The next two days passed slowly. Tifa didn't work the first day, and so spent it with Lily in her garden, and then in helping her clean her house: vacuuming, washing, and watching the dust motes float from furniture toward the beckoning sunlight pouring in through the open windows. And then they cooked a tuna-pasta dish with bread crumbled on top. Enough for three, out of habit Lily said, and then she put a portion of it away in the fridge.

Lily didn't talk much as they busied themselves with things, though she would occasionally stop in the middle of what she was doing to listen as a floorboard creaked upstairs. Once, Tifa was sure she heard her mutter, "Wonder if he's got anything to eat." It was a little funny, she thought, that out of all of the things she could be upset about, Lily was only concerned with whether or not Vincent was eating properly. As if the argument itself, who was right and who was wrong, wasn't really very important.

It was strange, too, Tifa mused, to feel in the middle like this. Not since Avalanche -- she the self-proclaimed mediator between Barret and Cloud in the beginning, one old friend and one more recent companion clashing together as they were forced to work out their differences. But here, she was the new-comer, and not even exactly a friend of Vincent's. And it wasn't her place to get involved. Lily hadn't said yet what the fight had been about, and Tifa knew it wasn't her business. Vincent and Lily had been having arguments since long before she'd arrived, and this one would certainly blow over like the others without her help.

The second day she worked at Mr. Fallowfield's store, and she left Lily's kitchen with the distinct impression that the older woman wasn't far from going upstairs, if only to knock and leave a covered pan on Vincent's doorstep. But that afternoon, when she returned, nothing had changed. Lily was working furiously in her garden and for all of the activity going on upstairs the top apartment might as well have been vacant. With a sigh, Tifa entered Lily's kitchen and set about making them some tea.

Lily came in a few minutes later, smiling and dirty. "So, you're back. Pour me a mug of that, will you? I'm going to take a bath."

Tifa opened the refrigerator door to get the milk and noticed that the covered pan from last night was missing, as were the last few containers of stew from the freezer. Had Lily gone up, after all?

The sound of running water was coming from the bathroom. Tifa chewed her lip for a moment before rummaging for a couple of a cigarettes and a spare lighter she found in a basket of change on the counter. A quick shake revealed the presence of a little bit of lighter fluid. With a breath, she steeled herself and headed upstairs.

At first she was going to knock, but as she arrived at his door she changed her mind. The covered pans and bowls were still there on his doorstep, where Lily had evidently left them. And Tifa couldn't help but feel a little offended on behalf of the older woman. An act of generosity, done purely out of concern, negligently scorned. Well, it was Vincent's loss, she thought to herself. If he wanted to be a vitriolic prick, more power to him. She put the cigarettes and the lighter on top of the pile of dishes and turned on the stairwell to go back downstairs.

She was just heading through the bottom door when she heard the sound of a doorknob turning behind her. Quickly, she ducked out of sight. And, after a few seconds, opened the door again, just a crack wide enough to peer through.

The covered pans were still there, she could see. But she was willing to bet any gil that the cigarettes had mysteriously vanished. Whether or not Vincent knew who had brought them up.

It made her smile.

But Lily didn't chuckle when Tifa told her about it. "Maybe you should leave him alone for now," she suggested, staring down at the stubborn dirt lodged under one nail. "He's not going to come out until he's good and ready."

"I didn't knock on his door. I just left the cigarettes there and he took them himself when I left."

"No, I know. I know." She sighed heavily and pushed a hand into her hair. "But I don't think he's going to take either of our company very appreciatively for a little while." She reached for her package of cigarettes and then glanced around. "You didn't give him my lighter, did you?"

"No. Here it is."

"Thanks." She lit the end and took a drag. And then she gave a soft, short-lived chuckle. "Wonder if he was getting withdrawal headaches. Though I'm not sure he's really addicted."

Tifa had been curious before, of course, but now she felt that maybe the question was justified. "Can I ask what this argument was about?" She knew Vincent was uncomfortable around her, but it was hard to think of what problem he would suddenly have with Lily.

Lily glanced up and gave another, quieter sigh. "Don't know if I should tell you."

"Why?" But then she thought she knew. "It was about me?"

"Maybe you've got a right to know, I guess. But I didn't want you to feel like it was your fault or anything." She took another pull on her cigarette and then seemed to take a moment tasting the smoke before breathing it out. "Maybe you've noticed, maybe you haven't. I don't know. But, the man gets a feeling and he has to push it away from himself..."

Tifa put a hand out for her tea. It wasn't so strange a thing. Of course she'd noticed, but she also remembered the eerie sound of a woman's voice, echoing off of the dark, oppressive tomb-walls of a cave, beyond the veil of a roaring waterfall, calling the name of a long-dead lover as if she'd sensed his presence in a dream. And watching from behind as Vincent approached the woman with slow, rigid steps as if he was fighting the urge to run. The urge, maybe, to run away from something that hurt so much only because he could still remember how good it had once been.

She knew. If she saw Cloud again, if he showed up without warning in Nibelheim, she would run. Not ready to face him. Run from the possibility of being hurt a second time.

So Vincent had retreated from her, alienated himself from Lily, quarantined himself in his apartment. The fear she'd seen on his face, afraid of something he couldn't control. Afraid to face something he hadn't faced years ago.

Lily had said maybe he'd just needed time. But he hadn't dealt with it at all. Came through it the hard way, and then he'd never truly recovered. Goddamn stubborn, she agreed. But it was still his problem, and she had the feeling Lily had been right about another thing: maybe she would leave him alone for now. His choice whether or not to face his demons, so to speak. She was busy facing her own.

"He wants me to leave, doesn't he?"

Lily licked her lips and reached for her own tea. "You can stay down here. He doesn't have to see you if it's going to put his underwear in a bunch."

And Tifa wanted to stay. She was willing to pay rent to stay. But... "Lily, I don't want to be the cause of problems between you and..."

Lily waved the words away before Tifa could finish and her expression became uncharacteristically grave and determined. "I said you could stay as long as you needed, and I meant it. This is my house, I decide who stays under my roof. And if it came down to it..." She gave a quick shrug with one shoulder that Tifa thought was probably supposed to seem nonchalant. "I'd kick him out before I'd let him chase you off."

Not without compunctions, though, Tifa realized as she watched the older woman flick the ash from her cigarette. Kicked out on bad terms, Vincent probably wouldn't come back. And Lily would always worry about him. So many different kinds of love, and some of them so complicated and caught up in the past...

Amazing, she thought suddenly, that anyone could find happiness in this world. So much loss. So many uncovered graves. Couldn't anyone bury Midgar, or the ashes of Nibelheim?

        * * *

The third day, Tifa went to work again for Mr. Fallowfield. The end of the week and it was a slow shift so that by closing time she was feeling tired and faintly depressed. Mr. Fallowfield, however, seemed in uncommonly good spirits, and as he gave her her hours for the next week he winked and told her the customers were very pleased with his pretty, helpful, smiling part-timer. And he would raise her pay if she promised to stay on for more than a temporary position. It made her feel a little better and she told him she'd think about it as she headed out the door.

Tea was good, but today she was craving coffee. As she came through the door, though, the urge for caffeine was forgotten as she noticed Lily standing in the middle of the kitchen and staring toward the ceiling with a frown on her face. Curious, Tifa glanced up, too.

"What is it?"

Lily put a finger to her lips. "I don't know," she whispered. "Hardly hear anything from him all day, and then there's this..." She shrugged a little and gestured with her hands. "...'bump', I guess."

Tifa hadn't gotten the impression so far that Lily was the type to get unnecessarily worked up about things, but right now she wasn't sure what to think. "Maybe he's moving his furniture around."

"I don't know. Never moved his furniture before." She frowned again, listening. "C'mon, Vince. Where are you? Creak a floorboard or something."

There was nothing for a few seconds. And then another distinct 'thump', as if someone might've fallen against a wall. Lily's expression tightened a fraction. And then she grabbed up her keys.

Tifa followed the older woman up the stairs, automatically observing her example of slow, quiet steps, listening for more noise. And despite herself, she felt her stomach knot with anxiety. It was probably nothing. Maybe he'd tripped over something (not that she could imagine him tripping over something), maybe he'd dropped something heavy. They would open the door and he would 'glare' at the intrusion.

But she'd seen so much, so many seemingly innocuous situations turn drastic in seconds. Heard him take a wound and then muffle the sounds of anguish as his body changed hands...

Impossible to take anything for granted anymore.

The covered pans were still outside of the door, but the cigarettes were indeed gone. Lily barely glanced at the pile of dishes before slipping her key into the lock and turning the knob.

It was a sunny day outside and the rich, cloudless afternoon light streaming through the unveiled western windows threw a pattern of illumination and obscurity around the apartment -- over, under, behind the living room furnishings. A familiar room, a still-familiar mosaic of sunshine and shadow on the carpet, though Tifa hadn't been up here in days to see it.

But Vincent was nowhere in sight. Lily took a step onto the carpet. "Vince? You in here?"

There was a thump from the kitchen, like someone banging a knee against a cupboard. And no other answer.

"Vincent?"

"Get out of here." His voice was rough and edged with pain. And something about it tugged frighteningly at Tifa's memory. Never emotional, but sometimes strained and clipped in the moments before...

Cid's arm a resisting pressure across her collarbones, the brief feel of breath like ashes against her cheek. 'Tifa, get back! Goddammit, he's turning into one of those things again!'

Lily didn't seem afraid. Though, Tifa realized a moment later, she had no reason to be if she didn't know. "You okay, Vince?" She took a couple of steps in the direction of the kitchen.

"Stay there, Lily. Don't come in here."

"Why? What's wrong?"

Vincent gave a sudden choked sound, like catching a grunt of pain before it could be recognized. "Go back downstairs." Another thump, this one louder. "Please, now."

From where she was standing, Tifa couldn't see Lily's face, but her indecision was written in every stiff, worried line of her body. And, hardly realizing she'd moved, Tifa found herself in the living room behind the other woman, one cold hand outstretched as if to draw her back into the safety of the doorway. "Lily, come on..."

Lily glanced over her shoulder as if surprised that Tifa had spoken. And then she consciously looked away, back toward the kitchen. "Shit, this isn't a time to be arrogant, Vince. If you need help, just say so. And if you're not going to tell me what's wrong, I'm going to come in and see for myself."

Tifa felt a thrill of panic tingle along her spine. "No, Lily, we should go..." She realized that she was nearly whispering.

But Lily ignored her and took another step toward the kitchen. "Vince..."

"Don't!" Another thump, something like a groan. All too familiar. "I need to leave." Nearly breathless now. And then something unexpected. "Tifa...hurry, take her downstairs." A plea for help, like throwing a life line into the hands of someone recently spurned, the only one who *could* help.

Another secret, another moment of trust. Something Lily shouldn't know. Something dangerous, though Tifa didn't understand why this might be happening now, why he seemed desperate as if he was losing control; he'd always seemed to hold sway over *them* in battle. But so many things had changed in three years...

"Lily." She grabbed her elbow. "We have to leave. Come on." Pulled her until she was taking steps backward, to the side, if only to keep her balance.

"What the hell's going on?"

One of Vincent's boots was by the coffee table, Tifa noticed distantly. Perhaps he'd been preparing to leave when they'd arrived.

"Tifa. Tifa! Dammit, stop!"

The door, and then down the stairs, and Tifa felt as if her hands had never been weak. Hadn't been able to hold onto Cloud, but by Odin she was not going to let go of Lily.

But it was still too late. Always too long spent waiting. Hell behind them as they reached the bottom door. She could faintly hear the sounds, couldn't quite remember which one they'd belonged to. And then that metallic whine.

Hell...hellmasker. She pulled Lily around and urged her out of the door. "Hurry, back into your apartment."

"But, goddammit, why? What's going on?"

Lily was angry, confused. And Tifa thought she probably would've been, too, in her situation -- angry and scared and worried. But no time to explain. Maybe there would never be the time. She felt displaced, suddenly shifted back into those instinctual tactics for survival. No thought, only action. Save herself and her comrades. Be ready for anything. Her hands felt light as air without the weight of Premium Heart on her knuckles. She felt vulnerable; more vulnerable, somehow, than she had standing and shivering on the edge of the bridge, mere feet from death.

Maybe urged on by Tifa's own sense of urgency, Lily was now walking hastily toward her door. Tifa let her go ahead, not sure herself what she should do. If he was dangerous, could she justify holing away with Lily in the ground-level apartment? Leave him at large in the town? But what else could she do? Weak body, lost training. If she hadn't been able to go up against him as Vincent, what were her chances against one of *them*?

Lily had disappeared through her door. Tifa stood, uncertain and nervous, at the side of the house, just listening. She heard the muffled staccato pounding of feet on the stairs, and then the door at the bottom was forced open through heavy impact. She cringed at the sound and thought about inching toward the doorway to Lily's kitchen.

And then *he* came around the house, walking slowly and glancing around as if scenting the air. And Tifa felt her teeth chatter. She remembered. No face on this one, no expression to read. Just a blank mask to hide the psychotic hate, dark holes for the eyes and mouth, the now-dormant chainsaw, though she had no doubt the thing would have no compunctions about using it.

It turned to her suddenly and gave a hiss, as if it was pleased to have found her. And she had to fight the urge to run. She clenched her shaking fingers into fists.

"Vincent?" Hardly a rasp. She cleared her throat. "Vincent, it's me! Can you hear me?"

If Vincent could, he gave no sign. The thing kept advancing with slow steps, as if to hold onto the moment.

"Vincent!"

From behind the mask came a high-pitched series of sounds that Tifa could only take as laughter. And then the thing spoke in a weedy, demented kind of voice. "Blood. You have blood. I can smell it."

The hair on the back of Tifa's neck prickled to attention. She'd never heard them speak before, never realized they had the intelligence to speak. But their instincts were obviously still first priority. It wanted to feed.

She couldn't stay here, with her back against the wall, nowhere to go but Lily's fenced-in back yard. So many tactical disadvantages about this position, she recognized. But where else could she go? Could she lead it away from Nibelheim? Certainly a death sentence, but at least she'd be the only fatality.

Hopefully the only one. Though she didn't want to die.

At first, she wasn't sure she could push herself away from the house. She wished she could feel that separation from her mind again -- action without thought, just jumping forward with the confidence that she was someone to be reckoned with -- but the training no longer came to her limbs automatically. She was going to have to do this on her own; truly on her own. Steeling herself, she ducked forward and, trying not to look at the creature, made the move to run past it, out into the open roads of Nibelheim.

She hoped others would have the sense to run if they ended up coming across them. If this thing was after blood, she doubted it would be very picky about whose blood.

From behind the mask came another series of sounds like cracking laughter, and though the creature didn't make a move to attack or grab her as she passed, it did turn to watch her. And she realized with a sick kind of fear that it probably liked the idea of chasing its prey.

"Tifa!"

Lily. She couldn't see her, but the older woman's voice was close enough to mean that she'd come outside.

Hellmasker turned its head quickly to look back toward the door. And then it gave another pleased hiss. Tifa slowed to a halt, feeling a tingle of dread in her gut. "Lily, go back into the apartment!"

"It's okay! Got my gun! Shit, what is this thing?"

She could see Lily now, her face a mix of horror and resolve as she aimed at the creature. For itself, Hellmasker was watching her as if gauging the threat.

"Where's Vince?" Lily asked suddenly.

Tifa didn't know how to answer. Should she try and explain now, tell Lily not to shoot because the thing in front of her was not all monster? Should she lie and say Vincent was upstairs, and then try to put her own plan back into motion? Indecision, indecision...

And then Hellmasker seemed to seethe out a growling breath. "Blood," it crooned, gesturing at Lily with the chainsaw. "You have blood."

"God. Fucking monsters." And Lily pulled the trigger, twice, before Tifa could give voice to a protest.

She didn't know what she expected to happen. Would bullets even harm it? Maybe just make it angry. She couldn't remember...

But as the shots impacted, Hellmasker stumbled back and then fell to the ground with a grunt. And she could only watch in horrified dismay as the creature shifted until it was Vincent on the ground. Vincent, wearing only one boot, dressed in that gray sweater, still conscious for a moment and raising a shaking hand to a place where a bloom of blood had started.

And then he fell still. And Lily dropped the gun.

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