Chapter 45

Acclimating

Tifa yanked the sheet over her face to shade from the sunlight daring to invade the room.

Her twinkling laughter broke the stillness throughout the house. Light, teasing kisses trailed her knee to her hip, a wake-up routine Tifa quickly anticipated following each night she fell asleep tucked against Vincent's side. And as expected, he reached between her thighs, coaxing moans with fingers and lips. She scraped her fingernails through his hair, earning an equal moan from his throat as she again reached a thigh-shattering climax.

Tifa closed her eyes, sated once again and content to fall back asleep. He chuckled into her belly tickled and she trembled as he crawled his lips up her torso before wrapping her in his arms. "Still sleepy?" he asked into her neck.

She stretched her toes against his shins and willed the soreness of another nearly sleepless night from her limbs. She squinted at the sun rays beaming through the window and covered her eyes against its head-piercing light. "Ugh."

He gave another soft laugh, licking her shoulder before he stood to draw the curtains. She rose behind him and stretched, yawning a moment before Vincent scooped her into an embrace and spun her in the air. She squealed, partly in delightful surprise and otherwise shock and dismay from the sudden feeling of vertigo.

Vincent set her to her feet. "Sorry," he said, chuckling as he steadied her by the waist. "Guess I was overcome."

"Your strength still surprises me sometimes."

"Me, too," he replied. His eyes turned downward, a little vulnerable as he skimmed a finger down her ribs.

"What is it?" she asked.

He sighed and gripped her hands, eyes lifting to hers in a show of vulnerable, hopeful courage. "Stay here with me," he pleaded.

"Well of course. I stay here all the time." Tifa shook her head in her slight confusion. Wasn't she here already?

"No," he said, gripping her hands more firmly. "I mean," he continued, lifting his eyes to her again. "Stay…here…with me. Live here…with me."

As his meaning dawned, she mouthed an 'oh,' eyebrows raising with understanding. A slow, shy smile formed on her lips. She pictured waking up with him, a warmth in her chest knowing neither would have to leave for home. Saw herself cozying with him on their shared couch, one they would pick out together, sharing the woes or funny tidbits of the day, no worry of someone trudging up the stairs with heavy combat boots and interrupting their intimate conversations.

She could cry out her ecstasy as loud as she felt compelled without shame or worry that Cloud would overhear. But thoughts of him pulled her smile into a frown, down with her mood. Cloud would be angry, of that, she had no doubt. She could picture the shock on his face when she announced her intentions. He might say something insensitive before storming out and wait until her back was sore from lugging boxes down the stairs to corner her with all the things she should consider.

There might be hurt in his eyes or worse…he might feel alone. Cloud might fall into a deep depression.

"If you have misgivings—"

"It's not that," she said quickly, meeting Vincent's hurt gaze. "I…um…just worry still…for Cloud's state of mind—"

"He'll need to learn how to take care of himself at some point, Tifa." Vincent moved toward the window, almost presenting a full view of his back as he stared out at his neighborhood.

This again.

"That's not fair." Tifa felt a twinge of anger at Vincent's criticism. "His recent injury and how sick the poison made him—"

"Tifa," he said gently, circling his long fingers around her wrist. "Cloud could learn to cope if he wasn't mothered so much."

She wrenched her wrist from him and pushed herself away, her anger finally erupting at the feeling of being nagged by him. "You two used to be friends, you know. Now it seems you still have much in common. The same gall to tell me how to live my life!" She began to stomp away when he reached for her again and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest.

"Forgive me," he murmured into her hair. "It's…not my place to suggest anything beyond your sincerity."

His arms tightened and she felt her anger melt a little with his apology. She turned and buried her face in his chest, loving the security his strength enveloped around her, even if it didn't abate her ire completely.

"It's not only that," she said and met his rueful eyes. "I need to stay in the same place if I want to foster the baby. I imagine the WRO looks for a healthy home environment. A recent address change to my boyfriend's house may not appear stable."

He hummed into her forehead before pressing a kiss to her skin. "It's too soon, maybe." He lifted her chin and their lips met.

"We agreed on Akira! Tell him, Tifa."

How was she supposed to take sides and make a decision for them? Tifa thought for sure they'd had the baby's name chosen already.

"You agree with me. Right, Tifa?" Kunsel drew near with his daughter cradled in his arms. "She has eyes just like Zack. Remember?"

"Um…" The baby girl did have bright, innocent blue eyes.

"We're not giving her a boy's name, you ass!" Cissnei glared at him, arms crossed.

Tifa turned to cover Marlene's ears as the girl's eyes widened. Then, she giggled and said loudly, "Daddy says much worse. Right, Denzel?"

The boy wasn't paying attention, though. His head was ducked into his phone, ears plugged with the latest buds.

Marlene made a face at him and then turned a pout up to Tifa. "Can I hold the baby now? You said Kunsel would let me if I washed my hands!"

Kunsel motioned at Marlene to sit in a chair near Cissnei's hospital bed and bent down to her as she held out her arms. "Here. Support her head at your elbow and you can—that's right! You're a pro!" Kunsel grinned at Marlene's beaming face. "Hey, Marlene," he said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper. "Zack can be a girl's name, too. Doncha think?"

Tifa's heart warmed as the girl's face scrunched up in thought. "Well, maybe someday, she'll want a boy's name anyway! But, you know what?"

"What?" Kunsel's attention turned rapt as Marlene cupped a hand to his ear. Tifa smiled and winked at Cissnei, catching the other woman's continued glare at her boyfriend for his devious attempts to get more agreement.

"My friend…her mom…when she was getting born…really liked the name Charlotte. But her dad wanted her to be a boy. And her dad liked the name Eddie no matter what. And she said they had a really big fight. And then her older brother said to mash the names and you know what her name is?" Marlene's eyes widened as she waited for Kunsel's response. He shook his head, eyes lit with interest. "Edlotta!"

Marlene grinned with pride until Denzel burst into laughter. "She looks like an Ed…Lotta!" He made a face with his fingers pulling at his ears and nose.

"Stop it, Denzel!" Marlene screeched at him, and the baby began to wail. She stared at Tifa with horrified panic. "What do I do?"

Tifa smiled at her. "It's alright. Babies startle easily. She'll calm back down if you just rock her." She turned toward the boy. "And you, knock it off!" The boy ducked when she took a swipe at the back of his head.

"Here, let's get her calm again," Kunsel said, gently lifting his daughter from Marlene. He laid her across Cissnei's lap as the two stared at their whimpering daughter. Cissnei cuddled her close, the room quieting again as the baby calmed and Denzel finally stopped his snickering.

"Maybe she's onto something." Kunsel scratched at his head as he straightened.

"Maybe who's onto what?" Cissnei asked quietly.

"A mash up," Kunsel answered.

Cissnei looked horrified and glanced at Tifa. "I'm afraid to ask."

The grumbling under his breath was nearly as loud as the truck's rumble around Seventh. For a weeknight, it was busy.

"Need me a wife to help pick up these damn kids, sometimes." Barret pulled into the drive as far as he could behind a length of cars just as guilt washed over him. "Hope my dear Myrna forgives me for sayin that. But sometimes just getting outta here is longer than my damn commute!"

The door to the garage slammed open as he got out of his truck. "Daddy! Guess what?!"

Marlene's school bag was draped over her shoulder, Denzel following close behind with his nose stuck in his phone. "I got to hold the baby! And Cissnei and Kunsel were fighting over her name. But then, I told them about Edlotta and Kunsel said I was on something. And then Cissnei said she wasn't against a 'connopize' and then, guess what they named her?"

Barret couldn't always follow the words tumbling out of his daughters mouth, but he always paid attention and made sure to keep communication open. He took the book bag from her shoulder as she climbed into his truck. "What's that, sweetpea?"

"Zakira!"

"Zakira, huh?"

"Yeah! And it was my idea!"

Denzel threw his books into the floorboard. "Way better than Edlotta!"

"Stop it, Denzel! Daddy! Make Denzel stop making fun of Edlotta! She's my best friend!"

Barret looked at the boy with a fatherly threat in his eyes. "Hey. Whud I say about that?" The boy didn't answer as he belted himself in and stuck his headphones back in his ears. "Oh, you gonna just act like I didn't ask you a question?"

Marlene tugged on his forearm, pulling Barret's attention from the adolescent. "Daddy! I forgot my homework on the table!"

He let out an impatient sigh and motioned for her to sit. "Alright, I'll get it. Stay buckled and don't touch nothin."

Noise from the bar filtered down the hallway. Barret couldn't even hear his normally loud boots hitting the floor.

The occupants of the kitchen didn't hear his approach, either.

Barret blinked at the scene. Tifa, head turned upward, receiving a very passionate kiss from a tall, pale Vincent.

Barret quickly retreated back into the hallway, feeling partly embarrassed, somewhat incensed, and fully shocked at what he'd seen. The romance was no secret, but he'd yet had to face it so fully on display.

Not wanting to burst in on the two and embarrass everyone, he reached for the door and called out. "What does your homework look like?" He yelled loud enough to be heard over the music, maybe a little louder than he needed to, then waited an appropriate moment for Marlene's answer before heading back into the kitchen. Tifa now scrubbed at a pan, elbows deep in the sink. Vincent leaned against the counter thumbing his phone. Both looked a little too inconspicuous.

"Hey, Vince," Barret said, trying to hide his awkwardness.

"Barret."

"Oh! Barret! Marlene left her homework on the table," Tifa said over her shoulder.

Barret didn't miss the blush on her cheeks, or how she wouldn't quite face him completely. He couldn't help the feeling that he'd just caught his little sister making out and turned away to hide his shudder, scratching the back of his head as he made a show of finding the homework and lifting it in triumph over his head. "Got it!" He steadied his nerves and turned back toward Vincent. "You…uh…here for dinner?"

Vincent looked up from his phone. "Reeve and I stopped in. He's parking the car."

Barret harumphed. "Wish him luck with that." He retreated a step, slapping Marlene's notebook against his thigh. "Well…uh…we gotta head out. Can't stay tonight." He turned away from Vincent's stare. "See ya, Teefs!"

"Goodnight, Barret!"

All Cloud could think was 'about time' as Reeve droned on about their progress into finding the rogue scientist as Tifa poured them more coffee. He cut a glare at Vincent. Maybe if the former Turk had spent more time searching and less time dating he would've found the fugitive by now. Cloud thought maybe he could've helped too, and seeing how long this has taken the WRO to solve, now is the time—if anything for Shalua's sake. The poor woman still harbored anxiety about her time as the madman's experiment.

"I'll tag along," he said and both Reeve and Vincent looked at him with eyebrows raised. "To capture Brukho. I'll go."

"Let me handle Brukho," Vincent said. "The Turks offered infor—"

"Yeah, the Turks you're so fond of taking missions with." Cloud snapped.

The commissioner's eyes darted between them before landing on Cloud, then he cleared his throat. "Well, there are a number of missions we need assistance with, Cloud. Particularly since a few men are out on paternity leave and—"

"I want Brukho."

"I work faster alone," Vincent growled.

"Yeah? Well your fast looks pretty slow to me." Cloud didn't miss the lightning-colored glint behind Vincent's eyes. He hoped the former Turk would make a move. Come on. Do it.

Tifa slammed her coffee cup on the table, rolling her eyes before she huffed into the bar. Vincent slowly rose from the table and followed her out without responding.

Reeve grabbed Cloud's shoulder. "A blizzard in the Modeoheim region has slowed efforts to search the area. It's where we believe Brukho is hiding. We've been unable to launch a good mission just as much as Vincent has been unable to confirm it's the right location. But, I promise, I'll keep you apprised when we go to arrest." He squeezed Cloud's arms and followed Vincent into the bar.

"What's on your mind?" Tifa asked, peering up into Vincent's face later that night as she snuggled against him.

He let out a sigh and pulled her closer. "I think Cloud is right."

She scoffed. "In what way?"

"I've been lazy about finding Brukho." He rose to sit up against the pillows, wary she would misunderstand.

"Even you can't control the weather, Vincent."

"True. But it never stopped me before."

"Is it me?" Her voice sounded small as she asked.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed his lips to hers. "You've been a most alluring distraction." He unfolded his limbs and dragged his feet to the floor.

Tifa rose behind him and draped herself over his back. "Duty calls?"

Vincent smiled. "Duty calls."

The thump of a cane alerted Vincent to the man walking down the hallway. Berry looked surprised to see him. "Vincent. It's early even for you, isn't it? I thought I was the only one who woke before dawn."

Vincent followed his old colleague into his office. "Can you identify this residue?" He pulled the syringe he took from the abandoned warehouse from his pocket and handed it to Berry.

The elderly man squinted as he peered down at the contents through his bifocals. "Well, there's obviously a mako agent present." He looked at Vincent over the rim of his glasses. "Where did you get this?"

"From the warehouse Yuffie found."

"Oh?" Berry stared at Vincent with something behind his eyes, a question Vincent knew he wouldn't allow to go unanswered.

"I need an unbiased opinion. Free of oversight."

Berry seemed to understand. "Follow me."

The doctor spent less than a minute viewing the residue under a microscope before turning to Vincent. His eyes appeared older somehow. "I've seen this before…unfortunately. Though this serum has evolved, I know the origin."

"They're surviving these injections?"

Berry shook his head. "I can't say. And it's not something I'm willing to run trials beyond the use of lab equipment."

"But you can analyze it?"

Vincent watched Berry run a battery of tests against the serum, listening to the old man's sighs of frustrations as dawn's light began to shine through the windows. "What I can say for certain is that only an enhanced individual can handle this agent," Berry said finally, cleaning his glasses with his smock. "What's not clear is how it changes them. We would need to know who took this and have him sit for a physical."

The doors to the labs opened as Simon and Bernard showed for their work day. Bernard gave a wave before heading to his workstation.

"Vincent!" Simon said, noticing him sitting next to Berry. "Well this is fortuitous. "Your new treatment should be ready this morning. Care for the next round?"

At Simon's beaming smile, Vincent rose, swiping the needle from the desk. Berry looked at him in surprise before Vincent shoved it back into his pocket. "Thanks for the help, doc," he said before following Simon into his office.

Simon swiped Vincent's arm with a cotton swab. "This is the sixth batch we've prepared. Shelke has responded well, and we think this version is a promising regimen for you."

He stuck Vincent and injected the thick serum. The prick stung and Vincent flinched, surprised at the stinging heat of the thick fluid spreading through his muscle and the surrounding tissue.

"Do you—notice something this time?" Simon looked at him intently. Curiosity mixed with hopeful analysis of Vincent's expression.

Vincent answered with a single nod, then said, "I feel it absorbing—" Vincent sucked in a breath as a sharp jolt shot through his arm. He clutched his bicep, confused and shocked at the searing pain coursing through his veins. His heart beat a frenzied cadence and he closed his eyes against the thundering palpitations.

"What is it?" Simon asked, leaning forward, and placing a steadying hand on Vincent's shoulder.

The sensation faded, as though the serum dissolved into his bloodstream, cooling the flow in his heated veins until the searing pain ebbed into the familiar pulse of the corruptions centered in his sternum. He eyed the doctor. "This is the same given to Shelke?"

"No," Simon said, seeming to watch Vincent with a mix of anticipation and concern. "It's a modified version of her treatment. But one I believe will lead to the results you seek. You'll…let me know if you're feeling any changes?"

Vincent stood, shaking his arm beneath his cape to keep the cooler blood flowing. "The first to know."

Yuffie burst into Vincent's office, hoping to scare him but the fright was hers far more than his. Vincent sat at his desk, head in his hands like he had a—headache? He clutched a steaming cup of tea in his gauntlet, hunched over like he wanted to lay down.

"Everything all right, Vincent?" she asked.

He glanced up, eyes bloodshot. She blinked in shock. He looked like he'd just come out of a transformation that lasted too long.

"I'm fine, Yuffie." He sounded tired.

"Yeah?" She edged closer. "Been back to Deepground today or something?"

He nodded. "Something like that." He looked at the documents in her hand. "What is it?"

"Oh," she said, remembering why she entered his office in the first place. "This is evidence. So, remember the Pilpub warehouses? The empty one with no loot or meds?"

He nodded again.

"Well, these—" She slapped the paper on his desk. "These are trade receipts. I know where Pilpub relocated to. And you're not gonna believe it!"

"Where?" he asked.

"Modeoheim." She let her satisfied smirk spread as Vincent perked up. "Suspicious, right? Isn't Modeoheim—abandoned?"

He stood suddenly and downed his tea in one gulp.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he flew out of the door without answering. Yuffie pouted a moment before she fished out her phone to send a message.

Yuffie—What's going on with Vincent? He looks kind of sick today. Is he on something? Like that weird tea?

The brig corridors smelled of gymnasium and industrial strength antiseptic, like the janitor crew had doused the floors in cleaning agents then added sweaty socks to the mix. The guard let him through the gate without scanning Vincent's badge. Didn't make eye contact, either. Even with his hair cut shorter and more civilized appearance, Vincent still frightened people.

Voices carried down the hall but too low for Vincent to catch the conversation. He quieted his steps. This wing only housed Parran and he wasn't allowed visitors. Vincent's brows lowered as he thought that Sybil might have dared return to the cell block.

"You and your crazy partner made all kinds of trouble," a male said. "I should've killed you the day you were captured."

"But—you can't now—can you?" That was Parran's tinny speech, his tone arrogant as he spoke to the other. "WRO jail guard. That's what you are now." Parran cackled. "Far cry from your glory days!"

Iron bars rattled and Parran let out a yelp. Vincent hurried down the block and turned toward the scientist's cell.

His footsteps echoed, warning the other who had rattled Parran's cage. The man turned, surprise flickering across his face at the same time Vincent halted under a fluorescent light overhead.

Luxiere stared back at him, a brief flash of irritation in his eyes before he retreated a step from Parran's hold. The uniform Luxiere wore was the same as any other guard. Not for the first time, Vincent questioned Reeve's sense. The SOLDIER-turned-guard sauntered past, pulling out a bully baton and dragging it across the iron bars as he left down the corridor.

Parran watched Vincent, wide-eyed, and stumbled further back into his cell. Fear rippled down the man's shoulders, so intensely Vincent could see his jumpsuit shaking.

"You have more to tell me, I think," Vincent said as he stopped at the iron bars and loomed over the prisoner.

Parran shook his head vigorously. "N…no…no! I don't!"

Vincent reached into his cape and pulled out the needle he'd taken from the abandoned warehouse. The scientist paled as his eyes drifted to the trace serum still clinging to the inside.

"I…I didn't make that!" Parran's voice pitched higher.

"No," Vincent said low, letting his voice grate and rumble like a demon. "But I think you know who did."

Parran's breathing quickened as Vincent reached into another pocket and pulled out a map detailing the northern continent. When he unfurled the paper with a snap of his wrist, Parran jumped and began wringing his hands like an old woman. "What…what is that?"

"Come closer." Vincent held the map through the bars as Parran slid a foot closer. He reached out with a trembling hand, snatching the paper like he feared suffering a bite.

Parran retreated, eyes panicked as he watched Vincent for any movement. Then, his eyes warily dragged to the map and widened before darting back to Vincent's face.

"Show me where he is," Vincent growled, almost too quiet for hearing but just enough for Parran's quaking to rattle his teeth.

"I…d…don't…" The scientist looked back up at Vincent, head shaking and breathing coming in rapid stutters. "I've…never been. So, I don't know exactly—"

Vincent subtly moved a foot, kicking the iron door, rattling the hinges in a loud cacophony throughout the jail hallways. Parran crumpled to his knees, hands over his ears as the sound echoed off the stone walls. The front of his jumpsuit darkened at his crotch, moments later urine pooled under one lace-less shoe.

"Show me," Vincent said again.

Parran pointed a shaking finger at a single point on the map. "Here?" Parran's eyes darted, sweat began to bead above his brow. "I don't remember. Uh…no wait! Wait! It's…not at the factory. That's right. It…it's a storage warehouse further up the road. Site B? The labs…the professor needed a hidden unit to dump their waste. So…it…was hidden from the main road."

The sound of a cage rattled all the way to the elevator. For a moment, Reeve doubted his decision to allow personnel transitions. But as he rounded a corner, he stopped short, sighting Vincent's hands gripping the bar, snarling into the jail cell with a viscousness rare even for a former Turk.

"You'd better pray for the skin on your bones that I find him this time."

"Vincent?" Reeve's eyes widened, his feet shuffled backward at the glare his friend turned toward him. "Is there…anything I can assist with?"

The hallway again filled with the cacophony of rattling metal as Vincent released the bars. He didn't look back at his subject as he moved toward Reeve, eyes flashing with the sinister gold before turning back to crimson. "What's Luxiere's purpose in the brig?"

A nervous laugh erupted from Reeve's throat as he channeled all of his political acumen into a sympathetic smile. The cool air of the basement prison suddenly felt stifling, and he loosened his collar. "Well, Vincent. The SOLDIER has been through the worst personal tragedy. His doctor cleared him for duty. So, I allowed him to transfer to a less stressful position."

"What makes you believe the brig isn't stressful?"

Reeve cleared his throat instead of offering an answer. Vincent wouldn't agree, no matter Reeve's reasoning. "Uh…how soon do you expect to leave for Modeoheim? Reports indicate the weather has cleared for sufficient visibility and travel."

"Immedia—"

As his answer cut off, Vincent let out a choked gasp. His brows drew together in pain and sweat beaded along his forehead and the bridge of his nose. He shuddered and closed his eyes, clutching at his chest.

"Vincent?" Reeve reached out to grab Vincent's shoulders, concerned at what looked like a heart attack. "Are you alright?"

Vincent straightened and shrugged off the support, seeming to recover from the episode, and nodded at Reeve. "Just…the new treatment from Simon. My body is acclimating. Nothing to worry about."

He hit the floor in a heap of red cape before Reeve could even offer a supportive arm.

"Guards! Call Dr. Simon! And bring a gurney!"