Disclaimer: Random Quote time: "Oh, I've not to ask you exceptin'...where do you come from? And why are you so tall? I mean, you're a head over Aragorn even!"

-Pippin as played by my friend Bloodbloom AKA Kat, My GJ RP

Author's Note: Well...this is my first crack at a Tifa Vincent fic, and I;m rather proud of it. This is mostly inspired by Jess Angel, and is also dedicated to her. Though it's more contemplative than romantic, I really loved writing it and am fairly proud of it. No flames please, but criticism is walcome and applauded. (Praise is nice too xD) Just...REVIEW! Reviews make me happy...please review! PLEEEEEASE! I'll...I'll give you a cupcake if you review...o

Tifa looked over to her side, trying to see what she could through a properly lowered section of hair. She watched silently, hair swinging slightly on its hinge, and wondered what she was looking for.

Cloud stood by the water, looking into the ground. It had been a month and a day since she had died. He merely stared, watching the unmoving water as if he expected her to rise out through sheer willpower. It hurt her so much. She missed her too...and yet...that tinge of jealousy she just couldn't shake off soured the grief of the same. The thoughts crept up on her again.

Even though she's dead, you still can't have him they snickered. It's even worse now. She died at the height of his affections. Maybe if you had made him love you, and his love for her had died out, you'd have had a chance. But now she'll be the same way in his mind forever...and always loved.

Suddenly she couldn't stand the scene anymore. She wanted more than anything to run away and never come back to the site where her hopes, as well as her best friend, had died. She couldn't take anymore.

With a final, sad nod, she moved away from the site, intense grief and longing mixing with the envy in her heart. She surprised several of her friends, who were all standing a little away from the site, praying or grieving or whatever they thought would be the most respectful. Several glanced up, and she saw Cid furrow his brows as she passed. She walked calmly, but she had to go. A jealous woman cannot just watch.

Walking off a little ways into the distance, behind one of the buildings and far enough that she wouldn't be heard, she crouched down and began to sob out her emotions, hoping, that perhaps, her tears might bleed out the jealousy that was eating away at her. That she hated herself for. Her best friend was dead. How dare she be jealous? How dare she envy a life ended so swiftly, so violently, so young?

She shook her head and sniffled the last of the tears away. Her throat was sore from the violent sobbing. She turned and began to walk up the steps to the building, in hopes of making some tea for her throat, and perhaps being alone with her thoughts.

She heard a small noise somewhere close. She stopped in her tracks, eyes darting around, and she dropped instinctively into her fighting stance. "Who's there?" she called out hoarsely into the twilight. The sun had just sunk beyond the horizon, and she squinted to try and determine a shape in the dark.

"It's very quiet out here, isn't it?"

She spun around, and saw him, a shape on the tip of the spiraling building. He was sitting on the top, cape pooled beneath him, one knee up and one leg straightened on the shell like building's roof.

"No people, cars, reactors...just utter silence."

She squinted again to make sure, the dropped her head and sighed.

"Vincent...it's only you."

He looked down at her, red eyes reflecting the slight remaining sunlight, akin to the way a cat's does.

"How long have you been there?" she demanded.

He was silent for a moment. "Since you all left. I didn't think I deserved to go. I never knew her...I don't deserve to visit her burial site. Especially with you all grieving." He shifted slightly in the deepening dark. "I understand grief, at least."

She shifted uncomfortably, realizing he probably heard her sobbing. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I thought you were a monster, you see, and..." she trailed off as she realized what she'd said. He turned his head back to stare out at the horizon.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, mortified. He nodded, brusquely. She felt miserable for saying such a thing when she knew what he though of himself. Sighing, she began to head inside a second time. She moved up the stairs for the door behind him.

Her turned his head and spoke suddenly. "Why were you crying?"

She froze, and looked slowly up at him, straightening stiffly. "I...I miss her...that's all."

He kept his penetrating gaze on her. A wild thought began to bounce through her brain. He knows! God he knows! She tried to calm her panic. Of course he didn't know. He might be...weird...but heaven knows, he can't read minds!

He turned back. "Of course". No tonality, as usual, but for some reason he seemed to be mocking her. She balled her hands into fists.

"Hey, I thought you said you understood grief!"

He remained silent.

"Don't you mock me Sir Dark-and-Moody! You've got not right! I miss her, and you mock me for crying!" It suddenly dawned on her. "You don't believe that's why I was crying...do you? Well I-I..." she couldn't get it out. She choked on the lie as if she were being strangled. "I..."

"I meant no harm." He said quietly. "I believe you."

She blinked up at him, though he was still facing away from her. "I'll believe what you say."

"But...I..."

"No need to explain yourself. Everyone deserves to cry for their own reasons."

She looked at him, and cocked her head to the side a bit. "Thank you...for not doubting my intentions...but maybe they weren't as pure as I said." She shook her head. "I don't expect you to understand."

He was silent, and then shook his head in turn. "I know...grief is not as simple as it seems to those who haven't truly experienced it. It involves a lot of emotions, and can even contain happiness, or jealousy..." he let the last word linger in the air.

"Someone might be happy that the person had died an easy death" he explained. "Or jealous because they had left all of life's problems behind...it doesn't make them evil, just human. Pure grief on its own is rare to see and rare to experience. It scours a soul and leaves nothing behind."

He turned his head to the side again, looking at her.

"So be thankful if your grief isn't so simple and clear that it kills you."

She stood, quietly stunned by his words, and then walked into the building, shut the door, and collapsed into a chair, put tea on, and thought on his words.