A/N: Oh noes, Cairi Jo uses actual song lyrics from an actual song, so Cairi Jo must disclaim them at once! (you'll work out where they are; I'm just making sure they aren't mistaken for mine, since one of my own poems was included in the previous chapter.)

And, line divides in page = change of character narrative. BUT YOU KNOW THIS. OHOHO

Chapter 9 – Footloose

Tifa sat at her dressing table, in front of her mirror. Wrapped in a bathrobe with damp hair twisted into a towel, she painted deep red onto her neat fingernails. A palette of brown eye powder was opened, and with a finger she brushed a thin dusting of it over her lids - barely enough to notice. So unused was she to simply sitting and primping, Tifa stared at her reflection momentarily, wondering what to do next.

Blush-tinted lip gloss sat in one of the drawers. She applied it sparingly, if only to accompany the eye powder. She wasn't sure if she really liked wearing makeup, but at least it made her look a little less tired.

"Tifaaaaa!"

Denzel stomped into the room, a tie hanging knotted and wonky over his shirt collar. His face was red.

She smiled, shaking her head. "Here, let me get that."

The difficulty came not with re-tying the thing, but untangling it from his impossible knot. Once it was corrected, she patted him on the shoulder.

"Thanks." Denzel looked at his feet as he began to leave the room.

Tifa smirked. "Don't forget your top button, fella."

"Fine…"

She chuckled to herself as the door was shut briskly. This little man was certainly not growing up to bother himself with maintenance, she could tell. Marlene, however, was a different case – she had pleaded Tifa to let her put on her new salmon pink dress hours ago, insisting she would take every precaution not to get it dirty. Tifa, having remembered the desire that lay in every little girl to look like a princess for a day, happily agreed to it.

After blow-drying her hair Tifa bundled it up with ribbons and pins, reaching for her own dress in the wardrobe. She liked it on but wondered, with a rising tinge of red in her cheeks, if it wasn't just a little low-cut and poorly supported (was strapless really the best of choices?) - and even more irritatingly, she realized the zip had become stuck halfway up her back.

She bit her lip.

:

It reminded him of his old Turk uniform.

This shirt was flimsy. These dress pants were slack and sort of pooled round his ankles. Those shoes were shiny, and his ankles felt naked. It felt like he was carrying his own weight in air beneath his clothes and he did not like it.

Vincent flung on the suit jacket. This might have been the only thing he remotely liked, being the only garment with any significant weight in it. He gloved his left hand. Red band still in place around his forehead, his hair still hung spidery and dark around his shoulders (he didn't know what else to do with it).

He could hear the children running around downstairs. They were obviously excited for this occasion. He wondered if Tifa was equally as keen; she had probably been ready an hour ago. It was barely ten minutes before Cloud and Yuffie were meant to arrive and pick them up to head to Kalm for the event, and he was sure he'd have his mind warped by how dressed up his friends would be looking. For a moment he imagined himself within some strange and disturbing kind of fairy tale, where everyone had changed.

All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door.

"Vincent?"

Her voice was timid. He opened the door for her - and couldn't help but stare as Tifa stood tottering outside his room, one hand pulling on a heeled shoe and the other behind her back, clutching desperately at her dress. Her hair had been put up in a bun at the nape of her neck but it seemed in her frustration it had begun to slip loose.

Her newly-shoed foot stomped to the ground and she blew stray hairs from her flushed face, chuckling feverishly. "Vincent, I'm sorry to bother you, but… My zip is stuck tight. Would you..?"

For some reason he felt his pulse in his throat momentarily, before it returned to normal. He faltered for a second, before nodding without a word. She turned around, finger and thumb still pinching the dress together. Almost unwittingly Vincent gently moved a few strands of her hair out of the way, and felt that beat in his throat again as he caught the muscles below her neck quivering, if only briefly, upon his touch. He swallowed.

It was indeed stuck fast, round about the small of her back. Trying hard not to let his fingers brush her skin, Vincent tugged at the zipper a little to free some of the thin organza material that had become trapped in it. The thing was eventually freed, and he carefully drew it back up to the top.

She turned back around, smiling. "Thank you."

He inclined his head vaguely, and stayed silent. She looked very different like this… Upwards his eyes trailed from the way the simple navy gown floated about her knees and hugged her waist, and he knew if his pallid face was capable of showing colour then it would have done so: she'd always been happy to display her taught midriff in what she wore, but never anything that revealed even a glimpse of cleavage - and he could tell immediately that she was more uneasy about this than he… Her shoulders hunched suddenly and she started playing with her hair.

He seemed to have witnessed a rare depletion in her confidence; she was always such a poised woman - and as a result, he felt almost intrusive to be beholding her. He looked down.

"I like it."

"Hm?" he mumbled, peering back up into her eyes.

"It looks good on you," She added with a diffident smile, "that getup. Hey, you want me to do something with that hair?"

He hesitated for a second, mouth opening and closing again. Inside his head, Chaos uttered a mocking snigger.

"Gods, I'm not going to braid it!" she giggled. "Just want to try something. Do you mind..? Only for the party…"

"…If you insist."

She was removing his headband before he could register what was happening. She drew the bulk of his hair gently behind his shoulders, and he watched her in the mirror as she took something out of her own hair – a red ribbon – and tied it round his. He was left with a ponytail, low and loose at the back of his neck.

It was out of the way, simply - it reminded him a little of how she used to wear her own hair a few years ago.

"There. How's that?"

"Fine… Thank you."

:

Tifa heard the doorbell ring. Pardoning herself from Vincent's presence, she ran down the stairs as steadily as she could in her heels – re-tying her hair as she went - and found Denzel already opening the door. Cloud entered the lounge with Yuffie, and both of them looked beautiful.

"Ready?" the young man smiled at them, his blue eyes alight. She thought that he really did scrub up quite well – handsomely so.

"Pretty much! How are we getting there?"

"Wait and see; our ride will be over at the monument any minute." Cloud replied. "Where's… Ah. Okay..."

Tifa turned to see Vincent descending the stairs, a reserved sort of look on his face.

Cloud's eyebrows shot up. "Jeeze, I was about to yell intruder. That's quite a change."

Yuffie had simply uttered a small "whoah".

Tifa smiled, but felt sorry for the gunman. He was truly under scrutiny now, given his drastic new getup - and she knew he wasn't fond of the attention. He couldn't have appeared more discomfited at that moment.

Marlene, oblivious to this, peered admiringly at the youngest woman. "You look so pretty, Miss Yuffie."

Yuffie, wearing a hugging satin embroidered number and a flower in her hair, beamed at the girl. "Why you look a little picture yourself, sweetypie! C'mon, we can lead the way. We're gonna rule this joint - whaddya say, Princess Marlene?"

Giggling, Marlene took her hand and the two of them went running out of the door.

"Guess that's our cue then…" Tifa smirked. "Shall we?"

Vincent followed as they stepped outside into the cool evening. Tifa locked the door behind them, and they followed Cloud and the girls as they began to make their way through the apartment blocks, in the direction of the meteor monument. Tifa welcomed the cool breeze; she felt flushed, and oddly the male presences in the group seemed to be amplified – she felt their awkwardness and even swore their eyes could have been on her constantly, even if they weren't. It all reminded her of how a girl usually feels before her first Prom… It wasn't the most comfortable of sensations.

Suddenly she began to hear the low whir of engines – and this came not from the ground, but above them. The whir rapidly turned to roaring as what she now realised to be an airship careered over the buildings. The group came to stand in the centre of Edge, not far from the monument, and it turned sharply above them.

"Wow!" exclaimed Denzel. "We're flying to the party? In this?"

"Looks like it!" Tifa answered.

Tifa felt herself fill with excitement as The Shera, in all its mass and grandeur, came to hover low over the monument. The air whipped at their faces as a great ramp extended from the back, and Cloud beckoned for them all to follow him.

The children wore expressions of wonder as they all entered the ship. Yuffie, however, uttered a groan of despair.

"Great, well there better be a bucket in the cockpit," she grumbled, "cos if the bastard makes one jerk turn I'll spew."

The ramp closed noisily behind them once they were all inside, and a massive figure strode forward to meet them - that of their friend Barret. Marlene ran happily into his arms.

"Lookin' sharp, kids!" He boomed, scooping up his daughter and perching her on his shoulders. He looked at them all. "And don' you say nothin' bout my damn suit. Cid ain't givin' me the end of it."

"You look great, big guy," Tifa grinned. She thought it was sweet of him to make such an effort; she was so sure he was going to turn up in cargo pants and a string vest.

They were all met with crushing hugs by a radiant-looking Shera as they reached the glass cockpit, and the anticipated crass yet somehow endearing greeting from Cid, who stood proud and upright at the wheel.

"I'm stunned!" Shera smiled widely, clasping her hands together. "So many of our guests have made it. Seems you're all eager to get involved in a happy occasion!"

"And hell, they freakin' should be!" Cid replied vociferously from the wheel. "Sure, we had a reunion not too long ago – but what was goin' through our minds when it happened? That's right: goddamn silver-haired lady-men. So y'all better enjoy this like it's the party of your lives, or so help me I'll marry my wife a third time and throw another one."

Suddenly the pilot turned around, shooting a purposefully narrow-eyed look at Vincent, who raised a brow.

"Yeah that's right, Vince." Cid continued. "So brood, and I'll castrate ya."

"Unless you want yours in a box before you can reach me, Highwind, I wouldn't advise it."

Cid continued to glare at him until an uncontrollable grin spread across his face and he burst into laughter, setting off the rest of the group as well. Vincent, unsurprisingly, seemed utterly unfazed – the two men had a history of consistently winding each other up. Tifa recalled fondly that back in the day, listening to their taunts would get her through many a battle.

Cid wiped his eye, letting his laughter diminish. He shook his head and shot Vincent another look, adding finally - "Nice ponytail by the way, prince charming."

:

As dusk arrived they touched down outside the beautiful old town of Kalm, a decidedly apt venue for the occasion, gently lit up before them as they left the ship and walked through. Remarkably – though she tottered a little and wore a slightly white face – Yuffie had come out having managed not to be sick. Tifa followed the group as they were lead to the outskirts, where a grand town hall stood. When the inviting sounds of chattering people and gentle music began to grow, Tifa realized there had been a vast marquee set up in the elegant grounds behind the building.

It was glorious. Lanterns and candles glowed underneath the canvas, its supporting poles garlanded with green vines. Smells of fresh air, grass and spices filled the atmosphere. A jazz band played unobtrusively at the foot of the marquee. Tifa instantly felt welcome, and smiled as she recognized many of the faces she saw.

The happy couple was greeted with warmth, and thereafter so were the new arrivals. Four Turks were here; Reno and Rude, Tseng and Elena. Reeve Tuesti - most strikingly presented - had risen from his chair and shaken all their hands. It delighted Tifa to see that Elmyra, too, was here. She met them in pale pink with a tearful smile, quickly ducking down to wrap her arms around an overjoyed Marlene.

Their arrival made Tifa slightly emotional. To be around all these people stirred memories of all sorts, but now they were collected together in one large union – and this was something quite extraordinary. She felt as though she were in amongst a large extended family.

This was turning out to be exactly how she always imagined a wedding – or a re-wedding, even – should feel.

:

They had all stood to watch as the jolly town minister took the ceremony. Cid and Shera hadn't the most conventional of vows to exchange – ("For as long as you make me tea and blow up my machines, you're embedded in my heart like an old bolt…") – but by all means, Tifa couldn't imagine them repeating anything different. By the end of it she could feel her eyes welling up; the couple kissed, and applause resounded from the grounds.

"We're fuckin' married – again!" Cid yelled, pumping a fist in the air and clutching his joyful wife close. "Now you have the option of either getting wasted at this here open bar or dancing to that there band – or both. Enjoy!"

There was much mirth to follow, and the champagne was promptly opened. After Yuffie had toasted to "many more years of goddamn tea and broken machinery", the band began to play and the guests scattered about the marquee. Marlene had wanted to dance right away, and so on the wooden decking of the dancefloor Barret had taken her tiny hands, moving about to the music with what truly seemed like a little princess balanced on his hefty feet.

"I always liked this tune."

Tifa turned around, a glass of champagne in hand nearly finished. "Me too."

Cloud held out a hand. "Fancy putting me to horrible shame while it plays?"

She laughed, the bubbles in her drink causing her to hiccup. "Are you asking me to dance?"

He rolled his eyes. "That outrageous, huh..?"

"I'd be more than happy, Cloud."

He was ever so clumsy, but as they danced together to the jovial tune playing it didn't really matter. She was spun round so many times she felt dizzy. The two of them mouthed the words of the song at each other through grins and surfacing laughter. Tifa caught glimpses of what was going on as they went: Reno happily chugging down a glass of something, Tseng and Rude in conversation, the wedded couple on the dancefloor – and Vincent, standing next to Reeve (who appeared to be doing the majority of the talking, but at least the quiet gunman wasn't sitting on his own somewhere.) As she clutched Cloud's hand and let him spin her again, she spotted Vincent looking in her direction. As usual, his fine face quickly turned aside as their eyes met. She continued to dance, but the sound of the music dulled in her ears as the tall dark stature of her friend continued to catch her attention… she became distracted upon each intermittent glance. Augmented was Vincent Valentine's mysterious allure under those lanterns, and she felt that despite how morose he always seemed to be, he really was quite… magnificent to look at.

Cloud let out a long breath as the song finished, jolting her back to reality. "Look around. I'm convinced the majority of these people think I've got a screw loose. And Barret – he's friggin' laughing at me."

Tifa beamed. "Want me to fetch you a drink?"

His brow knitted. "Oh yeah, great idea. Glum ol' Spikey prances about the place like an idiot and now he's an alcoholic. That'll get people talking…"

Tifa only continued to smirk at him.

"…Fine, go grab me a whisky."

:

"Quite the situation we're all in," Reeve said, "Don't you think?"

Vincent was watching Cid and Shera step across the floor in a close dance. "It would seem so."

Reeve's charismatic smile deepened the fine lines on his face. "I'll be honest, Vincent. I hadn't quite prepared myself for some of the things I'm seeing... I mean, look at that."

He gestured to where Reno was crouched next to the two children, entertaining them with ridiculous facial expressions and party tricks. Vincent observed them in their collective happiness and admitted to himself that it was slightly bewildering to him too.

"And look at you," Reeve continued, "it just goes to show things never stay the same way for long, right?"

The man left Vincent with a knowing smile and made his way over to where Tifa and Cloud stood, engaging them in conversation. Vincent considered those words a while as he stood leaning on a vine-adorned tent pole, feeling the warmth of the lights above, catching the somehow welcoming scent of the town and his surroundings. He had felt reluctance as they all arrived, but once the ceremony had finished he had become less so; been washed over with a sort of absent, dazed calm. He would have blamed it on the drink if it weren't that he knew, quite confidently, that the aura of love and happiness radiating beneath this marquee was something he could not simply ignore – nor even be brought down by; it was not within his morals to scorn the tenderness between others.

And love suited Tifa, he thought, as his gaze strayed once again to the woman in her deep blue dress. She now danced hand in hand with Yuffie in the middle of the decking, her bright smile unwavering. The women laughed, spun each other around, caught each other in their arms. They formed a little circle as young Marlene joined them - like three sisters, absorbed in their affection. Enjoying the music, the company. Having fun.

He felt instantly as if he were the presence under that canopy with the least to offer; no laughter to add, nothing to share that wouldn't dampen the mood. Though he remained calm and to some degree contented as he watched, he did not appreciate his own distance from everyone else. He thought he should probably find somebody to talk to – if not for his own sake, then for Cid and Shera's.

Luckily, someone had come to him.

"Uh, Vincent Valentine?"

Elena's remarkably petite frame was ever more apparent in her plain black dress. The blonde woman was clutching her shawl and peering almost admiringly – if a little nervously – up at him.

"I know it's been a pretty long time," she fiddled with the material as she spoke, "but I never got the opportunity to thank you properly, for helping Tseng and I those months ago."

Vincent knew what she spoke of. He recalled how he had found the two Turks exhausted and ferociously injured in the bleak capital before he had reunited with Cloud. Their journey from the North Crater had taken them precariously close to death's door, and though the history between them and AVALANCHE was certainly less than amicable, Vincent appeared to have reversed this bitterness when he rescued them and took them to be healed. He knew, however, that Elena's gratefulness came primarily from the fact that Tseng - a man she had doted over in the least subtle way possible for years - was saved from yet another grizzly end.

"You needn't thank me." Vincent replied.

"On the contrary - " a male voice added to the conversation. Tseng joined them and placed a hand on Elena's arm. "I rather thought we hadn't shown nearly enough gratitude."

Vincent looked down. "Well. I assure you that it's noted."

Tseng smiled – it was a new sight. "I know it's been quite some time since you last wore the blue suit, as it were, but… You did remind me of the better among us Turks. You've probably put that part of your life behind you, quite understandably - but maybe you see why I regard your deed as such."

He couldn't disagree. Vincent inclined his head in acknowledgment.

When they left him he saw Tseng's hand find the small of the young woman's back. There was a tell-tale deepness in her eyes as she returned to him a long, ardent look.

In his mind, Vincent challenged himself to guess when he would be witnessing a new set of vows.

:

A while had passed, and Vincent had spoken briefly to nearly everybody. He hadn't moved far. The music had since diminished from the buoyant tunes previous to mellower, sweeter songs. Drink and affection had taken more couples to the dancefloor, this time wrapped more tenderly in their movements. Elena leaned so close into Tseng that she looked as if she could have fallen asleep against his chest. Reeve and Elmyra now took to a careful but graceful waltz. The wedded couple had the centre, Her arms around His neck – and Cid, smiling, had never appeared so serene.

Vincent thoroughly expected to see Cloud up there dancing as amorously with Tifa as the other couples, but it was not so. Cloud instead appeared to be next to the bar helping Rude steady an indisputably drunken Reno, while Tifa stood directly on the opposite side of the tent, listening to Barret as he spoke to her. The burly man occasionally glanced across at Vincent.

"All the ladies look so nice in their dresses, don't you think?"

Vincent was caught by surprise at the sound of the little girl's voice. Marlene, at some point, had come to stand next to him.

He looked at her, and then glanced unthinkingly not at Yuffie, or Elena, or Shera or Elmyra but at the strong dark-haired woman on the other side of the marquee. He gave a brief nod and, in his deep thought, absently replied with "…Very much so."

"But I think Tifa looks the most pretty tonight." The child smiled, admiring the woman ahead of her as a subject might admire her Queen. "Would you agree, Vincent?"

The gunman would ordinarily have struggled to answer said question for fear of how he might come across. But this child was unassuming in her innocent conjecture – unlike a canny adult, who could easily have asked him the same thing to probe for a deeper meaning. And so, Vincent could be nothing but truthful to her.

"…Yes, I do."

The delicate melody coming from the band's acoustic guitar wound through the air, rising above the cellist's bowing and the soft percussion. In his contemplation he thought it matched her, Tifa, as she swayed gently from side to side to the rhythm. The effect of whatever little alcohol he'd consumed had worn off Vincent's system long ago, but he had frozen unwittingly in that comfortable, removed sort of gaze that came with the warmth of drunkenness.

"I guess you don't like dancing much."

Vincent was startled yet again as he realised the child was still next to him. "…Let's say I don't think I'm quite willing to put on the kind of display Cloud did earlier."

Marlene giggled. "I don't blame you. But what about the slow songs, like this one? Don't you like to do what they're all doing?"

Raising his brow, Vincent looked at her. "I think that's the sort of thing that would require a partner; I'd look pretty foolish waltzing around on my own."

Though she had grinned, Marlene suddenly pursed her lips in apparent thought. Before he knew it, she had bounded across the dancefloor and grabbed Tifa's hand, starting to talk to her.

Vincent grew increasingly wary as he received glances from both of them. What was the child telling her? When the woman was taken by the hand and lead towards him, Vincent froze. He knew immediately what was coming, though he hadn't quite accepted it, and steeled himself.

"There, now you can both dance!" the girl proclaimed cheerily, grasping Vincent's right hand and giving it to Tifa, whose cheeks flushed.

For a moment the two of them stood immobilized before each other, hands joined. But Tifa's composure seemed to be winning over, and she straightened up, giving him an apologetic sort of smile. She gestured vaguely at the child with her eyes, which in words he could have assumed was "looks like we don't have a choice."

He swallowed sharply.

"Shall we dance?" Tifa smiled.

That single nod seemed to be the only thing he could muster. Their hands stayed joined as she stepped backwards onto the decking, and – not wanting to appear unsettled – Vincent placed his other hand lightly on the side of her waist. Hers found his shoulder. And at that moment, as if on cue, the song finished and a new one began – one that was even slower, and swelled with the opulent notes of a far deeper, more romantic melody. The singer had softened her voice. And just as he thought it could get no more surreal, he swore some of the lanterns had been dimmed.

The reflections glittered in her mahogany eyes.

He took the first step. His dance partner followed, taking her own step back. Before he could fully appreciate what was happening, they were moving gradually round the dancefloor.

'I know this face I'm wearing now…'

Dancing was a familiar ability. He had been taught, long ago – by a lady whose image flashed in front of Tifa's for a second, then ebbed away with a twinge of pain. It could have consumed him at that very moment, and he'd have apologized; left her, encouraged Cloud to take over. He would have gone away, to think about the way Lucrecia had taken his hands and directed his steps, all those decades ago…

But something rooted him there, when he was taken back to the present by the feeling of gentle fingers entwined in his own - and these thoughts flickered away as soon as Tifa spoke.

"Have you been practicing or something?" she smiled inquisitively at him.

'Don't give me this feeling; I'll only believe it…'

Vincent had to pry his distracted mind from the singer's words. "No… it's been a very long time, but I suppose these things stay with you."

"Kinda like riding a bike, as they say…" Tifa mused. "Well Vincent, it's an honour. You'll be putting me to shame at this rate!"

"…I doubt that."

Her face softened as she looked up at him. Beneath the golden lights her skin glowed, her hair catching shimmers as they moved. But he couldn't stare at her like that for too long, and evidently neither could she; their gaze faltered. Vincent tried to look elsewhere, but he knew he must have appeared thoroughly awkward and immediately felt stupid doing so.

'You know, I don't have any choice…'

His sight found its way back to Tifa, who appeared to be staring absently into his chest. She, too, peered shyly back up at his face again – and smiled a luminously sweet smile. He accepted, as the music played on, that they had moved closer together. He knew at some point his hand had strayed from her waist to somewhere on her lower back, and he knew that she was not perturbed in the slightest. He also knew, as he looked briefly over the hair brushing at his chin, that many sets of eyes were now upon them.

But despite that others were there, and looking, he could not see them any longer. Even the ever-inquisitive blue gaze of Cloud Strife eventually disappeared into the background.

The music progressed and so did the ease between them as they swayed – rather than danced by now – along to its languid rhythm. He felt her as she leaned against him, her hips shifting beneath the material of her dress, her breath close to his neck. For some reason, Vincent no longer cared to think about the situation. As if something had clicked into place, he realised he held an innate willingness to protect this woman – his friend – from anything that might harm or distress her… So he continued to hold her, hoping she could somehow detect this.

But he knew she could. When it came to the presence of others, she seemed just as unconcerned as he. They were protecting one another, from the eyes that were locked onto them and their rare dance.

'Make it real…'

He hadn't needed shelter from anything, it seemed – up until now.

'…Or take it all away.'

As the instruments quietened and the singer gave her last note, Vincent slowed his movement. Tifa followed suit, but stayed close to him. Her head was turned to the side, her cheek against his jacket. Her hand stayed clutched in his. Though he felt reluctant to break the somehow reassuring contact they held, the song had now ended - and any more time spent in each other's arms may not have appeared to others how they had meant it to. Tifa seemed to be thinking the same, but there was hesitation in the way she raised her head and lowered her arms from his.

Neither of them said anything – rather, they seemed not to have the need. Instead they looked at each other almost appreciatively for a moment, as if they both recognised their simple dance had granted them a taste of freedom; banished awkwardness, wrought understanding. And it was then, when she gave him a lopsided little smile, that Vincent decided he might have found a dearer friend in Tifa than he thought.

"Alright, let's give our musicians a big hand!"

Shera's voice resounded from the front of the marquee. Vincent and Tifa joined in the applause that followed.

"Listen up, yo!" Reno staggered to the decking and raised a finger. "It's nearly that time – hic! – but we sure as hell ain' leavin' this shindig on the last note o' the sloppiest song. That's for pussies, man. Hic! So since me an' my buddy Rude are, like, the dynamite masters of the universe, we got a… flashy little surprise fer y'all. Now get your asses – hic - outside!"

Owing to the level of Reno's inebriation, everyone looked to Rude – who confirmed this with a nod. They compliantly stepped out from beneath the canvas, and Vincent saw Reno stumble out with something in his arms before Rude, sober, took it from him with a warning look and muttered - "Forget it – you're in no state to do that."

The Turk strode out further into the grounds, where a number of what looked like miniature rockets sat in a cluster. He bent down next to them, lit something, and hurried back. Before they all knew it, the sky was dazzling them.

Jets of coloured light and fire screeched into the air, crashing and glittering in vast patterns above the spellbound guests. It was likely to be the most extravagant firework display Vincent had encountered - and the same could be said for the others, who uttered their delight and watched the spectacle with wonder. Cid cheered and wrapped his arm around his wife, whose hands were clasped over her beaming mouth: they hadn't been expecting this.

Vincent watched the rest of the display at Tifa's side, taking it in; observing the light dance, listening to the thunderous explosions. He thought he could see her looking at him out of the corner of his eye – and if she was, he wondered why: the fireworks surely made for a far more interesting sight…

Then, he saw a hand around her shoulder. It belonged to Cloud, who had appeared at the other side of her. The young man showed warmth, watching the fireworks with them – but he stood with purpose. Tifa leaned on him slightly in return, though her arms and hands remained stationary at her sides.

:

Vincent had not wished to hang around as everyone drew out their thanks, goodnights and farewells; he had only bid his to whoever chose to approach him. He wasn't good at that sort of thing. They had all gone their ways for now; Barret had let the children stay with Elmyra, while Yuffie had left with Reeve to resume their commitments with the WRO. Others had their own places to be – the married couple evidently had their second honeymoon to begin - and Elena had disappeared somewhere inconspicuously with her sharp-faced superior. This left Vincent to join Tifa and Cloud as they were flown back to Edge City in Reno and Rude's helicopter.

The intoxicated redhead had fallen asleep in the front, leaving his companion with the role of Designated Flyer. In the cabin, Vincent and Cloud sat either side of Tifa. Having exhausted any conversation earlier, all three were silent. Enough time had passed that Tifa's eyes were now fluttering shut, and somewhere along the line, her head ended up nestled against Vincent's shoulder.

She was fast asleep, and he hadn't the heart to disturb her by sitting her upright. In a fleeting glance he caught Cloud's gaze straying to her, before the eyes of the two men met for a split second and the younger looked away. Vincent noted that in that split second, Cloud's expression had changed into something laced with slightly more displeasure than unease – and the gunman knew, immediately, that something had changed. As Cloud kept his eyes away and Tifa slept on, Vincent suddenly felt as if he'd made himself a factor in an elusive complication that, until now, didn't concern him.

He couldn't shake that unpleasant sensation of having stepped onto unsafe ground.

:

:

A/N: Well I swore I'd never use song lyrics in my stories, but somehow I thought it served as a good way of getting Vincent's mind to wander in that over-analytical way of his. I'm not even nuts about the song: it's 'Don't Say' by The Corrs - but it seemed to be the kind of warm, simple-worded ballad that suited the theme of music I imagined there to be at that party. Take it or leave it - it's there now ;)