The Reason

I do not own any of the song lyrics I may use. Most of the songs are the property of artist Sam Payne.



Chapter One


Vincent Valentine was always a solitary man, even before he met Her. Lucrecia. The name haunted him still, even though he could say with all honesty that he had moved on. There were women, sure. All of them painted floosies that only wanted a companion for the night. These women held no interest to Vincent. There had to be ONE woman left on this blasted rock that had a brain!

Then again, even if there was, Vincent wasn’t sure that he wanted to open himself up again. There was still so much pain and fear . . . was it worth it if it didn’t work out?

Not really.

Every night, he would sit in Tifa’s bar listening to the awful music and the drunken bellows of his new co-workers. That’s right. A Turk once again.

It wasn’t as if he WANTED to be a Turk again, it just . . . happened. Rufus ShinRa had sought him out after the Deepgroud Crisis, and asked-almost pleaded-that Vincent return to active duty as a Turk. He reluctantly agreed, after much pushing from Tifa and the rest of his old teammates. And here he was, staying in a room in the shabby bar and watching others drink their lives away.

He asked Tifa once; if she thought that there would ever be another woman to lift him up again. This, of course, was the only night that Tifa had ever managed to get more than a few drinks in him. The result was Vincent talking her ear off for more than an hour, and was the reason he did not associate with liquor much.

Her answer had been instant. “Everyone has a match, Vincent. You’ll find yours someday. I have faith.”

Sure everyone has a match. But a ‘match’ was not what Vincent Valentine needed. He needed someone that could bring him out of the depths of this hell that he seemed to think he was lost in. He would never admit that’s what he wanted, though. Someone ‘happy’ was just not Vincent’s type. Poor Yuffie had given up long ago, saying that no one could demolish the wall that Vincent had erected around his heart.

Vincent was fine to let Yuffie believe that, for he believed it too, and took pride in the belief.

He STILL believed it. Even as he watched the temptress on the stage sing her way into his soul.


“All alone in a wood full of aspen,
James Stuart on the April ground.
Her hair down around her fair shoulders,
Startled by a sudden sound.

Young love standing straight as a sapling,
Her mantle in his outstretched fist.
‘Wanna walk in my wood girl?
It’ll cost you one kiss.’

And he took her away.
It tasted like the springtime air.
He took her away.
She pledged her love to him right there.
Right there.

‘Come away come away for to wed me.’
She pleaded to his angel eyes.
‘Oh girl you may say you want me,
but this is a disguise. ‘Cause you know
I’m owned by the queen of the wood here,
betrothed to the forest soil.
This night as a toll for the harvest
My poor body’s gonna boil but
oh, if you love me even so,
then oh,
When they come for me hold tight.
Don’t let go.
Don’t let go.’”

Her voice was haunting . . . in a depressingly beautiful kind of way.

“Tifa, who is she?” Vincent asked, leaning against the bar.

“Her name is Jexebel Strange. She’s from Bone Village. I just hired her yesterday. She’s really good, don’t you think?” Tifa answered, handing Vincent a beer. “She’s renting a room upstairs. Now, don’t look at me like that, she needed a place to stay and a job, so I gave her both!” Tifa said, amused at the worried look that crossed Vincent’s face. The look was hesitantly replaced by interest.

“Bone Village, huh? What does she drink?”

Tifa narrowed her eyes. “White Russian, why?”

“Get her one. It’s on me.” Vincent said, turning back to the woman that had captured his attention.

Tifa cocked and eyebrow and did as she was asked, also turning her ears to her newest employee.


“As they spoke came a crash from the bushes;
the wood queen and her mounted band.
Lips curled and her eyes a-blazing
when she saw them hand in hand.

‘Come now let us do what I come for.’
Her voice like a rusty wire.
‘You all know we’ve a need for the harvest,
boil me up that magic fire.’

So they took his trembling hand and bound him fast.
But they let him lie there in her arms,
for she would not let go.
And they stood around those children like a dance,
and the queen pronounced the words,
and the wood began to glow.
And she looked into his eyes and he in hers,

And then she screamed
As the fire burst a-burning;
His body writhing like a serpent in her desperate embrace.
She screamed,
But her arms held tight around him
Until the embers all went cold and she could see his face.

And the fairy world began to fade away.
When it had all but gone, she heard the wood queen say
‘Had I known that she’d take you from us when you’d grown,
long ago I’d have taken out your heart and put in
a heart of stone.’

Young love standing straight as a sapling,
Her mantle in his outstretched fist
‘Wanna walk in my wood, girl?
It’ll cost you one kiss.’”

The song ended, and the drummer announced that Jexebel would be taking a break before finishing out the night. Vincent watched as the Siren made her way to the bar, leaning against it right next to him and calling out for Tifa. Her voice was just as smooth talking as it was singing.

“Tifa! Can I have a white-oh! You know me so well!” She said, picking up the drink that Tifa had handed her.

“Don’t thank me, Vincent bought it.” Tifa said, a sparkle in her eye that probably shouldn’t have been there.

“Oh! Well thank you, sir!” Jexebel said, turning to Vincent and sticking out her hand. “I’m Jexebel Strange. Just call me Jex.”

“Vincent Valentine. Call me Vincent.” He said, taking her hand in his and nodding is head. “So.” He said, “Tifa tells me you’re from Bone Village. I grew up there.” ‘Where did that come from?’ He thought.

Tifa was listening in on the conversation and damn near dropped the drink she was mixing. Vincent was actually talking about his past! She had never known that Vincent was from Bone Village! She always thought he was from Wutai . . .

“Really? I don’t remember seeing you-“ Jexebel started.

“No, you wouldn’t have.” Vincent interrupted her. ‘Leave it. LEAVE IT!’ His mind screamed. She tilted her head and looked at him, confused.

“I’ve lived there all my life, and if you grew up there, I would have to have met you at some point, you’re not that much older than me.” She said.

“I am a lot older than I look.” ‘Oh, here we go.’

“Oh yeah? How much older?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” ‘So I’m not going to.’

“Try me.”

Tifa watched the exchange. It was unbelievable! Jexebel was right up in Vincent’s face and Vincent was right back in hers. Their noses were almost touching, for Gaia’s sake!

“Fifty-five.” ‘SHUT-UP, MOUTH!’ He screamed at himself.

“No way in hell.” Jexebel said. “You look like you can’t be older than thirty.”

“Yes, well, there are a lot of strange things in this world. Let’s just say that scientists were involved and leave it at that.” He said, taking a swig of his beer. ‘Oh. My. God.’

Jexebel raised her eyebrows and also took a sip of her own drink. She shuddered. “Tifa always makes these so strong!” She complained. “So you probably know my mother, then.” She said, turning the subject back to Bone Village.

“I don’t know, what was her name?” Vincent asked. ‘No, no, no! Just walk away!’

“Edeena Stringfellow.” Jexebel answered, smiling at the look of recognition on Vincent’s face.

“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while!” He said. “We used to be best friends! I’m surprised she never said anything about me. We used to get in SO much trouble!” ‘I swear to god, mouth, if you don’t shut-up you’re going to find out first-hand what the Cerberus tastes like!’

Tifa couldn’t believe it; Vincent was actually holding a conversation and enjoying it!

Her attention was caught again when Jexebel gasped. “YOU’RE BINCEY?!” She stated more than asked.

Vincent had been taking a drink of his beer when she said that, and promptly spit his mouthful back into the bottle in an attempt NOT to spray the entire bar. He lunged at Jexebel and clamped his hand over her mouth. “Not so loud!” he hissed quietly in her ear, glancing around the bar to see if anyone else heard her. He was surprised at himself as he fought not to laugh.

‘I’m laughing?’ he thought. ‘This must be a dream. Either that or I’ve finally lost it. Just leave it be. Go up to your room and clean your gun or . . . something.’ His brain ordered.

“I haven’t heard that one in a long time, either!” His stupid mouth wouldn’t listen to his brain and just SHUT-UP.

Jexebel’s drummer chose that time to announce that it was time to get back to the show.

“Oh! I have to go, Vincent! Maybe I’ll see you later?” Jexebel said, hopefully.

“You will,” Vincent informed her. “I live here.” ‘Dammit to the deepest, darkest realm of HELL! WHY did I tell her that?!’

‘She was bound to find out sooner or later.’ His mouth silently informed.

‘Great, now I’m answering myself.’ He mentally rolled his eyes and tried to will his legs to work.

“Oh!” Jexebel said. “That’s good! I guess I’ll talk to you again in a few minutes, then!” She didn’t wait for a response, just turned and skipped back to the stage.

Vincent gave up trying to escape as it wasn’t going to work and prepared himself for the tragically wonderful voice.


“Remember when we planned this trip
It’s easy in the summertime
Not to feel the freezing winds
Easy not to fear this climb

Simple in a living room
Not to hear the radio
Crackle out of range of home
And lose the signal in the ice and snow

But they cheered us when they learned that we would come here
And I suppose their prayers are thicker than we know
But it’s awfully hard to hear them through the whispers
Of the ghosts of fallen climbers in the snow
As up we go

Could have chosen and we almost did
A life of comfort in the world so wide but
Instead we closed our eyes and leapt
You and me against the mountainside

And I could never hope to match your mind
You’ve come to trust my steady hand
Hanging here against a frozen wall
The journey never turns out like you’ve planned

But I’m glad for a companion here to lean on
It gives me twice the hope that we might make it through, oh
Like two teaspoons fill an ocean twice as quickly
Like two snowflakes might stand out against the blue
That’s me and you

You can go and tell your friends back home
How you did what you had come to do
And then they’ll hang upon your every word
But they’ll never feel the cold like you

And what you tell them might just fill them up
With a longing they’re afraid to speak
Perhaps they realize the thoughts you stir
Remain a longing til they’re on the peak

And the trip back down can wait another moment
You can make your body linger if you try
Know that no one knows the sound of hallelujah
Echo ever off of nothing but the sky
Like you and I

Like you and I

Remember when we planned this trip
It’s easy in the summertime
Not to feel the freezing winds
Easy not to fear this climb . . .”

Vincent was speechless as Jexebel finished her song. It was amazing. It spoke to him of taking a chance, giving in to the need for love. Not being alone anymore. He shook his head. Where was all this coming from? He lost himself in thought and wasn’t aware of anything until he was poked on the shoulder. It was Jexebel. It was then that he noticed the seven empty beer bottles that set in front of him.

Oh dear.

“So tell me about the time the search and rescue from Midgar had to come and find you and my Mama?” Jexebel said, picking up her long discarded drink and stirring it.

Vincent let go and laughed. He blamed the beer and vowed to get Tifa back for this. He hadn’t thought about that incident in YEARS!

“Oh sweet Leviathan, I had almost forgotten about that!” He laughed again, and the sound when straight to Jexebel’s brain, her brain in turn making a deep ‘phhhooooooooooaaaaaaargh’-ing sound. “Your mother and I thought we could wake the Sleeping Forest without the Harp. It was about a week before we were found, almost to the Forgotten City, freezing, starving, and both of us scared to death!” He stopped to laugh again.

“You? Scared? You don’t seem like the scaredy type.” Jexebel said.

“We were six.”

Jexebel gasped. “No wonder my mother would never let me anywhere near the entrance of the forest!” She joined in laughing.


Tifa watched from the kitchen as Vincent laughed with Jexebel, her brain about to explode from ‘surprise overload’. Cloud chose that time to come waltzing around the corner. She grabbed him.

“Look at Vincent, Cloud, and tell me what you see.” Tifa said, nodding in the tall man’s direction.

Cloud sighed, annoyed, and did as he was told, nearly choking in his surprise at the sight he found.
“Is that Vincent . . . flirting?” he said, bewildered.

“Yes, yes it is.” Tifa said.

“Call the press! Call ShinRa! THE WORLD IS ENDING!” He shouted, ducking under the bar, whimpering.

Tifa hauled him to his feet and punched him square in the gut. “Shut-up! Do you want to ruin it?!” She hissed. “Sorry everyone! Cloud’s had a little too much to drink!” She glanced at her friends amused expressions. Well, Jexebel was amused. Vincent was irritated.

He found he didn’t care as much when he turned back to Jexebel and found himself nose-to-breast with her. She had jumped up to a sitting position on the bar as the patrons started filing out, and was now in JUST the right position for Vincent to see EVERYTHING inside her shorts.

He gulped. “So wait a minute,” Vincent said. “Your name isn’t Stringfellow. Your father’s name?”

Jexebel looked at her hands, and for the first time that night, looked . . . sad. “No, it was my husband’s name.”

“Oh, you’re married?” Vincent asked, more upset than he probably should have been.

“No, not anymore. He uh, he died, a few months ago. An accident. The charges that they use for excavation were faulty, and . . . n-no one realized it in time.”

‘Okay brain,’ his mouth said silently, ‘that whole gun-in-the-face thing sounds pretty good. How ‘bout it?’

“I’m sorry.” Vincent said, sincere.

“It’s okay. I’m . . . alright. It was his time and he didn’t suffer at all. I can take a little comfort in that.”

“How long were you married?” Vincent asked, hesitant to wake what could be painful memories.

“Almost four years. I was seventeen. Being from Bone Village, you know that we marry young. Last Wednesday would have been our fourth anniversary.”

“I do remember. I’m sorry for your loss.” ‘Leave it there, Valentine. Now, go upstairs and forget this entire conversation.’ “If there’s anything I can do to help you, let me know, okay?” His brain began throwing a temper tantrum. Mental images of beer bottles flinging through the air being thrown by a giant brain and being shattered by bullets being fired by a large pair of lips holding the Cerberus ran through his mind. He shook his head and decided that he was never drinking ever again.

“Well, actually, I have never been anywhere outside the Village, maybe you could . . . show me around a bit?” Jexebel asked hopefully.

‘Absolutely not, I’d much rather not get involved.’ “I can do that. How about tomorrow evening, if you’re not too busy?” At this point his brain gave up, leaving poor Vincent to fend for himself.

“Well I’d have to talk to Tifa, but I’m sure that would be okay!” Jexebel said.

“No problem, go ahead! The bar will be fine for a few hours!” Tifa called from the kitchen.

“It is impolite to eavesdrop, Ms. Lockhart.” Vincent grumbled. He turned back to Jexebel when he heard her yawn.

“Oh my, I’m sorry . . . I guess I’m a bit tired. I hope you don’t mind if I cut this short and turn in for the evening?” Jexebel said.

“Of course not. I’ll walk you to your room. I suppose I should turn in as well. The others will probably call in tomorrow after their little display tonight.”

“Others?” Jexebel asked, confused.

“Reno and Rude.”

Jexebel gasped. She finally made the connection.

“You’re THE Vincent Valentine! Oh Ifirt’s horns, why did it take me so long to figure it out? I knew the name sounded familiar!”

Vincent smiled, uncomfortable as Jexebel continued.

“So you’re a Turk again, then? Now it makes sense about your age! Oh-! I’m sorry . . . I’ll just uh . . . be going now!” She turned to bolt up the stairs, but was stopped by Vincent’s gauntlet resting gently on her arm.

“It’s okay. Really. Let me walk you.” They walked in silence to Jexebel’s room, the location really not meaning much to Vincent at the moment.

“Okay, goodnight!” Jexebel said, rushing in her room and closing the door before Vincent could even answer her. He looked around, gathering his surroundings to go back to his room.

‘Damn you, Tifa! You did this on purpose!’ Vincent thought when he saw where in the bar he was.

Jexebel’s room was right across the hallway from his own. This was going to be a long night.


[Jexebel]

‘Oh sweet Shiva, why didn’t I figure out who he was BEFORE I flirted so shamelessly?!’ Jexebel asked herself. ‘He was . . . flirting back though . . . maybe he’s . . . NO! This canNOT work. It’s not fair to use people to forget your own sorry existence, Jexxy.’

The internal argument continued for long hours as Jexebel tried to talk herself out of liking the dark hero.


The morning met a very tired Jexebel. She zombied downstairs to the kitchen and reached for the coffee pot that was already half-empty. She poured herself a mugful of the hot liquid.

“Hades’ hellfire, what a night.” She muttered.

“Rough night?” Tifa asked, rounding the corner into the kitchen.

The unexpected voice startled Jexebel and she jumped, spilling her coffee down her bathrobe. She glared at Tifa. Tifa only winked and then stared innocently at her.

“Yes I had a rough night!” Jexebel huffed, removing her robe to reveal that she was wearing only a tank-top and boyshorts.

“Did you have a rough night . . .alone?” Tifa asked suggestively. Jexebel gasped.

“Tifa!! Of COURSE I was alone!! And that’s . . . that’s . . . none of your business!” Jexebel choked.

“Okay, okay.” Tifa said, laughing.

Jexebel looked around the kitchen. “Where, uh, where is Vincent, anyway . . .?”

Tifa chuckled again. Her plan was working PERFECTLY. “He’s a Turk, Jex. He works early hours. He’ll be back at around seven. Then he’ll take you out on the town.”

Jexebel flinched at the way Tifa had worded her statement. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to let Vincent show her around. She dismissed the thought. She would think about it later, when she’d had more caffeine. “So . . . what do you do around here until the bar opens?” She asked Tifa.

“Usually go to the market and stock the kitchen. Want to come?” Tifa asked.

“Oh, I don’t have anything to wear . . . I only have what I wore last night and I was hoping to wash those so I could use them again.”

Tifa’s eyes went wide. She really didn’t have anything? She instantly felt bad for not doing more. She made up her mind.

“Nonsense. You can borrow some of my clothes, and while we’re at the market, you’re getting new clothes. We’ll put them on the bar’s credit. You can pay me back later.” She didn’t give Jexebel time to refuse, just grabbed her hand and dragged her upstairs.

Tifa’s clothes were loose and comfortable, but it wasn’t what Jexebel was used to wearing. She liked clothes that fit her form a little better than that. When they got to the market, Tifa decided that they should shop for clothes first.

Which is why Jexebel now stood in the middle of a large clothing store, wide-eyed as Tifa thrust outfit after outfit at her. “Tifa, are you serious about all of this?” She asked from beneath a mountain of clothes.

“As a heart-attack, Jex. Trust me. I told you when you came here that I would help you, so I’m helping you.” Tifa said, shoving the smaller woman into the changing room.

Jexebel grudgingly tried on outfit after outfit. There were about a dozen that she liked, and decided to keep. Her favorite consisted of tight maroon jeans, a fitted maroon belly-shirt, and a maroon leather jacket that rested just above her waistline. She liked it because she wore a set of throwing knives her mother gave her that were the same color. They completed the outfit well. She still needed a second opinion, though, so she stepped out of the stall to find Tifa talking to a tall man with long black hair. He wore a suit and had a fine red dot on his forehead.

‘Wutaian.’ She thought.

Tifa had her back to Jexebel, but turned to face her when the man she was talking to suddenly stopped, and stared past her. She took in the sight of Jexebel looking hot and ready to kick ass.

“Oh. My. God. Jex I LOVE it!” Tifa said, shocked. “And I thought it looked good on the hanger! It looks ten times better ON you!! What do you think, Tseng?” She said, turning back to the dark man.

“Miss Lockhart, I really can’t say. Just please pass on the message to Mr. Strife?” The man-Tseng, she noted-sounded aggravated, kind of like he was a real tight ass.

“Sure thing, Tseng. Thanks for the business!”

He nodded his head and shook Tifa’s hand. “Miss Lockhart.” He nodded towards Jexebel. “Ma’am.”

“Oh, how rude of me.” Tifa sighed, “Tseng, this is Jexebel Strange. She just moved here from Bone Village. She sings in my bar.”

“Nice to meet you, Tseng.” Jexebel extended her hand, and Tseng took it. There was the slightest shocked expression on his face at the strength behind it.

“Miss Strange.” He said. He released her hand and nodded to the women again. He turned his back and walked away, looking over his shoulder every few steps.

“Take the tags off of that, you’re wearing it out!” Tifa said. Jexebel smiled and complied. Tifa credited the clothes to her bar and the two left the shop and headed for the market.

“So can you use those?” Tifa asked while looking over the meat selection.

“What?” Jexebel asked.

“Those.” Tifa gestured towards the four knives that crisscrossed over her back and chest.

Jexebel only smiled. She looked around the market, searching for a target. She found it. To her right, about thirty feet away, a greasy man was reaching for a woman’s purse. “Don’t blink.” She said to Tifa, pointing out the man.

Tifa got a strange light in her eyes and only nodded.

She was glad she HADN’T blinked or she would have missed it. Jexebel slipped one of the knives from the sheath faster than Tifa had ever seen anybody move before. She took a half a second to aim, and then threw the knife. Tifa could hear the whistle of the air and the blade sped towards its target. It landed exactly where she had aimed.

The would-be-thief screamed in pain as the knife struck his hand, stopping when the blade had pushed clear through to the other side. He dropped to his knees and screamed again, clutching his hand. Tifa giggled and high-fived Jexebel; the two of them walking to the man on the ground. Jexebel knelt next to the man and motioned for his to give her his hand. He did so, whimpering. Jexebel hushed him, soothingly, gently touching the tip if the handle. The thief shrieked again when she grabbed the knife and yanked it out of his hand.

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before you try to knick somebody’s purse!” The man struggled to his feet, staring at Jexebel as if she were Jenova herself, then turned around and ran as fast as he could.

“That was awesome.” Tifa said. “Come on, we have all we need, and - OH MY GOD!”

“What?!” Jexebel said, reaching for another knife and whirling around.

“It’s six! We’ve been gone all day, and I have to open the bar in an hour! And you have to get ready to go out with Vincent!”

Oh . . . ! Odin’s Lance! She’d forgotten all about that! She wasn’t given too much time to dwell on it. Tifa grabbed her arm and hauled her along back to the bar.

She spent an hour brushing her hair, and applying a little makeup. Just mascara, blush, and a light gloss. Nothing too . . . obvious. She cleaned her knives and strapped them back to her body, and put her jacket over them. There. Now, not only did she look spectacular, she looked mean. In that I’ll-be-your-best-friend kind of way.

At five to seven, Vincent strolled into the bar. Jexebel peeked around the doorframe just in time to see him walk around the corner into the hallway. He was wearing a suit and his hair was pulled back into a neat braid.

She hated it. She watched as he disappeared into his room for a few minutes, only to reappear dressed in his normal attire. Well- if you can call that ratty old cape and the gold gauntlet normal. And lets not even get started on the boots. The red cape floated behind Vincent dramatically as he walked down the hallway and back downstairs to the bar. That’s more like it.

Jexebel checked the mirror one more time, asking herself again why she cared what Vincent thought of her, and then followed him.

She stood at the bottom of the stairs trying to gather the courage to approach him again. The noise and bustle in the bar stopped when Cloud noticed her and shouted above everyone.

“Sweet Leviathan! Jexebel? Is that you?”

Everyone turned to look at her, and Jexebel was sure her face matched the color of her clothes. She recovered and scowled at him. “Of course its me, idiot.” She said. She walked to Vincent and brazenly threw her arm around his shoulder. “So. You still up for showing me around?”

Reno and Rude had just walked in to the bar when Jexebel threw her arm around Vincent. Rude’s jaw dropped and Reno chuckled lewdly as Vincent followed Jexebel out of the bar wordlessly tossing death threats at anyone that dared look at him.


[Later]

“You look nice tonight.” Vincent said suddenly. ‘Oh, here we go again.’ His mind started in.

Jexebel blushed. “Thanks. Tifa and I went shopping today.”

“Ah, so you’ve already seen the market, then. Why don’t we try the Warf? It’s a bit outside of town . . . well I guess it’s not really even IN Edge, but, it’s very beautiful, and I think you’d like it.” ‘Please, mouth,’ his brain said. ‘If threats don’t work, how about begging? Please, mouth! Please shut-up!’

“Okay . . . How will we get there?” Jexebel asked.

“In this.” Vincent stopped her in front of a black bike that looked an awful lot like the Fenrir.

“Oh gods . . . I uh, I think I’ll walk. Meet ya there!” Jexebel turned and started walking away from the bike.

Vincent gently grasped her arm and pulled her back, chuckling. “Now now, just hold onto my waist and you’ll be fine.” ‘Did I really just tell her to hold onto my waist?’

Jexebel whimpered. “Oh . . .! Fine . . . but just so you know: I’m not comfortable with this!”

‘You’re not the only one.’ He thought to himself. Somehow, though, he couldn’t seem to make himself believe that.