Tifa admitted to herself after nearly an hour of riding in the sun, without
water, muscles cramping, that she wasn't completely sure of what she was doing.
She didn't know where Vincent would go (though she had picked Kalm as a vague
destination); she didn't know if he'd taken a chocobo or had simply let loose
with one of *them* somewhere out here in the grasslands; she didn't know what
she would say to make him come back with her.
A decision, she realized, without hesitation, without doubts. She'd simply
decided to follow him. She was becoming positively hasty.
Maybe it was a good thing...not to be around Cloud for awhile... Since pieces of
the old Tifa were starting to float to the surface.
Another hour passed without any sign of him, or any hint that he had been
anywhere in the area. No carrying sounds of battle, no retreating wildlife. And
she only got closer and closer to Kalm as she rode. Another hour and she was
starting to believe she wasn't going to find him. Maybe he'd realized he was
being followed; maybe he'd gone in a completely different direction.
And she was surprised to realize how dejected these thoughts made her feel. Lily
would miss him, she knew. Like missing a limb, whether or not she ever said so.
And she might always look back, sometimes with regret, sometimes with anger,
wishing she'd had the chance to talk to him after the revelation of his past,
maybe even to apologize for the bullet wounds.
That grief, Lily had said, when something ended suddenly. Never given the
opportunity for closure, whether things ended well or badly. Lily deserved that
from him at least, she thought.
And she had to concede that she, too, would find it different there without
Vincent. The past few days' avoidance had been a little like an uncomfortable
waiting game; and then having him in Lily's apartment, forced into the position
of guarding his sleep, waiting for him to wake and then hearing his voice again,
having his eyes on her...
It was Vincent. Still Vincent. Guns and monsters and brusque-communication
Vincent.
But it had been good to see him recover, a kind of relief, and not only for
Lily's sake. Good to see him... Sitting on the couch, not particularly thinking
about anything sometimes, but sometimes thinking about Mideel again -- watching
over an injured, unresponsive body, it was impossible not to draw comparisons.
And trying to keep her eyes from straying to the sharp cut of his shoulders, the
clean shapes of his collarbones, the way his waist tapered off.
Different than looking at Cloud, obviously. Cloud, who still had some of that
boyish roundness to his limbs, slender orbs of muscle under his skin, downy
yellow hair on his arms and legs, almost faded invisible after he'd been in the
sun.
Vincent, who was black to Cloud's blond, who was older, who wore his trials like
a testament, though it could've just as easily have been his metabolism. So
thin...
But she'd still been tempted to keep looking. Not something she'd ever imagined
she would have thought about him, if only because he'd always been so aloof.
Vincent was good-looking. Red eyes, lean body, golden claw. But he was still
good-looking, in a startling sort of way. Like looking at an abstract painting
and suddenly realizing that you liked what you saw...
Not that it really meant much. It was obvious how much he didn't want to have
anything to do with anything that had the vaguest connection with love. And she
couldn't yet think of herself as 'available'. But...
She'd decided that there was nothing wrong with simply *thinking* that he looked
good.
A copse of trees on the horizon as she crested a shallow hill, maybe a half mile
away. And she brought her mount to a halt, idly staring at the sketchy forest
and sort of hoping to see something that would give Vincent away. But the trees
were dark and quiet and still. And she sighed and ran a hand through her hair,
bringing it back into control over one shoulder. She'd gone as far as she was
going to. To go to Kalm would be at least another two or three hours, and then
five or six hours to return since she had no intention of staying in her own bed
in her own empty house. And nothing to guarantee that Vincent would even be
there; if he was, nothing to guarantee that he would listen to her. Maybe it was
better to think decisions through before simply jumping on the nearest chocobo
and riding off like some spontaneous hero...
Birds suddenly rising into the air from under the roof of leaves, like a cloud
of black smoke puffing upward from a flash fire. And a blur of something, too
far to see exactly what, tearing out from the shelter of the trees and into the
open field. Obviously being pursued, if it was fleeing so foolishly into an
unprotected area.
And then the attacker. And she'd been looking too long not to recognize him.
Galian Beast, much too fast for the chosen prey to stand much of a chance. In
the daylight; a risky gamble. Anyone could see him, hear the snarls of a
creature that knows it's about to be satisfied. But maybe that didn't matter as
much as getting them fed...
Overtaken, and almost too enthusiastic, the two shapes tumbled together and
there was a yelp of fright or pain. And then the thing was dead, and Galian
Beast was eagerly tearing into its meal. She had to turn away.
It lasted less than a minute; she was almost surprised. And then it was Vincent
again, staggering suddenly as if he'd been thrust unexpectedly back into his own
body. Hardly the ramrod figure she'd come to know in Avalanche, obviously
feeling his injuries now. With a breath, she clucked to her mount and started
riding toward him.
It wasn't long before he noticed her approaching. And though she half expected
him to turn and starting walking away, maybe toward Kalm, he didn't. Perhaps out
of simply knowing that she could easily catch up with him and it wasn't worth it
to waste the energy.
It was only a few minutes before she was urging the chocobo to a slow halt a
couple of feet from him and looking down at him from her perch. He stood facing
her casually, as if he was unwounded, as if they might've been strangers judging
each other at first impression; he didn't ask her why she'd come or chide her
for following. He just waited, maybe for her to offer an explanation.
But she was fairly sure any explanation would be useless. It was about calling a
bluff. And she would have to do it right, cross her fingers and hope to see the
queen of hearts when she lifted her hand.
"I'll bet it hasn't been hard to attract monsters, with those open
wounds."
She only realized as he glanced up at her that he hadn't been meeting her eyes,
but staring at her mount. Surprised enough by her strange greeting, maybe, to
look for clarification in her expression. But all of those games had helped her
practice her poker face. Still Vincent, still stern, still an immovable brick
wall. Still a little intimidated by him, she admitted to herself, even when she
was up here and he was down there. But this was important...
"Are you planning to walk the rest of the way to Kalm from here?
Unarmed?" She'd seen him leave Lily's, watched him walk away, knew he
hadn't had a gun on him when he'd gone out the door.
Like an offer, she thought, like she might've followed him here with the
intention of helping him to Kalm. But Vincent gave no answer; just watching, as
if he instinctively realized that she'd come not to help him but to confront
him. He was still no one to be fooled.
At least, not easily. She'd managed it before around his table.
"Or were you planning just to transform to fight whatever attacks
you?"
She'd seen him stumbling, injured and weary; he bluffed it well, but he'd
already given it away. And she'd started recognizing the control and
concentration it took to overpower *their* wild-card nature. This was the
gamble: wondering at the truth about the creatures in him, assuming he hadn't
ridden his own chocobo out here, guessing his risks. As he approached Kalm, and
with no way to outrun enemies, would he transform to protect himself with so
many innocents nearby?
Hungry, Hellmasker had picked her out as prey. But it had hesitated at first
with Lily, as if recognizing the threat she'd presented while armed. And maybe
she could believe it was what had always protected them in Avalanche: the fact
that they were not easy prey. Not as easy as the monsters they'd always
defeated. Intelligent enough to know when not to attack...
But there was blood in Kalm that they would probably not have to fight very hard
for. Wild-cards, and loosed with slackened reigns in compromised hands. A
massacre.
She continued to stare him down, and she gained some tentative confidence when
he still gave no rebuttal. She took a quiet breath and proceeded. "I'm
heading back to Nibelheim right now, and if you want I can take you with
me."
No reaction. She might as well have said nothing.
It needed something else, like a taunt to get him to reveal his hand. She gave a
shrug. "Though, I suppose you could always knock me down and leave me here
while you ride to Kalm." 'Responsible for human life now,' she reminded him
silently. 'Lily said so. And she reads you like a book.' She suddenly felt like
smirking. 'You probably don't even know how much you've given away.'
A few seconds passed in silence. And Tifa began to wonder if she'd called bluff
mistakenly. But then something shifted in Vincent's expression and he dropped
his eyes. Like dropping his cards in front of him, she couldn't help but think.
He sighed, and his stance changed so that she could see for a moment where he
was favouring. She felt a momentary twinge of sympathy.
"I can't go back to Nibelheim," he said suddenly, quietly so that Tifa
thought a gust of wind would've blown the words away.
And, like an echo, she remembered the texture of his door against her arms as
she supported herself, feeling the fire in her ankle. 'Take me to Kalm.'
"Well, choose your own risk, Vincent. Lily's probably awake now, and
wondering where we both are. I was telling the truth when I said she was worried
about you." And then she couldn't help a slightly foolish grin. "So,
what is it? Walk, or be carried?"
She couldn't completely justify the spurt of pleasure she felt as one of his
eyebrows twitched suddenly upward. His own words of almost two weeks ago, turned
around against him. It was a struggle not to chuckle out loud.
And then he seemed to sigh, though his features seemed to harden. "It's too
dangerous to go back. You should realize."
Too dangerous before, too, she thought, but still he'd stayed. The only thing
that had changed was the fact that Lily now knew *how* dangerous. But she wasn't
asking him to go on like nothing had happened. It was just time to face a demon
instead of running from it and never knowing. And if not for himself, then for
Lily, whether or not he believed her about the older woman's concern. "Just
come back, recover for one night, and go to Kalm tomorrow."
Like drawing a web of logic closed. And Vincent's expression grew stormy enough
for her to recognize his anger. The 'glare' in its full, raging glory, and it
*was* intimidating. She had to turn away from him, feeling her cheeks beginning
to flush with some shame for forcing her will on him. But she wasn't going to
back down this time. Lily, she reminded herself. Lily, Lily, Lily...
It felt like they stayed that way for hours. Both waiting for the other to back
down until Tifa's leg muscles became sore enough for her to start fantasizing
about slipping down onto the grass and walking around. Always a waiting game
with him.
And then she gave an involuntary shiver. It was getting colder. Her nose twinged
and, before she could prevent it, she sneezed.
Nothing for a moment. And then... "Bless you." It was almost a sigh.
She glanced over at him in surprise. Saw that look of resignation on his face,
like the day she'd one-up'd him about his dishes, as he made his slow way across
the few feet between them, now clearly favouring his injuries. He didn't meet
her eyes as he came up beside the chocobo and she belatedly remembered that
physical unease, suddenly darting away from her as she'd come up beside him. As
if she might've wanted to hurt him. And she almost felt like she should say
something.
But it looked like he was willing, for now, to face more than one demon. Without
a word, as if she might still have been in the dark about his restless
attraction, he put his hands in position. And, as she shifted herself forward,
he pulled himself astride behind her with more grace than someone who had been
shot twice only a day ago should have been able to. Careful not to touch her,
though. But still an unequivocally warm presence at her back.
Sharp shoulders; collarbones that might've been shaped, hollowed for curious
fingers; tapered waist... She had to force her mind away as she clucked at their
mount.
And they were off. At first, she found herself half expecting an initial fight
for the destination, but Vincent seemed willing to honour the, perhaps
temporary, victory she'd gained over him. Maybe he thought she wouldn't give up.
Not like trying to keep her from killing herself, this time. No justification,
she thought, for being ruthless.
And eventually she began to allow herself to relax her stiff shoulders, slowly,
as they rode, though she was always ready to tense away again if she
accidentally went too far and brushed against him. But it didn't happen, as if
he might've been keeping tabs on their positioning as well. Gradually easing
into a affectation that was almost comfortable. Though it never became
comfortable enough for conversation.
Three hours passed like thirty. By the end, Vincent's breathing had become a
burdened rasp behind her ear and he was occasionally making quick sounds of
discomfort. (After the first time she asked 'Are you all right?' without
receiving an answer, she didn't ask again.)
Outside of Nibelheim, minutes from the two-story where they had both been
living, and his breathing became a gasp. Buckling for a moment against her
shoulder, his knuckles bumping against her spine as he moved to clutch his ribs.
A stuttered, wheezing groan. And then he spoke, his voice no more than a hoarse
whisper.
"I'm going to faint."
And she only managed to pop off buttons as she tried to control the fall.