It wasn't so hard at first. And he was almost able to convince himself then that it would stay that way.

Just a kiss. Just a mistake. She'd been drinking, and she was still recovering. Not a surprise, really, that it had happened -- no doubt anymore that she'd noticed. Attracted. He'd caught himself thinking more than once about the memory-dream, nights ago. Making love, swallowed up in all of those forgotten feelings, close enough to be sharing breath.

Still so damn weak to the bits and pieces Hojo had left him. If he'd wanted to turn him into a monster, he could at least have done more than a half-assed job of it.

She'd been right there, looking faintly surprised by his nearness, and though he'd struggled against the urge, all he'd been able to think about was how much he'd wanted to be that close again. Like fire, like a flame blossoming in the pit of his stomach. Like the first time he'd glanced up from her excitedly scribbled notes to realize too late that they were nearly nose to nose. Lucrecia, the smell of her hair, skin, traces of her perfume. The shy invitation in her eyes. And just giving in to the temptation to finally know what it might be like to let that lightning between them run its course...

She must've seen it written all over his face. Goddammit. Just giving him what he'd wanted. He should've said no, in the end. Pretended he was sleeping when she'd knocked. Saved them both the discomfort, and the embarrassment. Nightmares were no excuse. Being sort of lonely in the dark hours wasn't reason enough to go back on his earlier decision: she would stay down there with Lily; he would stay upstairs until he'd recovered enough to go back to work. Everything would have eventually gone back to normal when she'd gone back to Kalm.

Not exciting all of the time, not pleasant all of the time; but predictable, and with its merits.

Nothing for it now, though. It was done. He would just have to take his own advice and forget it.

He'd gotten up from the floor, gone back to bed. Pulled out of his shirt, tried to get comfortable. Kicked off the blankets. Thought briefly about going for a walk, and then had given up the idea (his hip ached, and if Lily found out about it he was sure she wouldn't have a problem providing twenty-four hour care for him). Wandered out of his bedroom for some painkillers, the last of the whiskey. Eventually managed to drift to sleep again on the couch as the sun was rising, a book still pinched limply in his fingers.

He could learn to forget it again, he'd thought before finally dropping off. It wasn't so hard. It wouldn't be so hard. He'd lived three years so far, basically alone. It was all about survival, after all. He'd traveled by himself before settling in Nibelheim, sometimes with little more than a coat and a patch of grass to sleep on, just looking for some kind of purpose, some kind of reason to live after the need for vengeance against Hojo had been sated.

In the Turks, too, he'd been solitary, even in that strange camaraderie that had grown through necessity between mercenaries. Hadn't ever really looked for friendship, companionship.

Until *her*, of course. Lucrecia. Suddenly, poignantly completed like he'd never known he could be. Looking into those green eyes, basking in her slow smile, reveling in the feel of her there, drowsing beside him in the afterglow. So much in love, he'd thought it would never end.

He'd learned to forget in the three years and some, since the coffin. Even learned to make a living out of the horror that churned inside of him. A semi-normal life. If he could just get back to that.

But dreams were no escape. They only served as reminders of his weakness. And when he woke again in the cloudy gray glow of mid-morning, it was to the wish that he'd never met a woman named Tifa, or Lucrecia.

It *was* going to be hard. Broken open, and though cracks could be fixed that wall would never be as strong again. So many damn memories flooding in until he felt he had to do something with the pressure of hurt, grief, anger building in him. He wanted to hunt, give in to *them*, just let their violent emotions roll over him until they crushed his humanity out. Anything, anything...

Anything to keep him from having to face it. Hurt, he'd never healed properly. Bereaved, he'd never grieved properly. But, please, anything to keep from thinking. Just for a little while longer. He wasn't so naive as to believe it would never catch up with him, but, please, he didn't want someday to have to be today. He'd found a measure of quiet and he couldn't stand the idea that it might turn sour, like everything else, before its time.

No wonder Tifa had been standing on the edge of that bridge, ready to plunge herself beyond the reach of her own mind. But he couldn't die. Could run, maybe, though that was only ever a temporary respite. But maybe it would be enough. Just long enough to get grounded again in the present.

He changed the bandages, pulled on his shirt, found his boots by the door. Shrugged into his coat and quickly slipped a band around his hair, tucking the tail under his collar. The wound on his leg was gone without so much as a scar, but the others ached. It felt like he'd been injured in one way or another for a long, long time. Limping, hunching, favouring. And he should be resting to let them heal. But he'd never learned to heal properly.

Out the door, down the stairs, outside. Just for a few hours. And, if she thought he was still sleeping, it was possible Lily would never know he'd been gone at all.

"She's just about to come and check on you, Vincent."

He could usually sense it when someone was looking at him, but this time he guessed he'd been too preoccupied. Tifa, dressed, as had sort of become the norm, in some of Lily's loose clothing and perched on the shallow step of Lily's door. Bare feet peeking out from under the ankle cuffs of pants that might've been a little short, hair tucked over one shoulder to keep the breeze from picking at it, a cigarette pinched between two fingers. Sitting casually, he suspected, a moment ago before he'd appeared. Now with her back straight, knees drawn up, looking ready to stand if need be. Twitching the cigarette as if she couldn't help fidgeting a little.

She must've heard him on the stairs as well, he realized. And he couldn't help wondering if she'd considered letting him pass without saying a word.

She dropped her eyes to one of her knees and starting picking at a crease in the material. "You don't have to leave." There was a note of resigned calm to her voice, something his mind immediately associated with the words: 'You know what you're doing, Cloud. We'll stay on the Highwind until you and the others return'. The 'others' had always somehow included Aeris back then. And they were convincing words, he knew, in most cases.

Like the words: 'If she's happy, then I don't mind.' Convincing enough that he'd almost believed them, too.

"I've decided to go back to Kalm today." She brought the cigarette to her lips with the awkwardness of someone who has never done the action before. Took a drag and only coughed a little as she exhaled. "I'm getting my first cheque in a few hours and I'll be on my way." It was a moment before she lifted her eyes again, as if she had to prepare her expression. A smile, nearly flawless. Even Lily might've been fooled into thinking she meant what she said. "Thank you for everything, Vincent. And I'm sorry..." Something, like a hitch in her bravado, but it passed with surprising ease. "...again, for all of the trouble."

Where was the girl who'd spoken of responsibility, so sure for a time that people were answerable only for themselves? Where was the Tifa who'd been in enough pain to be selfish?

Here was the Tifa he remembered from Avalanche. Confident, smiling, so strong and sure of herself. Unwilling to be a burden, conscientious enough to want to make others comfortable, even if it meant a sacrifice on her part.

She tossed the cigarette to the ground and nearly stepped on it before remembering that she wasn't wearing any shoes. A little startled for a moment by what she had almost done, and he didn't miss the tiny shock of embarrassment as she turned for a moment to glance at him. And then she lowered her gaze again and gave a self-conscious little chuckle. "A disgusting habit, I shouldn't have given in." Stood with that unmistakable fighter's grace; it would always give her away as someone who had studied, to those who knew about that sort of thing. "I'll stall her for a minute, if you want to go back upstairs. Just don't..." And then she gave a small shrug, smiling in what he took for faint amusement as she looked over her shoulder. "Don't tell Lily that I'm planning to leave. I don't think she'd let me."

Lily had been the first in a long time -- the first to sacrifice something, her security and comfort level in her own home, for him. Not until later that he'd realized what she was getting out of his silent company: someone to care for without a lot of messy emotionalism; someone to give her some purpose back; someone who might justify the survival of this hardened northern Lily, transplanted from the ruin of Midgar and hidden away like her own garden in back of her house.

Tifa, however, had nothing to gain from this. Except what she'd wanted in the beginning. To go back to Kalm. And nothing there except a return to debt, loneliness, and the possible desire to escape again by her own hand.

He wanted what he'd had back. He wanted her to go, to stop reminding him of things he'd lost. He wanted to believe her. It was her own life, after all. She hadn't ever asked for his help or interference. It was her own choice, and everyone had their reasons for doing things.

But the argument rang hollow. Smoking wouldn't kill him, but if she went back to Kalm it might kill her. Her choice...but he had a choice, too.

He no longer felt the desire to run so keenly, now that things had turned around and the future seemed a little more hopeful. He would go to Kalm. She would never see him; no more risky midnight rendezvous. But he would be there, keeping tabs, just in case, for as long as he deemed necessary.

If she could sacrifice for his comfort, he could sacrifice again for her life, and this time with nothing to gain. Both of their debts to each other would be repaid, and they could go on about their lives as if all of this hadn't happened.

Though, really, if he was truthful... He struggled with it for a moment before finally giving in to the admission. He would miss the poker games, the brief respite from nightmares, the quick, slightly bantering tone their conversations had been developing.

And some unacknowledged part would miss more than that.

She was still waiting for his reply, and looking a little worried now at his hesitation, as if she thought he might be considering saying no to her request. But there was nothing to consider. He gave a small nod. "Our secret," he told her, using what he knew she would understand. "But don't 'borrow' another chocobo from the stable. I'll take you up tonight, after Lily has gone to bed."

She couldn't hide the surprise in her expression at his offer. And then she was shaking her head and there was a little smile on her lips that she seemed unable to completely repress, somewhere between annoyance and a kind of sardonic amusement. "I don't need a chaperone, Vincent. I'm not going to go plunging off of a cliff. Really, I can make it on my own."

He wondered if she really believed it. "I need to leave anyway, as a precaution. I don't want a repeat of what happened with Hellmasker. However, it is up to you."

And she stared at him for a moment, as if judging his sincerity, his motives. Seemed unable to come up with a reason he might insist. And gave in with a sigh and a nod. "All right. Tonight. I'll come out when Lily's asleep." Then she turned back to the matter at hand, put her fingers out for the doorknob. And stopped. Seemed to struggle with herself. And glanced back at him, slowly reaching into a pocket, looking uneasy but determined. "I took these for you," she said quietly, dropping her eyes as she pulled a couple of Lily's cigarettes into view. He wondered when the woman would start missing them. "Lily probably won't let you smoke them. I was just going to leave them outside your door, but..."

The gesture caught him off-guard, and he realized that he'd been expecting her to be feeling sort of bitter; it was his discomfort that was making her feel she had to leave, after all. But she didn't seem bitter, as if she was blaming him.

And he thought he ought to accept, not only because they were cigarettes. Earlier, he might've ignored her or walked away. He didn't need her tact or any portion of her regard, of anyone's regard. He was selfish, and he knew it; but after so much pain, he almost felt justified for it. He deserved a little bit of peace, didn't he?

But she was going to the trouble of being civil, even thoughtful. He could at least do a measure of the same.

He wasn't sure for a moment if she wanted him to approach, but after he took the first step toward her she seemed willing to meet him more than halfway. Held out her hand a little awkwardly, an arm's-length away, and then gave a sharp little shrug, glancing up only once before dropping her gaze. Uncomfortable, very unlike the informality of seeing her wrapped in a blanket and huddled on his floor, but he couldn't tell if she was uncomfortable for him or for herself. Perhaps for the both of them. When he raised his palm, she quickly dropped the cigarettes. And then, instead of moving away, she hesitated and gave a sigh.

"You should head upstairs now," she told him, not looking into his face but, he suspected, at one of his buttons. "I'll try to delay her, but I don't know how much longer she'll be." And then seemed to make herself glance up. Met his eyes, and he could see for a moment through her mask of confidence. "I really am grateful for everything," she said quietly, as if it might be a kind of confession. "And sorry if...you know. Just...sorry it happened this way. But I am going to be all right." Then she then dropped her chin and paused as if there might be some more words. And turned and went inside.

And he went upstairs, pulled out of his boots and coat and shirt and made his quiet way back to bed.

Lily would not be happy when she found out what had happened. But it would go back to the way it had been, once Lily knew Tifa was all right. Once he knew Tifa was all right. It would all go back to normal.

And he could live his semblance of a life for a little while longer.

Back