A/N: Please forgive me! The long hiatus was not planned. Truthfully, I never stopped working on this. The issue was that I created a mess and had to fix it before I started posting any additional chapters. I wanted to get through that editing process before I started again. And, of course, work has been rough over the past couple of years, so that definitely slowed me down. Anyway. Let's pick this back up again. Shall we? And finally get this fix completed! :)
Chapter 42
Sympathy
A drizzle cooled a hillside overlooking Midgar's ruins. The rain might've only been a respite from the heat, except for its timely fall at such an event. Tifa folded herself against Molly's back as her friend wept into Pete's chest. She looked across the small gathering, over faces she'd never seen, and swallowed her own welling tears.
Luxiere slouched over his young wife's shrouded figure, which laid cold and motionless, suspended above the ground on the thin platform that would lower her remains into the grave. A look of panic and despair spread across his face. His friends, other SOLDIERs, surrounded him in their solemn show of support though he said nothing, made no gesture or sign of comprehension when the commissioner leaned near to speak low in his ear. Tifa couldn't hear Reeve's words but imagined he expressed appropriately heartfelt and consoling words.
As the ground crew released the lever and Liza's body began its final descent into the earth, Luxiere let out a single low moan before clamping the noise behind a steel-jawed barrier. Several pairs of strong hands reached for him, bracing his arms and shoulders with sympathy.
"Come on, girl." Molly tugged on her hand, and Tifa shuffled heavy feet through the wet grass, looking over her shoulder only a single time, long enough to see Luxiere, silent with tears, staring in abject horror at the hole in the ground.
A part of Vincent felt relieved he had an appointment at the same time as the woman's funeral. But there was that other part, the one that still echoed—his fault. Something he should've done something about long ago when it mattered just as much.
The gun gleamed on his desk. Vincent's reflection stared back at him on the silver-encased barrel. He'd never cleaned the damn weapon so thoroughly, as if this time he wasn't merely wiping away powder and residue, but his guilt.
He'd just returned from meeting with Dr. Simon again. Another venture into the labs to discuss his medical obstacles and any chance the good WRO doctors could solve his dilemmas.
"Are Curie's files useful?" Vincent had asked. He'd been waiting for some kind of confirmation or news that their efforts helped current research.
Simon glanced up as he secured the tourniquet around Vincent's arm. "Well…yes…and no. Her work was focused on corrupted cell migrations in stream flows. But she did make some observations of Gillian Hewley's pregnancy which proved useful." Simon looked regretful a moment. "Uh…less of her notes mention the…Crescent pregnancy. But what we were able to glean has made a difference for a few patients. The Turk being one," he said, voice lowered.
Vincent raised his eyebrows at the doctor. It seemed the man's tone changed at mention of Cissnei. Vincent smirked. Easy, sometimes, for everyone to forget Vincent's previous employment history.
"Still." Simon bent his head close and inserted the needle. "We're seeing more SOLDIER pregnancies by the day. It seems every man on our security teams has a wife or girlfriend expecting. And worse…a third of them aren't responding to treatment." He shook his head. "Would be nice if there were more journals. Or former ShinRa scientists we could question."
Vincent stared hard at his blood filling the collection tube. He was almost done hunting down the scientists involved with the Jenova program. Only one left to find, and the worst of the bunch. Brukho was elusive.
"When I think of the children," Simon continued. "The babies being born. They are the ones we do this for." He gripped Vincent's shoulder briefly. "We don't want more orphans. But I must say, Ms. Lockhart will be a fine adoptive mother."
The hospital seemed to return to their business as usual, like there wasn't a funeral today. But such is the way of hospitals. The sick and injured required healing no matter the events around them and the building and its staff saw to that life and death. The rainy-day interment had seeped into Tifa's body. She rolled her shoulders at a soreness, tensed muscles over the strain of not only witnessing her best friend's anguish, but the helplessness of a young man who'd lost the only person he cared about more than himself.
And Tifa was on a mission to save the man's child. She examined room numbers and signs for the special nursery Reeve had mentioned. Liza's baby wouldn't be with natural infants.
Thick serum undulated in the vial. Simon set to work preparing more auto-injectors, and Vincent looked on with thoughts roiling.
"Shelke Rui's treatments are working better than we hoped," the doctor said. "I've currently got a batch synthesizing to test on you. The new serum has integral properties in the antidotes we've developed to fight the poisons we've seen SOLDIERs have trouble healing from." Simon eyed him over his spectacles. "I believe you're familiar with the wounds I'm referring to?"
"Heg snake bites."
"Yes," Simon said and prepared another needle. "We've studied a few of these Heg snake samples…courtesy of Captain Samuels procurement efforts. The Hegs have something in common with you."
Vincent's eyebrows shot up for a moment. "Oh? Are they capable of bursting into a chainsaw-wielding demon?"
Simon chuckled nervously. "Not exactly. Uh…we detected corrupted cells not unlike the corruptions in your bloodstream, except, of course, they're unable to produce your full range of…abilities. It seems the primary goal of the Heg experiment was to enhance the poison and test the viability of corrupted Lifestream in a living creature. We were quite astonished the animals could breed under those conditions, given their lab creation through gene splicing in manufactured eggs. But breed they have and created some pretty nasty mutants. Seems many of ShinRa's former experiments are breeding with a vengeance these days.
"Likewise, it explains the difficulty Samuels and Mr. Strife had removing the poison from their bloodstream. I cannot imagine what a bite would do to a non-enhanced individual. As you know, Vincent, these corruptions are not meant to reside in a living creature… it's not something nature usually allows."
"Hm." Vincent considered the information. Somehow Brukho had achieved results in-line with Hojo's own demented ambitions. A scary thought that the man was still on the loose. He thought it a blessing to have WRO working to combat those abuses. "And you believe modifying Shelke's treatment with a poison antidote will help me?"
"We'd like to try, Vincent. I've conducted tests on your cell samples already. The treatment isolates the corruptions to a single locale, not unlike a magnet, and that allows your own cells to repair—uh—with Mako helping. But, unfortunately, I'm afraid we can do nothing to remove the Mako."
Simon paused to watch for a reaction, but Vincent kept a straight face. He didn't want to discourage the doctor from any of his research. The results stood to help not only Vincent but hundreds, maybe thousands of people in the post-ShinRa-dominated world.
"I don't want that to worry you either. From what I understand, your friend suffered the same involuntary induction into Mako experimentation."
"My friend?"
"Mr. Strife. True, he received the SOLDIER battery of enhancements. However, what I'm referring to is the condition his body was in when the processes were inflicted on him."
The doctor paused again, but Vincent wasn't quite sure what he was getting at. Cloud's enhancements and his own were not the same. The only common element of their conditions was the fact that it was forced.
"So—if this works—you'll be more like the average SOLDIER than an average man. I would urge you to take convalescence when we begin these tests." Simon smiled as he continued. "It appears Ms. Lockhart is quite the nurse from what I've gathered."
Vincent shot a glare at the second mention of Tifa. "What do you mean?"
"Uh…the commissioner mentioned that she helped Mr. Strife a number of times when his condition presented problems for him. And, from what I understand, she was a tremendous help recently when he suffered the poison injury." The doctor finished with his needle kit and dared go further. "I simply mean that she is quite the caretaker, and you could do worse."
No reply met the doctor's presumptions. Is this how everyone saw Tifa? As Cloud's nursemaid and caretaker? Vincent knew it to be true. Cloud couldn't get a splinter in his finger without Tifa tending the wound and talking him through the trauma. And now she would be taking care of Cloud and a baby with unknown strength.
The doctor cleared his throat and continued, "We'll…still need to figure out how to draw the corruption from your body safely—without rupturing any vital organs. However, I'm confident this is the right course." He handed Vincent the needles he'd just prepared and smiled as they stood.
Vincent pocketed the injectors and used his fingers to count the number now hidden in his cape. Four in total. Maybe even that low number was more than he needed now that his triggers were contained. He had Tifa to thank for that. "When should I return for the test drug?"
Simon followed Vincent toward the door. "It shouldn't be a day or two. I'll send you a message when it's ready."
Vincent couldn't get away fast enough. He returned to his office to clean his weapons, clean his mind. Guilt seeped into his chest just as the oil seeped into the pores of his gun. Part of him wondered if he should have attended the funeral with Tifa. But the practical part of him knew he wouldn't be welcome. Maybe it made him a coward. Maybe he deserved judgment.
ShinRa's mess would last decades longer and WRO's scientists would continue their efforts to make a difference and right the wrongs…just like Tifa was trying to do. Her heart of gold, big enough to take in a child who wasn't hers, who was borne of a man who hated her and what her friends had wrought on his SOLDIER ambitions. It was a burden Tifa shouldn't have to bear, though one she'd always taken on since he'd known her. Caring for others before herself was who Tifa was at her core.
The maternity ward nurse's station never seemed busy like other wards. The nurses didn't have as much to do, so Tifa supposed staring at her was their most pressing priority. She smoothed her button-down blouse over her khaki slacks. The ensemble wasn't her usual fashion, but she assumed it was…motherly.
Nurse Holly glanced up from her keyboard and handed Tifa a visitor's badge. "Ok, you're on the list. Here's a visitor's badge that will get you inside. Oh—" Holly paused, placing the badge on her desk and squinted at her computer screen. Her eyebrows raised at the information she read. Tifa tried to peek at the screen, but it was angled out of her view. "This was approved by the Commissioner. Um…let me…get you a permanent badge. Says here you're supposed to receive one. Could you stand against the wall?"
Tifa hid her surprise as the nurse took her picture, then swiveled the screen so Tifa could see the image. The nurse said nothing but seemed to wait for Tifa to approve. She nodded and the nurse returned the monitor. "Just give me one more minute and I'll get this printed."
Tifa sat in a row of chairs opposite the station, avoiding eye contact with the other healthcare workers as she waited for her badge. A minute later, Nurse Holly returned. "You're very photogenic," she said, finally handing over a card with Tifa's face on it. "Just head down this hall—and third door on the left is yours. You'll have to swipe the panel and wait for the click to open." She presented her back to Tifa and returned to her work without a backwards glance.
Tifa pulled in a big breath and walked down the corridor. She tentatively held her badge at the appointed panel, hoping this was the right thing to do. It felt odd to her thinking that she was trying to take Liza's place. But the baby needed someone warm and kind. Not a hospital or lab environment that offered no love or comfort.
She swiped the badge. After the click, the latch easily gave and Tifa peeked into the room. The lights were dimmed in what appeared to be a small waiting lobby with five chairs lined along the wall. Interior windows lined the opposite wall and were flanked by doors, which opened to separate rooms with cribs, neo-natal machines, rocking chairs, and fuzzy animals painted on the walls.
"Uh…ma'am?"
Tifa turned at the voice and noticed a small woman sitting on the other side of a small service window. "Your badge, please?" She extended her hand and Tifa handed her the ID.
The nurse scrutinized the photo, then Tifa. She swiped the card across her keyboard and waited until something lit on the computer screen. The woman smiled at Tifa. "Ok, you're in room number one, Miss Lockhart." With that she shut the window and lowered her nose to a book. Efficient.
Room number one was on the far right, the lights dimmer still from its curtained window. He must be sleeping. If he was, Tifa decided not to disturb the baby—or maybe wait around until he woke. She could at least sit with him. He would know someone was there with him.
Tifa peered through the window and dangled her fingers on the doorknob, startled at the presence of another with the child.
Luxiere sat in the darkened nursery's rocking chair, tears rolling down his reddened cheeks as he stared down at his baby cradled lovingly in his arms. The little boy slept peacefully in his father's hold.
Tifa's heart broke for the little family. Luxiere's anguish was immense.
He looked up then and blinked at Tifa. She pulled away, ready to mouth an apology if he growled at her. But the man didn't scowl or snap as he usually did. He only looked back at Tifa a moment longer, fresh tears welling in his eyes before he looked back down and snuggled his boy closer.
Tifa's breath stuttered in her chest. Luxiere's grief, his sad bonding with his baby was not Tifa's affair. She retreated, leaving the man and his child to their private moment.
Feeling forlorn and melancholy, Tifa ambled down the maternity ward. She was so lost in her thoughts she missed the greeting until fingers snapped in front of her nose.
"Hello? Gaia to Tifa?" Cissnei brushed Tifa's arm. "You doing all right? I must've called out to you four times."
Tifa blinked. "Cissnei." She eyed the backpack at Cissnei's feet. "What's going on?"
It took another moment before Tifa realized that Cissnei was dressed in regular people clothes, the room behind her now occupied by another woman in the throes of labor.
Cissnei shrugged and kicked at her bags. "Heading home finally," she chuckled. "The new home I moved into but haven't yet slept in! Anyway, Bernard cleared me for release. He says I've got a couple more weeks at most, but there's no need for me to stick around now that I'm doing better."
"Oh!" Tifa smiled or tried to with her sullen feelings still coiling in her chest. "That's good news, then. The treatments are finally working, I guess?"
"Yeah, recommendations from the pediatrician Vincent met up with—Dr. Curie. Her notes are life-saving apparently."
Tifa nodded as her smile faded. She was relieved for Cissnei, but Luxiere's face loomed large in her mind.
"You ok, Tifa? You look as though someone dug up your bones."
"I'm…fine…Cissnei. Really." She reached out to hug the small Turk. "Um, when you get settled, why don't you guys come by for dinner? You deserve something better than hospital food." She waved off Cissnei's worried glance and left with the SOLDIER still heavy on her mind.
Brawls broke out as a matter of course at a bar. Seventh claimed a good reputation, though Tifa made it clear that her place wasn't sitting in the slums anymore. Any fight started in her bar—she would end.
The rough sort showed on occasion. Nothing she couldn't handle with her own two fists, but she never turned down help—no matter who offered. Brawling SOLDIERs, however, wasn't common. Especially when they fought each other. There were far fewer of them, like everyone else, since Meteor.
Tifa didn't recognize the two that had entered right at happy hour. The trademark eyes told much. Their order was simple. Something hard and two Junon ales. They kept to themselves until the others showed up.
Tifa vaguely knew the new pair, having seen them working in WRO security teams. But no friendly reunion happened between the two SOLDIERs groups. No 'where ya been' or 'good ta see ya, buddy.' Angered words were mumbled. Then, 'Say that to my face' shouted. Accusations flew. All were traitors in the others' eyes.
Chairs skittered across the floor as they all jumped to their feet at once. Rikku dove behind the bar.
"Stay down," Tifa told her, then hurried between tables 3 and 4, and stood between four pairs of sky blue eyes glaring at each other. "Either you sit down or take it to the streets, gentlemen. I don't allow this in my bar."
A particularly tall one with sandy blonde hair snickered at her. "Oh yeah?" He bent down to sneer in her face. "You let traitors like this into your bar all the time, lady? Seems to me you're begging for it."
"Just like you, Jace. Pickin fights with women," another said behind her, one she recognized but couldn't recall his name.
Jace's silent friend scooted his chair back and stood behind Jace, who straightened and took a step, his body invading Tifa's personal space like she was nothing and no one. "You gonna do something about it, Tommy?" Tifa felt her anger rising and put two hands on his chest, trying to stop his advance. "Zack's not here to fight for you this time. Is he?"
Tifa shoved as hard as she could, but the SOLDIER didn't budge. "Get out of my bar. Consider this your last warning!"
He looked down at her and laughed in her face. Tifa thought she'd never seen a bigger man. Not even Barret packed this much muscle. Jace grabbed Tifa under her armpits and easily lifted her from the floor. She let out an angry screech and tucked her knees to her chest and kicked out. The SOLDIER dropped her, shocked from the force she could exert, and stumbled backward into the table. When he finally anchored his feet and found his balance, he snarled at her. "You bi—"
Tifa launched a foot at his chin with a front snap kick. He fell onto the table, breaking it with his fall and clutching his bleeding mouth. "I said—get—out—of my bar!" She stood over him with hands on her hips as the SOLDIERs silent friend helped him to his feet.
Jace spit blood onto her floor and curled a hand into a fist. "That was your one, lady." He lunged at her, clearly unaware of Tifa's speed and agility. She leapt out of his reach as the other SOLDIERs launched themselves in the fray. And the next thing she knew, chairs were flying as much as fists. She wished Cloud was already home. The usual drunk she could handle just fine. But four angry SOLDIERS were a tall order, even for Tifa.
She kicked out and tripped up the brawlers as much as she could without damaging too much furniture. As she ducked from a swinging fist, the bell at the door rang as another customer came in. "Now's not a good time!" She yelled out, then punched the silent one in the nuts. She stood as the man bowled over and clutched his no-nos.
The next thing she knew a pair of arms curled around Jace and pulled him out of the brawl. "What the fuck are you doing, man?"
Tifa recognized that voice. She met Luxiere's eyes as he pulled Jace toward the door.
"Alright. Alright!" Jace held up his hands and Luxiere loosened his grip. The man straightened his shirt and wiped at his bloody mouth and nose with a hand. "We were just leaving this shit hole anyway." Jace kicked a chair at the other two and smirked at Tifa. "Let's go, Dave."
Dave, the silent one, followed Jace out of the door, and Tifa stood motionless, staring at Luxiere and waited for his next move. He seemed to survey the damage before turning his unfeeling attention toward the other SOLDIERs. "You ok, Tom?" he asked. Tifa thought he sounded…defeated. No hint of the usual arrogant swagger she'd come to know from Luxiere.
"All good, Lux," Tommy said. The two seemed to hesitate, something unspoken passing between them as they considered each other, as though wondering who to trust. "Thanks."
Luxiere nodded, then slowly met Tifa's eyes again. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow and his lips stretched into a thin line. She waited still. Was she supposed to say something? "Um," she began. "Thanks for the intervention."
His gaze swept her from head to foot, but not in the lecherous way he'd done in the past. She thought he might say something; he looked as though he wanted to, but something held him back.
"I'm so sorry, Luxiere," she said softly. "About Liza. If there's anything I can do—"
He gave another nod before turning on his heel and leaving the bar.
The stress of the day shot a bolt straight down her spine and she lowered herself into a chair, clutching at her back and the pain that wrapped around her ribs.
The bar emptied just before Vincent arrived. He took one look at her clutching her ribs and she noticed a brief, yellow flash in his eyes. She smiled at him as she wiped down a beer-covered table.
"What happened?" he asked. She straightened at the irritation in his tone, dropping her hand and giving him a pain-filled shrug.
"The usual, unfortunately."
"A bar fight?"
She sighed, wincing at the sharp pain in her side that shot down her abdomen, then gave a stuttered laugh. "You guessed it."
"Hold still." His hand wrapped around her waist, then glowed green until she began to breathe easier. "You need a bodyguard."
"Ha, ha. Cloud lives here, you know. He provides security." She looked up at Vincent when he didn't reply. His expression turned strange with an emotion she couldn't place. "What is it?"
His eyes met hers, his face turning more serious. "You take so much onto yourself, taking care of everyone else."
"What? Do you mean the bar?" Tifa wasn't sure she was reading him right. Vincent normally wasn't the over-protective sort and knew she was an accomplished fighter. The bar certainly wasn't more than she can handle. She'd run the business since her teenage years, the only vacation their time chasing Sephiroth.
"It's nothing more than I usually do," she continued. "Hell, I think I have less to do now that the kids live with Barrett."
He didn't answer, just pursed his lips and stared at her waist, then made a sly glance toward the bar.
"Or … Is it Cloud?"
Vincent pulled her closer and kissed her hair. "The last few months have been emotional, especially the past weeks."
He seemed to have more to say, but quieted. She looked up into his face. "And?"
"And," he said, sighing through his nose. "Maybe if Cloud is here for security, he could provide security."
Tifa looked over her shoulder at where Cloud sat at the bar, nursing his beer like he had been the last couple of hours. He threw glances their way and scowled deeper. Tifa turned back to Vincent. "He's only just healed from his injury. It was doctor's orders to take it easy. He's much better and barely limps if it's not raining."
"Thanks to you."
"Yeah? So?" She retreated a step and wondered at Vincent's point. "It was a group effort. Me and the WRO."
Vincent grabbed her hand and looked downward, a bit rueful. "Hm," he replied and brought her hand to his lips. "Maybe it's time for him to do more on his own. Not put so much on you."
"You know how much Cloud has been through. You should understand more than anyone, right?"
"I do. But you have your bar to run and still look after the children. I wonder at how much more you can give of yourself." He paused and seemed apologetic for speaking. "And asking to adopt a baby—"
Tifa pulled her hands free. "Vincent." Tears welled in her eyes. "I want…to help."
"I know," he replied gently. "It's a lot for one person though."
"Are we…having a fight?" She crossed her arms. How could he suggest she do any different? She thought he understood why she wanted to adopt the baby.
He wrapped his arms around her. "Of course not. Forgive me."
