She'd done it to herself again. Someone (her father?) had told her once that situations you didn't deal with properly would inevitably come up again and again in your life until you did deal with them. Too right, like bad karma. One day she hoped it would teach her something.

Because this time she was only losing again. Losing something that felt enough like home to make her wish it would stay that way; losing it because she was weak and lonely and bad with confrontations. Though maybe she *had* learned something out of it. This time she wasn't staying in that discomfort until everything blew wide open, wasn't staying until she and Vincent couldn't pretend it wasn't there anymore and they just gave in. She didn't need another healthy dose of regret, thank you.

She'd been there on the couch, unable to sleep, thinking, measuring pros and cons, reliving the heat and the shame of the kiss until she'd wanted to sink permanently out of sight and never have to face Vincent again. Knowing what she had to do, and not wanting to do it. But knowing there was no other way.

One of them would have to leave. Because it would get uncomfortable either way, even if they resolved to ignore each other. Lily, she was sure, wouldn't stand for it. And, although she might tell herself not to, might even listen to herself for awhile, she knew she would eventually find herself outside of his door again. And somehow she couldn't help believing that he would eventually find himself letting her in.

Not an impenetrable wall, like she'd thought. Just a man, like other men. Just as prone to human desires.

And just as haunted by regret and the fear of old pain as she was. Maybe more so. Not such a mystery after all. Just a human, like her, trying to find some peace in a world that was still catching its breath after starting awake from the nightmare of Jenova and Sephiroth and Meteor.

And she knew she couldn't steal what he'd found away from him. Like playing hide-and-seek. Scattering, searching desperately for somewhere dark to crouch and breath into your hand and wait for the end of the game. Finding the perfect spot, only to realize that there was someone already hiding in it, someone so afraid of the light that you couldn't imagine pulling them out to take the spot for yourself.

She would go to Kalm. And he could have his dark, quiet place back. Simply following the rules of the game. Nothing in the rules that said she had to like it.

It was laughably easy to keep that smile on her face, she noted wretchedly. To chuckle at Lily's jokes, drink her tea, make small talk. She'd been an expert at it, once upon a time. Not breaking down, even in Mideel, until she'd been sure she was alone. Alone, except for a man that might as well not have been there. He'd never really been there with her, maybe.

And then, finding her eyes drawn to those cigarettes. 'To relax m' nerves when I'm flying,' Cid had told her. Not that she'd completely believed him, because he hadn't flown half as much as he'd smoked. But even Vincent, watching his expression melt into something softer, almost like walking past a serious stranger on the sidewalk and seeing them break into an unexpected, unfettered smile at the sight of you. Such a small thing, but such a big change, like you were suddenly looking at a different person. If a cigarette could relax even Vincent...

Sitting outside, breathing in air that felt good for her lungs; crisp Nibelheim air. And then sucking in the tobacco. This would be the last morning, she knew. Squinting her eyes a little against the sun and the breeze, letting the grass tickle the soles of her feet. After this, it would be Kalm again. And she would never do this in Kalm. Only at home, in Nibelheim, on Lily's doorstep. She would look back and remember this time as something close to heaven, the way she remembered the years with her father. Memories that would make her eyes prick with tears, and mostly because she knew she would never get that time back.

Never had a mother. Never had many girl friends; not close ones, at least. Not until Aeris. But then, there had been Cloud between them. Could talk about anything with Aeris: guilt-free stories about her past (so sheltered in the Midgar slums, Aeris had always been interested to hear about the origins of Avalanche); funny memories about Barret and Marlene; sometimes they'd even talked about their parents -- Aeris growing up with only a mother, herself with only her father. But never about Cloud. An instinctively taboo subject. Though Tifa had wanted, had *so* wanted to set that right between them. But so afraid it would ruin their friendship...

Lily. If Aeris had been like a sister, Lily was like a mother. Aeris had been murdered; she was leaving Lily behind. Nothing good ever lasted. It was just the way of life -- her life. Mountain-top experiences, but you couldn't stay on the peak forever. You eventually had to descend once more into the dark, hazy valleys and face your fears.

And that someday had become today.

Lily went upstairs a few minutes after Vincent, and judging by the lack of agitated footsteps on the floor above Tifa could guess that Vincent had not been caught out of bed. Bringing him breakfast, and then Lily would come back down here, get into her grubbies, plop a floppy hat onto Tifa's head, and they'd go into the garden. Then they'd have lunch, maybe that leftover spaghetti, and maybe they'd go up into Vincent's apartment and play some cards. Drink tea. Lily would lose, maybe Tifa would find herself sharing an amused glance with Vincent before they worked to out bid each other, read each other's bluffs. Vincent would win, and Lily would commiserate with her loudly to no visible effect on Vincent. A simple, predictable life in company she probably never would have looked to and filled with the comfortable, understated kind of affection that Vincent and Lily shared.

But it was over now, and she couldn't help but feel she'd taken it for granted. Felt the familiar tingle of tears along her jawline, the end of her nose, and struggled to repress them. Too much of the past, too much fear, too many things left unresolved, not the least of which were boundaries in an unexpected attraction neither she nor Vincent had been able to make themselves address head-on. If they'd both been emotionally stronger, if they'd known how to deal with it from the start, maybe it wouldn't have come to this.

But no use in thinking about what could have been if she'd been different. She'd already wasted a year doing that.

She wanted to forget that she was leaving tonight. She wanted just to do things as she'd been doing them, like nothing was wrong, like she could stay forever. One more day of a normal life, with food and conversation and reasons to get out of bed. But she didn't think she could do it. Her poker face was good, but not that good.

She got up from the table it felt like she'd been sitting at for hours. Took a glance around Lily's kitchen, wondering how many of the little details she would remember. Magnets, that jar of change, the pattern on the plates. Changed out of Lily's clothing and into her own, recently washed. Put on her shoes, and left the house.

She wouldn't get to say good-bye tonight, she realized, or thank you. Not really; not properly. Poor Lily. She would just wake up in the morning to find herself all alone with no explanation why.

That tingle of tears again. She wished it could be different. But she'd never had the chance to say good-bye, ever. Not really. Not to her mother, her father, Zangan, Aeris, Cloud. She thought she should probably be used to sudden partings.

But she wasn't.

To Mr. Fallowfield's store, to get her cheque. She would send some back to Lily and Vincent for taking care of her, for her poker tab. Use the rest toward her debt. And try to find another job. Try to start again. She could do it. She would remember the Tifa she'd been in Midgar. She could do it.

Hello, good-bye, Nibelheim.

Maybe she'd take a walk around, just for old time's sake. Past where the mansion had stood; along the street where she and Cloud had grown up, not far from each other; through the town square. She wondered if the well was still standing.

He'd been shorter than her, shorter than some of the boys she'd played with, even. But with a kind of steel in his face, the haunted look of someone being eaten away inside by the desire to prove themselves. Too old a face for a child, still with roundish cheeks and hair that, though shoved into an untidy ponytail, would not stay out of his eyes.

They'd hardly known each other. But he'd been smitten. That boy no one could touch, wanting to prove himself for her. Promising with an indifferent shrug to be her hero. One day, he would save her.

The slice of Sephiroth's sword. The only time, and he'd been too late. After that, she'd grown up and learned the value of being able to save herself. And he'd gone on to be Aeris' hero. Though he hadn't been able to save her.

And when Tifa had finally needed a hero, Cloud hadn't been there to scoop her out of the water, cry at her broken heart, brush her wet hair from her forehead and promise to love her forever and never leave her.

It had been Vincent. Not a pair of warm arms, but an excuse that no one would have left her in the water. Not a gallant saviour who wanted to hold her and make everything better, but a man with wary eyes and reluctant lips that wanted for warming, who felt responsible for life. Selfish enough to act selfless, but then be willing to take her back to the place he'd rescued her from.

The healing, the communication, the understanding were not his forte. Like Cloud in that respect. But at least he'd been around to save her and be what she'd needed: a protector against herself. And now, it was her turn to save him from something he obviously didn't want to face. And maybe this time she would call Barret.

She loved Barret. Barret loved her. He would do all he could.

Though she wished...

Damn. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

She wished she could at least say good-bye.

        * * *

Lily came up that evening with some supper for him, some of what he couldn't help but think of as her 'famous lasagna'. Though he couldn't imagine that many people had ever eaten it. Himself, Tifa, her dead husband in Midgar. But it was good, probably the best thing she made. Aside, maybe, from her banana bread.

It took a little bit arguing, and eventually his stubborn refusal to sit in bed any longer, that made her give in to his request that they eat in the kitchen. Not only was it more practical, it also gave him the chance to show her that he wasn't an invalid, that he was healing. That way, she might not be so angry when she realized he was gone.

Not that she wouldn't be angry. She would be furious. No doubt in his mind that she would blame him first for Tifa's departure; not that he wasn't to blame, but it had been Tifa's decision. He hadn't forced her, and once Lily knew Tifa was all right in Kalm she would eventually forgive him. Though it would probably be a good idea not to return for a couple of weeks, and to keep phone conversations short.

Lily seemed preoccupied as they ate, staring at a spot on his table as she chewed. She was even scowling a little, he realized. Not often that he was the one saying something when she was the silent one.

"Something's bothering you."

She glanced up at him, surprised, and her scowl softened a little, a corner of her mouth twitching upward. "God, must be obvious if *you* can see it." She sighed and turned her attention back to her plate, jabbing at a piece of lasagna and taking a moment to wind it in some of the melted cheese. "I don't know. Tifa's kind of moping again. Just quiet. Nothing to worry about, probably. She knows she can talk to me." She put the forkful in her mouth and chewed for a few seconds. "She just went to bed this afternoon, said she had a headache. I don't know." She seemed to shrug a little as she went about cutting another piece, not meeting his eyes. And he could almost guess what she was going to say next. Her way, always, of saying something she wasn't sure how he would react to. "I'm glad, though, that you two seem to be getting on again. Best thing for her now is just to feel like she's worth something, that she can deal with things."

Kind of like survivors, he found himself thinking. He wasn't interested in getting to know anyone else, really, around Nibelheim, but there were those who tried to talk to him. Lonely people, just looking for someone to listen, someone to justify the fact that they had survived Meteor, or the collapse of Midgar. Not that he had anything to offer them.

He wasn't a survivor, couldn't relate. He simply endured. Would always have to endure. And that was something no one who wasn't facing the same fate would ever truly understand.

"She'll be all right. There's a strength in her."

He hadn't meant it to sound like anything more than the words themselves said, but a passing twinkle in Lily's eye made him want to scowl. Lily didn't understand how it had to be, how far detached he was from the rest of the human race. She didn't understand why he might want to forget. She would never comprehend why he wouldn't act on an attraction to a woman. Too many risks involved, especially with what he was now.

It was just Lily's way. So candid and human and vital, he felt sure that if she had gone through what he had been through, she would've found some way to conquer it. Would've found a way to bring back her quality of life. Like she had after the death of her husband, the ruination of her home.

Would never understand what drove him to do what he knew he would always do: escape, hide, forget. It was just his way.

"Don't doubt that she'll be all right. I'm just glad you're not trying to chase her off anymore. Maybe she's bringing you around."

He didn't want to hear it. There was still some shame and guilt there, and he didn't want to have to deal with those feelings. She'd made her own decision. Partly his fault, maybe, but in the end it had been her choice...

He knew Lily could sense his discomfort with her topic, and he was grateful when she backed down. "Eat, Vince. You're a goddamn rail. Eat something."

They ate in silence for almost a minute. But Vincent knew it wouldn't last. He could almost count the seconds until...

"So..."

He smirked to himself. Predictable.

"You're going to have to...go again sometime, aren't you? To...feed those..." She faltered and gave him a helpless look. "Can I call them creatures? What the hell are they?"

"Call them what you like." He certainly wasn't attached enough to them to feel insulted. "I'll have to go soon."

She nodded a little and turned back to her plate, cutting up the last of her meal. "Well, just remember to be careful. I don't care how quick you heal up afterwards, you shouldn't be pushing it."

Always worrying, but he'd come to expect it so that it barely registered anymore when, once, it had grated on him.

"Though I suppose you don't need a lecture from me. The threat of antiseptic should be enough, huh?" She looked up at him with a grin, and he only recognized the tension as it melted away in familiarity. Not completely comfortable, yet, with the idea that he wasn't alone in his body. Though he couldn't shake the feeling that the discomfort existed more because she wasn't sure how to address the pain of his past. They'd never talked about his past. Though, maybe that would change.

And this time he allowed a smirk at her tone. "Yes, antiseptic. Not the pain itself, that's not deterrent enough."

She chuckled a little. "Well, it obviously hasn't been. God, you damn masochist." And then she stood from the table and collected their dishes. "I'm going to check on Tifa, see if she needs anything. Maybe we'll be up later to play poker."

But he doubted Tifa would come. It would just be Lily and himself from now on. And he knew they would both feel the loss of that third player. Especially someone there in the middle, better able to hide her feelings than Lily and not quite as good as he was. The perfect balance, he'd found himself thinking more than once when the three of them had played. Just enough to keep him winning, but not without the flavour of competition. He hoped he wouldn't lose interest without it.

"Now, I know you don't want me to ask, but before I go do you need any help getting back to..."

He raised a hand to stop her; that was a little too far.

"Okay, okay. I'm going then." She slipped her feet into her sandals and left the apartment.

And he made his way to the couch in the living room, picking up the book he'd left on the coffee table. A little unpleasant to think that the next time they talked, likely over the phone tomorrow morning, she would be yelling at him.

        * * *

The night was cool and she wished as she stepped outside that she had a coat for the trip. Closed the door silently behind her and repressed a shiver. She'd slept some that afternoon on Lily's bed, claiming she had a headache, but right now there was very little she wanted to do more than go back into the living room and slip under the blanket on the couch. However, she made herself leave the step and head out around the house. She'd made up her mind, and she wasn't going to be wishy-washy this time.

'Good-bye, Lily. I'll ask Vincent to tell you how much I appreciate everything you did, and how much I'll miss you. Damn.' She held back the tears. Not until she reached Kalm.

Vincent was waiting on a chocobo at the edge of the street, motionless, and she wondered how long he'd been there. How long he might've waited there if she'd changed her mind. Took a breath and approached.

And was caught off-guard as he held something out to her in his hand. Something black, that hung down like clothing. A jacket, she realized as she reached for it. A man's leather jacket.

"Thank you," she told him, pushing her arms through the sleeves and then working to free her hands from the cuffs. Too big, and she almost gave a nervous chuckle as she pictured herself in it. But she knew no chuckle, nervous or otherwise, would do anything for the uncomfortable tension she felt sure even a stranger would be able to sense between them.

It wouldn't have been right, but now she was starting to regret having agreed to Vincent's offer to take her to Kalm. If she'd 'borrowed' another chocobo, she would've sent it on its way in a few hours, after all. Even his own chocobo, if he'd suggested it. He could've waited a few hours to go out into the wild.

But it felt too late now to go back on the decision, as if Vincent might suspect she was having second thoughts. Not that she cared what he thought, she told herself, but she didn't want to be seen as that weak, indecisive girl anymore. She was strong and determined. She was going back to Kalm. And it didn't matter how she got there.

She stepped up to the side of his mount, smelling feathers and the unmistakable scent of the stable, and put her hands where she knew they were supposed to go. And resigned herself to the fact that this was going to be awkward. Sharing, of course, meant there was less room to maneuver in. And as she jumped and pulled herself up behind him with a grunt, she struggled to keep from shattering the perimeters of personal space. Once this wouldn't have been a problem, but now her arms trembled and her fingers ached as she fought against the pull of gravity that seemed to want nothing more than to see her humiliate herself.

And then, there was Vincent's elbow. She couldn't help but glance up at him at the movement, though it wasn't hard to guess what he was proposing. A gesture he might've offered to anyone, his face expressionless and half-shadowed in the moonlight, even with his hair swept back. And for a moment she felt an irrational kind of anger toward him. Willing to help her up, but not willing to help her by letting her stay.

But it was her decision, she reminded herself. He never would have made her go. But it would never have been resolved between them; the discomfort would have deteriorated everything eventually. This was the way it had to be. One of them had to leave. And he'd been here first.

She grabbed onto his arm and was grateful for the steady strength as she settled herself.

"All right?"

She considered things for a moment; her position, how fast they might be riding. Chewed her lip for a second. "I might need something to hold onto," she told him, trying not to sound apologetic about it.

And he hesitated a moment. "My coat."

She put out her hands and was irritated to notice how uncomfortable she still felt touching him. Closed her fingers around the material and was relieved not to have brushed him through it with her fingers. Damn this. Damn feeling lonely and needy and wanting somebody to hold her, to want her. Damn it for ruining everything. And damn him for being attracted in the first place to make some part of her think it might be a possibility...

"Okay. I'm ready."

And without another word, he started them on their way.

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