Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Revelations ❯ Changes ( Chapter 6 )

Disclaimer; I do not own Final Fantasy VII, or any of its characters, etc.

 

Well, it's been such a long time since I've updated. School comes first I'm afraid, and A-level revision is hard. (At least it is for me ) I've been taking breaks from my studies to slowly replay FFVII- an hour at a time is a snail's pace- and I've found a lot of inspiration for detail and characterization. I already know where the plots going, its all mapped out, (thank goodness, `cause I have a tendency to lose myself sometimes).

 

I will be (fingers crossed) updating regularly again, snapping between my stories on the odd occasion, but the majority on this story for now. I want to thank everyone who reviewed; it really helped me get my ass into gear XD. I have to give Savvy Savie a warm-hearted thanks and a big kiss `cause she helped fix a good portion of this way back when I'd started this chapter. Unfortunately I haven't had a chance to chat with her, cause I'm rarely online, so if you're reading this I hope to talk soon .

 

I owe a lot of reviews at the moment so tomorrow after my Japanese lessons I'm gonna sit down and read till the words are burned into my closed eyelids and I'm reciting fan fiction in my sleep. (Gonna need a big pot of tea…mmmm).

 

I hope everyone had a lovely Easter and made good use of great weather (if you were lucky enough to get it) and I can empathize with everyone stuck indoors studying.

 

Sorry I didn't reply to all my reviewers, I'm making an effort to reply to as many as possible because I really am grateful for your responses. Thank you!

 

Chapter 6: Changes

1

They walked between high walls, with no windows, towards the centre of Costa del Sol. Tifa noticed the narrow walkway was littered with, some shattered, some whole, dirty-peach roof tiles- a half-chewed bird's nest still crusted onto the underside of one- and she kept glancing at the roofs above, certain one would fall with the next gust of wind.

 

It was hot enough to crack the patches of mud under their feet into fragile, furled-edge jigsaws, and the distant corridors and enclosed horizons were blurred with thick swaying vapours. So when Tifa handed the cloak back to Vincent, she was surprised to watch him return the garment to his shoulders. She could tell by the flush of his scratchy cheeks that he wasn't comfortable but offered no comment.

 

Had it been Cloud, the mothering gene would have kicked in. The one that she couldn't explain but hated none-the-less - mothers were sweet and caring and unselfish, and she could play it that way if she wanted, when she wanted. But truer in her heart was the barmaid who knew every way to twist a liquor and squeeze a tip; the girl who knew martial arts, wasn't afraid to walk the alleys and gang districts in the day-less slums, and knew every cheap trick it took to earn a free supper.

 

It was a long wait till next day's dinner rations and if the punter's wanted a free pinch of a happy barmaid then a five-finger discount off of the nearest food stall was the least they could do.

 

But it all changed when Cloud came back.That's when I became `mother' more than lover, and a leaning post before a fighter. That's when I had to become responsible, because he needed me. And I knew… I wasn't just looking out for myself anymore, Tifa thought.

 

…and now there's Marlene and Denzel too.

 

2

 

Tifa had imagined spotty teenagers, in stuffy uniforms, serving hotdogs and ice-cream from under parasols, kids wailing and red-faced with heat and sticky lolly juice, the cat calls of the drunks perusing the volley ball team from the outdoor bar, and every nationality on Gaia to be squashed into the courtyards, shops and inns.

 

But, as she and Vincent entered the resort centre, what lay before them was substantially different. It would seem, much like the clematis that draped the stone walls of the plazas, the tourist trade had shrivelled under the economic stress of meteor. Rebuilding the pits of life ShinRa and meteor had created was a costly business, no one had a budget for a sea-side holiday anymore.

 

Those visiting the Costa wouldn't be stopping, just passing on to greener pastures.

 

Heading north-east from the docks, they eventually neared the central plaza. It had once been filled with magnificent mosaics, murals and statues, and great clay pots from the size of small garden ponds to shallow potholes. But now the plaza had tufts of brown weeds between its cobbles and thick, waxy grasses had uprooted entire clods of the walkways.

 

They paced closer and as the area opened from the narrow corridors between the houses, a warm gust beat the thick dusts against their skin. (Tifa guessed it was a westerly wind as it brought the faint scent of burning coal and blinding grit from the re-established coal valleys of North Corel) It died as sudden as it blew, and left a half-hinged shutter banging the window frame it clung to.

 

Tifa watched Vincent carefully, expecting shock or some gesture of surprise, but seeing only the reverent quiet on his features that one expects at a funeral, remembered he had probably already been here since meteor hit. Strange how it's become a marking point in time, everything's either pre-meteor or post-meteor… pre-Cloud or post-Cloud…

 

Distant hissing, the tinny clatter of thin steel bin lids and a loud waow of a wild cat reminded Tifa that- as far as she could tell- she and Vincent were the only people here. The rest of the passengers went north, (wisely) avoiding the town. She had watched them pass under the loose-bricked bridge, that, as far as she was concerned, didn't look up to the next half-assed beat of wind to blow its way, and held her breath on asking Vincent why the hell they where headed in the opposite direction to everyone else.

 

Tifa looked at the buildings again, I'd ask Vincent to stop for a rest in one of these shacks, if I wasn't sure it was gonna fall down around me the second I opened the door. The lack of `human' noise was unnerving, and each breath of wind raised goose pimples on her flesh.

 

Tifa had not only anticipated the crowds of the Del Sol she remembered; she had been ready to do a duck-and-cover out of town to avoid being seen by Marlene, Denzel and Barret. But the place looked desolate and deserted. So where are Barret and the kids staying? They can't be staying in one of these buildings.

 

By relative standards she figured they were safer with Barret than with her, if ShinRa were involved the kids were better away from her and them. She would phone Cloud when they reached rocket town and hope he'd made it to Yuffie without interference, then they'd meet up and… she wasn't sure where things would go from there. Planning too ahead was a waste of time, not when so many things could go wrong.

 

“Vincent, how long has it been like this?” She walked towards a window, smudged the dirt from a pane and tried to see in. It was empty save a few upturned barrels and some fat monstrosities that could have been rats or cats. The judge is still out on that one, she thought… at least someone made use of the bodybuilder's protein packs.

 

Vincent watched, outwardly unperturbed, but he could not help feeling a sense of loss. Almost half a century ago, on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, he had fled home (as young men, old enough for itchy feet, but still a few years shy of a grounding sense of responsibility, were apt to do) and spent his time waiting tables in this once eclectic and exotic area. It had been before the surge of tourism, when the true, swarthy Solians were the only inhabitants, save a few experienced travellers with humble packs and bow-backed mares.

 

The money he had made then allowed him to travel onto Midgar, via a second boat crossing that once connected the reclusive beach town to the trade of a city. Thanks to those few months of sweaty nights and sunburnt siestas, he had also been able to afford accommodation and food during his Turk training.

 

Looking back Vincent realized it was a turning point in his life; lack of money, the isolation of speaking a language unknown to the locals, and keeping shared living quarters meant learning to live without reliance on family. It had been the death of his boyhood and the beginnings of the man he would become.

 

Looking at the place now, it truly was a tomb… Ruins, he thought. The ruins of my world… a world four decades past.

 

He knew that whatever loss Tifa was mourning, was from the Costa del Sol of another world, and it made him feel as old as he really was.

 

An old soul trapped in a young body.

 

Not only was it claustrophobic, accepting so many realities in one scientifically extended lifetime, but it was lonely and abrupt without the in-between knowledge of his before and after. Like two pieces of a puzzle with edges that didn't quite match, were a little too jagged, a little too harsh.

 

Those thirty years that he would never experience, meant events had been dusted over and closure had been found for those involved, a closure that he would forever be without. The wound was still raw to him and there was no-one left from his before- no one who would understand the man that he was.

 

His eyes followed Tifa as she sat at the fountain in the centre of the plaza. “It's been this way since I first visited, just after meteor… although there were still some inhabitants then.” Vincent answered, scanning for any signs of life in the boarded windows and the deserted passages between each building. It wasn't an action he was aware of; it was the instincts of a Turk.

 

“So where are all the people?” Tifa was picking at the grout between the dirty, turquoise tiles. She held an unaccountable reluctance, and she was refusing to meet his eyes.

 

“The area just north of here. Along the northern stretches of beaches, the town has become more urbanized and that's where the majority of the population now resides.” He watched her closely, that wasn't really what she wanted to ask; there was obviously something else.

 

“So… if… the kids?” She finally lifted her head to stare at him. She hadn't wanted to seem like an over-worrying mother around this man who seemed to hold no ties or commitments to anyone (being considered a `mother' was still an issue she was uncomfortable with herself).

 

She was afraid he would find it either amusing or ridiculous.

 

“Yes, they would be staying in that area too. I know Reeve has a small cottage just skirting the town, Barret has probably decided to stay there.”

 

She nodded and stood, dusting off her backside, “So shouldn't we be going?”

 

“I have arranged to meet someone here.” She slumped back down.

 

Vincent walked closer, the brown package clutched at his side and eyes snapping from one back street passage to another. He almost smiled when her eyes narrowed and she looked up holding a tight pouted, suspicious expression. “Someone we know?”

 

He smiled slightly but said nothing.

 

He was goading her. Her jaw twisted and she said no more, for she knew he would say no more and she wasn't prepared to play these games with him.

 

Instead she focused on the few bulbous ants that were frying alive on the cobbles. As she was debating throwing a leaf over the dying insects instead of watching their suffering, she picked up a low drone somewhere in the distance and felt an itchy tickle in her eardrums.

 

The sensation of the humming vibrations was something akin to a feather duster tracing her inner ear and she held her jaw tight to stop the rattle of her teeth. By the quiver of the cartilage in her neck, she knew her voice would come out as though her chin was resting on the small washing machine, behind the bar, back in Edge.

 

She tried to make out which direction this... feeling, more than a sound, was coming from but soon gave up, figuring it was getting closer, louder and irritatingly stronger. She'd find out soon enough.

 

Vincent was unravelling the ends of the twine, which bound the parcel in arms, with the points of two claws. She had noticed the package as they left the boat at the docks and had been theorising over its contents ever since. But Tifa knew Vincent well enough to know there was no point in asking, he would only tell her when he was ready.

 

Eventually Tifa gave in to temptation and scratched her inner ear (as best she could with blunt nails- long nails were too difficult to maintain, and she was a working girl, they just weren't practical). The drone had grown steadily louder, like an alien silence blanketing everything until the stirrings of wind began to whip at the streets and the dust rose, and the browned leaves like tan-hide leather spat in all directions.

 

Vincent's eyes tautened with humour as, with one finger still in ear; a completely dumbfounded expression overcame her.

 

“You called Cid?” She smiled giddily and clapped her hands together.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Thank you Vincent!” Tifa said happily, gently rubbing her bruised and still swollen nose. Perhaps Cid would have some restore materia aboard, or a potion she could dab on.

 

“Did you think I wanted to walk all the way Rocket town?” He asked calmly, crossing his arms in an awkward gesture whilst not dropping the package.

 

Her smile softened but she continued to squint at him under the glare of the sun. “No, I suppose you didn't, Vincent.” And then she looked away to the approaching airship.

 

And he was grateful.

 

3

 

“Well fuck me sideways Teef! What the hell happened to you?” Was the colourful icebreaker from Cid as they stepped aboard `the Shera'.

 

Had he been a lesser pilot, his hands may have momentarily slipped from the wheel in shock at her haggard, beat-up appearance, but Cid's meaty fists only gripped the hand smoothed wood tighter. Even the smallest of falters when at the helm of a ship could result in a life-threatening situation; the ability to maintain awareness and remain alert to all possibilities through distraction was what separated the men from the boys, the student from the professional.

 

And cid was nothing if not professional. After all, they don't call me `Captain' for nothing, he thought, as he waited for Tifa to reply and kept an eye on the dials to his left and the burning horizon beyond the roof-to-floor glass windows of the cabin.

 

“I, uh-” Tifa looked over to Vincent for help, and heard Cid chuckle gruffly when she growled at the smug amusement he had the good grace -or intelligence- to aim at a nearby wall.

 

“So?”

 

“So? What's that supposed to mean Cid, aren't you happy to see me?” Tifa asked, frowning with a futile roll of the eyes at what they both knew was a completely transparent change of subject.

 

“Of course I'm happy to see ya Teef. I was just wonderin' why you're hangin' around with this shit.” Cid glanced over to Vincent, smiling the taunt through a puff of his cigarette. Then after catching a twitch of Vincent's cheek - something Tifa hadn't noticed before but Cid seemed to accept as `fuck you too' (the wide grin that broke his cement-dust skin meant there was a use of swearing somewhere)- he turned back to her. “And now I'm wonderin' why you look like you've gone ten rounds with Sephiroth himself.”

 

She laughed, for lack of any other reaction and posed out a Cloud-like itch behind the neck, “I, uh, it's a long story. I'm not all that sure myself to be honest. How much did Vincent tell you?”

“He told me jack-all, tight lipped bastard.” Smoke flared from his nostrils, the deep pores of his nose the angry, red chap of a well-worn pilot. He didn't bother looking over at Vincent this time, but as she was facing him Tifa caught the twitch of his cheek and smiled.

 

“Well, like I said it's a long story Cid.”

 

“Yeah, I'm sure it is Teef. I'm sure it is.” He threw the wheel a strong left, she threw an arm out on a nearby counter to steady herself, and then he looked back to her, “and it's a long journey back, so how bout you entertain an old fella', huh?”

 

She crossed her arms, chewing her lip, but she finally relented, conveniently leaving out the embarrassing details of Vincent's moonlit break in.

 

A good hour and a half later, Tifa finally sat down with an irritated glance to the unhelpfully silent Vincent beside her. Cid's face ran between confused, angry and utter exasperation at the fact that it had been just one thing after another for the past five years. And ShinRa was always at the centre of it all.

 

Despite a sense of adventure as grand as Cosmo canyon itself, Cid was getting old enough to know age was becoming a factor to consider.

 

Although, going down fighting was welcome ending in his romantic mind.

 

“Fuck.” Was his first word, “Why?” was his second.

 

Tifa looked up; shrugged and looked over at Vincent, somewhere behind him she could make out the northern face of the Nibel Mountains and knew Rocket town was close. But that wasn't all she noticed.

 

Vincent's initial vagueness, she had assumed, was out of haste towards a quick getaway- then for a lack of privacy and his dicey attitude at Junon Harbour and Costa Del Sol. But now he had the perfect opportunity to voice his thoughts and he was still evading their conversation.

 

He's hiding something, she thought. He knows something and he's not telling. On that thought, Tifa turned away from him, an action translating to `I'm not talking to you because you're being a prick.'- but she knew he wouldn't notice, and if he did he wasn't likely to try and fix it. He'd spent most of the journey hushing her and when she started with the question and answer sessions he'd start rubbing his temples as though the prospect of conversation was causing his brain cells to spontaneously combust.

 

So far only one tactic had worked; one Tifa had had plenty of practice with at Cloud- nagging. Yes sir, those two have a lot more in common than they think.

 

Vincent definitely didn't appreciate her constant yapping in his ear but a little part of her knew this made it all the more enjoyable - a Vincent with fire in his eyes and sinister thoughts percolating in his mind was a lot more interesting than a Vincent with an `I could care less' expression constantly stamped across his face.

 

He also hadn't left her much of a choice. Talking to him was more like an interrogation with a mute, so talking at him was her only option (Tifa didn't think throwing things at his head, like she had sometimes tried with cloud, would be as effective with Vincent).

 

So what if he didn't like it? Like her daddy always said; 'tough shit, you can't have everything.'