Tonight a special memory serves me

And I'll wait to find the wrong way
Tonight a special memory serves me
And I'll wait to find

It's over
It's over
What does it feel like, it feels like
It's over

Why is it so hard to stay away?

Interpol, Memory Serves

Memory serves the past, and he knows it better than anyone, and yet he still can't quite banish the memories from his mind. It's a blunt pain now, not sharp like before, just there, slowly ebbing and flowing within his mind as he remembers...

Something almost like sadness flashes in her eyes. Almost, but not quite. Her voice is soft, resigned. "I am with Hojo. That's just the way it is. There's nothing to be done about it, so don't bother trying..."

…And later, her skin tinged with a sickly pallor, she has to steady herself against the lab bench. "I'm pregnant, Vincent. With his child... his experiment. It's my life's ambition."

…Biting back his fear and anger, he watches as tears flow freely down her cheeks. She clutches at her unnaturally distended body. "I'm happy, so happy- you couldn't understand how happy I am..."

…Finally, with fierce determination, eyes practically glowing she declares, "I regret nothing."

Too dissimilar...

Too much...

Never enough...

Damaged...

A great stretch, muscles popping, bones cracking, settling. A body that is ages old and yet retains still a young exterior—constant and ever unchanging.

Alone.

Don't you ever get tired of feeling sorry for yourself? A voice inside his head asks him, and he almost laughs.

It's more than that, so much more than self-pity. Everything that made him compassionate, sympathetic—human... had long since decayed. All that remains now is the scientist they currently hunt and her progeny. All that remains are the dull feelings of regret, anger, and a lingering sense of responsibility.

It's what Vincent tells himself. It's repeated daily, hourly even, to keep the memories at bay.

And yet... the girl.

He can sense her, smell her before she even pokes her head up the ladder hole. Her irrepressible aura precedes her entrance.

"You're hiding from us, again," she chides, but he can tell by the tone in her voice that what she really means is, "You're hiding from me, again," and he can't quite understand why she'd care enough to sound put out or why she'd care enough to seek him out.

"I know better," he replies, and he does. He knows she'll always find him, somehow. Even when he's on the top of a mostly abandoned observatory, his long legs hanging off the edge of a dusty, decaying cliff. And somehow, it's both comforting and frustrating how this girl is forcing him to feel again when it's so much easier not to.

It's been months now that they've been tracking Sephiroth, and still she seeks him out, though he doesn't do much to encourage the attention. She crowds him, which she tends to do, as she settles herself at the edge beside him. Apparently, Tifa has never been instructed in the proper ways of social decorum and personal space. And yet, he can't muster up the energy to feel indignant that someone would dare invade his solitude, not anymore.

She'd learned to stop asking about what was bothering him after he'd ignored her question for the millionth time. Now, when she found him, they sat in mostly companionable silence, though the same old same old wasn't in the cards for tonight.

"He's avoiding me, too," and he can hear the hollow ache resonating from within her.

Kindred... a voice inside says... Understands...

The boy loved her in his own way, anyone could see that. But did he love her more than the Ancient? More than himself? As much as she deserved? He didn't typically comfort others, so the shock registers on her face when he bothers to make the effort. "He..." Vincent starts softly, "...he has a lot on his mind."

And Tifa laughs. It's closer to a snort, but Vincent decides that it counts. It's odd, but somehow, some small part of him wants to hear that noise again and wants to be the cause of it.

"Don't we all?" Tifa replies with a smile, though it doesn't reach her eyes.

The huge bonfire glows below them. He only notices it peripherally as the stars steal the show at the top part of Cosmo Canyon. Tifa tilts her head back, her long hair scraping along the dusty ground. Soft music flows up from below and the low beating of drums resonates around them.

She closes her eyes and asks, "Do you ever wonder whether we're doing the right thing...making the right choices?" Her eyes remain closed, her body seemingly relaxed by the sounds of the night and the atmosphere of the little commune.

Vincent's gaze settles on the huge fire below. "All we can do is fight for a better future, regardless of the decisions we've made in the past."

She sighs softly at his response before stretching her spine up and back, arms reaching in front of her.

"You've been listening to Cloud," she chides, mid-stretch. "Sometimes, I think it's all gotten so far out of control that, even if we succeed, we'll still lose..."

With a start, Vincent looks at Tifa but doesn't really see her...

And with a flash in his mind, he's there again—that little coffee shop on the corner in Sector Seven. Though only the Gods know why she insisted on meeting in the slums.

So no one will see... says his mind. So no one will know.

But he dismisses the thought. He's too far gone for doubt, too much in love, and really, she loves him too. It's just the scientist she needs to be careful of. He crosses the dirty streets and sees her through the dingy window, though somehow she manages to glow through the din, as she always does.

So much a part of this city and yet not tainted by it... He admires her beauty, her long, dark hair, her slight, yet feminine physique. And her remarkably beautiful eyes...

He makes his way through the entrance, and the little bell on the door jingles. The manager greets him from behind the counter. He knows Vincent by name, though he's never bothered to remember his. Vincent gestures in greeting at the man before walking towards her, smiling almost shyly to himself, though from the moment he sees her eyes he knows something has changed.

He sits in the booth, their booth, and sees that she's already ordered him his coffee. The conversation passes by in a blur—indistinct and unintelligible, but he gets the gist of it: it's over. She can't be with a Turk, can't be with him. She's chosen the experiment, her work, over him.

"I can't stop now, Vincent," she says softly, though her eyes are hardened with determination as if she's recited this conversation so many times now it's memorized.

"You of all people should know how important this experiment is to me... to the world," she casts her eyes downward. "I've decided to become a part of it, Vincent. You have to understand that this is my dream."

But his body is numb. His mouth can't seem to get the words out. He wants to shout, to rage, to anything... but he does nothing. Only a soft, "I love you," is ever uttered.

"Vincent," she says firmly while flicking her long ponytail over her shoulder. "This was never about love. I thought, as a Turk, you would understand that."

She turns her gaze towards the window and fixates on something beyond, something neither of them can see but both will soon experience—a future of their own making. "Sometimes I think it's all gotten so far out of control that, even if we succeed, we'll still lose, but I have to continue for the sake of the experiment, for the sake of what the world could gain."

And then she left.

And he let her.

It was the last time he was ever truly alone with her without a Shinra guard outside the door or a maniac monster in the next room. Until that final time in Nibelheim. Looking back on it now, there was so much he should have said, should have done, but now all that remained was the memory—the regret.

"Vincent..." a voice foggily registers in his mind. "Vincent..." the voice is accompanied with a soft jab to the ribs.

Vincent reacts without thinking, trapping the hand firmly against his chest, pulling the body attached to the hand near. This time, he'll stop her. This time, he'll be able to make a difference... Except, only his mind is trapped in the past while his body has been dragged into the present. A small squeak of surprise comes from the woman before him. He can't quite remember whether he should be concerned... there was something he was supposed to do here... Looking down on the small, dark head currently mashed against his shoulder, Vincent realizes his mistake.

This body isn't hers.

It's too strong.

Too sacrificing.

Constantly prodding.

Determined.

"Uh..., Vincent?" Tifa says while trying to disentangle herself from him.

"Tifa..." he mutters groggily. "Tifa."

"Yes..." she says, leaning back to sit on her own again. "Me Tifa... You Vincent?"

He chokes out a laugh, but it sounds more like a sigh. "I apologize..."

"I understand," she says, shrugging softly. "Sometimes the memories catch up with me, too."

"Oh..." he says, not quite meaning to make it an invitation for her to open up, but she takes it as such.

"Yeah. The town, my dad, my brush with Sephiroth..." She visibly shivers as the words pass through her lips.

"Sometimes, they just don't want to stay put," Tifa says while curling her knees into her chest, "no matter how much I try to keep them there."

Turning slightly, Tifa cocks her head at Vincent, a twinkle in her eye. "What did you want to be when you grew up, Vincent?"

Staring towards the stars once again, he breathes out softly. He's not sure why he answers, but he does. "A garbage man."

And Tifa laughs, but not like before. This is an honest, full-body laugh. It's a while before she can contain herself and by that time she's sprawled out in the dust, hair and limbs akimbo.

"Oh, Vincent," she says between breaths. "I think that's the sweetest, most shocking thing I've ever heard you say."

Struggling hard to maintain composure, she slowly lifts herself back up and dusts her body off.

"So... Why a garbage man?" she says, not quite keeping the laughter from her voice.

"It looked like fun," he says simply.

"Picking up garbage?" she asks, disbelieving.

"No, riding on the back of the truck—Jumping off and on… I thought it might be exciting," he says almost defensively.

"Oh..." she says with a grin. "That makes more sense. It's a perfectly sensible job, but I was expecting something more like special ops. A garbage man is just so... normal."

"And you?" he questions, hopefully removing the attention from himself.

"A butterfly," she says wistfully.

"A butterfly?" he asks, confused. "How?"

Tifa shrugs slightly. "No one bothered to tell me you can't grow up to be anything other than human. So, I just assumed if I tried hard enough, I'd get to grow up and be a beautiful, graceful butterfly. Silly what kids believe, huh?"

Vincent shrugs back at her. "Not any more silly than what I wanted as a child. You just seemed to have a more vivid imagination."

"Funny how life turns out, isn't it? I got the 'float like a butterfly' part and the 'sting like a bee,' but I missed out on the beautiful and graceful part," she says while stretching her legs out.

Vincent looked at her, confused. "I don't quite understand, but you're more than graceful and I don't think you need to worry about the beauty, either," he replied honestly.

"Why, Vincent Valentine. Did you just compliment me?" she teases.

"Weren't you fishing, Tifa Lockhart?" he shoots back, eyebrow raised.

Tifa's laughter rings out, loud and clear over the top of the music. "Oh, Gods, a compliment and a joke within thirty seconds of each other—have you been smoking from Bugenhagen's pipe, Vincent?"

"Would you prefer the typical companionable silence?" he says, feigning disinterest.

"No, no. Though I enjoy both, tonight I prefer the conversation."

And, strangely, he had to agree. Though he would never admit it to her.

"But you see..." she says. Evidently, she'd had a point to the whole childhood conversation. "They're not all bad."

"What? Memories?"

"Yeah... as much as I'd like to hide from them, there are some that I will cherish forever. Don't forget those ones, Vincent," she says softly rubbing at her arms and legs.

The night had chilled significantly with the loss of the sun. Deserts weren't known for keeping their heat, but he was no longer disturbed by changes in temperature.

Vincent stands abruptly, causing Tifa to sputter and flail wildly from the ground. "I didn't mean to offend you! You don't have to leave!"

Rolling his eyes at her, Vincent stands beside her while disengaging the buckles at his neck. "The cold doesn't affect me as it does you," he says before draping his cape over her.

Tifa's mouth opens with shock at his gesture, "Oh! Thank you! Quite the gentleman, aren't you, Vincent?"

What was it about this night? This place? It seemed to trigger old, painful, best-forgotten memories. Vincent shook his head at Tifa's comment as the past resurfaced anew.

They lay together.

Tangled, sweat-dampened, breaths mingling—he couldn't help but notice a slight shudder run through her body.

"Cold?" he asks.

"Half of me, anyway," she replies with a smile.

Reluctantly disentangling himself, he drags the covers up from the bottom of the bed where they'd been kicked. Wrapping them tightly around her, he curls back into her embrace.

"Quite the gentleman. Aren't you, Vincent?" she teases.

For her, he'd be anything.

"Hnn..." he says with a soft grunt as his mind returns to the present. "I used to be. Didn't get me very far."

"Oh?" Tifa asks, watching while Vincent reseats himself beside her. "Nice guys finish last?"

"Nice guys finish dead or worse."

"Hnn..." she mimics, "and yet, for some reason, girls always seem to go for the bad boys. In my case, I guess it was a thing for long hair, but even that's cut and gone now..."

"Why do you still hang on?" he asks, because he for some reason, genuinely wants to know. How could someone like her be hung up on anything, let alone a broken boy who chased a ghost from the past?

"Hope, I guess. The same damn reason you're still hung up on her. I have to believe it wasn't all a waste and that the person I know is still there—somewhere inside."

"Her...?" Vincent barely manages to croak out. "What makes you think I'm still hanging on to anyone?"

"Oh, you mean aside from the whole, 'I must repent for my sins against the beautiful Lucrecia' when we first met you?" Tifa says, dropping her voice into a poor facsimile of Vincent's. She laughs at his frown. "I figured it out for myself. You're not as hard to read as you like to think you are."

"Hnn," he says.

"Hnn," she replies. "Couldn't just be revenge driving you, could it? No, there's more to it and that usually means some sort of love type thing, of the unrequited variety."

"She used me," he says simply.

"We're using you," she returns.

"You? No, not you. Cloud maybe, but I'm a willing participant this time," he replies, for some reason clearing Tifa of her share of the blame.

"And you weren't with her?" she wonders.

"To know her, was to love her," he says as he fumbles with the edges of his gauntlet as if the words make him feel uncomfortable.

Tifa faces him then, leans in and covers his gun hand with hers, and tenderly says, "Cut the bullshit, Vincent."

His eyes flash red and he glares at her.

"And Cloud?" he asks, trying to goad her into the same sort of emotional response she seemed to be trying to elicit from him.

"I know what I'm getting myself into and maybe, one day, I'll get myself out of it. But right now..." she trails off softly.

"It's better this way," he answers for her.

"Yes, Cloud needs me. More than I need him. Maybe one day it'll even out and be the way it should be, but if not, at least I know I was in it for the right reasons."

"She never loved me," he says softly, though there's no real emotion in his words, just the truth.

"Believe me, Vincent. It's her loss," Tifa says while softly squeezing the hand under her own.

"Didn't feel that way then. Still doesn't feel that way now."

Tifa smiles at Vincent, comfortingly. "It won't always be this way."

"You know this for a fact, do you?" he says, raising an eyebrow at her as he challenges her words.

"I have faith," she says, grinning at him. "Come on, it's getting too cold for even your cloak to keep me warm, and the bonfire's gotten huge now, anyway."

She offers him her hand, and he takes it as they walk to the ladder that will take them back down from the peak of the encampment. He'd walked like this before, with her. Though it never felt quite so comfortable as it did now. She was special, this girl. Something strange and different.

She cared, even if it wasn't in her best interest.

She was loyal, even if that loyalty wasn't returned.

She was naïve, but she knew, as much as others took advantage of it, she knew and still loved them despite it.

She was... is a friend. When did that change? He wonders.

They'd been hesitant allies, comrades, acquaintances and now...

He realizes he'd do anything to protect this frail friendship. Do anything to protect her. Somehow, along the way, it had all changed. He almost smiles at her as she hands him his cloak, before making her way down the long ladder.

Vincent replaces it on his body—it's warm and smells of vanilla, of Tifa. She wasn't Lucrecia and, surprisingly, he found he didn't want her to be. Her hand leaves his as she slips down the rungs of the latter and he finds he misses the feeling of that small, rough, strong hand encircled within his own.

"Come on, Vincent!" she yells up from the bottom of the ladder. "Let's go. Yuffie's going to eat all the marshmallows."

He laughs softly at her comment and makes his way down to her, makes his way down for her. Sometimes, all that's needed is a friend to help along the way. Or prod incessantly till there's no choice but to relent.

And as the flames flicker and her eyes inevitably dart towards where Aerith and Cloud are cuddled together, Vincent silently promises, I will be your friend, as you have been mine. And one day... it won't hurt so much as it does now.

I will make it so.

Author's Notes 2020: grammatical updates :) Repost and refresh from FFnet. Written pre-FFVIIr (and Crisis Core, iirc). Thanks for reading! Title of the chapter taken from the song of the same name, as is quoted at the beginning of this chapter! Any mistakes are my own 😊