It was all strange and vaguely unreal, like the first minutes after Aeris had died. No, no, it hadn't happened. Eyes would open, and it would be all right. Just a dream, a trick, a joke.

"God... Oh God, I shot him..."

She wasn't sure how she got there, but Tifa found herself on her knees beside him, half afraid to touch him as if it might compound on the injuries. As if he might wake up and flinch away. His right hand, now a limp and ineffective compress, was resting on his left side, over his ribs where the first bullet had entered. The second shot appeared to have gone in over his right hip, she noticed, but the placement of blood told her the slug had probably gone right through. The first one was the one to worry about (maybe through a lung, or maybe it had broken a rib into sharp, puncturing pieces), though the second would have to be stanched soon.

He couldn't die. It was why she'd accused him of being jealous of mortals, like herself. But he couldn't just be left untended.

He had a pulse under his chin, and he was breathing. A slight, rattling sound as she lowered her ear to an inch from his mouth. Perforated lung, she thought to herself.

Lily was staring at him, looking shaken and pale, and Tifa wondered if she'd have nightmares about this moment like Tifa had nightmares about Aeris' death, about seeing her father burning. And then Lily's gaze shifted to her, a sudden kind of glance. "Is...is he dead?"

"No." Detached again from her mind; this was something she remembered how to deal with. "We should get him inside."

Lily licked her lips, still trembling and looking like she was trying to sort out her disconnected thoughts. "We...we gotta call the hospital."

But she was fairly sure that wouldn't be Vincent's first choice. Maybe they would label him a medical miracle, a man whose body healed itself of fatal wounds. Maybe they would test him, observe him, dissect him. For the enrichment of the human race, no doubt. "Let's get him inside first. Can you get his feet?"

It was a moment before Lily nodded, and then she rushed forward and crouched down to put her hands under his ankles. But then, as Tifa worked to lift him, get her arms under his shoulders, Lily's mind obviously stumbled over the next obstacle to understanding. "What the hell was that?" Her voice was unsteady. "God, that was him. That thing..."

Tifa guessed that she would have to explain. But not right now. Right now, action was needed. She met Lily's eyes, remembering something Zangan had said about eye contact and getting through to a distraught person. "We're going to lift him on three." She wondered suddenly if there was anyone coming to investigate the sound of gunshots. At least here, between houses, they were mostly out of sight. "One...two..." And she shifted her stance, ready for the weight. "Three."

        * * *

"We're going to need some towels."

"Towels. Right." Lily hurried off, out of the living room.

She'd hardly ever had to do this part, Tifa realized suddenly. The full treatment of wounds without the aid of curative materia. So used to having those powerful little orbs during Avalanche, and the worst she'd had to deal with before that, after that had been a couple of sprains and some pulled muscles during training. When she had been training.

And now she was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. She'd never treated Vincent. Someone untouchable, someone to keep a respectful physical distance from at all times. And, even unconscious, it was still Vincent. Draped a little haphazardly over the cushions of Lily's couch, half-braced against one of the arms, wearing only one boot, grass in his hair, she noticed. But with a remnant of a grimace of pain on his face, still stern looking. This was very different than helping him with his dishes, or with cleaning his apartment, she thought to herself, clenching and unclenching her fingers. But it had to be done.

His skin under his shirt was warm, and she winced to herself in embarrassment as her hand instinctively flinched away from the contact. God, why she was being so stupid about this?

Lily came hastily back into the room. "Towels," she said as she dropped them on the floor, "and I've got bandages and antiseptic and...whatever else we need. And I can get some water..." And then she seemed to notice something in Tifa's face. "What's wrong? Is he okay?"

Tifa turned to her, trying to think of something rational and fortifying to say, but her bravado had faded. She took a breath. "Yes. We just need to take off his shirt..."

And Lily made a quick sound like a grunt and stepped forward. "'Kay, out of the way."

Tifa stood from the couch and Lily maneuvered herself into place. And then she slipped Vincent out of the bulky sweater, pulling it carefully over his head and rolling the sleeves briskly from his arms, as if she might've done it a hundred times before.

Svelte, angular, sharply defined. Blood and pale skin and long narrow muscles. Tifa was surprised at how curious her eyes were.

Lily glanced over the wounds, half prodding at the area around them, and even leaned down to sweep a hand behind his back, her fingers coming back stained with blood. "Both went clean through. Damn lucky," she murmured as if to herself. "But we're going to need some water to clean him up." She began to pack the injuries with towels, finding ways of keeping the compresses firmly pressed where they needed to be.

And like that, they'd switched places. Lily back in her element, suddenly calm and in charge again. And Tifa felt infinitely more comfortable in this role. She could help, she could give orders when the situation called for it. But she'd never had to be the leader. Always the leader's second, the one behind the scenes, keeping things together.

Except, of course, when Cloud had been in Mideel with severe mako poisoning. Then everything had come apart, and she hadn't been able to make herself leave the room. The leader's second, and always by his side, worrying and loving and hoping. The one in the lifestream with him, scared and confused and thrilled to be there beyond his barriers, even for a little while.

The leader's second, even at the end. The leader's second choice. And she would've gone with him, even if he'd been going to find Aeris...

She went to get some water.

        * * *

Lily went through stages. It was like switching between two faces: one, confident and strong, the other worried and pale with guilt or maybe fear. Washing the wounds, changing the position of the towels until they were all nearly covered in blood. And this was after Tifa had explained. She'd had to, if only to keep Lily from calling an ambulance.

Explained about the experiments (what little she knew about them), about the four transformations, about the way he healed. And Lily had only nodded under a permanent grimace, only met her eyes gravely, briefly as she spoke. Hard to tell what she was feeling. But she was still tending Vincent, still seemingly interested in making sure he recovered. Though Tifa wondered if things had now changed irreparably between landlady and tenant. One thing for certain, it would never be exactly the way it had been before.

And then Lily went to have another bath, and she stayed behind that closed door for a long time, until it was growing dark outside. When she came back out, Tifa suggested that she have something to eat before heading to bed. But Lily seemed to have no appetite. She hovered around the living room, turned on some lights, alternately watched Vincent breathe and smoked cigarette after cigarette. And then, after some prodding from Tifa, she went into her bedroom and closed the door.

Tifa dozed a couple of times, always waking to find herself half-sloped over Vincent. And then she would check the wounds under the bandages Lily had wound around him, taking care around the two that occasionally frothed with blood as he breathed, and then wait again. Around two in the morning Lily came out of her room to check on them, looking rumpled in her clothing as if she'd slept without bothering to get changed. And Tifa let her take over for a couple of hours as she went to sleep in the bed.

When she woke around four, she came into the living room to find Lily asleep on the floor with her head against the couch, one hand placed only an inch or so from the fingers of Vincent's prosthetic as if she might've been holding his hand before she'd dropped off. A strangely exposed picture of the woman whose concern, though present, had always seemed so far buried under hardened skin. Gently, Tifa woke her and directed her back into her own room despite all protests before resuming the watch.

Dawn was just starting to creep up the walls and spill over the window sills when Tifa was disturbed from a shallow slumber as Vincent stirred, his breathing raspy and laboured, as if he was suddenly feeling the pain of his wounds. She wasn't sure how to calm him, but after a few moments she decided that maybe if his subconscious realized he wasn't alone it would be enough. She moved to put her fingers against the back of his hand. And had to fight the strange compulsion to explore the smooth-looking recesses between his knuckles.

He stiffened at first, and then seemed to relax a little. And then he spoke, his voice sluggish and gravelly. "Lily?"

Tifa faltered for a second before answering, not sure if he was even really awake. "No." She drew her hand away and sat up from him a little. "It...it's Tifa."

He took a few effortful breaths and turned his head as if to face her, though his eyes remained closed. "You okay?"

She wasn't sure what to make of the question at first. Had he even heard her? She licked her lips. "She's okay. Lily's okay."

He took another couple of breaths and she was surprised when he pried his eyes open a little to look at her. His pupils looked small and unfocused, almost lost in the red of his irises. His eyebrows twitched downward, almost a frown at the light. "Are you okay?" he asked again, this time a little more distinctly.

And she realized he had been talking to her. She nodded quickly to reassure him. "Yes, I'm okay, too."

He gave a slight nod and closed his eyes. And in a few moments his breathing had changed back into the slow, shallow breaths of sleep.

And Tifa wondered to herself as she blinked and rubbed her face whether he would even remember the exchange later. Concerned for their welfare first, and he hadn't even asked what had happened, or how badly he was hurt. Though perhaps he hadn't been in his right mind.

Still, it surprised her. Responsible for others, for human life. Not that she'd doubted her, but maybe Lily had been right about him.

        * * *

It was coming around to eight o'clock when he woke again, a slow recovery from the enforced sleep of a body struggling to mend itself, and at first he seemed a little disoriented. And, not quite sure what to say, Tifa left him observe things for himself unless he felt the need to ask a question. As he began to investigate the bandages she stood from the couch to give him his space. He winced once, a little, as he moved his left arm. And Tifa picked up the cue.

"How do you feel? Do you want some painkillers?"

He didn't answer, but went about pushing himself into a sitting position, his breathing still no more than a heavy rasp. And then he put his legs over the side of the couch and proceeded, slowly, to stand.

And Tifa felt justified in objecting. "You shouldn't be up yet. It'll only increase the bleeding."

But Vincent was looking out one of the windows, managing to stand fairly straight despite the injuries. "It doesn't matter. I have to go."

She wondered for a moment if it was possible that he was still a little confused. "Go where? We're in Lily's apartment. If you need something I can get it..."

"Not this, you can't." And he turned to look at her.

Something in his eyes: something candid and revealed and honest, and for a moment she recognized Lily's Vincent. The one that probably felt the need sometimes to explain himself because she was stubborn enough to demand an answer from him. "They're still hungry. And I have to let them feed, or it will just be a danger again."

And, she knew what he was referring to. Though she'd never realized in Avalanche that his relationship with the creatures inside of him had been like this -- symbiotic, she thought. He'd used them to fight their way to Jenova. Now, he killed monsters for a living, likely making use of the transformations. And in turn this kept Hojo's curse from reaching its full, terrifying potential. A good exchange, if anything good could be said about the situation.

And she nodded and stepped away from him.

He took a breath and then glanced around the floor. When he spotted his shirt, he began to slowly lean down toward it, to pick it up. And, forgetting for a moment that he might not appreciate the help, she reached down to grab it for him. But he only gave a small nod as he took the sweater from her.

It was covered in blood, of course. And Tifa chewed her lip for a moment. "I'll get you another one from upstairs," she offered. "And you left one boot in your living room. The other's over there, by the lamp." And, before he could object, she headed into the kitchen, grabbed up Lily's keys, and left the apartment.

Easier to do this than thinking.

In the end, she didn't need the keys. The door had been left open, ostensibly after she and Lily had rushed down the stairs. Quickly, she went into his closet and grabbed up a black button-up, and then located his boot. And, almost as an afterthought, she made a search until she found a bottle of painkillers in his bathroom.

Vincent was just tightening a clean set of bandages around himself when she returned and he glanced up as she carefully tossed the shirt to him.

"Here's your boot, and the painkillers." And she went to grab him a glass of water.

It was all done very quickly, and then he was taking slow steps, still with a bit of a limp, toward the door. And, starting to feel as if she should really be trying to talk him out of this, Tifa followed.

Expecting him just to leave without another word, it caught her off guard when he stopped at the door and hitched himself around to look at her. And here again was a Vincent who was sort of uncomfortable with her presence, with meeting her eyes. But this time she found that it didn't make her so uneasy in return. She could forgive him for it. It wasn't so hard to understand anymore.

"Is Lily okay?" he asked, and she wondered if he really had forgotten what he'd said earlier, the first time he'd regained consciousness.

"She's fine. A little shaken, I guess." She gave a small, nervous chuckle. Just discovered that the man she'd had living upstairs for three years had four creatures living inside of him. Probably a little shaken.

"Is she...upset?"

And Tifa thought she knew what he meant. Was she upset with what she'd seen? "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I...I had to explain to her...about you, to keep her from calling the hospital. She didn't say anything or ask any questions. But she's been worried about you. She was the one who put the bandages on you."

He gave a little acknowledging nod. And then he dropped his eyes. "Thank you. And tell her thank you." He paused a moment. "And, I'm sorry." He turned again and opened the door.

And Tifa had the sudden impression that he didn't intend to come back. "Wait. Are you leaving for good?"

He seemed to stiffen, and then he gave a quick glance over his shoulder before facing forward again. "Just tell her I'm sorry." And he was out the door.

It wasn't her business. Not her responsibility. But...he was injured. And Lily...

It wasn't hard to locate the chocobo stable in town. The first person she ran across as she left the apartment (after making sure Vincent was well out of sight and hearing range, she hoped) was able to direct her; an older man involved in the business of garbage disposal who obviously knew his way around Nibelheim. And she was glad that there was no one watching the stable too closely, though she promised herself as she mounted and guided the nervous creature out of town that she wouldn't be gone long.

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