A/N: This chapter is a rewrite of my original one-shot-A Dance for the Lonely, which I decided to turn into a multi-chapter fic.

Please let me know if I've made any mistakes.

Story is Post Dirge of Cerberus (DoC) and includes characters from the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII.


Because Life Finds a Way-A Dance for the Lonely (Rewrite)

Chapter 1

The Wedding Reception

εγλ May 0014

He leaned against a wall, arms folded, brass gauntlet glinting off the ballroom lights. His face, apathetic and drawn, proved his lack of enthusiasm for the occasion.

Vincent sought the shadows after the prolonged wedding ceremony, his need for privacy overriding any social obligation. Though bored and withdrawn, corrupted cells pulsated in his sternum, ever reminding him that demons yearned to burst free if the mood struck right. But he held them under a practiced control, mindful to avoid ruining wedding cheer with a show of horror.

Attending had not seriously crossed his mind when he had received the invitation a month ago. Vincent had immersed himself in study within ShinRa Manion's haunted library, pouring through decades-old research journals exposing the Lifestream's mysteries. A particular volume about reversing corruptions in living creatures piqued his interest, and he had hoped to share the finding with Nanaki.

Unexpected calls to Tifa and Cid revealed the red-furred beast was in Rocket Town. Everyone had gathered without him, preparing to travel to Wutai for the wedding celebration. Vincent hesitated at renewed attempts to persuade him to join. But he resolved to meetup after Nanaki promised to welcome him to Cosmo Canyon. His research could wait out the occasional interaction with friends. Truthfully, Vincent looked forward to witnessing Nanaki's reaction to what the beast described as "two-legged mating ritual customs."

He hadn't attended a wedding in over three decades and fought a grimace as he noted the idiotic ways the younger generation danced to the commotion they referred to as music. Most kept their distance, but not enough to spare him from snickers and whispered chatter of ogling young ladies. He struggled against the attention like a self-conscious adolescent, a randy dandy exposed to gaggles of tittering females intent on passionate affairs.

Vincent tucked his chin into the cowl of the black cape he'd donned. Unused to the silken material and its barely there itch against his skin, he preferred the scratchiness of the tattered red cloak he'd left aboard Cid's airship.

His entire outfit left him uneasy, not just the substitute cape. Instead of his worn leather gear, he sported a silk waistcoat and slacks. And painful dress shoes replaced his usual pointed sabatons. The recently bought apparel was Shera's fault. She had insisted they shop for wedding attire as a group. The woman morphed into a monster mother hen, fussing incessantly over his gauntlet, relenting only when he agreed to have it shined and to cover the claw in a soft-leathered glove.

The boredom, the giggles, the noise, all irritated him. He drummed a finger into his palm to soothe the throbbing corrupted cells, wishing he had something to do for a distraction.

The reception was the same as any other, besides the music and accounting for a few oddball Wutaiin royal customs. Couples danced, men drank, their wives chittered away happily, and children played tag, carefully weaving their tiny bodies through waltzing couples. The bride and groom performed their ceremonial obligations, grinned for the cake cutting, led a traditional Wutaiin shoe tossing, and danced with the youngest and oldest in attendance. Guests pinned fertility charms on the bride's dress and wished the couple many sons and daughters. Yuffie was a lovely bride. Still annoying. But his happiness for her was genuine.

Reeve Tuesti emerged from a dense cloud of cigar smoke, chatting with Lord Godo Kisaragi as they neared Vincent. A robotic-eyed girl trailed behind them, Shelke Rui, who surveyed the celebration, absorbing the social customs with a laser focus. The young lady appeared predictably indifferent, socially awkward, and perpetually ten years old.

"Hello, Vincent Valentine," Shelke greeted him, her monotone inflection as unnerving as much as it complimented her sharp-eyed regard. She stood motionless behind Reeve and aimed her attention toward the dance floor, no interest in furthering the conversation.

"Good to see you, Vincent," Reeve said, turning to Yuffie's father. "Lord Godo, this is Vincent Valentine, with whom I believe you are familiar." Reeve was all business, even at a wedding. A likable politician.

"My daughter has spoken highly of you, Mr. Valentine." Godo tucked his hands behind his back, staring at Vincent over his raised chin. "And if I recall, you've helped defend the planet on multiple occasions."

"The last occurred a couple of years ago," Reeve supplied. He ignored Vincent's narrowed eyes and continued, "when the Omega weapon appeared over old Midgar…if you recall from our reports. It was Vincent who defeated it. Single-handedly, I might add." Reeve's accolade pierced Vincent with a tinge of embarrassment, as it wasn't entirely truthful.

"And you were once a SOLDIER too, I presume?" Godo asked. "Your triumphs suggest similar enhancements." The leader of Wutai gave him an appraising look, gaze lingering on the gauntlet, fascination gleaming with shrewd intellect.

Vincent lowered his brows. He wasn't in the mood to entertain gawking or field speculation borne of gossip and scary bedtime stories. "Not exactly."

Reeve brought a fist to his mouth, coughing gently. "How does Kunsel fit in as our liaison? I hope you find him knowledgeable and eager to assist in all WRO/Wutai relations."

"He's serving well." Godo eyed Vincent as he responded to Reeve's attempted diversion. "But we're hesitant to accept any additional SOLDIERs in the consulate." He faced Reeve with his mouth set in a rigid line. "And there is concern at your eagerness to employ them as security escorts, Commissioner."

Vincent couldn't blame Godo for his misgivings. The ShinRa Electric Power Company crushed Wutai a mere decade ago through reliance on SOLDIER teams. Vincent shared Godo's worries over Reeve's use of them in diplomatic channels. Though many once believed them incomparable heroes, segments of the population now distrusted the military veterans, wary of their infusion with physical enhancements that turned them into killing machines.

"Kunsel is a credit to our organization, don't you agree? And he's a diplomat only," Reeve insisted. "He's acting on behalf of peace between us, now and in the future."

"We like Kunsel fine. However, we feel it's in our best interest to limit further immigration for the foreseeable future. Too many unanswered questions linger regarding their mental health and stability."

Reeve glanced to the floor with a thin smile, silently acknowledging the unspoken reference to the Elite First Class SOLDIER whose eventual mental degradation led to Midgar's destruction and the Geostigma disease that ravaged the planet—though most of the world remained ignorant of the actual cause. Sephiroth.

"Yes. We have a strict screening process for those who join our delegations," Reeve assured him. "The WRO has established protocols for vetting all diplomats and security teams. Kunsel is our best representation. I'm certain he will alleviate your fears about reintegrating former SOLDIERs into society."

"Hmph. I need a drink." Godo left them with his skepticism ending the conversation, meandering toward the bar, stopping at a few tables to clasp arms in camaraderie with other dignitaries and old family friends.

"Godo is well-informed," Reeve said after a moment. "I'm sure Yuffie gives him some information. The rest he learns through spies—and word of mouth, which is precisely what our organization needs. Full transparency and free advertisement of the good we accomplish. He knows we've created a new medical division at the WRO Hospital in Edge and the nature of its function." Reeve rocked on his heels but didn't elaborate as he waited for Vincent's response.

"What function?" Vincent asked, taking the bait to amuse himself. Reeve wanted to share. Seemed he sometimes needed to let people know his organization was making progress, even if it wasn't always visible.

He glanced at Vincent and shrugged his shoulders with a smug smile. "Our new health division of a few medical scientists dedicated to treating former SOLDIERS and the few Deepground survivors that joined us. They'll not be left to deal with what ShinRa did to them on their own."

"Anything wrong with former SOLDIERs?" As far as Vincent knew, only Sephiroth suffered from an extreme, S-cell instigated mental affliction that led to his violent breakdown. Unlike his SOLDIER comrades.

Except those found in Deepground. Those soldiers had endured sadistic mutilations and experimentations that led to psychoses of varying degrees—Shelke among them. Vincent sensed Reeve left something out.

As Reeve opened his mouth to reply, one of Godo's retainers interrupted. "Lord Godo wishes to speak with you, Commissioner. If you would come this way."

"Duty calls," Reeve let out with a sigh. "We'll chat again soon, Vincent. Pardon me."

Vincent watched Reeve depart as Shelke moved to look directly into his face. Her expression was inscrutable as always, eyes wide as saucers but no hint of emotion. He wondered if she enjoyed the wedding or watching the night reveal Wutai's long-held royal customs for its only princess.

"I will find Nanaki, Vincent Valentine. I want to share my thoughts on this event and learn what he has observed." Vincent chuckled as her slight form moved away. He was sure the beast had much to tell and hoped to hear it.

"Hey Vince," Barret greeted with his gruff baritone as he offered Vincent a beer.

"Barret." Vincent accepted the glass, then savored as he drank half its contents. The day had already been long, and attempts to convince Nanaki to leave sooner proved futile. Perhaps imbibing will shorten his torment.

"Been a while since the last wedding, although I can't say the music is my thing." Barret suffered as much as Vincent, if his small talk was any clue. "How long ya staying in Wutai?"

"Until morning. I'm traveling to the canyon with Nanaki. Was hoping he would go to the mansion with me instead. There are some interesting research journals I want to show him."

"Coulda brought 'em with ya, ya know."

"I'd rather leave everything in the mansion where it is." He felt a little superstitious about it, actually.

"Yeah, I feel ya,"

The band picked up a softer melody. Vincent mirrored Barret's disinterest, watching the dance floor where canoodling lovers circled with the music.

"Ah, here we go," Barret mumbled, drawing Vincent's attention to Tifa as she pulled a reluctant Cloud onto the dance floor. "Well, this ain't gonna last long."

"Hmm." Vincent agreed with Barret's prediction while admiring the pretty picture Tifa cut in her pink dress. He noted the frustration on their faces as Tifa begged and Cloud grimaced.

Both struggled to avoid making a scene until Tifa finally convinced Cloud to hold her waist. He grudgingly moved her in a slow turn in the exact spot he had been standing. Neither looked at the other during the entire song, which seemed painfully long. In the end, Tifa let out a 'Fine!' and marched back to their table, Cloud trailing behind her, sluggish with hands in his pockets.

They reminded Vincent of a middle-aged couple enduring the hardships of a marriage in its final stages. Barret lost interest in the unfolding drama, recounting memories of the fabulous dancer his wife had been while shimmying his shoulders.

A livelier number brought the younger guests back to the floor. The bride and groom took center stage and led a bizarre line dance with the entire hall clapping and stomping at regular intervals. Marlene and Denzel positioned themselves in front of Yuffie, laughing at one another each time they missed a step. The pattern eluded Vincent, a peculiar disco probably made famous during his prolonged slumber in Nibelheim.

"Barret, come on! You promised!" Tifa suddenly skidded between them, forgetting her anger from moments ago. She pivoted with a quick 'Hi, Vincent' before grabbing Barret's arm.

"Aight, but just one," Barret grumbled.

She smiled, finally.

Vincent had always hated to see her upset. Her obvious soft heart toward Cloud had worried Vincent on more than one occasion. Although the two were now in full swing of adulthood, it seemed Cloud was no more clued into her than when he was still a boy struggling to be the man he needed to be.

Cloud disappeared to the bathrooms, sulking across the hall. The younger man would not be easily guilted into dancing again. It's not as though Vincent didn't understand. He wasn't inclined to try his skill at their ridiculous hopping and hand slapping either. Dancing was something he had always avoided when he was Cloud's age. At least until a beautiful woman coaxed him into it, and Vincent reluctantly learned for her smile.

The memory of Lucrecia invaded his mind, unwelcome at this joyful event. Vincent recalled his reluctance to dance, her insistence he could, and his giving in and finding he thoroughly enjoyed it. The dancing had made her happy, and he was glad to do something for her. Afterward, he had spent the time learning and earned more smiles for his efforts.

Vincent concentrated on the dance floor in front of him, chasing the memory away before it flooded his mind and sent him fleeing into a corner to brood.

Tifa was someone he wanted to see happy too. Unfortunately, she rarely put herself first, and her smiles had become less frequent the longer she spent waiting for Cloud.

Everyone clapped, enthusiastic as the song ended, then emptied the floor for more drinks. Barret and Tifa returned to their table as another tune blared, the kids cheering at its thundering cadence. Another unfamiliar melody.

Gods, did they not know any good music?

Loud and raucous, the song apparently required the band to thrash their heads back and forth in unison. The music appealed to a much younger generation and had evolved beyond his bygone youth's more meaningful ballads. He scanned the hall for Nanaki, hoping to find the beast and suggest an early retreat.


Barret moaned that he didn't know the steps, adding that he didn't want to scuff her pretty pink shoes. Tifa rolled her eyes as he danced to the bar and ordered her wine, afterward rhythmically sliding over to the keg to pour himself a beer.

Doesn't know the steps, huh?

At least he didn't whine too much and danced. It took considerable effort to convince Cloud. She knew damn well he could, having witnessed him dance around the bar many times when their friends visited. But even then, she didn't get to dance much. Someone always wanted a drink.

Denzel and Marlene sat next to each other, where the girl laid her head down near a plate of cake, quickly falling asleep. The boy busied himself with a shooting game, nose pressed close to his phone screen, headphones shoved in his ears. Barret handed Tifa a glass of wine and withdrew behind the table with Cloud, where the two men griped about dull weddings and expressed a wish to leave and find a quiet tavern anywhere but here. Preferably a dive bar that lacked adequate space for dancing.

Yuffie and Yuri joined them behind the table to chat, the groom excitedly gushing over the wedding gift Yuffie's father had purchased for him, a new motorcycle. "It's not as impressive as Cloud's Fenrir, but it's wicked fast, and there's space for Yuffie at the back."

Tifa rose to stand next to Cloud and glanced at Yuffie, who appeared bored with the conversation already. Then, with an exasperated sigh, the bride trounced off, joining her school friends at the bar for a round of shots.

"Y'all takin that thing on the honeymoon?" Barret asked with a chuckle.

"Uh, no. Well, we're not going on the honeymoon right off. Yuffie has to return to WRO to set up a new office with Reeve. It has something to do with her father's appeals for Wutai. I don't know what. She never really tells me anything. I just know I'm expected to work there now. Something about being the son-in-law of a king thing. So, yeah. We booked some time at the Icicle Inn for the end of the month. Can't really take the bike up there," Yuri said with a hint of disappointment.

If Tifa ever married, she wouldn't want her honeymoon delayed. But, of course, someone had to be interested in marrying her first to have a honeymoon. She glanced at Cloud, who drank his beer and listened to Yuri bemoan their delayed trip. She wondered if he had ever considered marriage.

Her mind drifted back to the last time they'd been intimate with each other several months ago. By that time, Cloud only showed her affection after a night of drinking. The sex wasn't great but sometimes did the trick. On that evening, both had taken quite a few shots during a bachelor party at the bar and found themselves too intoxicated to clean up. After they locked up and climbed the stairs, Cloud had sought her out. He wanted her to be in control, insisting she could do what she liked as he laid on his back. She wasn't sure if his insistence was the liquor talking or only to relieve himself of being more attentive. Whichever, it didn't matter. In the end, he got a cookie, and she didn't. He fell asleep while her disappointment prevented her eyes from closing. Frustrated and dissatisfied, she had gotten out of bed and cleaned the bar alone. Neither had since sought intimacy from each other.

"Well, when Tifa's with me, she just grips my hips with her thighs, and that's it. As soon as I feel it, I'm just—gone."

"What?" She immediately broke out of her reminiscing and snapped her head toward Cloud. What's he talking about?

Yuri vigorously shook his head. "Yeah, but Yuffie's not as experienced as Tifa. So, she won't know how to handle it."

"Umm—what?" They ignored her.

"Tifa's not as experienced as you think. I'm by myself most of the time, which is different. But there's a lot I had to show her before she could sit on it in a relaxed position, and I had to get used to her squeezing her thighs around my hips."

"CLOUD!" Tifa screeched. All three men stared at her. Barret looked away, uncomfortable, as he cleared his throat at the accidental innuendo.

"What?" Cloud asked, a little perplexed. "Isn't that how you stay on when I tilt the handlebars?"

Handlebars?

Cloud and Yuri exchanged a confused glance. Tifa blinked once before she remembered what they'd been talking about before her mind wandered to her pathetic sex life. Laughter formed in the pit of her belly as she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle its eruption. She felt like a nincompoop. Cloud would never discuss their few sexual interludes with anyone. At least she didn't think he would, and certainly not with Barret.

When she didn't answer and giggled into her wine, they fell back into ignoring her.

"Yeah, I don't know," Yuri said, looking away from Tifa and back at the men. "I still think I should just get Yuffie a seat belt and maybe one of those bucket seats."

"I'm surprised that girl even let you drive," Barret chuckled. "I bet she's gonna have you ridin bitch before long. That is, if she don't puke all over that bucket seat."

Cloud laughed and nudged Barret. "Bet she blows chunks all over his head."

"Bwahaha!" Barret's massive shoulders shook with his mirth. "Bet he gonna beg her to sit front!"

As they debated the wager, Tifa sidled away to her seat. She sipped her wine, shoulders shaking as another small laugh echoed into her glass. She scanned the hall and spied Vincent standing solo in the shadows along the wall. A group of girls giggled as they passed by him, one taking a sudden interest. Although he didn't seem to see them, she was sure he did. Nothing escaped his notice.


Vincent sunk into the shadows as whispering and snickering young ladies passed, one peering over her shoulder, scanning his form suggestively. She gave him a seductive wink before a friend turned her toward the band and missed his piercing glare.

This isn't the slums.

He tucked his chin further into his cowl, knowing it did little to help him vanish.

"Vincent!" Yuffie nearly cartwheeled into him, eager to interrupt his self-imposed seclusion. Her bridal gown shimmered with glittered lace in the dimmed lighting as her veil trailed behind her. She smacked her hand against the wall next to his shoulder, breathless from her quick stumble across the hall.

"This wall," she slapped the stone-cold surface at each word, "is a horrible date!"

He pressed his finger into his palm harder, digging in the fingernail. But Yuffie only glared, blinking in expectation, blatantly drunk and more annoying than he thought possible.

"There are so many hot chicks here! Why are you not dancing with any of them? You have your pick, Hotty Hot Grandpa!"

She gawked, running her eyes from his head to toes, then gave a lewd whistle of admiration over his formal wedding attire. Vincent scowled back at her, growing more irritated at her drunken leer. He questioned his decision to attend and thought of being anywhere else, the bride's antics making him yearn for solitude.

"I'm not exactly an acceptable dance partner, Yuffie. I'm as old as many of these young ladies' fathers."

"Oh, poo!" She slapped him across the shoulder, then pointed to the dance floor. "Look! Even Cid and Shera are tearing it up!"

He glanced past the tables littered with champagne glasses and half-eaten cake to the various couples gyrating to an energetic tune, finally landing on the pilot and his wife. Cid and Shera performed a disturbingly dirty tango, unmindful of the public venue or the music's rhythm. Nanaki sat just off the side of the dance floor, watching the couple with a curious tilt to his head while his flame-tipped tail wagged in time to the beat. Shelke stood next to him, head also angled and arms clasped behind her back.

"Pass." His reply brought a petulant frown to Yuffie's face. "Where's your groom, Yuffie?"

"Meh! Yuri's been gabbing with Cloud for the past 15 minutes about his silly new motorcycle. Boring!"

Vincent turned his head toward the opposite end of the ballroom, where Cloud and Barret stood behind Tifa's table, listening to Yuri regale some tale with enthusiastic waves of his hands.

"I'm giving him another five minutes, and then we're starting a Gongaga-Conga line!"

"That sounds intriguing," Vincent's deep voice gently rumbled. "Congratulations on your wedding. Please don't let me keep you from annoying someone else." It was her wedding day, so he would remain as polite as his patience granted.

"Nice try," she breathed into his ear, and he recoiled from the stench of hard liquor. She tugged at his crossed arms, refusing to yield to his reluctance, and pulled him by the gauntlet as she pointed across the hall. "Look, now I see your dancing destiny. Let's go say hi to Tifa."

"She's getting along just fine," he growled. He'd run out of fingers to drill into his free hand.

"Oh, ho, no, she isn't. I can see the Cloud-filled misery in her eyes from here."


Tifa sipped her wine and swayed to the music, one lazy hand fanning her pink tea-length dress. She feigned interest as Cloud and Barret argued with Yuri on the merits of a turbocharger for his new motorcycle, and then became heated over materia saddlebags vs. weapon compartments. Nothing Tifa cared to debate.

Bored with the discussion and with being ignored, she adjusted her skirt and sat down at their table, lightly tapping her foot. She wanted to dance again. With someone who wanted to be her partner. But Barret had continued to complain about the style of music. And Cloud would only dance if she begged, ruining the mood and eating up her emotional energy.

She almost wished he hadn't come with her. For years, they had lived together, displaying an outward pretense that all was well and leading many to believe they were in a committed relationship. But it was an unconventional commitment that held no romantic connection. Instead, they were more like an odd family—friends before all else.

Across the hall, she noticed Cid and Shera's erotic moves.

Yikes.

Yuffie passed near them, twirling herself across the dance floor. In her drunken state, the young bride tripped over her long dress, nearly staggering into Vincent's lone figure mounted against the far wall before finding her footing.

Poor Vincent.

Hopefully, Yuri will notice her absence and steal his bride back. Yuffie appeared oblivious to the annoyance clear on Vincent's usually passive face. Likely Vincent didn't want to make a scene, but he seemed to need a savior from the bride's mischief. Yuffie pointed as she tugged at his arm, and Vincent looked in Tifa's direction.

Uh oh. Now what and why does it have to involve this side of the room?


Vincent allowed Yuffie to haul him between the tables, eyes raging at her bejeweled tiara, resentful as she tugged and scratched his arm. The princess skipped on, careless, singsonging excuse me and whoopsie and choo choo at every guest she bumped with her hostage.

His polite resolve thinned as anger boiled inside his chest. He drummed—furiously with every finger—into his bare palm.

Once they stopped directly in front of Tifa, Yuffie released his arm. Vincent cooled instantly when he spotted Tifa's innocent, wide-eyed concern. He looked down at her with an apology ready on his lips.

"This is my wedding day," Yuffie announced with hands on her hips, tossing her head with a petulant glare. "And I won't have the two of you ruining it with your oh-woe-is-me poop faces. There's plenty of fish in the sea! Now go! Dance! Go!" She waved her arms as if to shoo them away.

Vincent closed his eyes and lowered his head at Yuffie's lack of propriety. Tifa's face flushed bright, her embarrassment apparent. Oblivious with the drama she caused, Yuffie turned on her heel and marched around the table. Hooking a sharp hand through the crook of Yuri's arm, Yuffie dragged her groom away, cutting him off mid-sentence as he extolled the virtues of his favorite racing bike.

Tifa shifted in her seat uncomfortably and glanced at Cloud and Barret. The two watched the scene with amused expressions, but offered no intervention to save Tifa or Vincent from their humiliation. She looked away, briefly meeting Vincent's gaze, and toyed awkwardly with her wine glass.

Vincent shuffled his feet and tugged at his pant leg, shame amplified at Tifa's discomfort. Walking away would only unnecessarily hurt her, and Vincent did not want to be the cause of such a public indignity.

He hesitated only a moment before offering his hand.