Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ What's Left of Me ❯ I'm Here, Save Me ( Chapter 3 )

A/N: Installment three is here!! Sorry for OOCness. I kinda like the idea of Vincent in plaid jammies and a t shirt ^-^. Anyway, here ya go!

 

Disclaimer: Don't make me do it. It's painful.

 

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Tifa righted a chair as she finished wiping down the table. The sound of thunder echoed outside, and the rain pounded heavily on the roof. She was grateful Marlene liked the rain, as it put her right to sleep. She walked around behind the bar, dropping her rag into the sink. She was glad that everyone had left early because of the rain. She liked the peace and quiet while she cleaned. She leaned against the bar, sighing.

 

She wondered how Vincent was doing. She was still concerned about him, and she hoped that he would stop by again tonight. She wanted to talk with him and find out what had been troubling him the night before. She stood there a while longer, then glanced at the clock. It was late, and he probably wouldn't be out in the rain anyways. She moved to pick up her key, when lightning struck near her bar.

 

She looked up sharply, startled. It was then she noticed the shadow standing on her doorstep. She smiled softly as he came in.

 

“I didn't think you'd be out so late,” she said. “And in the rain no less.”

 

He grunted as he stood on the door mat. He was completely soaked, and his eyes told her he was not happy about it.

 

“Are you just going to stand there?” she asked, leaning on the bar.

 

He looked at his clothes as he stood there. “I'd rather not drip water all over the floor,” he said.

 

She smiled at his chivalry. That was one of the things she liked the most about Vincent. He was thoughtful. Though, sometimes too thoughtful. She picked up a bucket that she kept behind the counter and walked toward him.

 

He unbuckled his cloak, pulling it from his shoulders. Once she neared, he wrung the water from it into the bucket.

 

“There,” she said, smiling once more. “Now you won't be too drippy.” She laughed softly as he arched an eyebrow at her.

 

“That makes me feel so much better,” he said blandly.

 

She stifled her laughter. “Why don't you take off your shoes and then we'll find you something dry to wear,” she said. “I'll go get you a towel.”

 

He nodded, watching her disappear into the back of the building. He wasn't sure why he was here, but when he had looked at where his feet led him, this was it. He wasn't sure why, but part of him wanted to believe that she could understand him if he told her. When she returned, she had with her a towel and a change of clothes. She held them out as she neared.

 

Again, he arched an elegant eyebrow.

 

“The clothes are Cloud's,” she said quietly, as if mentioning his name was painful. “They should fit, and I'm sure he won't mind.” Her voice was reassuring, leaving no room for him to make excuses.

 

He nodded as he took them from her. She pointed him to the bathroom and told him he was welcome to use the shower. After he cleaned up and changed, he walked back into the bar, wet clothes in hand.

 

Tifa looked up from the book she had been reading when he came in. She smiled at the look on his face as he picked at the t shirt and pajama pants. “Feel better?” she asked, marking the page she was on.

 

He looked up at her, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he had removed his bandana. “I guess,” he said quietly. He walked over to the bar, sitting on a stool across from her. He put his wet clothes on the stool next to him.

 

“I'll put those in the dryer if you like,” Tifa offered. She closed the book, pushing it a little to her left, taking his wet clothes. Once she had disappeared into the back again, he looked at the book she had been reading.

 

He gave a frustrated sigh as he brushed his hair from his eyes. As he gazed at the book, he realized it had no title on the cover. He was tempted to open it, but he saw the pencil sticking out and he stopped. He looked up as Tifa came back.

 

“Can I get you some coffee or something to eat?” she asked, stopping in front of him. Her deep hazel eyes searched his red irises.

 

He nodded. “Coffee would be nice,” he said. He watched as she poured him a glass, setting it before him. He felt the warm scent tingle his nose, and he sneezed.

 

Tifa looked at him, worry in her eyes. “I hope you're not getting sick,” she said. She reached across the counter, resting the back of her hand on his cheek. “You don't feel like you have a fever or anything.” She took her hand away.

 

Vincent felt his face flush. His eyes widened in surprise. That was the last thing he expected her to do. He was grateful she didn't seem to notice his blush. “I'm alright, Tifa,” he said, looking down at the cup of coffee before him.

 

“Whatever you say,” she said with a sigh. She gazed at him a moment as she rested her hand on her hip. Her eyes narrowed in concern as she watched him stare at the steaming liquid. “Are you sure you're alright, Vince?”

 

He was silent as he lifted the glass from the counter. He swirled the liquid thoughtfully, before pausing and looking at Tifa. “No, Tifa,” he said quietly. “I need help.”

 

She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips. She met his crimson gaze. His voice was so serious, it frightened her. “Help?” she asked, her voice showing her surprise.

 

“I just need to talk to someone,” he said, ignoring her reaction. “And I think you're the only one who can understand.” He let his eyes fall back to the coffee.

 

“Are you in trouble, Vince?” she asked, suddenly feeling compassionate and protective. “If you are, you know I'll fight tooth and nail for you.”

 

He shook his head. “Not that kind of help,” he said, letting his hair fall across his face.

 

“Oh,” Tifa said, calming. She leaned against the counter. “What's on your mind?”

 

He sighed as a clap of thunder shook the building. “I—I don't know where to start…” he whispered, his gaze lowered. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. “Tifa?”

 

“Yes, Vincent,” she said quickly. “I'm listening.”

 

“Do me one favor? Please?” His voice was pleading.

 

“Anything,” she said. She was feeling a little upset at the way he was speaking.

 

“Bring me the bottle of whiskey,” he said, glancing at her.

 

She stared at him. “But…”

 

His eyes met hers, and in that moment his soul was opened to her. He was in pain, and he needed her to help him. But how could she help if her couldn't tell her what was upsetting him?

 

She nodded. “Alright, Vince,” she said. She set the bottle on the counter, sliding it toward him. She watched as he took a swig. “Tell me what's on your mind.”