It was a Dark and Stormy Night…

By: Illusion of the Mirror

Fear. Confusion. Running. Must run faster. Must escape. One foot in front of the other. She's not going fast enough! It's gaining on her! She can't outrun it! What is it even? She doesn't dare turn around to see for fear that she may slow her pace. Dodge a tree, jump over a rock. She can feel its hot breath on her neck. A root…it's too late to stop! She screams as she hurtles to the ground. All goes red.

- O -

Tifa's eyes shot open. Shaky breaths coming in gasps, she desperately tried to reorient herself as she felt a droplet of cold sweat slide between her shoulder blades. It was the dream again. Taking a moment to mop her clammy brow, Tifa realized she was sitting straight up, her legs hopelessly tangled in the sheets.

A blaze of lightning struck somewhere outside and the entire room was thrown into painful clarity before sinking back into complete darkness once more. Thunder resounded, reverberating through the walls and echoing down the empty, dark hallway beyond Tifa's bedroom door.

Forcing herself to behave rationally, Tifa peered over at the red, glowing numbers of her alarm clock. 1:37 AM. Putting a hand to her forehead, she swept her sweaty bangs away from her face, briefly weighing the pros and cons of attempting to go back to sleep. However, she quickly abandoned the idea when thunder exploded again, making her heart leap inside her chest and a slight yelp escape from her lips. 'This weather truly is the stuff of nightmares…'

Untangling her lower limbs from the sweat-damp sheets, Tifa took in a deep, rain scented breath. 'This is ridicules; you're a grown woman, not a sniveling child!' She inwardly chastised herself before touching her bare feet to the floor, wincing slightly at the chill of the aged wood against her skin. Slowly, she rose from the bed and absently approached the window at the far end of the shadow-soaked room. Pulling back the gauzy curtain, she watched with passive wonder the raindrops that bounced off the pane and forged rivers down the hand-blown glass. The pressing clouds in the distance flickered erratically as bolts of lightning battled for dominance in the heights.

Tifa pulled away from the window as another rumble echoed through the old structure she now called home. She retreated from her quarters, grabbing her plush robe from the hook on the back of her door. It seemed to her that storms were always the loudest in this room.

Closing the heavy wooden door with a quiet 'snick', Tifa tried her hardest to ignore the yawning emptiness of the room opposite her own. But it was not to be. Another painfully exposing flash of light lit up the dark recesses of the room that had once housed her precious children. If she strained her ears, she could almost hear soft murmurs fluttering down the hallway.

But that was impossible. Marlene and Denzel had moved out months ago, leaving her utterly alone in this museum of a house.

Tifa squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. She could not linger on these thoughts. 'There be monsters in those waters.'

The children hadn't wanted to leave her, and Tifa knew that. It had been her choice to take Barret up on his offer of guardianship. Denzel desperately needed a male role model, and though Tifa was adept at many things, that was something she could never provide. There was little in this life that she regretted more. The familiar stab of unshed tears pricked at her eyes and Tifa turned from the vacant room that so aptly mirrored her heart. She groped along the paneled wall until her fingertips found the smoothed wood of the banister and then slowly descended the stairs.

Once on the ground floor, Tifa rounded the corner to the newly refurbished kitchen and fumbled through the darkness until she found the handle of the refrigerator. She tugged open both doors, blinking in the startlingly bright light and then scanned the contents found therein. Ah. There on the second shelf of the freezer was an unfinished pint of rocky road ice cream. "Well," she sighed to no one in particular. "If there was ever a night for comfort food, this is it." She grabbed the chocolaty treat and reached across the counter to procure a spoon, closing the fridge with her foot.

"Forget the bowl. We're going all in tonight, girl."

Popping the top from the carton, she crossed into the main room of the house, humming in approval as the cold dessert sat on her tongue. She gazed up at the lofted ceiling, her eyes following the wooden rafters until they disappeared in the inky blackness above. The large stone fireplace at the far end of the room still glowed with the last embers of the fire she had lit the night before. Tifa seated herself cross-legged in front of the dying fire, enjoying the heady scent of chopped wood and roasted nuts that ghosted past her senses.

The rain continued to rhythmically beat against the sides of the house and, as Tifa's eyes adjusted to the darkness, her appreciative thoughts began to wax reminiscent. She remembered when she had first walked through the old house she now inhabited. It was drafty and dusty and the plumbing had desperately needed updating. The floors creaked, the timbers groaned, and every room was piled with threadbare furniture and rat droppings. But Tifa had been absolutely enchanted. The house and the surrounding acreage abutted a dense wood that gave the place a wild and secluded feel despite the fact that the property was only a mile and a half outside of town. It was a safe haven and just what their family needed.

Tifa had snatched the place right up. And the days following had been full of frustration and hard work. But they had all been together, Marlene, Denzel, Barret, and Cloud, and in very little time, the place had the comfortable feel of a well-loved home. Those were good times, she thought with a wistful smile. After selling her bar, she had had enough money to purchase the neighboring property and convert the charming two-story thereon into a rather quaint little diner.

It had taken several months, but once all was said and done, Tifa knew that they could all live happily ever after.

But like everything in this world, it hadn't lasted. Not three weeks into their new life, Cloud had up and left. There was no warning, no note, no apology. He was just gone. And Tifa never even bothered to look for him.

Without Cloud around to watch the house or run deliveries or help juggle the many responsibilities of raising two children, Tifa was no longer able to offer Denzel and Marlene the stability they so desperately needed. She had been hurt by Cloud's abandonment, but what hurt more was to see how hard it was on the children. They had tried to continue on as she was: like nothing had happened. Within the next week she called Barret, and the children moved out too.

And she was angry. Oh! Was she ever angry! She had tried so damn hard to keep everything together. She had sunk all of her energy, all of her funds, and all of her heart into the hope that this time, Cloud had really changed, that this time they would be a family for real. It wasn't even about being romantically betrayed by him. No, she had known it would be a long time before he would ever be ready to love again. The hardest part was knowing that she had been naïve enough to pin all her dreams upon him.

Again.

And try as she may, she could not forget the anger, could not release it. She could not forgive him. And she sure as hell wasn't going to cry about it. Not anymore.

A blaze of lightning lit up the room and Tifa braced herself for the thunder that would naturally follow. The slow rumble reverberated through the house, rattling the pictures on the walls and the china in the cupboards. Shaking her mind free of melancholy thoughts, she squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a deep breath to relax her nerves. As the echo of thunder ebbed away an odd hollow thumping reached Tifa's ears. It was almost like…almost like someone was knocking on her front door.

Silently, Tifa rose from her spot by the fire, setting her empty carton and spoon aside. She stole over the window next to the front entrance. Cautiously, she peeled back the curtains and squinted out into the gloom of the night. A silhouette just barely distinguished itself from the backdrop of the shadowed porch. 'Who on earth…?'

Then, slowly at first, the figure began to move and a sudden flicker of flame illuminated the face of the visitor as his wine colored irises stared right into her own through the glass pane. Good god, it's Vincent! Tifa quickly switched on the lamp next to the door, flipped her long hair over her shoulder and threw back the deadbolt almost simultaneously.

As their gazes met, she was immediately bewitched by those piercing, crimson eyes peering out from behind his ebony locks. They seemed to glow in the dim lamplight, not unlike the embers of a dying fire.

"Vincent! I…you…come in! You're soaked!" She stepped aside and Vincent stalked over the threshold into the parlor, casting an appreciative nod in her direction while flicking shut his metal cigarette lighter. She closed the door behind him relocked it.

Vincent turned to face her as he brushed a few moist strands of hair from his face. Rivulets of water rolled down his black trench coat and dripped to the floor. He lowered his hood and shook his head. "I was not sure if you would be awake at such an hour."

"I get very little sleep anymore." She dismissed his questioning look with a nervous laugh. "Storms keep me awake and all that." She laced her fingers behind her back and eyed the duffel thrown over his shoulder. "So, not that I mind or anything, but why are you here? Has something happened?"

Vincent removed his coat to reveal black slacks and a black button-down dress shirt. He draped the wet coat over the back of one of the matching wingback chairs facing the fireplace, turned away from her, and proceeded to leave the room. Where is he going? Tifa followed him into the kitchen where she found him looking out the window over the sink. He turned his head slightly to address her.

"Are you here alone?"

The question itself was innocuous but Tifa suspected that Vincent knew she was usually here alone. The inquiry set off a flare of indignance but she quickly suppressed it. "Yes…" She sighed. "What's with the covert ops bit?"

"Forgive me for my unannounced arrival. I am aware that this must be…a surprise." He turned to face her completely. "I would have called but reception…"

Tifa noticed a bead of red dripping off the tip of his finger and leaned forward to find a dark stain adorning the inside of his left sleeve. "Vincent! You're bleeding!"

He looked down and deftly rolled up his sleeve to reveal a fairly deep cut up his forearm. "Ah. So I am."

"How could you not notice that!" Tifa grabbed the nearest dish rag, took hold of Vincent's arm, and immediately began dabbing away the blood. It wasn't bleeding as badly as it could be.

"That will not be necessary," he said, half-heartedly attempting to extricate his arm from her grasp.

"Nonsense. I won't have you traipsing in here at two in the morning in the middle of the biggest storm of the decade just to die of blood loss on my kitchen floor." She knew Vincent didn't like to be fussed over, so she'd just have to bully him into accepting her aid. "I make food in here you know," she huffed as she brushed a few stray wisps of hair from her eyes. "How did this happen? Don't you usually wear your gauntlet on this arm?"

If her rapid-fire questions annoyed him, Vincent didn't show it. He merely hummed in answer as she draped the bloodied towel over his arm and crossed to the supply cupboard to find her first aid kit. "In my line of work, it's best to go unnoticed."

"I suppose a golden claw does tend to draw the eyes," Tifa quipped as she dug through the many bottles and boxes beneath the sink. Finding the red and white box she was looking for, she turned back and fixed him with a pointed look. "Why are you bleeding, Vincent?"

Averting his gaze, Vincent simply shrugged. "There was an altercation."

"What kind of altercation? With whom?" Tifa waited a beat for his response, but as expected Vincent left the statement standing. She heaved a sigh. "Fine. Be cryptic. I'm still going to dress your wound." She lightly took hold of his uninjured arm and led him into the front room before sitting next to him on the front sofa. Tifa cleaned the cut with alcohol and placed gauze over the wound before wrapping it. He flinched a bit at the sting, but remained silent but for the gentle pulls and gusts of his breath.

Tifa inwardly relished the contact. For as long as she'd known Vincent, he'd never been the kind of man to touch or be touched, except in combat. It was also rare that he actually required aid, so the very fact that she was able to help, even with something so small, caused a bubble of warmth to spread through her chest. She liked helping people; she liked being needed.

Finished, Tifa taped the wrap shut with a small flourish. "There you go. You'll be in ship shape in no time."

Vincent studied his hand, flexed his fingers pensively and then he looked up and met her eyes. "That was not necessary. My body regenerates quite quickly."

Though she couldn't help but feel a bit foolish, she dismissed any embarrassment with a wave of her hand. "Vincent, you're my friend; I couldn't just stand there and watch you bleed."

"Mm." He looked down again and began adjusting his shirtsleeves.

Tifa took a moment to observe him more closely. She knew that for the last several months he had been working as some sort of bounty hunter/private investigator, but that was the extent of her knowledge about his goings on. To look at him now, he had come a long way from the brooding man they'd found in Nibelheim; since then he'd chased away most of his demons.

But something was troubling him. Tifa wasn't sure how she knew; she surely didn't read it in his expression. Nonetheless, she couldn't help the feeling that he was holding something back that he actually wanted to say.

"So then," she began lightly. "What brings you to my doorstep on this dark and stormy night?"

"I apologize. I realize that it is late…I was in the neighborhood and because of the storm thought that…" he trailed off.

What? Vincent was checking up on her? Was he worried about her? She didn't know why, but the thought made her feel warm all over. "You were checking up on me?"

He paused a beat, then spoke. "I was on my way to Rocket Town and it is doubtless that Cid and Shera will inquire as to your well-being." He met her gaze with those intense crimson eyes.

"Oh." Tifa had to admit to herself that she was disappointed; she rather liked the idea of him visiting merely because he wanted to see her. But still, she was glad for any company on a night like this. "Well, as you can see, I'm quite alright."

Vincent glanced at the empty ice cream carton next to the fire place and raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

Tifa bit her lip as a warm blush spread across her cheeks and nose. She promptly rose from her seat. "Here, let me get you something to drink."

"Please, do not trouble yourself."

"No trouble at all!" And before he could protest further, she had already gone to the sidebar to pour him a sherry glass of his favorite vodka. As she did so, she couldn't help wondering why he would be traveling by foot…in the middle of the night.

When she returned, Vincent was staring into the dying firelight, the warm glow casting shadows across the sharp planes of his profile, accentuating his high cheekbones. The man was beautiful, there was no denying it. And Tifa had always had a weakness for the tall, dark and handsome type. Catching herself in these thoughts, she blushed wildly. 'Come on, girl. Get it together.' Returning to where he sat on the couch, she handed him his drink and took her seat across from him once more.

"Thank you," he murmured softly without meeting her eyes.

"Don't mention it," Tifa replied lightly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Vincent sipped and Tifa fidgeted. What should she say?

"So, I know the storm's bad over here, obviously, how was it elsewhere in the city?"

"Rainy," Vincent stated simply.

"…like, what kind of rainy?" Tifa prodded.

Vincent set his empty glass aside and sighed, almost as if the question was an annoyance. "Well, the rivers have swelled and the power is out in different sections of Midgar. The wind has picked up and has caused some minor property damage." He looked at her with an eyebrow arched as if to say 'but that's not what you really want to ask, is it?'

Well, she might as well just take the plunge, eh? "So if the weather was that bad, why did you walk through it just to come here?"

Vincent tapped the arm of his chair lightly. "It was not so bad when I started out."

"You could have taken a cab."

The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of the gunman's lips. "I am not afraid of getting a little wet."

"Oh…right…of course."

Thunder rolled in the distance and Tifa tried to stifle a yawn that had been rudely pestering her.

"I see you are tired. Perhaps I should-"

"Oh, no. What kind of a friend would I be if I let you go back out in this!" She stood quickly while he looked up at her with a slightly inquisitive expression on his face. "I have an extra room all made up. Why don't you just stay here?"

Vincent must have known Tifa well enough to sense this was more of an expectation than a suggestion. Tifa could be quite stubborn when she wanted to. They had all seen that. He pushed himself up from his chair and responded with a nod.

As Tifa led him up the stairs, she allowed herself a triumphant smile. That was an easy victory if she ever had one. He didn't even utter a word of argument. She escorted him to the extra room, pointedly ignoring the empty room at the end of the hall…the one with two empty beds.

"Here you are, sir," Tifa said warmly.

Vincent gave her another one of those eyebrow looks. They seemed to appear quite often when he was around her. "For being awake at this hour, you certainly are cheery."

Tifa ducked her head and smiled sheepishly. "That's me…Miss Cheery!" He looked into the room and surveyed the layout. Tifa felt as though she was being scrutinized herself. "I'm sorry it's not all that much. I mean, I was thinking about painting it or something to keep it from being so blah."

He stepped into the room and turned to face her. "It will be fine."

"Alrighty then. Goodnight, Vincent."

"Goodnight, Tifa."

He then shut the door without another word and Tifa walked back to her own room. She closed the door and leaned against it, smiling to herself as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Even if it wasn't merely for his own interests, Vincent had come to see her, never mind that she would normally not be awake at that hour. It meant a lot. It meant that someone was thinking of her. And the fact that he had allowed her to bully him into staying the night meant that she wasn't alone.

She pulled back the sheets and climbed under the quilt that Shera had made for her. Pulling it up close under her chin, she rolled over to face the window. Ever since Cloud had left, Tifa would get frequent visits from old friends. She supposed that they expected she was having trouble coping. Even though some people might find such a thing insulting, Tifa didn't mind. She was glad for the company. Especially when Barret would bring the kids over to spend the night.

Idly, Tifa let her mind wander back to Vincent's injury. What could he have been doing? Did he get into a fight with someone? Well, it wasn't unusual that he'd be in some sort of danger, what with the fact that he was Vincent.

Tifa was grateful to her friends for being there for her, but she had to admit to herself that if it had been Yuffie or Cid who had paid a visit, she would have been less enthusiastic. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling letting her eyes trace the shadows. Sure, Vincent could be cryptic and sometimes he could be downright unfriendly, but ever since he joined Avalanche all those years ago, she had been intrigued by him: intrigued by his complexity, intrigued by his mysterious personality, and, of course, intrigued by his strikingly handsome features.

And who could blame her for that? She had every right to be attracted to anyone she wanted. So then…why was she trying to convince herself of that? 'Bah…this is pointless. Vincent and I are friends. The point is moot.'

Tifa closed her eyes and tried to quiet her thoughts. She had to get some sleep tonight. Hopefully, it would be the dreamless kind.

- O -

12