struggled to sit up while her vision swam as a result. A gentle pressure on her left arm pushed her back down and she didn't resist. Blinking away sleep and the slight case of vertigo her unexpected jump wrought, she was met with the clarity of Reeve smiling down at her. She cracked a weak smile before glancing about with tired russets. Situated in the main bar area of Seventh Heaven, she found herself to be lying on one of the long corner seats under the window: the caress of soft padding beneath her a welcome confirmation. A stitched quilt of many faded colours covered her snugly while a fluffy pillow of down supported her head. The filling felt rather reminiscent of the cotton sensation currently crammed into her skull.
"How are you feeling?" Reeve breathed. Tifa swallowed to clear her throat, still feeling the discomfort of a lingering burn.
Eventually she croaked out, "Like a word Barret uses."
Reeve laughed, relief laced through the sound, "At least your sense of humour isn't broken."
A look of confusion marred her brow. "Broken?" she repeated.
Reeve smiled in sympathy and only then did she notice the glass of water in his hand. She eagerly moved to take it and was suddenly made aware of the sling cradling her right arm. She shot him a mixed look of question and alarm as she proceeded to take the tumbler.
"It may taste bitter. I mixed in a herbal remedy; a painkiller." No sooner had the words left his mouth, Tifa grimaced having already taken a swig. He laughed again at the face she pulled, before motioning to her arm. "No doubt you want to know what I'm talking about." The fighter nodded in response as she gulped down the tart liquid, feeling much better for it despite the taste.
"Well," Reeve prepared himself as he would to start a board meeting, "where to begin..." He leaned forward to rest elbows on knees. "You'd broken your shoulder blade. A scapula fracture, as it's known by another name." Tifa raised an eloquent eyebrow as if to ask, 'How in Planet's name do you know that?' to which Reeve merely grinned in response. "I got the same look from the others–"
Tifa almost choked to interrupt.
"The others! Barret! Vincent! Where–!"
Reeve quickly held up a hand to calm her. "I'm getting there! Please, relax. I'll do the talking, okay?"
Tifa, feeling somewhat defeated, eventually nodded and acquiesced into her pillow, returning to slowly draining her glass.
"Yes, well... where was I? Ah, yes. I'm quite familiar with scapula fractures. I suffered one myself when I was younger. Car crash." Tifa blinked at this glimpse into Reeve's past and mentally tucked the nugget away while he continued, "You certainly don't forget the pain of a broken shoulder blade, and I never forgot that or the name. Doctors threw it around like I was supposed to know what it meant..." Reeve leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as though he were reliving the memory.
"Anyway," he began once more, snapping himself from his own reverie. "You were in and out of consciousness last night. I don't know how much you remember, but we managed to find some Curative Materia and heal your shoulder best we could with it. Its power has drained from lack of use, but I'm sure if we use it a little more your shoulder will be back to normal in no time," Reeve smiled.
Tifa twitched her arm experimentally within the sling, wincing as pain lanced through her collarbone to dance down her back and arm, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the agony she'd endured in small hours just past. She noted her bruises and, while they were still deep, only indigo remained, the near black tinge having disappeared like it was never there.
"I wonder..." Reeve mused, "do you remember shouting at everyone last night?"
Tifa looked away at his question, as if peering into the distance for an answer. "Vaguely. I remember lots of... noise. Shouting. And pain. Lots of pain."
Reeve rubbed the thin beard at his chin, nodding. "Barret was quite... aggressive last night. He blamed your injury on Vincent."
Tifa's eyes widened. "Vincent helped me! Barret can't blame him, if Vincent wasn't there I–!"
Reeve was quick to calm her with fluttering hands. "Don't worry! It's all been cleared up. Vincent explained what happened after you were healed, though I can't help but feel he left out details... I think summary is a more accurate account than 'explained'."
Tifa finished the last of her medicine as she listened quietly and, at Reeve's gesture, handed the empty glass back to him.
"So... where are the others?" As if on cue to her inquiry, a series of thumps thundered down the stairs like a miniature stampede. A few seconds later, Denzel and Marlene burst round the corner looking frightened and breathless. On seeing the somewhat startled woman, their frowns broke out into bright smiles, all worry dissolved from their small faces.
"TIFA!" they cried, dashing straight to her side.
"Hey! There you are!" The fighter stretched out her left arm to match her own smile, wide and welcoming. The two children raced to be the first to reach her arms, piling on top of each other as they scrambled to hug her.
"Now ain't that a relief!" Barret's unmistakable baritone boomed from around the corner and Tifa looked up as he rounded it, a silly grin plastered over his face. Cait Sith followed at his heels, narrowly dodging the man's giant boots as he approached with a heavy trudge. "Good to see you back wit' us, Tif'."
Tifa smiled back, "I feel a lot better."
Barret crossed his arms, grin still set in place. "It's a good thang we had that Materia left over after donatin' most of 'em. Found it in Cloud's room, guess he must'a left it behind."
Tifa's smile faltered at the aforementioned name, but soon returned in full when she felt a small hand tug at her good arm. She peered down to find Marlene gazing up at her with wide eyes.
"Tifa! I saw Vincent! Really, I did!" The child shuffled, squirmed, and danced about in excitement.
Tifa grinned and bit back a laugh. "Oh, did you now?" she teased. "Hmm, I find that a little hard to believe..." She gripped her chin and pretended to look doubtful, but her act fell completely flat at Marlene's expression. The girl's cheeks puffed up in defiance and she stomped her foot when Tifa bubbled with laughter. Denzel looked lost, shuffling awkwardly beside the younger girl before inspecting his sneakers.
"I did! I'll prove it!" Marlene scampered from Tifa's arms and to the bottom of the staircase before the woman could assure she believed her. "I'm gonna get him right now!" And with that, then turned and proceeded to march up to the second floor with purpose. Cait Sith grinned, flicking his hand in a quick wave before following suit. Tifa couldn't help but laugh again.
"I take it Vincent's upstairs?" she asked once her chuckles subsided into a smile that truly reached her eyes, deep russets near sparkling with mirth.
"He retired to your room..." Reeve informed, but Barret's shaking head caught his eye, "... last I knew?"
"Naw, I checked this mornin'. I thought he was down 'ere...?" Barret ended questioning himself.
The unspoken implication brought the room to an ill silence.
Denzel looked around like a lost boy in the woods. The three adults sat in heavy stillness and, while he knew it seemed important, Denzel had no idea why everyone had suddenly fallen quiet.
"Errm..." he began, and immediately stiffened when all three pairs of eyes turned on him. He swallowed and forcefully held his gaze. "Who's Vincent?" he asked.
When all three adults continued to stare, Denzel's cheeks became awash with a furious flush and he scrutinised his shoelaces.
"Didn't you tell him, Barret?" Tifa, who was first to speak, held an accusatory tone and Barret was quick to raise his giant hands in defence.
"Hey, I jus' told 'em this mornin' you hurt your shoulder and they ran straight downstairs ta see ya. I didn't 'ave time to tell 'em 'bout Vince."
"So how does Marlene know?" Reeve interjected.
"I dunno, I was 'bout ta ask you that! Like she says, she must'a seen 'im. I sure as hell didn't tell 'er. Jeez!" Barret appeared hot under the collar, reaching under his white jacket to scratch roughly at the base of his neck. "Don't matta anyway," he shrugged. "He's gone now."
Soft thumps echoed throughout the room as little feet plodded down the stairs, announcing the arrival of Marlene. She appeared at the bottom looking beside herself with sadness. Cait Sith was cuddled tight in her arms, the robotic cat held close to her chest.
"... He's gone, isn't he?" she said so much as asked, looking towards the group of adults with big, watery eyes. Tifa's dismayed countenance almost matched Marlene's while Reeve nodded with an empathetic crease to his brow. Barret's mouth was set in a grim line that added on excess years. Denzel was the first to move, walking towards the young girl with a sneer barely concealed beneath a bitten lip.
"It doesn't matter. They all leave in the end."
So shocked, as were the others from Denzel's statement, Marlene didn't resist when the orphan pulled Cait Sith from her arms.
"Hey noo!" The little cat's voice was the first to rise in protest. "Tha's not a very nice thing tae say!" When the feline began to struggle in the boy's grip, Denzel promptly set him down. Marlene's eyes began to fill with tears and she held back a hiccup. Barret visibly bristled.
"Denzel, you betta apologise to mah lil' girl right now or–"
"Or what?" Denzel challenged, turning to face the gun-armed man. Tifa was beyond stunned. Her jaw hung slack while Reeve remained carefully silent, watching the scene unfold before him. Marlene was sobbing now, small hands curled to brush away big, fat tears tumbling down her cheeks. Barret was at a loss for words, lips moving without sound. Then, like a Nibel Bear who'd just had its honey stolen before its very nose, he stomped his way over to Denzel, the pound of his boots on the floor like mini earthquakes.
Cait Sith yelped and dived behind the boy's leg. Tifa rushed to stand and almost careened forward when a surge of dizziness slammed into her like a wave, causing Reeve to dart his hands out. Pushing past his arms, she purposely stepped straight into Barret's path despite her body's screams of protest and effectively placed herself between Denzel and the giant man.
Click!
Everything stopped. All eyes turned to the front door.
Vincent stood with one hand on the brass handle, crimson eyes staring hard at the scene before him. His gauntlet flexed slightly with unease. Denzel gaped and tripped over his own feet, scrambling from the imposing figure looming in the doorway.
'T-those eyes! The ones I saw in the alley!'
"VINCENT!" Marlene cried, interrupting Denzel's panic to dart forward and immediately take cover under the gunslinger's cape. She grasped and clung to his right leg for dear life, tears rolling down her face to fall and drip onto Vincent's leathers.
Tifa sighed in relief, "You came back." Her tone of self-reassurance wasn't lost on Vincent and he fought away a frown. Sharp eyes fell upon the boy that frantically scrabbled away from him.
"Perhaps at the wrong time," he rumbled before peering over his cowl at Marlene. The little girl had cloaked herself completely, her white-tipped sneakers the only give away that she was ensconced under his tattered cape at all. Vincent's brows furrowed deeper, but his surprise at Marlene running to him for sanctuary remained concealed.
He was used to people running from him, not running to him.
Laughter battered the inside of his skull, mad and mocking in his head. Hysterical screams that just kept going on, and on, and on.
'So young young YOUNG innocent and DELICIOUS! Don't you want to rip off that face, oh what a face, so sweet and pretty enough to eat! EAT FACE! And those eyes– EAT THE EYES AND SHE CAN'T SEE WHAT YOU DO NEXT. OH YES WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, OH! When you move to that pretty pretty PRETTY LITTLE SKIRT–'
Vincent almost snarled; he felt physically sick. His head snapped to the side as he grit his teeth to fight back the bile and nausea. The screams just didn't stop – won't stop, never stop–!
Blinking hard, he held fast to reality. As the howls of delusion waned to a ghostly echo, he looked once more to Tifa. Her back was rigid as a pole, her left and only useable fist clenched so tight her nails bit into her palm.
"Vincent," she began, her tone an alarmed caveat.
Barret peered at him with a suspicious and hardened stare, but stopped when he caught sight of Denzel near cowering at the bottom of the stairs. Shaking his head, he trudged on over.
"Come on lil' man, you and me are gonna have a talk!" He picked up Denzel with a heave of his mighty arm, placing the boy back on his feet with ease before marching him into the dining area. Denzel followed along almost blindly, face close to the colour of chalk. "A pretty long talk..." Barret mumbled to himself as he led him away.
Tifa's gaze lingered on Vincent for a little longer before the fighter lowered herself down to one knee. Opening her left arm out in invitation, she waited for a moment and, as if summoned, Marlene dashed from the cover of Vincent's cape and straight into her arms. Tifa hushed the girl as she clenched little hands into the fabric of Tifa's sling, hiccuping tiny sobs into the woman's leather vest. The fighter cupped her hand around the back of the girl's head and gently smoothed her fingers through her hair. Reeve rose from his seat with a rare slowness and walked towards them both, but not before scooping Cait Sith up in his arms.
"Well, that's that taken care of." Despite his words, the unease in Reeve's tone was palpable. Tifa looked up to Vincent, her left arm circled protectively around Marlene.
"Where have you been?" she pried.
Vincent paused for a moment before gazing towards the window, the sun catching his eyes and setting the flecks of gold within alight. Tifa couldn't help but stare in wonder, the realisation she had never noticed them before captivating. Beautiful, yet haunting.
"I have been tying up some loose ends," Vincent eventually replied. She nodded, but couldn't help but feel the bubble of disappointment in her chest at his answer. She knew better than to ask further; Vincent wouldn't reveal anything more to her and she already knew that a little too well. Tifa turned back to the little girl sniffling in her arms. Her thoughts drifted to all the possible scenes that could have occurred in the bar after she fell unconscious last night, leading to a sudden and terrible realisation. She bolted to her feet, causing Marlene to jump from her arms in fright.
"The bar! Reeve, I should have been open hours ago–!"
Reeve interrupted her panic with a smile reserved for only his most congenial clients. "It's alright, Tifa. Myself and Barret discussed this last night and we decided to keep it closed to help you recover. We left a sign, do not fret yourself."
His words did little to ease the worry lines clearly etched across her brow, voice still frantic as she spoke, "I can't afford to keep it closed for this long, I'm barely keeping above bills as it is!"
Cait Sith held up his hands from his seat in Reeve's arms. "Dinnae worry yerself, we got it all sorted for yae," the robot feline reassured. "Nae need tae get yerself all up in a tizzy!"
Vincent gazed at the cat puppet in curiosity. 'What a strange accent... it is one I do not remember.'
Tifa ran a hand through her chocolate hair, fine strands sliding through her fingers. Marlene glanced up through tear-laden lashes as she held fast onto the hem of the fighter's white shirt. She smiled up at the woman and while all her tears were gone, the tracks were still evident on her face. Tifa smiled back, though it lacked its usual strength. Vincent watched on in silence, discreetly thinking the lines on her forehead were quite unfitting of her fair features.
"Don't worry, Tifa," Reeve spoke with a confidence that was known to be customary from him, "I'm going to be paying for everything while you're away." Tifa's brows jumped towards her hairline and she begun to protest mildly through Reeve's reassurances, while Vincent felt as if he'd missed something – and not for the first time that morning.
As if sensing this, Reeve turned to address him. "Speaking of which, I need to explain my plan to you, Vincent."
The man in question studied Reeve carefully, neatly folding his arms and fixing him with a look that was close to suspicious. The talons of his claw twitched with involuntary flicks as his demons stirred, but only he knew of the latter. They squirmed inside his head in a spitting mass of vitriol and hatred. They had become harder and harder to control as of late, enough to move even his gauntlet against his will. The notion, let alone the very action, put him on edge. Why his claw? Could they move his right hand if they so chose? Over time, would they be able to control his body? His mind? Vincent longed to continue his search for answers. As such, given his own pressing state of affairs, he cared little to listen to whatever Reeve had in mind.
… However, the now dubbed WRO leader had proven himself to be an invaluable ally in the past. Vincent supposed the least he could do was lend him his ear. No matter how unwilling.
He straightened his back, reaching his full height and towering over the others in the room, before nodding to Reeve in silent agreement.
"Alright, but I suggest we take this outside. Give Tifa some peace, for once." The well-groomed man smiled warmly at her. "If you need anything, you know where to find me." Setting down Cait Sith once again on his booted feet, he strode to the front door and pulled it open with care before exiting the building. Vincent uncrossed his arms and made to follow into the crisp morning air, but paused. He peered over his shoulder at Tifa who looked on with interest.
"He won't be bothering you any more." And with that, Vincent followed the waft of cold air let in by Reeve only seconds ago.
Tifa was shocked; it didn't take long for her to realise he referred to the brutish drunk from the night before. Her mind fought to catch up with her imagination. She sincerely hoped he hadn't...?
"What did he mean by that?" Marlene asked with a puzzled tilt of her head. Tifa glanced down at the girl and after a moment of wonder, smiled her reassurance.
"Don't worry about it, sweetie. I'm not quite sure either. Why don't you go see Daddy?" Marlene's face lit up at the suggestion and she immediately scampered towards the dining room to seek out Barret, pulling Cait Sith from the floor with her while the feline scrambled in her arms.
Once alone, Tifa allowed herself to take a deep breath. She couldn't wait to get herself cleaned up. Shuffling towards the stairs and the bathroom she could almost hear calling her name, she began her slow climb while pondering on Vincent's words only moments before. A more pressing matter suddenly sprang to mind and she peered down at her stark white sling.
'Now, how on Planet's name am I meant to shower with this thing on?'
