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Vincent closed his eyes, as if he was reaching for some hidden strength. Seeming to find whatever it was, he opened his eyes and met with Cid's rather vexed stare. But he said nothing. He simply watched Cid, those two red orbs of his probing him, causing him to shift awkwardly. He was making Cid uncomfortable again. No matter how many years they had been together, Vincent could always do that to him.
"Damnit, Vincent..." Cid mumbled, leaning against the wall again. "I know you care 'bout her. Let me go after 'em. We can still catch -"
"Cid, I guarantee you that they never left this building."
With renewed interest, Cid cast the most bewildered of looks towards his friend. And when Vincent couldn't suppress his slight smile at Cid's expense for a moment longer, the ex-pilot's gruff face cracked in the most ridiculous of grins. "Aw, you bastard!" Cid threw his metal pole to Vincent, who caught it deftly without even a wobble or twitch, and still with that stupid smile he ran to the door.
If Vincent didn't know any better, Cid had dollar signs shining brightly in his eyes.
Cid flung the door open; it squeaked and whined as it swung back and the loud noise, which accompanied it hitting the wall, made Vincent cringe ever so slightly. His head still hurt. Almost unconsciously his fingertips pressed against his temple as he watched Cid peer outside the room. Sure enough, as Vincent had predicted, the two Avalanche members and their leader were at the end of the dimly lit hallway, nearest the steps, just sitting there as if the wooden floor beneath them had turned to liquid, pulled their feet under and then hardened once again.
Tifa looked down the hall at Cid. "We have to talk."
Wedge gave a hopeful smile. Barret simply grunted and kept his eyes on the floor.
Talk indeed.
*
Cid closed the room's door behind him. If he needed a cigarette at any time it would have been now. Much to his disappointment, the few he had left were back in the room somewhere. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, the fingers of his right hand brushing against Cloud's picture, and trudged down the hallway. Talk. Cid scoffed to himself. Talk about what?
Tifa met him halfway, but Wedge and Barret did not follow. They stayed by the steps, forever glued in one spot, teetering near the edge of the steps, yet safely away from the fall. Cid watched them for a moment, then looked back at Tifa.
She hugged herself and nodded her head slightly. "I can accept the fact that Vincent was a Turk. It doesn't bother me."
One of Cid's eyebrows quickly arched upright. "Doesn't bother ya, huh? Is that why you left?" His voice didn't sound accusing. He was simply pointing out the obvious.
Nevertheless, Tifa quickly became defensive. "I was surprised, okay? I didn't expect him to say that!"
"You're a smart girl, Tifa. If Barret could figure it out, I'm sure ya damn well had a hint."
"He could have been honest with us from the start!" Tifa bit down on her tongue as soon as she spoke the words. She hoped it didn't sound as hypocritical as she thought it did. Before, she had made such a big deal about telling of Cloud's past, afraid they wouldn't understand. And here she was, demanding to know about Vincent's and then turning away the instant she heard.
"Really?" The cynical tone that tinged Cid's voice was an obvious clue that he had heard her words quite well. Too well. "Since when did Vincent have to tell three strangers everythin' he did a whole friggin' lifetime ago!" Cid's unintentional boom caused Barret to poke his head up and he glared towards the ex-pilot with that usual scowl of his. "That ain't fair, Tifa. Would it hurt to have a little trust in the people you hired?"
As true as his statement was, she didn't like hearing it. Trust you? Something else came into her mind at that very moment. What had Cid said before to Vincent yesterday? "Let's get outta here, Vin." Get out of here? Were they going to leave them when the Turks were attacking the day before? Tifa, if given a moment to reconsider or to think more on the matter, probably wouldn't have said her next words. In fact, as soon as she heard herself say it, she could feel her own stomach wrench in the sudden guilt that followed. "Trust? Trust the people who were going to leave us in the middle of a fight?"
Cid didn't look angry, as she had expected, only confused. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"
It was too late. There was no backing out now. She trapped herself. Perhaps if she hadn't been so shy before, she would have asked this sooner and at a more appropriate time, when both - all of them were not so angry and confused with each other. Tifa swallowed. "You were going to leave us yesterday. I heard you talking to Vincent, right after he pushed you into the alley."
Cid winced slightly. Damnit. Not now. I can't tell you now. He sighed and shook his head, whether to clear it or to deny Tifa's accusation, she did not know. "Tifa, if I could tell you what was going on -"
Tifa glared at him with such anger that Cid found himself nearly gaping. How did that saying go again? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
"Why did you try to stop him from fighting?" She spat.
When Cid recovered and found his voice, he opened his mouth with only a feeble, "Tifa -"
"They were trying to kill us, Cid!"
Cid's face darkened, almost unrecognizable in the dim lighting, and he slammed his fist into the wall, if only to gain her full attention. Barret looked over almost immediately and pushed himself off of the wall. But Cid ignored the big man, whose intimidating and looming figure vanished completely in Cid's mind when he spoke next. "Damnit, Tifa! Will ya listen to me?"
She jumped a little, not expecting him to do that and she glanced to the door, wondering if Vincent would come out at any moment. When Tifa was sure her bounty hunter wasn't there - though he probably heard them, Vincent heard everything - she looked back at Cid and nodded slightly.
I'm sorry, Vin. I have no choice... Cid closed his eyes and when he finally opened them again, a lingering sadness was there, something that surprised Tifa, who never would have expected such a gruff man to so easily show that emotion. "When Vincent gets angry... he can..." There was no other way to say it, no way to sugarcoat it, no way to get around it. Cid suddenly felt cornered. He bit his tongue. "He can... turn into a monster." That last sentence was lowered considerably, as if he thought Vincent might be listening.
Tifa laughed, though there was very little humor behind the gesture. Cid raised an ash-colored brow questioningly. What the hell was she laughing at? Of all things to make a mockery of in this world, Vincent was not one of them.
"Many people can be monsters when they're angry, Cid."
"No, you don't understand." Cid rubbed his eyes, breathed in and watched Tifa until her chocolate eyes locked with his. It was the first time he realized just how beautiful her eyes truly were. He thought of Vincent for a moment. They both had that powerful feel that held you in place until you were too lost to speak. Cid didn't look away, didn't even blink. "He can literally turn into a monster."
Tifa stared at him disbelievingly, a small smile tugging at the edges of her lips. She wanted to smile. She wanted Cid to say he was simply making some kind of perverse joke. She searched his face, desperately wanting to see that shred of humor that she prayed was there. She didn't find it. Tifa felt her own legs move backwards a step. All she found in Cid's face was what was painfully obvious. He wasn't joking. He was serious. Her mouth opened slightly and she could utter only one thing. "What?"
"The fangs, the horns, the wings... the whole damn thing."
Wings...
Not beautiful, feathery ones. How could a monster have those wings?
Tifa simply shook her head, that set determination in her eyes. She had already made up her mind about the situation. "No. That's impossible."
"Tifa -"
She backed away again, feeling Barret's presence behind her. But for once the big man's brotherly protection wasn't enough to make her feel safe. She felt a shudder impulsively run throughout her body. Why was he saying those terrible things? How could he say that about Vincent? "You're wrong."
Shit, you don't know how bad I wish you were right. Cid could almost feel the picture in his pocket burn. Lord did he need a cigarette right now... "No, I'm not." He lowered his voice and stepped nearer to her, closing the gap between them. "I've seen it happen more times than I would've liked. He can't control it too well. It's... not his fault."
Not his fault? Did Cid think she would blame Vincent? Tifa shook her head to try to clear it and she bit her lip hard, trying to force herself to keep standing, despite the persistent spinning of everything in the room. No, not everything. Just the room. "How?" The instant she heard that word slip passed her lips, she knew she wouldn't like what Cid had to say next. But some small part of her wanted to know.
"Do ya remember a guy named Hojo?"
She nodded vaguely, glancing over her shoulder to Barret. The big man's eyes had softened somewhat, but that same hard, unmoving expression was still upon his face. "Barret said something about him working for ShinRa." The other day... It was just a day ago that she overheard Vincent whisper that word in response to Barret's question. Hojo. It sounded familiar, but she could not find a face to fit that strange name. Hojo... Why couldn't this just be a dream?
Cid scoffed. "Yeah, somethin' like that." He turned around, pressing his back against the wall, its hard and firm feeling enough to keep Cid focused. He stayed quiet, perhaps thinking of what to say next. Tifa thought she lost him for a moment and even considered calling out his name to bring him back to reality. Finally, he glanced over to the girl and he looked nearly awkward when he spoke next, his words low and soft. "Shit. He screwed Vincent up pretty bad, Tifa."
Vincent's arm, those scars on his back... It suddenly made sense. Tifa felt dizzy. "I... I didn't know," she whispered, so softly that normally Cid would barely have been able to make out her words. But the silence of the hallway was enough to make the faintest of sounds seem like cosmic booms.
"Other than that bastard, I'm the only one who does know. And now you do." He looked at her sharply, suddenly becoming defensive. But it wasn't for himself. "And don't go lookin' at him funny now, either. He's... he's still Vincent. And he'll always be Vincent, no matter how many of those damn demons are in 'im."
Vincent... Tifa tried to picture the surprisingly handsome man with horns and fangs, but try as she did, there was no way she ever could. How could she picture anyone like that, even Vincent? The Turk thing she could handle. ShinRa men she could easily take. But monsters? She killed monsters. Vincent was certainly scary in his own way, and she suddenly realized how lucky Avalanche was to have him on their side. If he was fighting against them... Tifa swallowed hard. She didn't want to go where that thought led her. Vincent Valentine was a demon. In some strange way that made perfect sense. It certainly would explain things. Vincent. She had to talk to him. Some lingering hope that this still might be a joke tugged cruelly at her mind.
"Teef?"
She heard Wedge's soft voice behind her, but she didn't look back. Tifa, jaw set, eyes determined, marched for the inn room's door. Vincent would set these crazy people straight. Vincent wouldn't make such a perverse joke about himself. Vincent would tell her the truth. Tifa stood before that ugly, wooden barrier separating her from the truth. Cid was mistaking. Her gloved hand squeaked when it turned the doorknob.
Vincent looked up as soon as she entered the room. The door closed silently again, though to his mind it was like the metal bars to a cage slamming shut behind Tifa, trapping her with him. Certainly the beautiful young princess didn't want to be with the dragon. Didn't the princess want the knight who slays the fiery beast? Vincent watched her mutely, those pools of red and gold searching her for a moment. Surprisingly enough Vincent couldn't understand the look upon the girl's face. He would have guessed anger and confusion, but it was neither.
She walked up to him, dismissing the soft patter of rain outside the room and the noise it made upon the window's glass. Even with the lights on things were impossibly gloomy looking. Why was everything so damn dark all the time? For a time they simply stared at each other and Tifa felt her cheeks blush slightly when, unexpectedly, certain thoughts entertained her mind. Her fingers unconsciously touched her lips. Vincent had kissed her, though he probably didn't remember. Or maybe he did. Was that why he was looking at her so funny? Or was he looking through her?
She closed her eyes. Now or never. "Vincent -"
"Tifa." His voice, though quiet, demanded importance, something that had to be listened to, no matter the situation. "This isn't working."
What? Where did that come from? Tifa gaped slightly. She certainly wasn't expecting that. Vincent Valentine had incredibly, almost impossibly, good hearing. Of course he overhead. Of course he knew what was going on. Tifa didn't know whether to be angry at that or to just shut up and accept it. She looked up at his indifferent eyes. "I hired a bounty hunter, Vincent. I didn't hire a demon. I don't care what they say you turn into when you're angry. I need you to stay."
Vincent wanted to smile at her words. If only you didn't care, Tifa. Wasn't this the second time she had to talk him into staying? Somehow he knew that there would be a third time as well. Third time's the charm. "You'll have to find someone else," he simply said. He couldn't let what little feelings he had left get in the way. He was what he was. Vincent could barely live with that, and he wasn't about to ask that much of her.
She shook her head, her chestnut colored hair coming loose when she did so. Strands of dark brown slipped from out the tie and fell down her shoulders. "No. You made me a promise, Vincent Valentine. And I expect you to keep it."
"Then I will find him, Tifa."
Vincent winced inwardly at his own words echoing inside of his head. He didn't like to make promises. But once one was made he damn well delivered, no matter the reason or even the insanity behind it. Vincent sighed quietly. He crossed his arms before his bare chest and nodded so slightly that she didn't know whether he was agreeing with her or simply lowering his gaze. I did say that, didn't I? But...
"Tifa, it isn't that simple."
God, he sounded like Cid right there.
"I'm not an idiot, Vincent! Nothing is simple." She shut her eyes and her thick lashes fanned out across her cheeks. "I think... I think I’m drowning." Tifa opened those bottomless pools of darkness and watched him. "I don't want to drown. I don't want to be left behind. But I feel as though I am. I feel as if there is so little time left. Everyone around me is leaving me behind... and I'm not fast enough to catch up. I'm drowning, Vincent. I'm drowning and I can't save myself."
Tifa was a strong girl, Vincent knew as much. And to see her falter made something inside of him twist. Was it a plea for help? Was she falling like him? Was she helplessly clinging onto the edge to stay afloat? No, not Tifa Lockheart. She was stronger than she knew, and Vincent wanted to make her see that. She didn't need to be saved, she just needed the help to stand on her own, to see her own strength. I think you would be surprised at what you can do, Tifa. Vincent pushed himself off of the end table.
He watched her for a moment, then simply asked, "What do you want, Tifa? What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to tell me that I'm a fool for ever loving a ghost. Tell me I'm wrong to believe I can still get him back. Tell me..." Tears streamed down her cheeks, sobs forcing her to stop for a moment and swallow the dense air around them. "Tell me something..." As soon as those tears came, those silvery streams that caught the dim light of the room, they stopped. Her bottom lip, which had been trembling slightly, no longer shook. Just don't look at me, Vincent. Just don't look at me like I'm not even here...
"I can't tell you that, Tifa." His face seemed like ice, almost annoyingly so, unmoving and indifferent as always. But his eyes had changed. Something was there that she hadn't noticed before. The ice was cracking. Vincent moved closer to her and suddenly her skin prickled with the strange warmth that followed after him. "We all chase after ghosts at one time or another. That seems to be my job, to chase after ghosts."
Tifa assumed that in Vincent's strange way that meant that he would complete the job and keep his promise to her. She smiled faintly. "You aren't chasing after other people's ghosts, Vincent. I think you're looking for your own."
Vincent moved away from her, as if those words had hurt him somehow. "Perhaps."
"You'll... stay then?" She knew he had given the answer, secretly encoded in his words, but she wanted the security of a definite yes.
He gave a slight nod.
Good. There was no better man for ghost hunting than Vincent Valentine.
*
There was a strange sort of silence in the laboratory and so little light that the haunting, green glow that had settled there cast the most ghostly and dream-like appearance upon everything it sought to touch. All sorts of metal contraptions lined the room, some grotesquely large, others impossibly small, and ones so odd that they looked to be things which belonged solely in the darkest of nightmares. Soon the peaceful silence broke to the electronic song of beeps and chirps from machines finally turned on, and the ghastly green was at once dismissed by the ceiling lights' florescent bulbs.
Once the soft lights chased away most of the dark, the green color was forced to linger only upon the back wall, where human-sized tubes were stationed. Each were filled with a variety of organisms, each floating in a dilute liquid, as if suspended in midair, not quite touching the floors of the tubes, not quite close enough to the tops to successfully claim freedom.
The electronic song was interrupted by the rhythmical sound of tapping, then the soft hiss of someone's voice.
"Perfect..."
The tapping stopped and the song continued, disrupted only by the sounds of bubbling and churning water. A man's slight frame parted the shadows of the back wall and stopped before one of the tubes. He tilted his head upward to gaze contently at the shape behind the glass. With the end of the pen in his hand, the man tapped the glass once more. The smallest of smiles curled his lips and he returned the pen to the pocket of his lab coat. Seemingly satisfied with his subject's progression, the man turned away from the tubes and made for the exit once more. Casting one last look back, as if not entirely sure they were alone, he turned off the florescent lights one by one.
There was the hiss of the door being air locked behind him and soon the haunting green glow settled back over the laboratory. Nothing could be seen behind the blanket of green darkness save for two startlingly blue orbs.
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