The Stormy Night

By: Illusion of the Mirror

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

Tifa’s eyes shot open. Her breathing was quick and she felt a droplet of cold sweat slide down her temple. The dream again. She pulled herself up into a sitting position. How would she ever get back to sleep? A flash of lightning outside lit up the room through the gauze-like curtains. Thunder resounded after and seemed to shake the very walls.

She glanced over at the red, glowing numbers of her alarm clock. 1:37 AM. She put a hand to her forehead and swept her sweaty bangs away from her face. Thunder exploded again, making her heart leap inside her chest and a slight yelp escaped from her lips. There’s no way I’m getting back to sleep…

She swung her legs out from underneath her warn blankets and touched her bare feet to the floor. She winced at the chill of the wood against her skin. Slowly, she rose off the bed and moved over toward the window at the far end of the darkened room. She pulled back the curtain and observed as large raindrops bounced off the pane and lightning struck in the distance.

She pulled away from the window as another peal of thunder rang out. She backed away to the door and turned to head into the hallway. Storms were always loudest in this room. She took a few steps and felt her breath catch in her throat. Right in front of her was the room where Marlene and Denzel had slept. The house felt so very empty without them. She almost wished Barret hadn’t taken them to live with him, but let’s face it, a bar was no place to raise kids; especially by herself.

She reached up and rubbed her bare arms. With the storm raging outside, she felt so alone. She used to love storms and when she was younger, she would stay outside to watch them for hours almost willing them to take her away with them. But no longer, for now they only reminded her of how alone she was and how empty she felt. That was never a good thing. Tifa had always been one to try to concentrate on the positive things.

It was getting harder.

She turned, blinking away a tear. The action brought her vacant gaze to rest on the guest room. It, of course, was empty too. No Denzel, no Marlene, and no Cloud.

She felt her way through the dark along the banister to the stairs and carefully descended them to the kitchen. The pint of rocky road ice cream in the freezer was calling her name. She flipped the light switch but the light didn’t come on. Great! The power must have gone out. Luckily, the fridge was still cold, so she pulled her comfort food out of the freezer, grabbed a spoon, and moved her way to the front room.

The fire in the fire place was now a small glow as the last embers smoldered and popped. She sat down and opened her ice cream. Mmm…that’s good.

Rain splattered against the windows and the storm raged on outside. Every clap of thunder echoed through the house and seemed to have an eerie effect on Tifa’s nerves. Finishing the ice cream, she set the empty carton aside. Tifa then leaned back on her palms and began to do something potentially dangerous: think.

The ice cream had done its work, she wasn’t sad anymore, but now, anger began to bubble up to the surface of her usually cool demeanor. Yeah, she was mad! Mad at Cloud for leaving her, mad at herself for missing him, and mad at the world for not letting her forget it.

Her attraction to Cloud had faded soon after Avalanche. She felt attached to him, but she discovered that it was mostly because he was her only link to the ever distancing past. He had gone from being the protector she obsessed over to a confused little brother she looked out for: a prodical son of sorts. She realized that there were similarities in the ways she felt about him and the way she felt about Denzel.

Cloud had started to annoy her, actually. He always blamed himself and moped about. Even after he got better about it, he was simply never around to take care of their family or even just to keep Tifa company. Then one day, he just left. Just like that. Just when she though things were getting better. She found the badly written note on the table one night when she came home from the store. She didn’t even cry. Not then, anyway.

So now, there she was. All alone. Cloud had run off with some girl, Marlene and Denzel went with Barret, and she was left here; a spiteful and lonely fragment of who she used to be. She stared longingly into the embers of the dying fire. Of course she had to put on the appearance that nothing whatsoever was wrong. No one knew how she was eating herself away on the inside. As a matter of fact, she had convinced herself that no one really wanted to know. They all liked the high spirited, jovial, vivacious Tifa that made everyone else feel good about themselves.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes to stare at the ceiling. “Ach, what am I doing?” she asked herself. Her voice sounded pitiful in her ears. “Okay, girl, get a hold of yourself. You’re better off without him anyway.” She uncrossed her legs and smoothed out the fabric of her pajama pants. She never knew why she would ever start to think. It never ended well.

A flash of lightning lit up the room and she braced herself for the thunder that would naturally follow. The slow rumble reverberated through the house, shaking the pictures hanging on the walls. She closed her eyes and took a breath to relax her nerves but she noticed a strange sound as the thunder ended. Someone, or something, was knocking at the door. Slowly, she got up and lightly walked to the window next to the door. Perhaps she had just imagined it. No! There it was again! Even through the row of the storm, she could definitely make out knocking.

She warily pulled back the curtain and gazed out into the night. She could make out a silhouette. Yes, someone was truly there. At this hour? Then another flash lit up the shadows. Her eyes went wide and she felt her heart skip a beat. It was Vincent!

She stood from her crouching position and tried to calm herself. She rushed to the door, pausing briefly to check her hair in the mirror. Nothing wrong with wanting to look nice. She undid the deadlock and opened the door.

Vincent looked up from a paper in his hand. His fist was in the air ready to commence in knocking once more.

Their eyes met. Immediately, she was bewitched by those piercing, crimson eyes peering out from behind his ebony locks, seemingly glowing in the darkness of the night. For a moment, they stood there staring at each other until Tifa remembered herself and held the door open wider.

“Vincent! I…you…come in! You’re soaked!” She stepped aside and Vincent stalked over the threshold into the parlor. She closed the door behind him and threw the deadbolt. He turned to face her as he brushed a few moist strands of hair from his face. The droplets of water rolled down his black trench coat and dripped to the floor. He lowered his hood and shook his head. “I did not know if you would be awake at such an hour.”

“Um…I get very little sleep anymore.” She let out a nervous laugh. “Especially in a storm like this.” She linked her arms behind her back. “Um…so, why are you here? Has something happened?”

He removed his coat to reveal black slacks and a black dress shirt. She also noticed he had a bag with him, but she paid little attention to it. He draped the wet coat and the bag over the back of a chair, 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 innocent but Tifa knew that Vincent knew she was usually here alone. The inquiry set off a flare of anger but she quickly suppressed it. “Yes…” She sighed. “What is this all about Vin-“

“Forgive me for my unannounced entrance. I am aware that this all must be…a surprise.” He turned to face her completely. “The power is out all over the neighborhood. I would have called but reception…“

Tifa noticed a drop of red dripping off the tip of his finger. “Vincent! You’re bleeding!”

He looked down and detachedly rolled up his sleeve to reveal a fairly deep cut up his forearm. “Oh. So I am.”

“How could you not notice that!?” Tifa grabbed the nearest dish rag, took hold of Vincent’s arm, and immediately began wiping off the blood. It wasn’t bleeding as badly as it could be.

“That will not be necessary,” he said while attempting to pull 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. “I make food in here you know.” She also knew he was more likely to receive kindness if she acted like it was for her sake as well. “How did this happen?”

He lifted his claw and studied his digits as if they were foreign to him. “I…got into a bit of a disagreement with someone.” Tifa stopped her work and looked up to Vincent’s face. He was apparently watching her but he immediately averted his eyes.

“What kind of disagreement? With whom?” She waited for a response but there was none. “Fine then, don’t tell me.” She draped the towel over his arm and crossed to the supply cupboard to find her first aid kit.

She turned back around and he glanced away again. He held the now bloodied dish rag over his wound and a drop of rain fell from the bangs hanging in front of his eyes. Tifa sighed. “C’mon.” She lightly took hold of his uninjured arm and led him into the front room. Why did everything surrounding this guy have to be a mystery?

She had him sit opposite her in a chair as she put alcohol on his arm and wrapped it. He flinched a bit at the sting, but said not a word. She would never admit it to anyone, but she actually enjoyed it; being that close to him that is. Vincent never struck her as the kind of guy who liked to be touched so it felt like some kind of special moment. She inwardly chastised herself for her silliness but smiled to herself nonetheless.

After she had finished she sat back and exhaled slowly. Vincent looked at his hand and flexed his fingers pensively. Then he looked up and met her eyes. “You did not need to do that.”

“Vincent, you’re my friend, I couldn’t just stand there and watch you bleed.” Her disposition softened as she observed him. She wasn’t sure why she was so irritable. It might have something to do with only getting two hours of fitful sleep.

“Mm.” He looked down again.

“So then,” Tifa began lightly. “What brings you to my doorstep at such a soggy hour?”

“I apologize. I realize that it is late…I had just heard about the storm and I wanted to make sure you were…” 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 hopeful. “You were checking up on me?”

“Well…as you know, I was staying with Cid and Shera. They were discussing the storm and Shera expressed concern for your well-being. “He met her eyes with his trademark expressionless gaze. “I merely volunteered to make sure you were safe.”

“Oh.” Tifa had to admit to herself that she was disappointed, but he was here whether he came up with the idea or not. She was definitely glad for any company on a night like this. “Well, thank you. As you can see, I’m quite alright.” Vincent glanced at the empty ice cream carton next to the fire place. He raised an eyebrow slightly. “Indeed.”

Tifa bit her lip and blushed a bit, but quickly stood. “Here, let me get you something to drink.”

“No, do not trouble yourself.”

“No trouble at all!” Before he could protest further, she had already gone to the bar to pour him a glass of his favorite drink. As she did she wondered if Vincent had actually wanted to come, or if it was simply to put Shera’s mind at ease.

When she reentered the room she saw Vincent staring into the dying firelight. The warm glow lit up his pale countenance, the light accentuating his high cheekbones and sharp profile. Tifa couldn’t deny the man’s attractiveness, but she dismissed such thoughts from her mind. She returned to where he sat on the couch, 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 said brightly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Vincent drank and Tifa fidgeted. What should she say? She didn’t know, so she made a guess. “So, I know the storm’s bad over here, obviously, how was it elsewhere in Midgar?”

“Rainy,” Vincent stated simply.

“…like, what kind of rainy?” Tifa prodded.

Vincent set his empty glass aside and leaned forward. “Well, the rivers have swelled and the power is out in different sections of Midgar. The wind has picked up and has even been strong enough to blow branches off of trees.”

A question was poking Tifa’s brain relentlessly and she just had to ask. “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.”

Vincent arched an eyebrow and there was a slight tug at the corner of his lips. “I’m 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. Of course I can’t 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 know 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 gave a nod.

As Tifa led him up the stairs, a slight grin appeared on her face. 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. “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 sure are quite 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 closed the door without another word and Tifa walked back to her own room. She closed the door and leaned against it. Smiling to herself, she tucked her hair behind her ear. He had come just at the right time. True, Vincent wasn’t exactly talkative or anything, and he was all the way down the hall, but it felt better having someone else in the house. It wasn’t as lonely.

She pulled back the sheets and climbed under the quilt that Shera had made for her. She pulled it up close under her chin and rolled over to face the window. Ever since Cloud had left, Tifa would get frequent visits from the others. She guessed they all expected she was devastated or something. Actually, she wasn’t devastated, she was angry, confused, and hurt, but she needed the company so she never said anything.

Her mind wondered 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 payed a visit, she would have been less enthusiastic. She rolled onto her back and gazed at the ceiling. Sure, Vincent could be scary and sometimes, he could be downright unfriendly, but ever since Avalanche, 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. Besides, how could someone like Vincent ever want to be more than friends with someone like me? That’s right. The point is moot.

Tifa closed her eyes and tried to quiet her thoughts. She had to get some sleep tonight. The rain beat rhythmically against the window and lulled her into a hypnotic rest until she slipped into a calm, and more importantly, dreamless sleep.

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