Vincent Comes Home

This chapter is going to be quite short and perhaps, a bit rushed. I will, most likely, be going back through later (when I have more time) and making changes--but I thought I'd put this up for now.


Next bit.


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“Wasn’t Cloud suppose to come with us?” Reno sauntered next to Yuffie, an arm wrapped casually at her waist. Vincent walked next to her. Cid, farthest away, scowling and smoking.

“For what?” asked Yuffie, stretching.

“Well, we’re goin’ into Midgar, aren’t we? Mister Valentine needs some new clothes.” The tone was far from respectful but Reno did not meet Vincent’s eyes when he said it.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Yuffie snickered. She rubbed her hands together, an evil smile coming over her face. “We do, do we? That’ll be fun.”

Vincent tensed, shoulder hunching slightly. Cid rolled his eyes.

“Aw, look. He’s so tense. Here, here, here—stoppaminute.” She tore away from Reno and jumped right in front of Vincent—blocking his path.

“Git the fuck outta the way, Yuffie. We gotta go. Quit screwin’ around.”

Yuffie completely ignored Cid and looked Vincent up and down. “I think we should get him a suit.”

Vincent blinked.

“Oh, come on. What do you think, Reno?”

Reno scowled. “What the hell you askin’ me for? I don’t give a shit what the guy wears so long as its somethin’.”

Yuffie frowned. “Why didn’t Tifa come with us if we were getting clothes for Vincent?”

Cid gave her a very cool look. “Remember that whole bit with the table, Yuffie? You know--crushing it. I think if any of us had asked her to go she’d had broken our necks. Better just to get outta the damn house.”

“Well, that’s all right. You’ve got money, right Cid?”

“Obviously. Can’t see Vincent workin’ as a waiter or somethin’.”

“How about a manwhore? Or a mercenary?” Yuffie asked, a laugh in her voice.

“Nah,” said Reno, smiling ruefully. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “He was a Turk.” He nodded in Vincent’s direction. “Once a Turk, always a Turk. You never lose it.”

Vincent met Reno’s eyes. They were quiet for a moment.

Cid looked between the two of them for a moment and decided the subject needed to move on. “Any way. Cloud isn’t here because—well, shit, I don’t really know why. I asked him—‘cause he said he was comin’—but he just kept lookin’ at Tifa’s table. Didn’t say shit. So we left without ‘im.”

Yuffie nodded. “Well, I think we should get him a suit.” She followed in step beside them and they continued into the city.

“Why a suit?” Cid asked around a cigarette.

“Because I love the look of a man in a suit”—here, Reno struck a pose and Yuffie, laughing, slapped him playfully—“you know? All rumpled.”

“So, you like slobs, not suits,” Cid said, smirking.

“No-o-o,” Yuffie drawled. “I love the suit-look. Guys clean up really well. You should try it sometime, old man. But when they unbutton the jackets and roll up the sleeves and just look rough like that. I like it. Looks good.”

Vincent stayed quiet. They were all discussing him, of course. But he said nothing. He was thinking of other things. He made an effort to bring his mind back to the present.

“That’s why she’s with me, old man, and not you,” Reno put in, grinning.

“As if I would want the bitch,” Cid muttered. “She’s too fucking weird.”

“What, like, kinky? Hell right there, old man.” He poked Yuffie in the back. “You are fucking weird.”

Yuffie rolled her eyes. “I am not weird.”

“Hell yeah, you are! You know what she dreams about, Highwind?”

Yuffie suddenly whipped around. “You shut up, Reno!”

“What?”

“Killer whales.”

Cid stopped mid-stride. He gave Reno a bewildered look. “What?”

“Reno!” Yuffie yelled.

“She does,” he continued, grinning at Yuffie’s look of outrage. “She has nightmares about ‘em. She’ll wake up, terrified—tell me she’s had the ‘killer whale’ dream.”

“Bullshit.” There was a disbelieving laugh on Cid’s face.

“They’re called killer whales, aren’t they?!” Yuffie yelped, turning red. “They’re….they’re killers….”

Cid bit back a laugh. “No they aren’t, Yuffie. What about that one that they made all the movies about back in—?”

“Oh, you know that whale was just biding its time! He was waiting, sayin’, “I’m gonna EAT that fucking kid!”

“Yuffie, they’re—“

“Shut up!” snapped Yuffie, looking very irritated, while Reno started laughing.

“You have a phobia or something?” Cid crossed his arms, seeming honestly curious now.

Yuffie scowled. “I just dream about killer whales and drowning. It’s not funny!” She slapped Reno’s arm.

And it was Cid’s raucous laughter that carried them into downtown Midgar.


Vincent spent a very uncomfortable day being ushered into shops and instructed to try on this, that, or the thing with the blue scarf. Shopkeepers who knew him whispered in hushes tones to their fellows. Those who did not stared in either fear or awe of his claw.

“Take it off,” Yuffie commanded.

“Yeah, Vinnie. Take it all off.”

Yuffie elbowed a grinning Reno in the stomach. She gestured with her hand. “Take off the claw, Vincent.”

Vincent shook his head.

“Come on, Vincent. You’re scaring them.”

Vincent looked away. He could remove the claw, all right, but that would be worse than having it on.

Cid intervened. “They can put up with the fucking claw or we can fucking leave, Yuffie.”

And then the shopkeepers had been only too happy to help them.

Tifa had finished throwing things at the walls, beating the stuffing out of her punching bag, called Barret and bitched to him about what had happened and had finally stepped into the shower.

She leaned her hands against the wet tile and bowed her head. The water beat a hot waterfall down her back. She was shoving away feelings and emotions.

She was happy to see Vincent. Glad to have Cid around. Delighted to have Yuffie and Reno visiting. Depressed about Cloud. A cold pressure was pressing in on her lungs. She breathed deep and straightened herself up, wincing over an old scar that traced down her back.

She turned herself against the tile and slid down, sitting on her haunches. She looked up into the spray, closing her eyes and feeling the beat of the pellets of water.

She lowered her head again and looked to the side, maybe feeling a little guilty. She sat down completely, raising her knees, feeling the water wash over her flesh and thighs. Her right hand slid over her breast, down her ribs, glided to her stomach and stayed. Then over her taunt thigh, down to her inner thigh and…very gently, between her legs.

What did she get out of such things? She didn’t do this much. It made her feel odd. Not dirty, per say. Just uncomfortable.

Sure, it relieved stress. Did that make her weak? Did it make her less of a fighter? Or did it just confirm for her that she was human?

Tifa wasn’t certain. She slid two of her fingers over the sensitive flesh in slow circles. She breathed in the steam, leaning back against the wet tile and moved her fingers. Slowly. Speeding up would break the tension. It would break the feelings. She had to move slowly.

If she was damp, she couldn’t feel it. The hot water washed it away. Dull, warm waves would come, crest over her but not satisfy her. She wanted the real thing…

She wanted her dream. Cloud…

She scowled, suddenly bringing herself out of her mind. Disgust for herself swarmed over her. This was pathetic. Why did she pluck around like this—wishing for love and sex? What did it matter? They would all die anyway. Time to accept that Cloud may never recover. If he does—great—but that doesn’t mean he’d ever want her.

Maybe she should start looking elsewhere?

And for some reason, that thought chilled her. As if she was betraying Cloud.

All thoughts of arousal squashed and suppressed she flipped off the water and stepped out of the shower. Quickly dressing, she went to find Cloud.

But he wasn’t upstairs.

He wasn’t downstairs.

He was outside.

She stopped in the doorway and stared. He had moved all the pieces of her table outside. He found scraps of wood from who-knew-where.

His mouth was creased into a fine line as he picked up a piece of wood and tossed it away. He was trying to fix her table.