Vincent Comes Home

Well, folks, we're down to the second to last chapter. I can hardly believe it, really. I started this as practice and I've ended with a...story and everything. I'll probably repeat this, but I want to thank everyone who's stuck it for the long haul with me. And an extra thanks for every person who gave me a review. I appreciate every one of them. Thank you so much.
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Turkish: [Pulls the caravan's door from its hinges] Oh, nothing, Tommy. It's tiptop. I'm just not sure about the colour. (From the movie Snatch)
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The sun was shining when they landed in Midgar. Vincent stared out his cabin window and sighed.

Now comes the hard part.

He and Tifa had shared a room the last couple of nights. The others knew she up, but Vincent had told them that she wanted no visitors. She was in the shower now. The woman was miserable but she was in the slow process of accepting what had happened. Recovery, however, would be long in coming. She had gone and looked at Cloud’s frost-touched body every day. Now she’d have to put him in the ground. Never to look at him again.

For some reason, Vincent suddenly remembered the photographs on the mantel. He raised his eyes to the bathroom door. Don’t become weird like you did with Lucrecia…

Somewhere in his memory Eddie told him, Damn, she’s got you whipped.

He had to smile. Eddie had been a character…but he was wrong. Vincent wasn’t ‘whipped’. He cared about his friend. Whether or not she ever returned the same intensity of the feelings he had for her didn’t matter anymore. He felt he had a purpose now.

So when Tifa got out of the bathroom, dressed, with her damp hair twisted over her shoulder, and walked up to him—he could feel no nervousness or anxiety. When he put a hand on her shoulder it meant nothing more than that. A hand to help her out. Someone to confide in.

Strange, in the old days—his Turk days, in other words—he surely would have scorned himself. Rattling off about what a wuss he was. But looking back and seeing now…he had aged. He had matured. And now he knew better.

Better to have it now, than to hide from it—like he had then.

“Will you be all right?”

She smiled softly at him. “It’s good to be home.”

He heard the despair but he said nothing of it. “Why don’t we go ahead of the others and open the windows.”

“Vincent, its winter.”

“Nearly spring,” he corrected. “Look, there isn’t even any frost anymore.”

She looked back out again and a thoughtful expression came over her. “It’s only been a couple weeks…but it seems like a lifetime ago that we left.”

“A lot has changed.”

She nodded.

They were silent for a moment.

“Let’s go open the windows,” she said.

Tifa picked up her things, as did Vincent, and they walked through the hall together. When they turned a corner, Cid and Zet were walking ahead of them, quietly talking. Cid appeared to be more relaxed than he had been for days. Zet’s hair was more mussed than usual and she seemed strangely tired.

There was something different between them. How they walked together, side-by-side, their sleeves just brushing. They looked at each other when they spoke. She smiled. He seemed less fierce than usual. The dynamics were so different that Tifa and Vincent both stopped short and looked at each other.

Vincent was about to say something, but Tifa put a finger to her lips, shaking her head. When the two had walked a clear distance away, Tifa ticked her head to the side. “I didn't see that coming.”

Vincent was puzzled. “What?”

Tifa laughed a little, sadly. “Never mind, Vincent. Don’t worry about it.”

When they got off the ship, Tifa pulled out her keys and opened up the front door. Vincent breathed in the air before he stepped inside. It was unseasonably warm for this time of year. Perhaps spring would come early for them?

Everything was just as they’d left it.

Vincent took off his jacket and gave her a sidelong glance; they had not discussed his arm yet. He supposed now was as good as any time. She was heading into the kitchen, opening the window there and letting fresh air breeze in.

When she exited she looked at it. “So…it gave you your arm.”

Vincent looked away. “It was an unworthy trade. If I could take it back, I—“

She was shaking her head. “I don’t blame you, Vincent.” She sighed, walking over the dining room window. She touched the glass and leaned the side of her head on it.

Sunlight dappled over her, golden, like butter. Vincent could see little particles of dust floating about in the air, turned into sprinkles of light. Tifa turned, placing her forehead and both hands on the clear glass. “I’m sorry I slapped you.”

Vincent looked away again. He could hardly blame her for that.

“I wasn’t…,” she continued. “…thinking at the time. I just…” she sighed. “I should have known something like that would happen.”

“No one can know when something like that—“

Tifa smiled, shaking her head. She looked out the window. “He practically told me. He told me he wasn’t coming back. He showed me he wasn’t coming back. It was in his movements, in his voice and in his words…but…but I was too…too lost to see it. I wanted him to be healed. I was ignoring everything else. I didn’t want to see the truth…so I didn’t. It was foolish of me. And selfish. I wanted him back for me…not for anyone else. Not even for himself. I wanted him. I loved him too much.”

“No one can love too much.”

Tifa looked at him, she smiled softly. “Now that’s something I’d never have expected to hear you say.”

“A lot of things have happened in the last couple weeks.”

“Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe no one can love too much. But people shouldn’t…blindly love. It will only end in disaster. I should have realized when Sephiroth was gone…that Cloud was gone too. The man I’d come to love was a shadow of himself. But I didn’t want to see that. Some part of me did, of course. And I ignored it, always with the hope, things will get better, things will get better, and I was surprised when they didn’t. But I don’t think I was ever truly surprised. I wanted to be surprised. I wanted to pretend that I didn’t realize what it would come to. But…” she shook her head. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I wanted him to live. I’d give anything to have had him healed…but, he’s better now.” She smiled, a little bitterly. “I should be thanking Aeris for doing what I could not. But that’s just being resentful. I should…I should just be…grateful for him. He’s safe now.”

But it didn’t stop Tifa from gazing out the window to an abandoned pile of wood in the backyard. Nails were all over the place and a hammer was cast aside. She breathed in softly and blinked quickly, her eyes tearing up. She looked, rather abashed, at Vincent. “Fancy words are always easier said than done, I know.”

“It will take time,” he agreed.

Tifa looked away. “How long are you going to stay, Vincent?”

“As long as I can.”

Her eyes snapped back over to his. “Really……?”

“If you’ll allow it.”

“You know I will,” she told him, smiling sadly again. Then she whispered. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

Tifa licked her lips, squared her shoulders, and looked back out the window. “I’m going to the shed to get a shovel.”

Vincent cocked an eyebrow at her. “What for?”

Tifa was staring off into the distance, seeing nothing—or, perhaps—she was seeing something, but it was something that Vincent could not. “I’m going to dig a grave.”

“We could do—“

“No, Vincent. I’m going to do this.”

Her tone brooked no argument. She turned around, without another word or glance at him, and went outside.

Vincent looked around the room and continued opening the windows, finally climbing upstairs to the bedrooms. After he had opened them, he stood in the hall, feeling a warm breeze caress his face, lightly lifting his hair and ruffling it. He breathed it in.

Out of one of the guest room windows, he could just barely see Tifa. She had broken ground already and was digging, throwing dirt over her shoulder in a wide, brown arc. There were voices outside, drifting lazily in through the open windows.

Vincent went back downstairs, touching the railing with his new hand and relishing the feeling of a polished wood grain.

The others were in the dining room.

Cid sat on one side, Zet to his immediate left and Jeremiah on her other side. Barret, Marlene on his knee, sat at one head. Reno was sitting across from Cid and Yuffie across from Zet. Nanaki was sitting regally on the floor. There was no dining table, of course, but they were set up as if there were one.

“I go’ ‘hold of Elmyra, turns out it is the same woman…told ‘er what ‘ad happened. She wants t’come ‘ere. So m’gonna go git her. If you’d be willin’ t’hold on the funeral…?”

They all looked at each other. Cid nodded. “Sure thing.”

“Y’want me to come, Jeremy?”

Jeremiah gave her a funny look, one that Vincent couldn’t really interpret.

“Naw,” he told her, a strange, thoughtful look settling over his face. “It’ll only take a couple days. I think m’gonna jus’ go get ‘er. We’ll ‘ave some stuff t’talk about.”

Zet raised her eyebrows at him but said nothing. She nodded and gave him a very small smile. He lowered his head, looking, for some reason, embarrassed.

“Where’s Tifa?” Yuffie asked. She seemed to have recovered, at least outwardly, for the most part. She still couldn’t grin but a ghost of her wicked smile was returning.

Cid was leaning his chair on the back legs. “She’s diggin’ a grave.”

Everyone stilled.

“Is Cloud—?“

“He’s still wrapped up,” Cid said, his eyes darkened as he took a long drag on his cigarette. He looked at Jeremiah. “If you wanna get Elmyra here in time—ya better go ahead an’ go. He…won’t….well….even if his body is kept cold…”

Jeremiah nodded.

“How fas’ does the Northwater fly?”

“Full speed? ’Bout a hundred and fifty knots.”

Cid looked up at the ceiling, grinning. “You still measure in knots?”

“I ‘ad a ship that went on water when I was a young man.”

“Back when the dinosaurs roamed,” Reno muttered. Yuffie looked at him reproachfully.

Cid appeared to be calculating. “That’s about…a hundred an’ seventy…two, I think, miles per hour, right? Damn, it’s older than I thought it was.”

“Hard t’get a hold of an airship. An’ if the wrong people know about it, ya don’ ‘ave it f’long. I got lucky when I won it.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.” Cid seemed to be chewing the inside of his cheek. “Why don’ ya take the Highwind then. It’ll get your there faster—it’s got a booster on it. It’ll double your speed with a fourth the power. You put it on full and you’ll be there in no time.”

Jeremiah stared at him. “Y’want me t’take yer ship?”

Cid smiled. “Yeh, sure. I trust ya. Go ahead. Any of the crew who ain’t up to it can stay—but there’ll be enough volunteers that you shouldn’t ‘ave a problem.”

Jeremiah looked lost for a minute. “Well, thank you. I’ll…I’ll go ahead and do tha’ than.” He stood up and, nearly dazed, went out the door.

Vincent decided to move from his spot on the wall and walked around the chairs to sit across from Barret, as if he were at the other head of a table.

The others acknowledged him with nods and murmurs.


They all heard the door open. Everyone looked up. Tifa came into the room, covered in dirt, looking tired. There were streaks on her face, as if she’d been crying and her tears had washed off the brown grime. She looked at them all. Her eyes found Vincent.

“Captain Jeremiah has gone to get Elmyra, than we can…have the funeral.”

“How long will he be?”

“If ‘e busts ass, he coul’ be back by tomorrow afternoon.”

Tifa nodded.

“Hey, Tifa…you want somethin’ to eat?” Yuffie offered, standing up. She looked anxious.

Tifa smiled, shaking her head slowly. “No...no thanks. I’m…not very hungry. I think...I think I’m gonna take a shower.”

Yuffie nodded and slowly sat back down. She still looked anxious, fidgeting, until Reno, very casually—as if he didn’t want to be noticed—took her hand and steadied her fingers.

They all sat quietly when Tifa left.


Jeremiah did indeed return with Elmyra Gainsborough the next afternoon, praising the Highwind to any that would listen. He seemed oddly cheerful, at first, standing next to Elmyra. After remembering, of course, the reason he was there, he sobered up. But he wasn't as gloomy as he had been.

They met them outside. It was another balmy day. Elmyra seemed to have hardly aged since they’d last seen her as she went around and gave each of them a hug. Even Reno. And Yuffie had burst into silent chuckles at the look of shock and disgust on his face.

When she came to Vincent, she stopped and smiled. “I knew it was you. I knew the moment Marquie brought you in that it was you. I’d seen your picture on TV…but we never got to meet.” She looked down at his hands and picked up the left one. “Was this one the one that changed?”

He nodded.

She lifted the new hand in her fingers. “You’d best take good care of it. Don’t want to lose it again.”

“No fuckin’ shit,” Reno muttered. “Christ, Vince, be careful not to let any fuckin’ crazies cut it off again.”

Vincent caught himself rolling his eyes. “I have to teach it how to work again, but it will only be a matter of time.”

Elmyra smiled and nodded to him.

Cid looked about. “I’m gonna go…get Cloud. Where’s Tifa?”

“Upstairs,” Barret told him. “She’s gettin’ some fresh clothes out f’im.”

“She’s not gonna bury him a suit, is she?” Yuffie asked, looking aghast.

“I don’t think ‘e even had a suit, come to think of it,” Cid said, quietly.

“I doubt she’s gonna bury ‘im in a suit. Cloud was a fighter…not some jumped up, rich li’le bitch. Mos’ likely she’s jus’ getting’ out some of his other clothes.”

There was silence for a moment.

Vincent moved forward. “I’m going to get Cloud.”

Cid looked at him, started to speak, and then stopped. “...All right.”


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We’re down to, I believe, one more chapter.

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Looking back at this chapter and the one before it--I think they've come across as way too fast. I'm going to edit these later...