It seemed to take years. Years of riding behind Vincent, her cold hands fingered in his coat, her breath misting out of her mouth in fleeting puffs of warm air, her eyes wandering until they inevitably came back to that spot between his shoulder-blades. Staring and trying to keep her mind blank and sometimes wondering if he could feel her gaze boring into him. Wondering what he was feeling. Eventually struggling to stay awake and half-dreaming there had been a terrible rock slide, so terrible that no one would be able to get in or out of Kalm for a long, long time.

But there was the town when she started from her slumber, its lights shining like small beacons in the soft, crawling fog that perpetually crept up from the ocean foam. And the rest of the journey took no time at all.

She felt stiff and half frozen when they finally dismounted at the road entrance, bathed in the glow of the travelers' lights. And standing in the salty tang of the breeze coming off of the water, pulling her hair over a shoulder to keep it from whipping her face, she thought she'd never missed Nibelheim so much. Something refreshing about Kalm the first time she and Cloud had arrived here, buoyed on love and dreams, but now it seemed crowded and seedy. She didn't want to stay here.

Vincent started forward first, leading the chocobo at a steady pace Tifa had to work to keep up with. At first she assumed he was simply accompanying her to her door, but as they approached the turn-off to her street he gave no sign of caring the least bit where she lived. He carried on as she stopped walking, obviously with his own destination in mind. Well, this was it then. She hesitated a moment, caught between calling a farewell and just letting him go.

And sighed heavily. Damn him, she wanted a parting word with *somebody*.

"Good-bye, Vincent!"

She saw his head come up at the sound of her voice, and then he glanced around for a second as if surprised that he'd lost track of her. Eventually spotted her. And backtracked a few steps so, she thought, he wouldn't have to shout to be heard.

"Your house is there?" He indicated the street behind her with a flick of his eyes.

She looked quickly over her shoulder, as if to check. "Yes. The bar."

He nodded a little and spared a glimpse for his previous heading. "I have something to take care of." And then he hesitated, though it was hard to tell whether he was uncertain or just taking care in choosing his words. "I'll find you before I leave, to say good-bye."

And she realized that she was surprised. Never had a hello from him, but he seemed to think a good-bye was an important enough triviality to indulge in, even after everything. Maybe Lily had managed to drill some manners into him. Or maybe he was doing it for her sake, since she was making a point of it. Whatever the reason, it was something -- something to wait for, maybe to look forward to. She would be alone in a minute, but he would be coming back.

She wouldn't think beyond that until it was happening. Until she was being left here. Though...

God, her mind was already forming the plea, trying to push it down to her lips. 'Would you...could you stay here one night? I have a couch. I don't want to be alone...'

She swallowed it down unsaid. "Okay."

He nodded again and turned away. Walked off until he'd blended into the darkness, disappeared behind a building. And, rubbing her arms through the leather of the coat with cold hands, she pushed away from the spot she felt moored to and headed for the empty house that had come up with an unsettling frequency in her dreams.

Her keys, she realized as she arrived at the door. Damn. Where were they? She hadn't done something stupid like thrown them away before she'd jumped, had she? Oh, no. She just hadn't locked the door. The knob was icy after so many nights without fingers to warm it. And for a moment, she felt a spark of old affection and sympathy for the building that had been her home, *their* home, for two years. So much it had seen and suffered through with them. And then the spark was gone. She turned the knob.

From here, she could go upstairs or into the bar. Both places would be covered in dust, she was sure. But there was a little bit of warmth in the bar, at least, sealed in bottles. With what came out as a shaky sigh, she pushed a hand through her wind-tangled hair and stepped through the doorway into the room that had once served so many.

Dark, and she fumbled for the light switch. Closed her eyes and turned away from the glare that made her see red behind her eyelids.

The sound of quick movement, a startled, gasping breath. "Oh...oh, God...Tifa?"

Dreaming, dreaming. Always dreaming. She was still asleep on the chocobo, she thought inanely for a moment. Having a nightmare. Time to wake up. She opened her eyes.

His hair was a limp, tousled confusion of blond. He hadn't shaved in a long time, she guessed. His clothes were rumpled and streaked with dirt in places. His eyes were wide and bright and filled with aching surprise.

A drink forgotten in his hand on the bar, his fingers trembling around the glass. Sitting on a stool, the way he always did, one boot set with the arch hooked on a rung, the other flat on the floor. Tracked drying muddy footprints across the dusty floor. She didn't care. She didn't care about that. If she touched him, his skin would be warm. If she held him, his body would be firm resistance against arms that might try to crush him. If she slapped him his flesh and bones would sting her hand.

He stood suddenly, as if just realizing that he was still sitting. "God, where have you been? I asked everyone, and no one knew."

Words wanted to come out of her mouth. Her mind was processing answers. But something in her was screaming, screaming so loud, and so afraid that if she opened her mouth that scream would just burst out into the silence. Couldn't do this. Oh God, couldn't do this right now. Everything that wanted to kill him, hold him, blame him, cry in the warm, solid comfort of his embrace...

Too much. Snapping...

"Tifa! Wait!"

She didn't know where she was going at first. Just running, running, her heart pounding, her lungs searing with strange breaths like sobs, her stomach a clenched fist inside of her. He wasn't supposed to be here. She had to get away. She couldn't think. She had to think. If only something would swoop down and grab her, take her far, far away from here. To a mountain-top, just for a little while longer, until she could map out her heart and mind and find out how to make everything all right again...

Not until she saw him, the only movement in a town lost in oblivious sleep, coming out of the inn and turning toward where she knew the stables were, did she realize she'd been looking for him.

'Saviour. Please, once more, saviour. Save me.'

As if he'd heard her mental petition, maybe her driving footsteps, she saw him turn his head sharply to look at her. Just a couple of seconds, just another two seconds and she'd be there. The sudden dip of his hand, less than a second, inside the shadow of his coat, and he was armed as if she might've been trying to escape a hoarde of monsters. Instinctive reaction to an unknown threat, some part of her realized. She'd once had fighting as an ingrained piece of her life, always prepared to drop to the defensive when she was startled, too.

Afraid, but she'd thought she was ready. Weak, so weak, so scared, running like a child dashing through the reaching shadows of too-long hallways to a parent's bedroom. Such a goddamn child, and she felt ashamed, suddenly ashamed for running. Cloud... God, he'd been looking for her. How long had he been here? She had to bring herself back under control, had to tell him something. He deserved...

Abruptly brought out of her thoughts. Not used to this. Sitting so long, too. Shouldn't have been surprised. But she wasn't prepared anymore; one of her knees buckling and she stumbled, tripping, couldn't get her balance back. Damn, oh, damn the pavement...

A flash of black-clothed reflexes, awkward and a little painful as hard metal fingers grabbed for her. Saving her with a little pain to save her from the greater pain. Yanked up, still overbalanced, gravity still a force threatening to bring her hard to the ground. Then arms and a body to form a firm cushion to fall against, to pinch with her fingers as she desperately worked to right herself. 'Sorry, sorry,' she thought as she glanced up into the grimace on his face a moment before getting her feet under her. Taking a steadying step from him and suddenly not sure what she wanted of him as he glanced, uncertain and wary, over her head.

Wanted to run. Part of her just wanted to run and never look back. Yes, yes, cling to him and beg him to take her away again. Please, she couldn't stay here, please, please...

"Tifa!"

She'd had nightmares of him. So many of them it was almost hard to imagine he wouldn't start screaming and accusing her. But this Cloud looked so weary, so desperate, so confused. Not like the close-mouthed, angry man who'd left her behind, spent so long chafing at her side, at the places they didn't quite fit together. Come back to find her, and she hadn't been here. Worried about her...

He slowed as he approached, as he recognized Vincent, she thought, his face screwing into a frown that tore at her. Wary, suspicious. And something in her ached to explain, to justify everything. I was falling, he caught me, saved me, kissed him but it didn't mean anything I swear...

"Vincent." He stopped, fingers going into his hair. Such a familiar gesture; feeling self-conscious and unsure, she knew, though his expression didn't change. "What are you doing here?"

And she could feel the change behind her, Vincent stiffening, suddenly caught somewhere he didn't want to be, and she remembered finding him in the bathroom, quickly doling out stitches. 'Please leave...'

Didn't want to explain. Had never explained himself when they'd questioned him. Had always walked away.

"Leaving."

And she felt him withdraw, like losing a wall at her back. Heading again toward the stable. A flash of panic and anger, and she couldn't help turning as he walked away, one hand out as if it might be enough to hold him there. "Vincent, wait!"

And it was almost a surprise when he did stop. Moved to look back at her. But his posture was rigid and resolved, his face expressionless. A little afraid to realize that she didn't know how much of it, if any of it, was a mask. Lily would've known, though. Lily could read him like a book, through time and effort and experience. And Tifa felt that strange kind of envy again for a sharp second. Envy for that closeness, that Lily had been let in.

She on the outside, an eventual observer of his smirks, his subtle moods, his short, occasional conversation, his sporadic sense of wry humour. Sometimes, a surprised but willing participant. Underwritten by fear, though, all the time. And now, all gone. They'd never known him. More than a shadow, a shell. A hard person to know, maybe. But she would never know.

Because all she saw now was the shadow, the shell. The Vincent who didn't smoke or play cards or eat banana bread. The Vincent who had left Avalanche without any of the parting nicities. And she knew, right now, it was all Cloud saw, too.

"Good-bye, Tifa." Short, clipped, to-the-point. And then walking away.

"No, wait!" It was almost without her permission. Panicking fear, and she couldn't be left alone, couldn't be left without an escape. Just for another minute. "Please, Vincent, please. Just stay, for a minute. Please."

'Please, not an impenetrable wall. Not right now. Not sure what will move you, but please, be moved. Responsible for life, please look at it that way. It's not in the best interests of my life to be left here alone right now.'

And so much, too much there, both too simple and too complicated to explain to herself why she would think of it as being left alone. Cloud here, but not Vincent.

And relieved beyond words when Vincent slowed to a halt a few feet away, and then turned. And waited with the barest impression of irritation or impatience.

"What the hell is going on?"

'Don't be angry, Cloud. I need to explain.'

"I...I was in Nibelheim..."

"With Vincent?"

Wrong. It was going to come out all wrong. "No, just listen, please. I was living with someone else, a woman. I... The bar... I just, I had no money, and things were getting worse and worse..."

Worried. He looked worried again. How long had it been since he'd looked worried, for her? Hero Cloud, and this was what he knew how to deal with. He could be the strong one for her. So many 'It'll be all right, Tifa,' hugs and hand squeezes and pats on the shoulder in Avalanche when she'd worried aloud about which of their team might die. Might die next. But whenever he'd been the weak one, he'd brushed her off. Closed himself up. And she hadn't been able to be girlie and sweet and innocent for him, to catch him off-guard and make him smile. She hadn't been Aeris.

She'd been silent strength, a willing ear, a shoulder to lean on, things he'd never used or appreciated. And eventually, she'd just been silent.

"Tif, what are you trying to tell me? What happened?" His hands, coming up to rest comfortingly on her shoulders.

And she knew the touch would hurt her, make her cry, make her weak. Make her crumble into his waiting strength. And she knew she couldn't. It was the wrong time. She had to tell him, they had to talk, things had to be made right. Almost automatic, like a defense mechanism. Jolting away from him like he might've wanted to hurt her.

"Don't! Don't touch me."

Cloud, confused and hurt and angry. "What? What'd I do?"

"Nothing." Everything. "Just, please. I tried to kill myself, Cloud."

His face, shocked into blank surprise. "What?" And then that hard, confused anger. "Why?"

"I... I just... There was so much debt, and you left me with...God, with all of the fucking lease payments, by myself..."

"You tried to kill yourself because of money?" He sounded incredulous.

And something in her was aching with the fear that she would never be able to say it right, to make him understand. "No! You broke my heart, Cloud!" Tears on her face, and she wondered when she'd started crying.

And his expression became the one she'd seen so many times, the one she'd learned to hate. Guilty offense, angry and afraid of being blamed for something that had happened because of something he'd done or not done. Aeris' death, almost Tifa's death. And for the first time she realized, really realized how much it would've hurt him if she'd managed a successful suicide.

"We both knew it wasn't working! I had to get away, to think! I needed to resolve some things!"

For them. Maybe it really had been for them. He'd left because he'd wanted to save the relationship. But... "You left in the middle of the night! You never said anything about it! What was I supposed to think? I didn't know if you were ever coming back..."

"Well, what was I supposed to say? Goddammit, Tifa. You weren't even looking at me anymore."

And she knew that was true, but she'd only stopped because it had hurt to look at him. "Cloud, this isn't getting us anywhere." Her voice sounded small in her own ears. Once, she might've just stayed silent until he walked away. But she felt different now. She knew it couldn't be left hanging. It had to be dealt with properly. And she knew, just as surely, that right now wasn't a good time. "We need to talk about things. We need to work this out. But it's the middle of the night..."

"Then lets go back to the bar. We can sit down and talk..."

"But, Cloud, I'm tired and..."

"Then we'll talk in the morning." He stretched out a hand; not touching her, but hovering there beside her shoulder, as if to urge her to walk with him.

So damn reasonable, it made her feel petty and argumentative to shake her head. But she knew. "I can't stay here, Cloud. I'm sorry, but..."

"What...what are you talking about?"

And he knew better, too. Or he should've. "We can't just...start living together again. We need to talk without...without sleeping together."

"We won't, then..."

"But we will!" It would only be a matter of time. An accident. A drink, a missing card, leaning over and seeing the wary, fearful desire on his face, in his eyes. Unable to stop herself from leaning into that warmth.

And, where Vincent had resisted, she knew Cloud would not. Vincent had a will like an anchor.

Cloud searched her expression quickly for a moment, and then dropped his eyes. And she knew he knew she was right.

"I'm sorry, Cloud." And she was, more than he would ever know, she thought. Sorry, angry, hurting. Fighting so hard against the longing she had to just throw it all to the wind, burrow herself into his arms, make everything else go away just for one moment of happy reunion. "I'll call you, if you stay in the house. If the phone still works there. But, I'll come back, in any case. And, if you still want, we can talk then." She had to forcibly bite off the 'Okay?' that wanted to finish the sentence. So much wanting him to understand, to know he would still be here, to have some assurance that he wouldn't just leave again.

Though there was no assurance for anything. Not that he would stay. Not that anything would actually *be* resolved. Not that they would ever be able to pick up where they'd left off. Too different and too the same. It would take a lot of work to make it work. But maybe. Maybe...

And Cloud nodded a little, not looking at her, not arguing anymore. He'd lost. No longer holding the high card.

Vincent had given her the queen of hearts back.

And she turned to him.

He was still there, waiting for her. Part of her felt she should attempt a grateful smile, but her mouth wouldn't cooperate, and so she simply approached. Left Cloud out of ear-shot. "Take me back to Nibelheim, please." Almost a whisper, looking into his non-expression and trying to find some hint that he might help her. "I can't stay here. I need to go somewhere, and I have a job there. I could get my own apartment. Please."

But that wasn't all of it. It would never be that simple. The lines around his mouth tightened with the faintest hint of a frown, and she knew he hadn't been fooled by the rose-coloured picture. Her own apartment, but she wouldn't want to be alone. Square one, again. They would have to share Lily, avoid each other.

Or learn to live with each other, come to some agreement with some boundaries.

She could fairly feel the uncertainty in his hesitation, his desire to say no. But he was hesitating. And that meant she had some kind of leverage. He knew what it would mean to leave her here. Not necessarily life-threatening, but she sensed the feeling of responsibility from him. Something, some reason for him to feel obligated...

Maybe the simple fact that he did understand? Maybe some way to convince him...

"If it was Lucrecia, what would you do? Would you stay?"

A shift in his expression, like she'd caught him off-guard with the question. And then his eyebrows twitching down, maybe angry at her for the low-blow, for having invoked the name of Lucrecia, for making him feel he should help. Almost glaring at her, red eyes bright in the dark, glowing out of the hard, pale angles of his face. But she made herself face him. Please, please. Selfish of her, maybe. But, please, she didn't want to be alone. Let it be Nibelheim. Please, she wanted to go home.

And then he sighed visibly and dropped his gaze. Turned back toward the stable without a word.

And she followed.

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