18

Full Circle

The night before Marlene's recital, I put in a call to Tifa's phone. It was late—she didn't answer. I just assumed she might be out; old habits die hard, and we were all light sleepers out of necessity. I left a message, hesitating, indecisive, telling her that I loved her.

It was probably not the best idea, not the way to go if I wanted to appear all right in the head and doing fine for a few days without her. It was also an unfortunate way to give and receive such information. But I felt her absence greatly, far more than I would have expected, and her being gone brought with it the realization that I might one day have to compete for her attentions.

I didn't want to pressure her, but I was beginning to fear that she was slipping away.

I firmly believe in the unfairness of comparing one relationship to another, but I was beginning to feel a bit ashamed. I had a history of moving too quickly, of smothering the objects of my affection—I was hot and cold, uncaring towards many and undying in my pursuit of only a few. When I crawled out of that tomb, I thought I would never experience that range of human emotion again.

But Tifa was unlike all the others. She was like coming home after the journey—as if there was a piece of myself I'd always carried with me, and she was the source I'd only just met. I didn't want that to go unsaid.

Of course that wasn't exactly what I said. I was already being ridiculous, possessive, insane. We'd been spending obscene amounts of time together; I couldn't let her come home to that. Regardless of her answer or when it came, I would have to keep myself in check. But all of that time spent—that ridiculously obscene, insane amount of time—was all the more reason why I thought of her as mine already. She would always be mine, in a way, even if that meant I had to settle for one way over the other. We fit, in a way that no one else did. And I wanted her to feel that, somehow.

Who knew who might approach her while she was gone? Tifa had already had her edges smoothed away and rubbed out in order to fit a role she wasn't entirely happy fulfilling. Now she was just beginning to get them back. How could I keep that from happening again? How could I protect her from her natural inclination to please without exerting some undue kind of control over her life which would only make me yet another beast to be conquered?

And so, I'd invited her out to spend some time with me after the play was over. It would give me an excuse to talk to her, to be with her for a while after not being with her for a few days when I could have very much enjoyed her presence. It would not be the time; I could only hope that my words would be better prepared when that time came.

She hadn't called back.

Since then, I'd been lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling and wasting away the time while I examined my wants and fears, the things I'd done and said and my motivations for each. Maybe I'd frightened her. Maybe I'd given her that undue pressure. Maybe she hadn't even checked her messages yet.

The one thing I knew she wouldn't do was misinterpret my meaning behind the word 'love'. Not after that night. Not after that discussion.

I'd hesitated before I'd said it, gathering my wits. Maybe she hadn't heard that part.

I felt like the same idiot rookie in need of approval. It was one of those things that needed to be said eventually, but which one wished didn't make him sound like a complete and utter fool when spoken aloud. There was no dignified way to say, 'I love you', when the response was uncertain. It's not a phrase one wants to hear accompanied by fear. But at the same time, it was not something I could ever regret saying to Tifa.

Besides, she already knew. It was only a matter of time before one of us brought it up.

Tifa and Yuffie were going to take a cab from the hangar and meet us at the school. Cid and Shera would be bringing the kids, and Yuffie was going back to Rocket Town with them when it was all over, to stay and help for a couple of days before she hitched a ride in the direction of Wutai. Cloud would be taking the kids for the entire next week, all the switching of bags and cars included. Barret couldn't make it—no one pushed too hard for an answer as to why.

I only hoped I wouldn't be making anyone too uncomfortable with my presence. I had already assured little Marlene that I would be at her show, and I knew that Tifa took it to heart when I'd done that. But in a situation where I was the problem, and the only clear deterrent was to stay near Cloud...

But perhaps I was thinking too much of myself.

The building was crowded, the parking lot full, but luckily Cid was a sore thumb on the front steps with his cigarette in hand. It wasn't too hard to find him again after parking, and I trudged up the steps to stand beside him. I received the standard hello—he held out his pack and offered me a light.

I shook my head, and he slipped the box back into his shirt pocket.

"Shit," he muttered. "I forgot."

"Not since I was younger than you," I replied, mouth twitching.

"Tch!" Cid stubbed the butt of his cigarette out in the can, snorting. "Man. I don't even think about that anymore. Y'know, you really don't act like the average... sixty-two—?"

"Twenty-nine."

"Shaddup."

Being around the smell didn't bother me at all, nor did it bring back any old cravings. Although...

"Shera's inside. The gals ain't here yet, so Cloud's keeping her an' Denzel company."

...there were times when I thought I might pick the old habit back up again. "Really."

"Now don't go bein' like that tonight—"

"What about Marlene?"

He was already puffing away heavily on the second. When did he light that? "She's backstage."

I felt over-dressed next to Cid, who wore a clean pair of jeans and a short-sleeved button-down to all special occasions. It was a casual, kid-friendly event, and I did stick out in my dress slacks and crisp shirt—standing next to Cid only made it worse. This theater was more or less a community center, and as I glanced beyond the glass doors, I realized it was also doubling as an art exhibit for the local schools, with pieces clearly ranging from all ages.

Cid's phone began to ring. He flicked his light into the tray and answered. "...Hey! What? Nah, nah... hang on a sec." He put his hand over the receiver and grinned. "It's Tifa."

I fought the urge to bruise his shoulder.

"Yeah, that figures. I'll swing around and pick you guys up."

"What happened?" I asked, once he'd hung up.

"Fuckin' driver," he snorted. "Drives 'em everywhere but where they need to go, pretendin' not to know. Runnin' up the meter, right? I mean, if you don't know where you're goin', transportation's not the way to be. So, Tifa and Yuffie, they just get out about a block away."

I chuckled. "Luggage and all? I can help, if you like."

"Nah. I'm gonna grab the truck and pick those two up before someone decides to get fresh. You're welcome to come along, but that's up t'you."

I thought about it. She was probably already stressed out as it was—she didn't need my face being the first thing she saw. "I'll wait here."

"Kay. Last I saw of Shera, she was... inside, in the hall on the left," he said, rubbing his head. "Wraps 'round both ways, so if you don't see her, you can catch her on the way back."

I nodded as he left, and ducked inside the lobby. There wasn't much of a change in temperature, but then the weather had been kind as of late. The place smelled of something familiar and not, like any office, the mixture of several nameless people milling about. I rolled up my sleeves, trying to appear casual.

The walls were an array of color, a back-splash for the foreign materials and displays. It was apparent, this wide spectrum of age, and also that age was no necessary indicator of talent.

Cloud was keeping Shera company, and so I was in no hurry to meet with them. I was the intruder here, the variable in the familial formula. I'd be amicable enough, but they could bump into me at their leisure.

And so I browsed around.

Ironically enough, the first person I knocked into—literally—was the one I was trying to put off meeting. I'd been drifting in and out of several rows of tables when there was a hard elbow at my back; Cloud and I both turned around to see who we had bumped.

"Vincent." He blinked at me. "...You're here."

Not surprised to see me, exactly. He was probably well aware of how much time I'd been spending around Tifa on my own, but it was still a question lingering. A challenge, perhaps? "Tifa asked me to come."

"Where is she?"

"Held up," I said, testing a smile, "by an unscrupulous driver. Cid went to go rescue the girls."

"...Huh." Cloud crossed his arms and shifted his weight curiously. "I'd have thought she'd be coming with you."

"No, I came on my own." What he meant was, why hadn't I gone to pick her up from the airport.

He only nodded, as if in a trance. I shrugged.

"Barret couldn't be here."

And then he smiled—a genuine smile lit with humor, as if he knew something I didn't. "You know, your being here isn't going to fool anyone into forgetting that he's not."

I frowned. "I'm not quite sure what you're getting at. Do you want me to go?"

"Would you, if I said yes?"

"Probably not."

His smile grew wider. "Good."

Something was very off about this situation. "Tifa and I are still not together."

"Whatever you say."

I was growing impatient. "Where are Denzel and Shera?"

He craned his neck, searching the crowd. "...There," he said, pointing to the far side of the room. There was a white-clothed table set up with coffee dispensers and refreshments. Denzel had just turned around, and Shera was occupied with her stirrer and styrofoam cup.

Cloud gave a meager wave and caught the boy's eye. When Shera had finished doctoring her coffee, they both made their way over.

"See?" he said lowly to me, as the two pushed their way passed the crowds. "The kids have plenty of support. Tifa didn't ask you here for them. Her only motive for asking you to be here is, she wants you to be here."

I didn't bother to correct him, to tell him that Marlene had also asked me to come. It didn't matter, because I would have come anyway.

Wouldn't I have?

"Vincent! You came, too." Even if it wasn't his night to shine, Denzel seemed to be having a fine time. I could really have had so many more problems, but he and I still got along for the most part. Of course, we'd never had to deal with anything yet. We were a long ways away from family dinners, or anything real...

"It's nice to see you again, Vincent." Shera sipped lightly on her hot beverage. "Is Cid outside, still?"

I nodded my greeting. "He should be back soon."

"Apparently there's a long story about a bad cabbie," amended Cloud.

"For crying out loud, "she chuckled. "And Cid's going to handle it?"

"I think they did," I said. "They just needed a ride."

"Ah."

"So," Cloud said, glancing at Denzel and then looking around, "show us where your class table is."

The boy pointed in a general direction, and the rest of us followed him blindly through the crowd. Eventually we stopped at one of the fewer longer tables reserved for the kids from the middle school, eyes wandering over the myriad of scattered items, some clearly recognizable and some not, until someone broke the relative silence.

"Oh! Look, Denzel. This one's yours."

We stopped near Shera and looked at the globular chunk of glass on the table, a black and gray-spackled glaze against the blinding blue-teal of the construction-paper table-top cover. One could tell it was supposed to be a uniform object, but it had turned out somewhat sad and lop-sided.

"What is it?" asked Cloud.

Shera elbowed him in the side, and Denzel frowned visibly. "It's an ash-tray," he said.

The technician in her blinked at it, considering. "I knew that," she then said, pertly. I myself managed to keep my oft wayward eyebrow from popping up—I've been told I don't know I'm doing it half the time. "But..." Shera continued, "why an ash-tray, dear?"

"Everyone was making something easy like that."

"I see."

"... You're not happy with it?" Another question from Cloud.

The boy shrugged, uncomfortable. "I don't do art, really."

"What do you like?"

I hadn't realized this question had come from myself until all three pairs of eyes were directed back at me. Denzel just shook out his hair and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Writing papers, mostly."

Cloud interjected before I could think of the proper response. "Vincent writes." I watched him purse his lips thoughtfully, hanging on what he might say next. "You could ask him about that."

"Yeah, maybe. That'd be cool." Denzel wasn't frowning anymore, though he didn't exactly perk up. Instead he gave a polite smile and continued walking with Shera through the displays. Cloud and I remained behind.

I caught his eye. "What are you doing?" I mouthed, barely audible words slipping through to him.

He smiled slightly, his voice almost as low and quiet. "Being nice."

Stop it, I wanted to say. You know damn well things will never be like they were.

But I didn't. I bit my tongue. And not five seconds later, I heard familiar voices making their way down the hall.

"Oh. My. Gawd. He's alive!" I turned to see Yuffie rushing over, followed by a more demure and smiling Tifa. Yuffie embraced Cloud, grinning smugly from ear to ear. "Been a while, Spike! I'm never in town when you come to pick up the kids."

She was pouting by now, an exaggerated display, and Cloud gently pushed her away, smoothing out his clothes and returning the smile. "That's your fault. Not mine."

And it was true. As far as I knew, he'd made every effort to see the kids, just as he'd promised. His time was sparse, but he'd been spending it on the things that mattered most to him. I often wondered if Tifa would ever reconcile with him, if he only asked.

But he never did.

Yuffie slung her arm around his shoulders and began to walk down the aisle, waving animatedly at Denzel and Shera ahead. Tifa was by then at my elbow.

Gone was the threat of making a fool of myself in front of Cloud. Yet there was still time to ruin the evening. How to begin a conversation without seeming over-zealous?

"I got your message," she said, quietly.

Oh.

"I'm sorry I never returned your call. I... what you said, it made me think a lot. Not that I wasn't already. I mean, I just didn't think I should talk to you about it over the phone, you know?" She pulled her hair back absently and let it fall over one shoulder with a shrug and a genuine apology in her expression when she looked back at me. "Too impersonal."

...or was it, really? I admit, there had been several moments where I'd hoped she'd dropped her phone in a puddle. They could get along just fine with Yuffie's phone. The ninja was good at swiping things also, wasn't she? If I didn't already know that Tifa had received the message, that might have been plan 'b'.

No... no, not really.

She put her hand on my shoulder.

"I'm glad you came." Her hand stayed there, long enough that my body's natural response was to anticipate some following action—a squeeze of the arm, or her fingers running down my spine. How I wished. "After the show, we could walk around downtown, maybe. It would give us a chance to talk... and it's a nice night, don't you think?"

I nodded, swallowing my nervous breath. I was sure she saw the motion in my jaw. Making it through the first half of the night without jumping the gun was going to be nothing short of a miracle.

"Hey!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Is that Denzel's project?"

She was moving around my shoulder—fingers lingering, trailing, my body suddenly her pivot-point—towards the disfigured ash-bowl. "I knew it looked familiar." Her eyes roamed the contours of the finished product, drinking it in with nothing short of admiration. A mother's love—it speaks for itself.

"It's beautiful."

I'd known it before, really, but there is always that one, defining moment. As for the piece itself, it was not without a certain backwards charm, but it was hardly functional. The rim was crooked and hung low on one side, and the bowl was collapsing in on itself. "What do you have in mind for it?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, "but look how pretty it is. I'd hate to see it used as an ash-tray. I know that's what he said he was making, but it's so dark and distinguished. A vase, maybe?"

I furrowed my brow, but returned the smile. "I wouldn't count on its ability to retain water. In any case, it's not very tall."

"Orchids are short," she said. "And bright. Or I could put a candle in there."

One of those days, I would buy Tifa some flowers. Something bright and beautiful that she could sit in the sun and dry over the bar. Something appropriate for one of those days.

The rest of the crowd seemed to be gathering at the end of the hall. Tifa hesitated at my elbow, then straightened herself and nodded to me, leading the way. I followed, my neglected hand reflexively stuffing itself into my pants-pocket. Yuffie waved to us from the door, then promptly ducked out of view, lost amongst the rest of the bodies that had come to an abrupt stop, blocking the entryway.

Once we'd wriggled our way through the mob, side-stepping around various intimate gatherings in the aisle, we descended down the right side of the auditorium to where the rest of our company waited.

I might have worried about the seating arrangements, if not for Shera the Wise. She grabbed me by my upper arm, not giving me the time, exclaiming in a thin whisper, "Over here!" I was shoved thereafter into the row of seats before anyone else had taken the opportunity, and Tifa was soon shooed in after me, followed by Shera and Cid.

Cloud and Yuffie were apparently caught up in some very good conversation, and so were left with the seats closest the aisle, whenever they decided to come around. Shera was a good woman. I didn't have to sit next to Cloud, nor did I have to endure Cid's comments or eyebrow waggling, not to mention his elbow in my side. Tifa didn't have to sit near Cloud or Yuffie, either. Of course, I had no idea how Tifa felt about being nearly half-isolated next to me.

Like children. The whole of it was just... ridiculous. And yet necessary. It was shameful, really.

The curtain rose and fell in what seemed like no time at all. The event went off without a hitch—and the music was quite enjoyable, really. No one who didn't know would have been able to tell that it was the high school orchestra. Cid brought a cam-corder with him so that Barret could view his daughter's debut later on. And though Marlene wasn't the lead, she did execute her part with quite a bit of flair and enthusiasm.

"Cloud! Did you see? I was the wind!"

Cid snorted roughly beside me. I tried to stifle my grin and shot him a glare, but he was grinning himself, ear to ear, eyes laughing. It was just as well; my best glare at the time was really nothing to balk at. Shera elbowed him in the ribs, and I ceased holding my expression in check.

"I did see, Marlene." Cloud bent down and accepted her hug, adjusting the drape of one roomy sleeve on her costume. "You did a really great job."

The little girl was beaming, happy to have done well, happy to have everyone gathered together around her. I felt a light touch ghost its way down my sleeve, and Tifa left my side—yes, she'd remained nearby afterwards—followed by Denzel. I was as startled as he when Marlene about pounced on him.

"Haha!" she shouted, hugging him tightly. "You had to come."

The boy's shoulders slumped, and he adopted a tone one could only call 'tiredly amused'. "I didn't have to."

"Yes, you did," she grinned, pulling back to tease him. "Are you embarrassed, walking around with all the grown-ups? Huh?"

"Stop that."

Marlene was becoming a bit of a smart-alec around Denzel lately. Tifa had thought she understood it—Marlene was feeling a bit left behind, like he was pulling away from her—but I had my own ideas as to why. She released him from the embrace, but kept her hold on his arm. "What did you think?"

In an attempt to humor her, he put on his best face and feigned thoughtful consideration. "Well..."

"Denzel!" she whined.

He grinned. "You were good."

"Thank you." She wrapped her other arm awkwardly around my waist without letting go of him. I raised a curious eyebrow at her. "Vincent," she said, looking up at me, "I'm glad you came."

"I said that I would." I felt Cloud's eyes on me then. I tried to ignore them, and hid my discomfort with a genial smile. I had made a promise and kept it. This, however, was unbeknownst to Tifa, and didn't have any bearing on why she had asked me there. He was right.

Marlene smiled back at me. "And you did! Thanks."

I saw that Tifa was eyeing me with some strange kind of wonder—well, I must have been looking at her—and I simply shrugged as Marlene released me and dragged Denzel away. I'm not sure what they were talking about. I'd stopped paying attention.

I couldn't tell what was in her eyes. I was afraid to look for too long, but I couldn't help myself.

Luckily, Cid interrupted, cutting off my 'public moment'. "... Well? Let's get this shit switched up!"

In the parking lot, Cloud brought his four-door around to the back end of Cid's truck. In my opinion it was a piece of junk, unlike his bike, but it brought with it a certain pang of longing for my old GT. In any case, the important thing was that the kids could both ride in it safely. Cloud popped the trunk, and Cid helped the kids grab their bags out of the bed.

"Do you mind if I put my things in your car, Vincent?" Tifa asked me.

"That's fine," I said. "I'll give you a ride back later."

"Later?"

Tifa turned her attention on Cid, who hefted Marlene's white and pink-lined suitcase into the trunk. "I thought Vincent and I would hang around the district for an hour or two."

"Oh, really."

I hoped the glare I was sending him was better than the last sorry attempt. Unfazed, he just grinned and shook his head, turning away. "Have fun, kids!" He waved over his shoulder, the gesture complimented by Shera's and Yuffie's goodbyes as they also climbed into the truck.

Denzel and Marlene waved and shouted their farewells. Both rushed over and gave Tifa due hugs, and Marlene wrapped her arms about my waist. I let my hand rest on her back, but did not stoop down to display affection for either of the children. A quick look around probably would have revealed Cloud's eyes in the side-mirror anyways, and I got a sudden flashback to that night in the Forgotten City, and the hurt etched onto his face. Children didn't need concern themselves with the problems of adults any further than they were affected by them.

"See you later!"

Denzel hopped into the back of the car, followed by Marlene, grinning cheerily. I stayed behind while Tifa made her way over to the driver's side. I didn't try terribly hard not to listen. Some things never change.

"Anything exciting planned?"

"Oh, I don't know. I figured I'd just play it by ear. You don't have any ideas, do you?"

Tifa smiled knowingly. "Take them to a movie."

"They're not going to want to see the same movie, are they?"

"Then go to a race."

"Those are pretty boring, even for me. It's different when you're not on the track."

Tifa narrowed her eyes at the blond. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

He didn't sound very sure. It was the first time he would have the kids for an entire week. I was used to seeing Cloud at a loss, but not when it came to the children. Honestly, I didn't know what I'd do with them in all that time, either.

"Remember," she chided, in a sing-song manner, "this is about them. Not about you." She tapped the roof of the car, as if sending a chocobo on its way. "Have fun!"

As if in dutiful obedience, I heard the gears shift in response, and Tifa stepped away from the car as Cloud backed it into reverse. Soon we were all alone in the parking lot, the sounds of laughter and chatter and car doors slamming drifting in and out of the background, but for the most part, left to ourselves. I tried to muster up some courage.

Up above, the skies were a deep, dark blue, shot through with radiant purple hues and clouds of an even darker blue. I'd say that it was going to rain, if I didn't feel such a strong wind blowing through and see faintly that it was carrying the threat in another direction. If only all things were that easy.

I breathed in an unsteady breath, and let it out slowly. Gently, I lowered my eyes to meet my company; Tifa wore a soft smile, and I was sure there was a glimmer of understanding—of knowing—in her gaze, despite the lack of light.

She held out her hand to me.

Notes: So the site's revamp obliterated my scene divisions again, so that I have to manually go back and proofread the entire story. I guess I had it coming, disappearing like that. Nevertheless, I'm doing some revisions on this piece. The overall content will be the same as it was, but I feel I need to adjust Vincent's voice, and the language of the fic, to refine the flow of the story, and for the sake of consistency, since it's been a while since I picked it up. Also, I might need to find it a new title. Agapé seems suddenly so pretentious for what I have going on here.

I will be toning down chapter ten. I want to bring the rating back down to 'T', so that others can enjoy it. If you want to cling to the original, feel free to download it—like usual, just don't distribute it or steal it. I've had so many problems with people using my name even, and had them tag their names onto my stories (like on Quizilla, ugh), it's absurd. And hurry, because I'm going to start editing this in the next week or so.

You guys are going to kill me, but... I've had up to about 'A quick look around probably would have revealed Cloud's eyes in the side-mirror' written for probably a half a year to a year now. I just didn't know how to end it, and every time I picked it up I just ended up rewriting what I already had. This time, I just refused to go back.

*ducks*

Okay, next chapter! No, really!