tergiversation tuhr-jiv-uhr-SAY-shuhn, noun:
1. The act of practicing evasion or of being deliberately ambiguous.
2. The act of abandoning a party or cause.

homecoming

One second more and then, a crash of something metallic and something very heavy slamming against cracked linoleum reverberated throughout the tiny apartment. She cringed, hunching up her shoulders and pursing together her lips in a tight O. Perhaps, if she closed her eyes and walk away slowly from the mess, the remnants of the stove would weld together and float back upstairs, landing safe and sound right outside the kitchen's door. Or, as her dark eyes fluttered back and forth, she could make a break for it, run behind the bar and climb up the tree, hoping to good God that no one heard the stove fall down the ten steps out front, only to slam against the parked motorcycle that now laid on its side, its wheels spinning over and over again.

"YUFFIE!"

Too late.

Yuffie turned, her face already breaking into a smile. The boy couldn't be more then ten, but he was dressed from top to bottom with clothes slightly altered but most definitely taken from Cloud's wardrobe. With his feet planted on top of the front porch and both hands clutching a rather large broom, Yuffie swore she saw Cloud in that same pose, many times before.

"Why don't we keep this between us, huh? How 'bout that?"

Denzel shook his head, causing Yuffie to laugh again, reaching out a hand to ruffle his messy hair.

"I'm tellin' you something, kid, it was –"
"That's CLOUD'S bike!"

Denzel pointed at the scratched Fenrir, waving his broom in the air. "And Cloud LOVES his bike."

"Oh, you're a cute one, ain't ya."

--

It happened so quickly, just one melodic note that danced in the air and faded to nothing. Perhaps it was just another phantom that clung to him, morphing his present actions with the nostalgia of the past. But then, another melodic note and another and another.

With one hand pressed against the window, he stared down at Yuffie and Denzel, running in circles around and around the stove Yuffie dropped, now lying in scattered pieces outside the bar.

Quietly, his other hand covering his mouth, Vincent laughed.

--

"Imma tellin' ya, livin' with a woman like Shera and NOT learning to cook, that's just askin for death. Just askin!"

"I'm sure of it."

Tifa smiled at the sound of Cid's gruff laugh, hearing every cigarette he ever smoked. Dressed in an apron of a rather bright shade of pink and bent over a sizzling hot pot, Cid looked almost comical if not for the lit cigarette perched on his lip.

"And yer spiky haired, poor excuse of a man tellin' me, ME that he can't have no cigarette ash on his food – DAMN HIM Tifa!"

Cid ripped the cigarette from his mouth and quite literally sprinkled a good curtain of ash with a fierce shake of his fist, "I'm tellin' ya, it'll toughen his guts! Damn straight!"

Tifa hid her smile behind her raised coffee mug. She uncrossed and then crossed her ankles, once, twice, swinging her legs as she did so. Sitting on the kitchen counter, Tifa could see the gigantic hole ripped through the walls of sheetrock and wood paneling, the disconnected gas pipes looking like open mouths begging for the stove Yuffie and Barret tore out with perhaps a bit too much glee. Beyond the open kitchen door, Tifa caught just a glimpse of Red's flaming tail, the curl of his body as he slept in a square of sunlight that glimpsed and shone through one of the bar's windows. And if she happened to just turn her head ever so slightly, she could watch Cid next to her, adding spices and bits of vegetables to a bubbling mass of brown strew. Scattered on the kitchen table were Marlene's dolls, Denzel's school books and a pile of letters, a tiny mountain that grew each day.

"Don't cha be giving none of that bullshit, bout savin' the world and all that. Got nothin' but chicken shit, damn right!"

Tifa took another slow sip of her coffee, marveling at the warmth that flowed from her mouth to the tip of her toes and swung her legs once more against the kitchen counter.

--

In two years, she grew so much. Her fingernails were now dotted with pale pink polish, her hair brushed up, out of her eyes and into a high ponytail. He remembered when her hair was barely enough to clip back with two barrettes, how her hand, clutched around her favorite doll, Carbuncle, seemed to him, perfect with its leaf-like, tiny network of veins.

He brushed his lips slightly against her forehead and sighed.

On the road, he mused, what did he expect to find? The roar of a car's engine, the sound of his gun firing, the smiles of unknown women.

In the end, it came back, as always, to this.

When Vincent appeared at the door of Seventh Heaven, everyone was a bit shocked at not just the fact that he came, but also, at how gaunt and how pale he was, even in the golden peak of summer. He wordlessly pointed to a giggling, fist-pumping-in-the-air Yuffie and sat himself in the corner of the living room, where the lamplight and the sunlight were dimmest.

But he caught that look in those crimson eyes before the shadows weaved themselves over Vincent.

It was longing and it was regret.

He knew the road that Vincent was traveling, painted in the same colors of Cloud's. He gave her up once, only once, because he too felt that he needed to go there, where only loneliness and regret followed.

And he came back, knowing that what mattered was Marlene, curled up in his arms and fast asleep.

He'll never let her go again.

Sighing, Barret shifted, taking in the green scent of Marlene, and gently rocked the hammock, his left leg striking against the ground in a steady, unwavering beat.

--

"I SAID --!"

"I heard you the first time!"

Yuffie's voice bellowed up and down the bar, her feet marching against the linoleum floor and hands pounding against each of the tables. She didn't have Tifa's patience to deal with Cid, in fact, she didn't even quite remember the last time Cid spoke to her without a swear, a middle finger, a stomping of his feet or a rapid combination of the three.

She sat down next to a sleeping Red, her hand reaching out to scratch his fur. Lying in the sun, his fur was warm and soft. Yuffie took in a deep breath, breathing in the scent of the desert moon and the sun baked canyon that Red always carried with him. She kept scratching the tuft of fur in between his ears as she half listened to Cid and Tifa in the kitchen. Red opened his eye and smiled up at her.

"Not so rough, okay?"

"Okay."

In silence, the two remained, Red's tail gently striking against Yuffie's lap. The flame at the tip of his tail shimmered in the sunlight and Yuffie's eyes remained fixed at the diamonds that reflected off the windows and against the flame.

And then Red said softly, "I'm sure he won't mind, you know, if you followed."

"I'm not like Tifa."

"He's not like Cloud."

--

Dinner was beef stew and biscuits Cid brought all the way from Rocket Town. They ate at the bar, spread out between four of the bar's tables. With the ceiling fans humming overhead and a vase of flowers at every table, the windows were cracked open to let in the smell of summer dusk He couldn't resist eating two bowls of stew, Cid ladling more and more beef and potatoes and carrots into his bowl each time he ate one spoonful. Sitting next to him, so close that her right elbow gently jabbed against his left arm, was Tifa, giggling at Denzel's story ("Can you believe it? She told me, Tifa, that she's going to MARRY me! What a –") and refusing to let Yuffie take a sip of the frosted beer she held in her other hand.

This morning when he woke up, Marlene's and Denzel's face beamed down at him and the scent of warm bread drifted up from the kitchen. The humid heat, the result of a heat wave that endured for the past week and a half, already clung to his forehead. Tiny beads of sweat glistened in the morning sun but he reached up anyway and hugged Marlene and Denzel, his arms spread wide to hold them both.

Now, sitting in the dusk of the summer evening, he titled his head back and up, to glance at the shadows of the ceiling fans. He closed his eyes as he felt the wind slightly lift his bangs and send a brief respite against the heat.

Tomorrow, he'll mow the lawn and set up the awning outside the bar. Denzel would probably want to go swimming, Marlene to the library and Tifa needed groceries. He'll drive each one to wherever they wanted, and bring back bundles and bags strapped to the back of his motorcycle. And at around seven, when the sun was just a sliver of light and shaded with the first of the night clouds, he'll walk to the church and sit quietly, his hands folded into his lap and head bowed. The silence that'll wash over him would be as quiet and as cool as the water that lapped against the stone fountain at the very center of the church.

Cloud opened his eyes when he felt a light tap against his shoulder. He looked up to meet the even stare of Vincent.

"Thank you for dinner."

He watched Vincent turn, his curtain of black hair fluttering in the breeze of the ceiling fan. Cloud shifted his eyes to glance sideways at the table next to him, where Yuffie sat, almost stone still, stirring wide circles into her bowl. And Cloud reached out and grabbed Vincent by the elbow, causing the tall man to pause in mid-step.

"Why don't you stay, for a beer?"

"Or you know, a cup of GODDAMN tea!" bellowed Cid.

Vincent glared down at Cloud, his face an unreadable blank, the eyes that shone ruby even in the dim light. For the first time, in a long while, Cloud saw Vincent's smile as the gruff older man pulled Vincent to the table next to Cloud.

Yuffie looked up as Vincent sat down, and Cloud saw the sun break across her face.

Almost by instinct, Cloud placed a hand over Tifa's and thought to himself, if only Vincent knew. In Cloud's head, he thought of what he'll say, sketching each word over and over again until it was perfect.

When Vincent leaves, he'll stare into the depths of his ruby, glimmering, sad eyes and say, Come back home.

This time, Cloud thought as he glanced around the room, this time Vincent would know where to go.

In the distance, the first sound of thunder was heard, as if invisible hands were applauding and the rain that fell was as soft and as slight of the sound of Marlene's feet as she danced with her stuffed doll, around and around in interweaving circles.