Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Vincent sprawled on the apartment patio, staring balefully at the pale gray sky. He blinked the first few gentle raindrops from his eyes and considered whether he felt like moving to shelter from the rain.

He heard the back door open. “Vincent? Come inside, it’s starting to rain.” Reeve huffed as he shivered. “And it’s cold out.”

Vincent languidly followed Reeve inside and sank into their bed.

Reeve leaned against the doorway and sighed. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No.”

Vincent could sense Reeve’s lingering presence, fretting over what he insisted was Vincent’s “seasonal affective disorder.”

It didn’t feel very seasonal. Reeve, ever optimistic, claimed that Vincent had seemed happier at other times. Vincent remembered those times, like a historical fact. A life someone else before him had lived. A time that would never return.

The bed shifted under Reeve’s weight. “Hey, guess what?” Reeve said, forced cheer in his voice. “I found a gray hair today. How does it feel to be dating an old man?”

Vincent turned away from him. “You tell me,” he muttered. “I’m older than you.”

Reeve snickered. “Sure thing, my eternally young and beautiful Valentine.”

Irritation spiked in Vincent’s stomach. “Why is that funny? You’ll be accused of dating someone who could be your grandson. I’ll outlive all of you.” Vincent suddenly felt distant and impossibly alone, drained and empty. “I’ll outlive all of you.”

“Not for a while yet,” Reeve murmured. “And that makes life all the more precious now, right? While you have all your friends?”

“My friends,” Vincent repeated flatly. A cast of characters who had rotated briefly into his interminable existence. Their faces were clear in his memory now, though they felt like photographs he had studied, not living people he had a connection to. He knew their faces would blur and fade in time, until he could hardly remember them, long after the world had totally forgotten them, generations and generations later. Names: Cloud, Aerith, Tifa, Barrett, Marlene, Reeve… words, letters, sounds. Languages evolved. He would outlive this one. Would he learn the next? Or would he lose the ability to communicate, speaking a dead language through dead lips? Would he be captured and preserved in a museum, a living relic of history? Perhaps a new generation of scientists would delight to find he could be experimented on, killed, autopsied without end. And they wouldn’t understand his pleas for mercy.

Would he outlive humans? The Planet? Would he really never die?

“It’s kinda like you’re a god, you know,” Reeve continued. “That’s cool.”

Cool.

Right.

“Gods are all-powerful,” Vincent said.

“You’re pretty close, I think.”

“If I were all-powerful, I would kill myself.”

Reeve was silent.

Vincent wished he would go away. He was only making things worse.

“Really?” he whispered. Case in point.

“Yes, really,” Vincent snapped. “Now leave me alone. I’m tired.”

Reeve knew there wasn’t really anything he could do for Vincent right now, but he wanted to try. He hadn’t baked in a long time, but he knew Vincent liked chocolate, and what was more comforting than brownies?

Vincent stalked into the kitchen, and Reeve grinned widely at him. “Hello, sleeping beauty! I’m making you a special treat!”

“Don’t bother.”

Reeve laughed uncomfortably. “Too late, I’m afraid! They’re almost ready to come out of the oven.”

“Is everything a joke to you? Everything needs to be light and happy? You think that will cover the ugliness of the world? You make a cute cat to do your dirty work and you bake a cake to cure your mortality?”

“Um… well… I wasn’t exactly expecting the brownies to ‘cure my mortality,’ no. I was just hoping to brighten your day a little.”

“The world is a dark and ugly place, Reeve. You’re no exception.”

Reeve chewed his lip, his eyes stinging. “Um. Okay. Sure.”

The oven timer went off and Reeve mechanically pulled mitts on. He’s just in pain. He’s lashing out in pain. He doesn’t mean it… He doesn’t mean it… He doesn’t, right?

Vincent awoke to a note pinned to a plate of breakfast on the bedside table.

I love you Vincent!

The words blurred through stinging tears. He would outlive Reeve. By millennia. What was the point of this?

It would be better to learn to live alone. Or to relearn; he had once intimately possessed that knowledge, but he’d let it slip away. Allowed himself to soften into a short-lived indulgence that would only make the inevitable harder.

He couldn’t get used to love notes and breakfast in bed. He would outlive it all.

Reeve,

I’m leaving. This doesn’t make sense. You’re a kind man, but it’s time to stop pretending.

Signed,

Vincent

Vincent watched from a neighboring rooftop as Reeve found his note. He saw him sit down heavily, rub his hands over his face. He could read the words on his lips.

“He doesn’t mean it… right? He’ll be back soon.”

He watched him move around the apartment they used to share, checking every spot where Vincent had once kept his belongings, finding them all cleared out.

Reeve slumped to the floor.

Another sin to add to the count, letting a mortal get so attached. The ache in Vincent’s throat almost made him lose his resolve, but he needed to do this.

Chapter Text

Metal screeched, electricity popped from snapping wires, and the plate seemed to fall in slow motion, the buildings on it melting into rubble like the fragile gingerbread houses he used to make with his mother every solstice time.

Reeve sat, transfixed and nauseous, far away, safely tucked in his executive office, watching through the Cait Sith feed.

He woke with a start, sweaty and panting in his bed.

“Vincent,” he whimpered, rolling over to reach for him. “I want to be held.”

His chest felt like he had been lying underneath Sector 7 when his hands grasped nothing. “He’s gone,” he sobbed aloud. “He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone.” His tears choked his words, like smoke filling lungs. He cried until he was spent and then stared blearily at the rising dawn brightening through the blinds.

Barrett bit back a growl of rage as he held Marlene, sniffling against his shoulder.

“Why doesn’t Mr. Vincent ever pick up his phone?” she whined. “Or return my calls? I thought he was my best friend.”

“Honey, he must just have some damn fool notion in his mind.”

“But I wanna tell him how I won the spelling bee… And I want to invite him to my birthday party…. But I don’t think he’s going to come...”

Barrett gritted his teeth until a vein bulged in his forehead. “That pale mopey bastard.”

Aerith listened with a sad smile to the endearing and now painfully familiar voicemail recording.

“Reeve, is it recording now?! I wasn’t prepared!”

“Just say what I told you to say!”

“Erm- hello, this is Vincent Valentine, please leave your message after the tone… now how do I sound the tone?”

The tone beeped.

“Hello, Vincent. It’s Aerith. Again. Where are you? Please come back.” She sighed. “I hope you’re alright. I mean, I know you’re not, but I mean… I hope you’re not… permanently not alright.” She gnawed her lip. “Please, Vincent. Please let me know that… that you’re alive.”

Vincent sat cross-legged, staring at the family tombstone.

Rest peacefully, GRIMOIRE VALENTINE,

his loving wife VICTORIA BLACKWELL VALENTINE,

and their dear son VINCENT VALENTINE

“So Shinra told you I had died,” he murmured. “If only.”

He throbbed with grief. His mother had died while he was sleeping in the basement.

“So you’re joining the Department of Administrative Research?” his mother stared at him sharply through clouded eyes that still seemed to peer into his soul. “What sort of Administrative Research needs a gun and three months of military training?”

“Lots of on-the-ground research, mother. It’s basically being a spy. Or anything else Shinra needs.”

“ A spy, hm?” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Well, you’ve always been looking in from the outside. Perhaps you will be good at this work.”

He startled as she clasped his hands. “Be sure to visit.”

He nodded once, still stunned at the gesture of affection. “Yes, Mother, I will. Farewell, for now.”

He had never visited.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I never visited because I was a coward. I was afraid to seem like a mama’s boy, so I never requested leave. And then even once I was dead, I was too fucking scared to do anything but hide.”

He scratched at the ground with his claw. “Except I didn’t die, did I? I’m right here, on the wrong side of this grave. I wish I could be underground with you and Father.”

The only time he had ever seen his mother cry was when the news of his father’s death had reached them. He had been home in between his Turk training and his first official day. He had always been quiet before, but now he could practically make himself invisible. His mother likely didn’t know he was still in the room, and he had quickly departed to give her privacy. He wondered now if he should have comforted her.

He wondered if she cried when she was informed of his “death.”

She thought she had outlived them all.

“No, Mother,” he said sadly. “I’m going to outlive everyone. But perhaps you knew an ounce of my pain… I wish I could ask you about it.”

Some people believed that when you rejoined the Lifestream, you were reunited with departed loved ones. Vincent had always thought that a fantasy to comfort children when pets and grandparents died, but now he wished he could find out.

His stomach rumbled. The WRO had been paying him probably more than fairly, so he had plenty of gil to live off of for now. He struck off into town to buy a meal.

In the town’s inn, he listlessly stirred the homey place’s only offering: a vegetable stew. It was thin and watery, the vegetables all a vague pale color from being overcooked.

It was the first day outside of the coffin. They pitched camp outside of Nibelheim, which Vincent found curious, considering there was an inn in town.

Tifa whipped up an incredible soup with a few ingredients they had with them and some foraged plants. It was the first food Vincent had had in decades, and he nearly moaned with pleasure at the first bite.

He had soon dozed off, unaccustomed to the overwhelming coziness of a hot, full stomach, and they had thoughtfully tossed a blanket over him as they all withdrew into tents.

It had been the first kindness he’d received in years.

Vincent resolutely took a bite of his unappealing dinner. It was probably best if he cut ties with everyone. So, no more delicious bar food at Aerith & Tifa’s, no more unnecessarily complicated dinners as Reeve developed a cooking hobby.

“Do you make seafood so much because Cait Sith influences you?” Vincent teased in his ear as Reeve determinedly stared at the salmon cooking in the skillet, willing the skin to be crispy.

Vincent shook the memory out of his head, hating the longing that pulled him back to Edge like a compass to magnetic north.

“You can’t go back home,” he muttered to himself. “That was never your home, anyhow.”

Chapter Text

“He’s still on the payroll,” Cait Sith crossed his arms. “Text him. We need his help.”

“I know… but…”

“It’s for business. That’s only fair, doncha think?”

For: Vincent

From: Reeve

Meet me in Kalm. We need to talk.

Cait Sith peered over his shoulder. “You call that a business text??”

Vincent didn’t understand why he was in Kalm. He reasoned with himself that it was possible that Reeve wanted him on a WRO mission. Or perhaps he was still struggling with the break up? Vincent supposed it was fair to give him further explanation if he was still confused.

It was certainly not because Vincent was achingly lonely, staring awake at the ceiling most nights, wishing he could brush his hand over Reeve’s hair or intertwine their fingers.

He sighed, turning back from the window to look at the television. He had grown accustomed to having televisions on whenever he could. He liked the easy, one-sided companionship that, as far as he could imagine, would never end.

Though he knew that surely one day even the TVs would all go dark as he outlived them and the people who made the programs.

But he tried not to think about that. It made him itch for his gun, but he couldn’t bring himself to try suicide while Aerith was still alive. And he had realized that had all been a stupid endeavor anyway. He probably wouldn’t die, even from swallowing his whole chamber of bullets. He had stressed the poor girl out over nothing.

Well, she’d never have to worry about him again. She’d move on eventually. Eventually. She still left weekly voicemails that he tortured himself by listening to but never responding to.

“Reeve,” Vincent greeted coolly. “Not a very interesting outfit you chose for our meeting.”

Reeve cocked his head. “Did you just insult my clothes? What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t want any part of what you’re planning. We’re over.”

“So you’re quitting your job, too? Abandoning me and the Planet?”

Vincent turned his back. “Don’t get heated, Reeve. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Vincent, stop being such an asshole.”

A spray of gunfire made Vincent whip back around, crying out as he saw Reeve collapse, riddled with bullets.

Vincent dispatched the perpetrators in about three seconds flat and knelt next to what he feared was Reeve’s corpse. He knew this day would come, but he was hoping to not be around for it.

He scrambled backwards, grunting in surprise as “Reeve” fell apart at the joints and Cait Sith barrelled out.

“Yowzers, good thing I came as Reeve!”

“Reeve’s making copies of himself piloted by cats now? He’s gone mad, hasn’t he?”

Cait Sith put his hands on his hips. “And if he has, it’s probably because of you. Now are you going to step up and help the Planet or are you going to continue being a broody whelp?”

“How is Reeve?” Vincent cast his eyes to the side and asked the question as casually as he could manage.

Cait Sith snickered. “You’re not as cold of a bloke as you try to make everyone believe, are ya? Deep down, you still care very much for our pal Reevie, doncha?”

“Reevie?”

“Come on, like you’ve never thought of calling him that?”

“I’m not a big nickname guy.”

“Sure thing, Vinnie-boy. Now, go on, run those lads outta town and I’ll meet you in the square in front of the east church.”

Reeve was trying to focus on the conversation with one of the chiefs of the WRO militia units, but, dammit, was it distracting to have Vincent sprawling over that crate in his periphery.

The conversation drew to a blessed close and they saluted. Reeve finally turned his attention officially to Vincent.

“Good work, Vincent,” he said crisply. “The enemy is retreating, and it seems a full withdrawal from Kalm is underway.”

“Good,” Vincent laconically replied.

Reeve cleared his throat. “However, we still require your assistance. Reports are that Edge is under attack.”

Vincent tilted his head with detached curiosity. “Oh? Is your apartment all right?”

“Yes,” Reeve replied testily. “Not that you really seem to care.”

“Losing your professionalism, Commissioner?”

Reeve huffed in frustration. “What is your problem, Vincent? Why are you being so sassy?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Sassy?”

“Yes! You’re being a big jerk! You think this is easy for me? Why are you acting like… like everything is fine?”

“Aren’t you trying to do that?”

Reeve sighed, blinking. “I… I’m just trying to respect your wishes. Since you wanted nothing more to do with me, I… I’m trying to keep this to just being business.”

Vincent stared blankly back at him, though Reeve got the feeling that it took a little effort.

Good.

Reeve exhaled raggedly. “Okay. Anyway. I’d like you to accompany me back to Edge to help clear out enemy units. The WRO forces are at their limits and could really do with your expertise and support.”

“Alright. Sounds like I have a job to do, and I’ll do it.”

Reeve nodded curtly and tried not to think of the fact that this cold mercenary was once the person he had considered his best friend in the whole world.

Vincent was glad when the guard hounds started attacking. He was running dangerously low on false bravado to get him through the close quarters with Reeve in the back of the van.

He stood outside the crashed vehicle now with Reeve.

“If possible, I’d like you to continue to Edge….” Reeve blinked. “Um, to make your way to the city of Edge, that is.”

Vincent bit the inside of his lip to keep from snickering. He wished he could make a dirty joke.

“Anyway,” Reeve continued hurriedly. “I’m going to repair the Shadowfox and then I’m needed back at the WRO headquarters. I need you to join the WRO unit stationed there and help liberate the city.”

Vincent shrugged. “Guess I have no choice.”

His stomach twisted in guilt at Reeve’s disappointed expression. “Okay, well, see you around, I guess.”

Once Vincent had departed, Reeve sat heavily on one of the benches in the wrecked van.

“He doesn’t seem depressed anymore,” Reeve muttered. “He seems better than ever. Cool and collected and not a care in the world…. He’s happier without me after all.” He slumped, his elbows leaning on his knees. “I guess he’s really never coming back.”

Vincent was peering around a corner in Edge, but his mind was back with Reeve. So many little hopeful looks and attempts at small talk in the van. Reeve probably hadn’t even realized he was doing it. He felt Reeve scrutinizing him every chance he got. Vincent knew he was looking for any crack in his armor, any sign that he missed him, wasn’t doing well, was lonely. Vincent had carefully hid it all, and he could tell that Reeve believed the act.

It had been hard work. He hadn’t put so much effort into a facade since his Turk days. Reeve had known him inside and out and to trick him into believing that he truly didn’t give a damn about him anymore…. Vincent had seen the rejection settle its heavy weight on the other’s shoulders. It was for the best. Maybe Reeve would move on and find someone else whom he could grow old with.

He startled and whipped around, his gun pointed at…

Lucrecia?

No… another woman in a lab coat. Why do all these scientists like ponytails and high heels?

“You’re WRO?” he noticed her ID card.

“Who’s asking?” she retorted.

“Vincent Valentine,” he replied evenly, holstering his gun.

“My apologies. Shalua Rui. The Commissioner has told me much about you. You’ve got quite a bit of his admiration, it would seem.”

Vincent internally winced. “I’m sure.”

She had continued talking but Vincent missed what she said. He was wondering at what point in time she had heard Reeve talking about him. Did coworkers know they had dated? Had broken up?

Vincent could imagine Reeve in the grips of the characteristic enthusiasm Vincent had seen him in about many topics, chattering to anyone who would listen about him. It was flattering. It was sad, considering how poor of a match they were.

“Like I said, I have business to attend to.” She turned around and clicked away, the sound of her heels reminding him of all the times Lucrecia had bustled about, hellbent on a mission. She and Reeve were similar like that, all single-minded passion and intellectual excitement.

“Business?” he asked belatedly, wondering what he’d missed.

She stopped, turned to look over her shoulder with a bitter smile on her face. “The Commissioner keeps telling me I’m wasting my time searching.”

“Searching for what?”

“My reason to live.” She turned melodramatically and strode away.

Vincent watched her for a moment, then shook his head, clearing it. He didn’t even have his own reason to live, much less contemplating someone else’s.

Chapter Text

He fell to his knees, exhausted by his limit break. Chaos almost always pushed him to the edge of his endurance. Before he knew it, it he was lying on the ground, a blurry pair of heels clacking towards him.

“Lucrecia,” he groaned. It was just like before, when he laid on the ground at Hojo’s feet as Lucrecia approached.

Reeve hurried to Shalua’s lab where she was rehabilitating Vincent. If something happened to him because of a mission he himself had assigned, somewhat against his will…

“Oh, Vincent! You’re recovered already!” he exclaimed when he found Vincent standing, talking with Shalua. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m telling him about Dr. Crescent’s research. I think it’s relevant to the situation at hand.”

Reeve tried to keep the distaste off of his face. Of course she’s still got his attention when he’s totally over me. “I see. What exactly is the situation at hand?”

“Deepground seems to be looking for something they’re calling the Protomateria,” Shalua answered clinically. “They think Vincent has it. He, Chaos, and Omega all have Dr. Crescent in common, so…” She started to type away. “We need to gather more data on her.”

Vincent’s gaze was distant.

Probably daydreaming about Lucrecia, Reeve fumed.

Suddenly, all the screens in the lab started flashing red. They all leaned in to watch security camera footage of a horde of Deepground soldiers accompanied by a hulking man with electric blue hair.

“Azul the Cerulean,” Reeve muttered under his breath. “Another Tsviet.”

He exchanged a glance with Vincent who nodded, eyes flint and face set. He slipped out of the room to fight.

Mingled joy at their ability to communicate wordlessly and grief at the waste tore at Reeve’s heart. “I’ll be at the command center,” he said flatly to Shalua, leaving her to stare, rapt, at the screen.

“Mr. Valentine! A sizable enemy unit is headed straight for the command center. Please, sir, you have to help the commissioner!” the WRO member frantically informed him.

Vincent dashed off, eliminating anyone who stood in his way, like they were cardboard cutouts. He growled in frustration as a heavy gunner blocked the top of the final staircase. Each time he tried to force his way up the stairs, the gunner would shoot a missile that would send Vincent flying to the bottom of the staircase again. After several frenzied attempts that left him panting and dizzy on the floor, he took a deep, calming breath to center himself.

Calm down. You’re doing a job. That’s all.

Think. You can’t take this one on with brute strength.

He crept up the stairs carefully, pressing close to the wall. The gunner always hid around a corner after he sent Vincent toppling away. Vincent intended to whip around, faster than lightning, and-

BOOM.

Vincent hauled himself up from the floor at the bottom of the stairs again.

Just a practice run.

Again. Third time’s the charm.

Again.

Again.

Again.

“DAMMIT!” Vincent screeched. “REEVE WILL BE DEAD BY THE TIME I GET THERE!”

Vincent couldn’t brute force his way past this soldier, but the Beast could.

Finally, panting and dripping blood he raced to the command center. A Deepground soldier flew out, bodily hitting the wall and dropping limp to the floor.

“Take that!” Cait Sith cried triumphantly. He and Reeve were synchronized, holding their own in melee combat.

Reeve smirked. “Oh, coming to save little old me? Well, I’ll have you know I can take care of myself! Now hurry up and find Azul! He’s still on the loose!”

Vincent grimaced. “Of course, sir,” he spat, storming off. He downed a mega potion as he walked, furious that all that had been for nothing.

“Vincent! Over here!” Reeve was as pleased as a cat who’d gotten into the birdcage. Between fending off Deepground attackers himself, providing Vincent with sedative bullets to take down Shelke, and now, this- he was on a roll.

Vincent dove into the room, avoiding Azul’s next attack.

“You can’t run!” the huge beast of a man roared.

“Shall we run?” Vincent asked.

Reeve nodded. “Let’s.”

Reeve resisted taking Vincent’s hand in his as they practically flew away together. Reeve slipped into another room, his eyes landing on the rocket launcher he knew would be stored here.

“Look!” he hissed to Vincent who met his eyes and nodded.

As Azul lumbered in after them, Vincent shouldered the massive weapon. Reeve fretted that his bones would break underneath its heft, but he shouldn’t have doubted him.

The explosion from the launcher blew Reeve and Vincent backwards. Vincent leapt up.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yep, yep, just fine!” Reeve pushed himself to his elbows. “You?”

“Fine. You shouldn’t leave those things lying around.”

Reeve laughed. “It certainly came in handy though, didn’t it?”

A shadow of smile crossed Vincent’s face before he visibly shook himself out of it. “Leave. I can handle this from here.”

Reeve stood, dusting himself off. “Right, yeah… See you later?”

Vincent leapt up towards Azul without another word.

Chapter Text

Shinra Manor.

Vincent emerged into what appeared to be a library. He had sometimes wandered here during his long (ha, thirty years would ultimately be nothing in the span of his existence) exile, but the books had contained mostly horrors and lies.

A small orb that he thought was materia rolled towards him. He stooped to pick it up as it stopped with a small clink against his sabatons.

He stared in fascination as it glowed in his hand. He turned behind, thinking he sensed movement and froze.

“Lucrecia!”

There she was. Honey eyes seeming to look into him, through him, past him. Hair bound in a loose ribbon, defying all reason. Lab coat draped over a frilly blouse and pencil skirt. The perfect bundle of crisp professionalism and feminine impracticality, all at once.

“Vincent, right?”

A sharp poke of hurt. She wasn’t sure if she remembered him? She had been imprinted into the backs of his eyelids for decades.

She continued. “Have you come to check up on me?”

He took a step towards her, two, three, raising his arms for an embrace. He had given up on ever seeing her lucid again, but here she was. As bound to eternity as he was, back in the place that, for all its torment, had brought them together.

He had once thought this place had enabled him to meet the best friends he could ever hope to make. It allowed him to live to a time where he could love freely. There was a time, a foolish time, where, drunk in love with Reeve, he had believed it all to be worth it.

Lucrecia walked right through him, the projection flickering as she clipped resolutely forward. As always. Forward, right through him. It hadn’t been much different in the flesh.

He dropped his arms to his sides, feeling stupid.

Vincent came back to the apartment, bone-tired after a WRO mission to clear out mako-mutated monsters from a new settlement. The smell of warm, delicious food met him, even though it had been dark for hours, far past any reasonable hour for dinner.

Reeve hugged him, resting his chin against Vincent’s shoulder. “Isn’t nice that we’re the perfect height for each other?”

Vincent sagged against Reeve, letting him massage between his shoulder blades. “Hm mm,” he murmured. “Perfect.”

Vincent turned back to face the projection. She was facing him again, too. “Omega. His awakening is upon us.”

So I’ve heard. He didn’t bother speaking. No one would hear him anyway. She wasn’t here. It was only an image. He was alone.

“Sup, Commish, does duty call?”

“Hello, Yuffie, yes. I want you to go to Nibelheim. Vincent is there, and… I want to make sure he’s alright.”

“Riiiiiiiiight. You know I’m not a good emotional support person, right?”

“That’s not why I’m asking. I just… I think he might be getting himself into something he can’t handle alone.” He dropped his voice as if speaking only to himself. “Not that he’d ever believe that was possible.”

Yuffie narrowed her eyes, even though she knew he couldn’t see. “I heard that last part. You two break up or something?”

“Just… check on Vincent at the Manor, would you?”

Vincent prowled the eerie hallways, peered into darkened rooms where the silhouetted operation tables made his skin crawl.

Information. He was here for information. Shalua had said they needed information on Lucrecia’s research. Lucrecia had said there were files hidden around.

He walked into a room thick with the legacy of suffering and swallowed the hot bile that rose in his throat. Why did she hide them all over the manor?

He foggily remembered her peering into a tube of mako he was suspended in, muttering apologies. Did she know he would one day be back here? Was she apologizing for making this errand so difficult?

He made his way upstairs, not entirely certain he had thoroughly searched the basement, but he couldn’t be down here anymore. Everything here was dark, cold, dead, horrifying. He longed for light, comfort, warmth. He wished he could see Reeve.

He clenched his hand into a fist. “You can’t,” he hissed. “Just bear it.”

“~Breaking in

to a creepy house,

to save a creepy man!

Reeve’s in love

with a vampire

who doesn’t give a damn!

Valentine is in a bind,

and who will set him free?

It’s me! The best warrior,

Wutai has ever seen!~”

The window finally jimmied open. She cackled quietly with delight. She wriggled her way through, thinking she would need a shower soon. “I’m probably covered in cobwebs and bugs,” she muttered.

She heard a loud metallic crash. She dashed towards the sound.

“Hopefully that’s Vince winning!”

She crouched at the top landing when she spotted Vincent. He was watching the wreckage of a spider robot, his eyes distant.

Suddenly! “Oh shit!” Yuffie froze in horror as a woman dressed in red practically materialized out of nowhere (now she’s stealthy!) and plunged her fist into Vincent’s chest?!

“What in Leviathan’s name?!” Yuffie whispered. “How…?”

Vincent made a choked sound and stared down in surprise at the arm emerging from his chest. She pulled it back out, holding… a materia?!?!?! She’s a materia thief?!?!

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, with fake sweetness. “Were you not expecting that?”

“Heck no!” Yuffie whispered.

Vincent collapsed. Yuffie was certain he must be bleeding all over the place, but it was too dark to tell, especially against his black and red clothes.

“Time for the finishing blow,” the woman crooned.

With a flick, Yuffie sent out her shuriken. “Oh, I don’t think so, evil version of me!”

Vincent’s consciousness was quickly fading.

Surely she didn’t… Is it possible?

It felt just like when Hojo shot him, bleeding, drowning, alone.

When he opened his eyes, he was lounging in Lucrecia’s cave. “Lucrecia,” he lamented. “I’m alive, aren’t I? Only dreaming? Just like you… I can’t die.”

She was crystallized in place, ghostly echoes of her voice ricocheting like the drips of water in the pool behind him.

“I’m sorry,” a dozen disembodied Lucrecias gasped breathlessly.

“For what?”

“Chaos… the Protomateria… awaken…”

“Lucrecia… aren’t you lonely? In that crystal, permanently alive, only watching, hiding?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m not- … I’m out in the world, living, making a difference.”

“Suffering… for your sins…”

He bowed his head. “I try not to think like that anymore.”

“Then why?”

He raised his eyes to her frozen, unseeing ones. “Why what?”

“Hiding… I’m sorry… the suffering…”

He furrowed his brow. “What?” He sensed she was slipping away again.

“Reeve, he’s bleeding through every towel and bandage I’ve got! There’s a GIANT HOLE in his chest!!”

Reeve felt like he was the one with a hole in his chest. “Vincent… but he said he can’t die.”

Yuffie stared at him through the video screen, pale and more panicked than he’d ever seen her. “Well, there’s a first for everything, I don’t know what to tell you! What am I supposed to do???”

“What about… magic? You have Cure, don’t you? Or potions?”

“He is too far gone for drinking anything, and I already used as much mana as I can spare, and all it did was slow the bleeding! I can’t risk running out!”

“Don’t you have ethers? Elixirs?”

“Dude, Nibelheim’s in the middle of nowhere, I’m tired, okay? Sorry I can’t save your stupid husband!” She immediately sobered. “I-I’m sorry, Reeve. I’m just… I’m sorry.”

Reeve stared at his lap. He closed and opened his fists. “Vincent… I was supposed to go first…. I…” Hot tears threatened to fall. “I thought… we had a chance….”

Onscreen, Yuffie furiously shook her head. “No! No, no, no, no, no! I CANNOT have you have a full breakdown in front of me. I… I can’t deal with this!” The screen went black.

The tears spilled. “Goodbye, Vincent. Maybe you can rest easier in the Lifestream.”

Yuffie sat heavily across from Vincent. She wiped an arm over her eyes. “Those freaking Tsviets. Why are they all such crazy assholes?!”

In the silence that followed, she noticed that Vincent’s breathing had become a lot less bubbly and labored. A soft glow shone through the bandages, like she’d wrapped them over a lamp.

She crept over and began to remove the bloody cloth. Underneath was smooth, unbroken skin.

She stared. She’d never seen anything like it. “What the hell?”

For: Reeve

From: Yuffie

He’s fine. Somehow. Still asleep though.

For: Yuffie

From: Reeve

Call me as soon as he wakes up.

Chapter Text

Vincent blinked awake, his vision blurry and dark at the edges. It was not an unfamiliar feeling. “Survived catastrophic blood loss,” Hojo cackled as he typed his notes.

“Where am I?” he grated through a dry throat. Bleeding always made him thirsty. Go figure.

“Morning!” a chipper voice greeted him.

“Who are you?”

“Glad you asked! I am the champion of the earth and the sky. I am the conqueror of evil. The single white rose of Wutai.”

Vincent wearily said along with her, “Yuffie Kisaragi.”

“We meet again,” he continued as she toppled off the bench as the truck went over a bump.

“You don’t sound excited enough, but I’ll forgive you considering the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?” he asked slowly, as he gathered his arms to push himself up. He gasped and laid back down, a sharp pain shooting through his chest.

“Hey, woah, woah, woah! Take it easy, big guy! You just had a hole in your chest after all!”

“Hole… in my… chest?” Why is it always that?

Yuffie plopped down next to him. “You haven’t asked how I am.”

“If I ask the wrong question, you might disappear.”

She snickered. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I never joined your little ragtag crew. But hey! Consider yourself lucky! I didn’t mark you as my next victims either!”

“I should feel lucky that you didn’t assassinate me?”

“No, no, no, ew! Not that! Steal your materia! That’s my real passion. Though a super ninja can and will assassinate when needed,” she said loftily.

“Hm. How’s your head?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you being sarcastic?” She hopped up. “Oh! We gotta call Reeve. Strict orders.”

“Vincent!” Reeve was dizzy with relief, seeing his pale face stare blearily in the direction of the screen. Reeve desperately wished he could tuck Vincent under the softest blankets they had, brush the hair from his face, kiss his forehead and tell him he’d be alright with some rest and a big bowl of Tuesti family recipe chicken soup. He tried to regain some of his composure as he remembered the game he was playing. “I see you’ve come to,” he said as evenly as possible. Professional.

“I’m fine.” Vincent grunted in response. “Nothing can keep me down, remember?”

Reeve rattled off details of the next mission. Vincent wanted to act as if he was invincible, fine. The next mission awaits.

But it was distracting to see Vincent with his eyes glazed and his head drooping. Yuffie would be going on this next mission with him.

Yuffie turned away from the screen after Reeve’s farewell.

“Tuesti out,” she snickered. “Isn’t it funny that he says that?”

“Leave him be,” Vincent reflexively defended before remembering he wasn’t supposed to care anymore.

Yuffie leaned forward, elbows on knees, a conspiratorial look on her face. “So, what’s the deal with you and Reeve?”

“I work for him.”

“Rumor has it you were also banging him for a whole year before leaving him high and dry in the beginning of the summer… That true?”

Vincent was glad that he likely didn’t have enough blood in his system at the moment to blush. “That’s private information.”

“That’s a yes. Why’dya leave?”

Vincent didn’t know why he was confiding in Yuffie Kisaragi of all people, but here he was. “I’m immortal. He’s not.”

Her brow furrowed. “That’s it? You weren’t fighting or anything? You just got bored with him?”

“I wasn’t bored!”

“Then why leave?”

“I just told you. It doesn’t make sense for us to be together.”

“Why? Because you’re too much of a coward to grieve when he dies? You’d rather lose contact and not care when you hear the news that he’s gone? You’d rather make him grieve for you?”

Vincent bristled. “Why do you care so much?”

She leapt to her feet. “Because you can’t just treat people like they’re disposable like that! Yeah, Reeve will die! But that doesn’t mean that his life didn’t mean anything! Everything he did matters! They can’t erase that just by taking him!” Tears were forming at the edges of her eyes, and Vincent got the distinct impression she wasn’t talking about Reeve anymore. He looked away. This wasn’t his problem.

“That’s not even gonna work!” Yuffie continued hotly. “When he dies, you’re going to be kicking yourself for all the time you wasted, and be an even sorrier sad bastard than you already are for the rest of eternity!”

“So be it,” he replied stoically. “That is my fate.”

“But why should it be Reeve’s?!”

“He won’t know the difference before I know it.”

Yuffie grew still and silent. Finally she said, “Maybe you’re more of an asshole than I thought.”

Rosso grinned wickedly as she approached the unconscious Commissioner of the World Regenesis Organization. Absurd little anthill of a project.

Vincent Valentine had escaped her. She didn’t much like prey that escaped, though it did admittedly make things more entertaining.

Valentine wasn’t going to be an easy quarry to ferret out from wherever he’d hidden away to lick his wounds. She wasn’t entirely sure if he was alive- that injury certainly should have killed him- but she had a suspicion. And nothing better to do than torture his plaything to make him show himself.

“Sir, the Commissioner needs you!”

Vincent rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he does.”

Vincent purposely took his time, assisting any and every WRO member he came across, rooting out every Deepground member or device, checking and rechecking side hallways. Reeve was not going to make him rush just to find him sitting safe and cozy in his penthouse office. Again.

When Vincent finally arrived to the office ransacked and empty, he wondered if he’d made a mistake.

Shelke was staring at the unmoving form of her sister in the mako tank. The other girl, Yuffie, was next to her. Yuffie was supposedly the same age as she was, but she hadn’t been genetically modified in a basement lab for the last ten years and actually looked like a young woman. Shelke briefly wondered what she would have looked like at age nineteen had she-

Well, no use thinking of it now.

Vincent Valentine entered, his face taut with worry. “Reeve isn’t with you?”

“No,” Yuffie said, distant. “They say Shalua isn’t going to wake up either. She suffered too much trauma to her head.”

Shelke watched Yuffie ball her fists. She was so prone to wild displays of emotion. It was… strange.

“Vincent!” she now yelled. “You were there! Why didn’t you save her? Not worth helping out us mortals, huh? You probably don’t even care that Reeve is gone except for the fact that now there’s no one to sign your paycheck!”

Vincent looked at his feet in shame. “I’m sorry.”

Yuffie softened. “No, I… I just don’t know what to think anymore.” She looked at Shalua briefly before whipping around to have her back to her. She blinked rapidly. Shelke believed that indicated she was on the verge of tears.

“She was a fool,” Shelke offered.

Yuffie underwent yet another emotional transformation and pounced, slapping her across the face. Vincent dragged her away.

“Yuffie!” he scolded. “Enough!”

Yuffie stormed out.

Shelke turned to peer at Vincent. “Why did Shalua do this? Why sacrifice your own life for that of another?”

“When a person has someone they care about that much, giving their life is sometimes the least they can do…. Perhaps that is what separates humans from beasts, from monsters.” He looked pensive.

“What about you, Vincent Valentine? Which one are you? Human or monster? Would you give your life for another?”

He snorted. “I have no life to offer.”

Chapter Text

They all gathered on the deck of Cid’s ship, watching the transmission that the Tsviets had managed to send them. Vincent wondered if it was targeted to them or if all screens everywhere were showing Reeve’s wide-eyed face right now.

Rosso’s voice intoned off screen. “Behold: my hostage, one Reeve Tuesti-” Vincent hated how his name sounded on her tongue “-Commissioner of the World Regenesis Organization and pet of my darling Vincent Valentine, the monstrous creature whose head would make a wonderful trophy to hang on my wall.”

Everyone on deck was making a mighty effort to not turn to look at Vincent. He could sense their burning curiosity.

Reeve shook his head, his brow furrowed like he was a principal hearing an absurd request from a child. “No, this absolutely will not get you anything you want. We at the WRO do not negotiate with terrorists.”

Rosso leaned onscreen, a sanguine smile lighting her face in profile as she leaned to Reeve’s ear to purr, “Oh, but I am not concerned with WRO. I am concerned with one man- if that’s what he is- and that is Vincent Valentine, the only creature to ever escape to meet Rosso the Crimson twice. And soon to be thrice.”

Reeve raised his chin, brave, steady. “You don’t even know if the one you seek is alive or watching. He was grievously injured in your last encounter. I personally am not sure he recovered.”

Reeve sounded so confident that for a moment even Vincent was uncertain if he had survived. “He’s good,” he murmured in awe of Reeve’s duplicity.

“Yeah,” Yuffie spat, arms crossed. “A real catch, for someone who’d appreciate him.”

Vincent regretted revealing any personal information to Yuffie Kisaragi.

Apparently satisfied with the message, Rosso turned off the camera. Reeve kept his face stern but relaxed, his back straight, head held high, his hands unclenched.

He personally thought he was doing an excellent job of concealing the fact that he was on the verge of pissing himself in terror.

“Your ruse does not work on me,” Rosso drawled. “I can smell your sweat. Did you know humans smell different when the sweat is from fear instead of exertion?”

Reeve scoffed, though his stomach was in knots. Rosso had him tied to a chair, completely at her mercy, as if he weren’t already totally at her mercy by just being a mere human.

A mere human. That was why Vincent left, wasn’t it? He had always feared that Vincent would decide he wasn’t good enough, but he never expected it would because of his mortality.

Rosso stroked his cheek with sharp fingertips. A shudder he couldn’t repress ran down his spine.

“Whether Valentine comes for you or not, you will make an entertaining toy at the very least. It’s been a long time since I had a reason to draw out suffering, instead of merely killing as bloodily as possible.”

“We all need hobbies,” Reeve joked weakly.

Rosso chuckled. “Indeed. Hobbies. Yes. Your prolonged agony as my hostage will be quite the hobby.”

Reeve swallowed hard. Please, Vincent. Please, please, please. I know I don’t matter to you anymore, but please come for me.

“No.” Vincent said, drawing on every ounce of Turk cruelty he had ever possessed. “Reeve was right. We’re not giving her what she wants. She wants me to come out and face her. As long as she wants that and believes she can have it if she has Reeve alive in her possession, she’ll take care to not kill him.”

Cid looked taken aback. “Yeah, but that don’t mean she won’t hurt him. Bad. Isn’t that worth putting your pride aside?”

Vincent shook his head. “It’s a distraction. We have a larger mission at hand. The Tsviets have the Protomateria now, which apparently gives them the ability to summon Omega and end the world. We need to focus on that.”

“This shit again. Why are there so many materias that can end the world?” Cid grumbled. “Well…. I guess that makes sense. But I still don’t like it.”

Me either. Vincent turned his back with a flourish of his cape. “It’s the way of the world.”

“You’re not seriously planning on listening to Vincent, are you?” Yuffie asked faintly, holding an ice pack to her head.

Cid gripped the wheel of the ship tighter. “It don’t seem right, but… it does make sense to focus on saving the world instead of one man. Reeve would end up dying too if the world gets apocalypse’d by Omega.”

Yuffie shook her head. She immediately regretted that and bent over, retching. “Sorry,” she muttered, regaining a modicum of composure. “No man left behind. That’s what I say. We can rescue Reeve lickety-split and then continue on with this Omega stuff. Besides, Reeve’s the brains behind the whole anti-Deepground operation.”

Cid chewed an unlit cigarette. “There’s no point in going to rescue him if Vincent ain’t gonna do it. We gotta convince him.”

Yuffie gently rubbed her stomach in small circles. “Mmmmm, okay. I’ll try. Why do we have to be on an airship?” she whined.

“To fly?” Cid shook his head in disbelief.

Vincent paced around the airship. Intrusive memories of his blissful year with Reeve kept forcing their way into his mind.

“Vincent, wake up! I made pancakes!”

“Bad nightmare, huh? Just hold my hand for a while; you’re safe now.”

“Vincent, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He shook his head, jaw clenched. Reeve would be fine. He would be fine, he would emerge from this with an invigorated joie de vivre, and he would find someone else to make pancakes for.

Yuffie staggered in. “Vince, come on, we gotta save Reeve.”

“He’ll be fine. The Planet won’t.”

“That woman punched a hole in your chest. What about that says ‘Reeve will be fine in her custody’ to you?”

“Yuffie, just drop it! Reeve is just a man who runs an organization that I work for! He’s not important! We’ll get to him when we get to him! Now stop bothering me about him!”

“You make me sicker than the airship. Just sleep on it, alright, jerkface? I don’t think we’re doing the right thing.”

Later that night, Vincent laid awake in bed.

“Reeve is just a man who runs an organization that I work for!”

Reeve giggled, drunk on his birthday. “Vincent, you make me feel special, more specialer than anyone.”

“He’s not important!”

“Why?” Reeve sobbed into his shoulder. “Why should I survive when all those people in Sector 7 didn’t?”

“You’re just as important as anyone,” Vincent held him tightly. “More important, in fact, to me.”

“We’ll get to him when we get to him!”

Vincent admired Reeve’s composure on the video, but a Turk was a Turk, and he saw the fear in his eyes as Rosso leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Now stop bothering me about him!”

“Vincent,” Reeve smoothed his hand over Vincent’s arm while he laid in bed for the second consecutive day. “You’re depressed. That’s all. It’ll pass. Tell me if there’s anything that crosses your mind that might comfort you, and I’ll do it. Anything for you, Vincent. I love you.”

Tears that had been held back since he left their apartment spilled from his eyes, running back towards his ears while he stayed perfectly still on his back in the airship cot. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

Chapter Text

Reeve sagged in the chair. He didn’t know how long he’d been there. All he knew was that he was so terribly thirsty, and his stomach cramped painfully with hunger. His clothes were filthy and every joint ached. To stretch his arms above his head seemed like an incredible luxury. He wondered if it had been anything like this for Vincent in the basement of Shinra Manor.

Vincent.

Did he know he was here? Did he care? How could he really not care at all?

If Reeve were less dehydrated, he knew he would cry, as he had many times in the months since Vincent abandoned him.

He was haunted by memories that once brought him joy. Every kiss, every caress, every quiet content moment together: they all brought to the surface an increasingly desperate cry- why?

Had any of it ever mattered? How could it when Vincent would choose to leave and choose to stay away?

Back when he had first departed, Reeve had waited. He faithfully continued to buy Vincent’s favorite groceries, left enough space on Vincent’s side of the bed for him to slip in, had craned his neck at every flash of red in his periphery vision everywhere he went.

Vincent was going to come back. He wasn’t feeling himself. But the days would get longer, warmer, he would adjust and realize he could love again, that he wanted Reeve.

Reeve had waited.

The days had gotten longer, warmer, and Reeve wanted Vincent.

He wrote and rewrote and ultimately deleted message after message, stared at Vincent’s name highlighted with his thumb over the Call button.

He just needed time. He just needed space.

Reeve gave him time. Reeve gave him space. Reeve had trouble falling asleep.

He would startle awake, would stop what he was doing, thinking he heard the creak of the stairs outside his apartment door, thought he heard a key crunching in the lock, believed someone else was home.

“Vincent?!” he would cry out every time. “You’re back?”

It was always his imagination.

Now, held hostage, he slipped in and out of consciousness, always tired, always too uncomfortable to rest deeply. He was still waiting, hoping.

Vincent was a good man, even when he himself didn’t believe it. He was capable of so much compassion, such kindness, could get so worried about others. He locked himself in a coffin for thirty years out of guilt over a woman who hadn’t even seemed to care that much for him. What a romantic.

There was good in almost everyone. That’s why Reeve did the work he did. That’s how he could believe he could work for Shinra but still have a chance at doing good, why he believed everyone deserved a better world. Why he believed that he could convince President Shinra to not drop the plate, convince his son to spare his secret friends.

Shinra had dropped the plate. Rufus had locked Tifa in a gas chamber.

Vincent wasn’t coming, was he?

Vincent wearily woke up again, the tingle of a revival spell on his skin.

Yuffie stood over him, hand on hip.

“When are you gonna believe we can’t do this mission without Reeve? We’re fighting blind! And Deepground probably knows everything we would think to do because Rosso is probably torturing Reeve for info as we speak.”

“Reeve would never,” Vincent spat.

Yuffie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, wouldn’t he?”

Vincent sat up in the airship cot. “He’s not a spy anymore. He’s a good man. He always was, but now he knows better how to be himself.”

“You’ll defend him in the gossip mill but leave him to die?”

“She won’t kill him.”

“She will. She’ll get bored. Probably quick. Reeve already told her that you might be dead.”

“Exactly, you heard what Reeve said. We won’t give her what she wants, and he said I might be dead to get her off my back.”

“So you’ll let him die for you?”

“That’s what humans do when they care for things. Shelke knows all about that.”

“Vincent, you’re a goddamn rat bastard.”

I know.

A knock at the door. A crewmember frantically said, “Sir, ma’am, there’s another communication from Rosso!”

They both hurtled to the main deck to see.

“You’re running awfully fast for a man who doesn’t care,” Yuffie pointed out petulantly.

“Shut up.”

Vincent skidded to a halt and felt a wave of nausea so severe he retched.

Reeve was on the screen, pale, worn, his greasy hair a mess, matted with… gods above, probably blood… his lip split, an eye blackened.

“Vincent Valentine!” Rosso sang. “I don’t believe your boy toy that you may have perished. You’re a freak just like me, except for that you care for this creature.” She caressed Reeve’s face, pressing a thumb firmly against the bruising around his eye. Reeve couldn’t help but wince. Vincent didn’t notice at what point he had balled his fists.

“Coulda fooled me on that last count,” Yuffie muttered.

“Shut up,” Vincent growled, feeling wildly angry and slightly unsteady.

“I’ve told you,” Reeve rasped weakly. “You’re not going to get anywhere with this tactic.”

Rosso screeched in frustration, slapping Reeve across the face, her long metallic nails leaving four thin scarlet trails behind them.

Reeve’s lips trembled, his facade of stoicism wearing away. “You picked the wrong person. Vincent won’t come for me. I’m as good as dead to him. What’s a few less years?”

She gripped him by the throat. “Then what’s stopping me from killing you right here on camera?”

“Nothing,” Reeve choked, blood dripping from the fresh cuts on his face. “You picked the wrong hostage. No one’s ever cared for me.”

Vincent blacked out.

“What in holy hell?” Cid’s mouth gaped, the cigarette falling out.

Vincent had transformed, leathery red wings spreading menacingly across the deck, his face a grotesque mask of itself, his eyes glowing yellow.

Chaos.

Cid had only seen this form rarely, and it meant Vincent was about to kick major ass.

“Everyone off the deck!” he shouted. “I can’t guarantee that Vincent will hold his friend back!”

Chaos roared in a distorted monstrous version of Vincent’s voice, a wordless cry of fury.

Onscreen, Rosso pushed Reeve so hard the chair he was tied to fell backwards and he yelped in surprise before a sickening crack silenced him.

Chaos’s form flickered away, and Vincent fell to his knees. “What just happened?” he asked groggily.

“You just unleashed the demon, and Rosso maybe killed Reeve,” Yuffie said flatly.

“Demon…? You mean Chaos? But… I wasn’t at my limit break… Wait, Reeve? What?”

Yuffie shrugged. “You don’t care, remember?” She sauntered off.

Vincent ran to the back room where Cait Sith had been morosely sitting alone on a bench.

“Vincent,” the cat greeted softly. “Lad. Reeve’s not doing so well. Are you really gonna…?” The cat’s head sank dejectedly. “Reeve doesn’t believe anyone’s comin’ to get ‘im. He tried to get me to convince you at first, but you were hellbent on the Deepground mission… Could never catch ye. Besides, I heard all Yuffie was sayin’ to ye, and….” Cait Sith looked back up, giving Vincent the feeling they were looking eye to eye, even though the cat’s eyes never opened. “I heard all ye said, too. About Reeve not being important and all… I… I hardly knew I was programmed for such sadness.”

Vincent looked away.

“Reeve always believed in you. Every single day since you left, he’s believed you were coming back to him. But now… he’s got nothing to believe in. And… I don’t think he’ll last much longer without something to hold on to.”

The lump in Vincent’s throat almost made him gasp aloud in pain as he tried to swallow.

“Why are you doing this, Vincent?” the animatronic continued plaintively. “Reeve loved ye to bits. I can’t really die either, but… I wouldn’t turn my back on all the people I call me friends. The pain they feel when they’re abandoned by choice… I think it’s a horrible kind of grief, different from being abandoned by death. There’s more hope, maybe, but more betrayal…. Why did you betray Reeve? Are you like all the others after all? You don’t think he’s worth loyalty? I thought you knew him better.”

“Where is he?” Vincent ground out through the silent tears falling. “Lead me to him. I can’t do this anymore.”

Reeve thought he heard fighting. He was just glad Rosso’s violence wasn’t directed at him this time. His head hurt horribly. He probably had a concussion, though he couldn’t tell if that was why his vision swam or if it was his severe thirst. He figured dehydration would be his official cause of death, if anyone bothers to find his corpse in time to do an autopsy.

He felt lighter. He knew this was literally true; he hadn’t eaten in days, but it felt stranger than that. He wondered if his energy was joining the Lifestream. He was glad that he wouldn’t be burnt for mako energy in the new world.

He was dreaming, perhaps. He heard the clank of Vincent’s sabatons, the soft clinking of all his various metallic bits and bobs, the rustling of his cape.

He knew it wasn’t real. It never was. Nonetheless, he smiled. He was glad he could at least die with the illusion of Vincent by his side.

Vincent crouched, his stomach in his chest, his heart in his mouth. Reeve was lying on his side on the floor, his hair clumped with blood, his clothes torn and dirty.

“Reeve,” he whispered. “Am I too late?” He gently rolled the gaunt man onto his back and pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, where life should pulse below his jaw.

“V-Vincent?” a cracked whisper. “Is th-that really you? You… you came… for me?” His eyes were open only a crack. “I missed you. I’m glad I got to see you one more time.”

Vincent shook his head, tears gathering. “No. No, Reeve. You can’t. I…” His voice caught as Reeve’s eyes slid shut. “No.” He drew away, tears flowing freely down his face. “How could I make the same mistake again? I didn’t do enough. Why didn’t I fight for a good thing?”

“Vincent?” the reedy whisper started again. “Are you leaving now? Could- could you stay? I… miss you.”

Vincent’s chest heaved as he fell to his knees next to Reeve. “Reeve, can you drink? I have some potions.”

Reeve’s mouth twitched into a shadow of a smile. “Probably not enough. You never carry enough potions on you.”

Vincent cradled Reeve’s head in the crook of an elbow. “You can have them all,” he crooned. “Just hold on, please.”

Vincent supported Reeve’s head as he drank. “Careful, slow sips.”

The potions were helping, but Reeve knew that they had limited usefulness for injuries sustained prior to the last hour or so. Also, the thick, medicinal liquid was only making him crave cold water even more.

“Do you have water?” he croaked.

“A bit.” Vincent uncorked a flask and held it to his lips. “Take it easy. Gulping it down quickly will make you sick.”

Reeve tried to express his intense gratitude through his eyes alone, but Vincent was avoiding his gaze. When he had drained the canteen, he used words. “I’m so glad you came for me, Vincent. You’re my hero.”

Vincent stood up. “I’m going to call Aerith. She’s the best healer around.”

“Can you stay here with me while you call?” Reeve trailed off as Vincent walked away.

The ground sped away underneath Fenrir’s tires as Cloud leaned into another burst of acceleration. Aerith gripped him so hard he actually wondered if he’d bruise, her face buried in his back.

“Scared?” he tossed back.

She shook her head no; he felt it between his shoulder blades.

“Heh, right.”

“So rude!”

“Seriously though, are you gonna be mad if I give Vincent a piece of my mind?”

“I would be mad if you didn’t.”

Chapter Text

Vincent paced around the hallway outside Reeve’s room.

Cait Sith poked his head out. “Vince? Reeve wants ye.”

“I told you: I’m not safe. Chaos came out on his own recently. I can’t risk that happening with Reeve only hanging on by a thread.”

“Laddie, he doesn’t want to be safe; he wants you.”

“I don’t know why. He’s almost dead because of me.”

“I don’t ken either, but do the poor man a favor.”

“I didn’t want him to be harmed, but…”

“If you say what I think you’re gonna say, I’m going to wallop ye. He doesn’t need ye to break up with him again.”

“How can I break up with someone I didn’t get back together with?”

Cait Sith hissed and withdrew.

Reeve turned his head to see Aerith being led in by Vincent.

“Aerith! What a pleasant surprise,” he tried to sit up more against the pillows he was propped up on but wasn’t particularly successful.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Weak,” he admitted. “Massive headache. Yuffie and Vincent have been making sure I always have water and snacks around, though.”

Aerith brushed her hand over his forehead and back along his head, stopping at the back of his skull where he’d hit the ground. His headache dissipated. Gods, he was lucky being friends with a powerful healer.

“Vincent told me you were on death’s door, but you seem to be doing pretty alright,” she said, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I’m happy to see you!”

Reeve smiled. “Yes, I think I gave Vincent quite a scare. I just need rest, and I think you just healed a concussion, so I’m sure I’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Aerith squeezed his hands. “I’m glad.”

Reeve glanced over to where he thought Vincent was, but he was gone. “Hey Cait, where did Vincent go? I’ve barely had a chance to talk to him since I got here.”

Cait Sith kicked the floor. “Ach, ye won’t like the answer. Vincent is swearing that he didn’t want ye harmed, but that he’s not back in your life.”

Reeve felt like Rosso was back, punching him in the gut again. “Oh. I see. I… I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed….” Assumed that Vincent was his prince, rescuing him from his captor. He was just doing a job, wasn’t he? “Say, Aerith, you wouldn’t happen to know a cure for a broken heart, would you?”

Aerith ran her thumb over his knuckles. He noticed that the rope marks from his wrists were gone. She was good. It was hard to heal someone without them even noticing.

“Sorry,” she said. “Just time and taking good care of yourself.”

Cait Sith spoke again. “He also said something about uncontrollably turning into a monster.”

Aerith and Reeve both said in unison, “What?!”

“Vincent, what the hell is your problem?” Cloud cornered the brooding asshole in a hallway of the Shera.

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“What are you thinking, turning your back on everyone? Aerith calls you every week! She cried because you never call her back. And don’t even get me started on how upset Marlene is. And apparently you ditched Reeve?”

“I didn’t realize my personal life had become such a spectacle for everyone to observe.”

The kind of anger that would have sent his fists flying when he was a preteen in Nibelheim reared up. “Didn’t you hear me? It’s not a spectacle that I’m observing; you’re upsetting my family.”

“I’m sorry,” he sagged, suddenly seeming smaller and younger. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“How?!”

“If everyone could just forget about me and move on, then we’d all be better off.”

“That’s not how it works. People don’t just forget. How could you of all people think that would work? Have you forgotten Lucrecia? Or anyone else?”

Vincent sighed. “Well… now I’m not safe to be around, so this changes nothing.”

“Not safe to be around?” That gave Cloud pause. “Is Sephiroth back? Is he controlling you this time? How?”

“No, no, I have my own demons, you know that. Chaos.”

“I thought he was just a limit break for you.”

“Not anymore. I… I’ve discovered that Lucrecia had implanted a special materia in my chest to keep him in check. Rosso stole it from me.”

“Stole it…? You just said it was implanted in your chest.”

“Yes. It was a rather rough day for me.”

Cloud shook his head. “Okay…. so now you just turn into Chaos at random?”

Vincent shrugged uncomfortably. “It seems so. I don’t remember it. There have just been a couple times where I believe it happened.”

Cloud leaned back, thinking. “I’ve been somewhat in that position before. It wasn’t worth it trying to stay away. And, I mean, Chaos has never hurt any of us before.”

Vincent shook his head, looking slightly paler than usual, somehow, but said nothing.

Cloud crossed his arms and looked away. “Well, you gotta get it figured out because, like it or not, you’re too important to everyone to just disappear without consequences.”

Vincent knocked lightly before opening Reeve’s door.

Reeve was asleep, looking so much better after Aerith had seen to him. Vincent had seen enough life-or-death situations to know that Aerith had been bluffing when she told him he seemed fine.

Cait Sith was sitting on the edge of Reeve’s bed, and he now looked up, ears flicking in surprise, but, for once, said nothing.

Vincent sat beside him. He listened to Reeve breathe for a while in the darkened room. A precious sound. When Vincent had first found him, he didn’t think anyone would ever hear that sound again.

Precious. That’s what Reeve had said about their time together, back when he was first contemplating the vast stretch of loneliness that his immortality promised.

But was it his immortality that promised solitude? Vincent had been lonely for so much of his life, but how much of that had been self-imposed? He didn’t really have to stay in the coffin for thirty years after the manor was abandoned, now did he? He didn’t have to leave Reeve’s apartment, ignore Aerith’s calls, Marlene’s… gods, Marlene was just a child. He was just what every child wished for, a steady presence who would stay the same as she got older. He wouldn’t become decrepit and in need of her care, he wouldn’t pass away in the prime of her adulthood. He could live to see her children, grandchildren, watch over her descendants long after she couldn’t.

He suddenly stood up. Reeve stirred but didn’t wake, and Cait hmmmed a quiet, wordless question.

“I’ll be back,” he muttered.

She bent over the worksheet, carefully copying every cursive letter. She flipped on the back and started the hard part of the assignment: Compose three sentences and write them in neat cursive.

1. My name is Marlene.

2. I live with My Daddy and his friends Tefa, Airith, and Cloud.

3. I used to have a freind and his name was mister Vinsent

She sat up, blinking hard. She wondered if Mr. Vincent hated her. Or was he dead?

The phone rang and she slowly pushed her chair away from the table. It was probably more bad news, like Cloud and Aerith wouldn’t be able to come back for a long, long time.

She heard Daddy answer.

“You son of a bitch! Why are you just bothering to call now? I oughta wring your pale neck!”

“Mr. Vincent?” Marlene tore into the other room.

“Yeah, honey, this undead idiot has finally wised up.”

“Lemme talk to him! Lemme talk to him!”

Reeve awoke, reaching for the glass of water by the bed without opening his eyes. As he drank a slow grateful sip- would he ever stop reflecting on how amazing water was? - he startled as he realized Vincent was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he rumbled, seeing that he had Reeve’s attention.

Reeve glared reproachfully. “Are you flirting with me? Why? Those days are over, aren’t they?”

Vincent smiled sadly. “If you would like.”

Reeve fisted handfuls of blanket. “If I would like? Me? As if this was my idea?”

Vincent bowed his head. “You would have every right to turn me away after all I’ve put you through.”

“How can I turn someone away who’s not coming to me?”

“I’m here.”

“But you’re not… you’re not asking for anything! You’re just sitting there, acting like everything is fine and always has been! Shouldn’t you be apologizing?”

Vincent’s eyes glinted yellow and suddenly the air around him seemed to shimmer. When it dissipated, a different creature was there, like Vincent, but not, a savage grimace on his frozen face.

“You fill the vessel with such emotion,” the creature rasped, stealing Vincent’s voice. “I do not prefer it.”

“Chaos?” Reeve whispered. He had seemed so different on Cait Sith’s battle footage.

“The vessel grows weaker. He is increasingly mine.” Chaos lunged in Reeve’s direction, snapping his teeth like a crocodile. Reeve recoiled.

“Vincent! I know you’re in there! Yuffie and Shelke caught me up on everything! The Protomateria is gone, but you can do it! Control Chaos! Take your body back! We weren’t finished with this conversation!”

Chaos scoffed. “Who are you talking to? You now only address Chaos, gatherer of all life. And I believe I shall begin by gathering yours. The vessel thinks so much of your death; it is tantalizing. Let me delight in it for real.”

Reeve tried to hide his fear, just like with Rosso, in the beginning. But his heart raced. He had only narrowly survived last time, but was it all for naught?

“Come on, Vincent, you can do it! Don’t let all of Aerith’s healing go to waste! I-” his voice choked but he forced himself to continue- “I’m looking forward to recovering and living the rest of my life. I know I won’t live forever, but the life I do have matters to me, and I want to live to my fullest.”

Chaos grinned wickedly and pulled Vincent’s own gun from the holster on his hip.

“Please, Vincent….” His voice was a high-pitched whisper. “Come back.”

The yellow eyes flickered to red, fear alternating with bloodlust. After several tense moments of this internal wrestling, Vincent emerged, the red fringe becoming his black hair, his entire demeanor becoming more man than monster.

“Reeve,” he panted. “I’m so sorry. That is part of the reason I was staying away. I was afraid he would hurt you.”

“Afraid he would hurt me… what about Rosso? You didn’t seem too worried about her hurting me! I was there for so long. And what about you? You destroyed me when you decided to leave. Again. I had just started to believe that you were here to stay, and you go and abandon me!”

Vincent said nothing, just stood there looking miserable.

“And what do you mean that was part of the reason? I just don’t understand what you want! Do you want to be together or do you just want to watch from a distance? Sometimes I can’t tell whether you wish you could just crawl back into the coffin for another thirty years!”

“That doesn’t sound so bad right about now,” Vincent muttered.

“Then get out of here! I don’t want you hurting me anymore!”

Vincent slowly nodded. “I understand.” He took a step or two back but didn’t turn around yet. “You had never seen Chaos before, had you?”

“Not in person, no.”

Vincent smiled bitterly. “I always suspected you wouldn’t accept me once you saw him. Perhaps I should have shown you earlier. It would have saved you a lot of precious time. You could never love a monster.”

Reeve grit his teeth. “No, you fool. Chaos didn’t scare me away; you did.”

For the briefest of moments, Vincent looked pathetically, heartrendingly devastated, but then he turned on his heel and left.

“And it’s driving me crazy! He says all this boo-hooey nonsense about having to abandon Reeve because he’s going to die one day and then parades around like he’s so important and cool, but he’s just a big, inconsiderate coward!”

Aerith sighed sadly, listening to Yuffie’s colorful summary of the last week. “He was doing so well for so long…”

“Well, I think that even Reeve deserves better. He’s stuffy and kinda cringe and also thinks he’s cooler than he is, but… he’s a nice guy, you know?”

“Maybe I can go talk to him….”

“You gonna give him a piece of your mind? I’m coming then too!” She adopted a fighting stance. “You should use that neat ward trick where you can shoot a bunch of laser beams at once, pshew, pshew, pshew, and kick Vincent’s sorry butt! I bet his magic defense is garbage.”

Aerith giggled. “Only if talking doesn’t get through to him.”

She hurried to keep up with Yuffie’s headlong sprint through the halls of the resting airship. “Thank goodness this thing is grounded for now,” Yuffie threw back over her shoulder. “Otherwise, I’d be useless.”

She skidded to a halt in front of what Aerith assumed was Vincent’s quarters. “Knock, knock!” she called out as she rapped on the door. She threw the door open and froze, her voice catching in her throat. “Um… Aerith, maybe you should handle this one.”

She darted away.

Aerith stepped through the threshold to find Vincent sitting in his bed, his tear-streaked face turned to her.

“Hello Aerith,” he said evenly. “It’s good to see you.” He stared at his lap. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

She sat next to him. “What’s wrong?”

He smiled wryly. “I am.”

She cocked her head. “Hm?”

He sobered, shoulders sinking, face darkening. “I never make the right choices. I hurt everyone… and … always end up alone. But… it’s all my fault. I suppose, in the end, I accomplished what I set out to do. It seems that Reeve is finally ready to forget about me.”

“Forget about you? Reeve is madly in love with you!”

Vincent shook his head, a tear slowly trickling from one eye. “I… I was presumptuous. I assumed he would be glad to have me back, would take me, forgive me….”

“Did you apologize?”

Vincent looked pensive. “I don’t believe so.”

Aerith tried not to roll her eyes. “Then how has he even had the chance to forgive you or not?”

Vincent dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief Aerith was amused to recognize from a batch of old sheets Tifa had repurposed. He continued morosely, “He’s made it clear that I am unwelcome. I am only a source of hurt for him.” His mouth twitched. “And… he’s right. I always end up hurting him. I run away and his heart breaks for it. He wants nothing more than a companion, and I can’t even provide that. I always run away. I don’t know what he saw in me anyway. He’s better off this way.” His voice broke as he said, “I’m happy for him.”

Aerith slowly shook her head. “He’s not better off. He loves you. You’re best friends. He-”

“Not anymore!” Vincent snapped. “I drove him away. That’s what he told me.” The tears were falling faster now. “I… I can’t ever hold onto anything good. Even if I try… which I guess I usually don’t….” A shaky breath. “I’m going to live forever, and… it’s mostly going to be suffering. I… was ready to spend the rest of Reeve’s days with him, and be the companion he wanted and… deserved, the one I never was… but… I lost my chance… now I won’t have any more time with him….” He buried his face in his hands. “What have I done? How could I think no time was better than some time? I’m such an idiot! Reeve is right to reject me! Lucrecia too! I’m… I’m… I’m a monster all by myself. Hojo wasn’t the one who turned me into one after all.”

Aerith was beginning to tear up too. “Vincent…”

“I ruined it, Aerith. I ruined something I enjoyed so much…. Why? Why can’t I-?” he broke off into sobs.

Aerith rubbed at her eyes. She didn’t know what to say this time.

Cait Sith slid back against the wall next to Vincent’s open door. “Aye, what a mess….”

Chapter Text

Reeve was feeling stronger by the day. He got a bit lightheaded if he stood too much, but he was already spending his days bent over blueprints and data printouts, devising the plan for the all-out assault on Deepground to stop the Protomateria from bringing about the end of the world.

Though at the moment, Reeve was only staring at the papers spread out before him blankly, his mind replaying Cait Sith’s footage.

“ I… was ready to spend the rest of Reeve’s days with him, and be the companion he wanted…”

How could Reeve reveal to Vincent that he knew about his change of heart without revealing that he was still the same spy that everyone always hated? He hadn’t asked Cait Sith to record Vincent’s conversation with Aerith, and they had left the door open, but… he hadn’t refused to watch it, either.

His mind played out the scene.

“Hey, Vincent,” he would say as he pushed into Vincent’s room.

Vincent would be haggard, his eyes raw from crying and sleeplessness. “Reeve!”

“I… figured I would check on you!”

“R-really? Even after… all I did?” Vincent would leap into Reeve’s arms and bury his face into his shoulder. “I love you so much, Reeve! I’ll never leave you again!”

Reeve chuckled. “I know you won’t. I know how much this upset you.”

Vincent pulled away, anger clouding his face, his eyes growing flinty and mistrustful. “Wait… what? You did? … Did you spy on me?”

Reeve sighed. He supposed that scenario really wasn’t that realistic. But… he didn’t want to risk it.

Vincent hesitated outside Reeve’s room.

This was always his problem. He just watched. Too passive. Too invisible. It was good as a Turk, but it made him a horrible partner to Reeve. He had to prove that he could be present, active, reliable.

But…

“ G et out of here! I don’t want you hurting me anymore!”

Vincent’s eyes stung. Would just the sight of him darkening Reeve’s doorstep worsen his day? Stress him out? Hurt him?

Vincent remembered when Reeve used to come to him for comfort. He clung to Vincent at night when haunted by Sector 7, by mako reactors, and Shinra, when continuing to grieve for his loving parents, whom he had stayed endearingly close to as an adult.

He used to tell Vincent he was so happy they found him, happy their friends had rescued him from his basement hell existence. Happy to see him. Happy to be with him, even if all they were doing was dozing on the balcony in mismatched lawn chairs Vincent had scrounged from a collapsed building.

Vincent had returned all that love, all that gratitude, all that joy, all that devotion, with abandonment.

Vincent turned away. He didn’t deserve to have him back. Reeve deserved someone better than Vincent, anyway. He wouldn’t waste Reeve’s precious time trying to make his sorry case.

He startled at the sight of Cait Sith at his feet. “And where do ya think yer goin’, mister?”

“Away.”

“Ain’t that always the case.”

“But he wants me gone this time.”

“Ya ever heard of the heat of the moment? Just ask ‘im if he’s willing to talk. Surely that won’t hurt a soul, yeah?”

Vincent huffed, bracing for another rejection. “Fine.”

Reeve jumped out of his concentration on the schematics of the Deepground base at the distinctive sound of a very familiar metal gauntlet against the door frame.

“Vincent! Hello.”

“Reeve.”

He stayed in the doorway, silent.

Reeve cleared his throat. “Here for any particular reason?”

“May I come in?”

“Of course, of course. Sorry this isn’t exactly a professional set-up for an office, but…”

“No, you should be resting as much as you can. It’s alright. It’s… not business I’m here for anyway.”

Reeve’s heart skipped a beat. “Ah, I see.”

“Is that alright?” Vincent turned his head, as if looking at Reeve from a slightly different angle would elucidate something.

“Yes, that’s fine. What is it?”

“I… want to apologize. For… abandoning you. I….” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I keep running away.”

“Hm, I’ve read about this. Something about negative attachment styles.”

Vincent’s eyes widened slightly. “Ah. You mean… It’s harmful to be attached to me?”

“Oh, no, no, no, that’s not what it means at all! It’s just… how you respond to stress.”

Vincent seemed even less confident than he had when he came in. “Ah. Then… I suppose this apology is meaningless.”

“What? Why?”

Vincent looked downtrodden. “I suppose I can’t change after all.”

“Did you want to change?”

“Yes!” Vincent looked up at Reeve earnestly, his eyes glassing with tears. “I wanted to be your… partner. For… forever. Well. Your forever, anyway. But… maybe I don’t know how…”

“I’m sure you can learn.”

Vincent shook his head. “But how often will I keep failing? Each time hurts you. You were right to throw me out before. I’m… doomed to keep disappointing you.”

Reeve grit his teeth in frustration. “Don’t you see? You’re doing it right now! You’re running away to solve a problem!”

He looked taken aback. “But- I- How…” He shook his head in disbelief. “How am I supposed to respond?”

“You say, ‘I know it will be hard, and I might make mistakes along the way, but I’m going to keep trying. I’m going to remember that the most important thing is to stay in your life and keep communicating what’s going on so that you can help and I’m going to stop making decisions for you and deciding that it’s what best for everyone if I disappear. I’m going to aim to stick things out and maybe find some other way to escape in a way that’s less harmful. Like… having somewhere to withdraw to when I need space but remembering that it will only be temporary and telling you where I’m going.’”

“That’s… quite a lot to say.”

“Well… you have quite a lot to do.”

Vincent bowed his head. “I can’t argue with that.”

“Maybe… maybe you should try to see a professional. Like… a therapist.”

Vincent barked a laugh. “Right. Because there’s someone who specializes in human experimentation and dealing with immortality.”

“Well… there are people who deal with trauma, anyway. And this attachment stuff is something just about everyone deals with!”

Vincent tilted his head from side-to-side in a gesture of consideration. “If it will make you happier… I guess I would try it.”

Reeve grinned. “Wow, you really are trying to get me back, huh?”

“Yes. I am.”

Reeve gathered up his papers, meticulously organizing them so he could jump right back into this… in an hour or so. “Well, I think it’s time for me to take a nap. Would you like to join me?”

Vincent jumped. “Wha-? Do you mean…?”

Reeve chuckled. “I always wanted you back. Thanks for returning to me. It means a lot.”

Vincent nodded. He took a step back to make sure the door was firmly closed before whispering, “I love you, Reeve. I’m sorry for everything.”

“Apology accepted, Vincent. I love you, too. I’m in favor of never breaking up again.”

Vincent slipped into the small space between Reeve and the edge of the bed, snuggling close to him. “Agreed.”

Chapter Text

Hojo, with Weiss’s voice, chuckled as Vincent gathered himself from the floor. “Well that wasn’t very much of a test.”

Vincent could see his body begin to glow, felt Chaos pushing his way into his psyche. His demonic voice echoed in Vincent’s brain. “Out of the way, weakling. I want to play.”

Vincent grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached; his hands, still supporting his weight on all fours, turned to fists, the gauntlet scraping discordantly against the metal floor.

“Vincent Valentine.” It was Lucrecia, though she spoke like Shelke. “You cannot defeat him by overpowering him.”

“You’re far too pathetic for that,” Chaos’s voice had a sneer in Vincent’s head.

Vincent internally wilted with despair. Just take over. I’m weak and pathetic, just like you say. Maybe you’ll kill Hojo or maybe you’ll get me killed. Either way is a mercy.

Reeve stood next to Lucrecia, ghostly and translucent like her. Vincent wondered if he was working with Shelke or if he were just hallucinating… the transformation to Chaos always hurt; he wouldn’t be surprised if it drove him mad one day.

“Don’t run away, Vincent!” Reeve pleaded earnestly.

“Reeve…” Vincent whispered.

“It’s okay. I know it hurts, but you can do it! Work with Chaos! Use him to your advantage! You can do it, Vincent. I believe in you.”

Lucrecia looked at him fondly. “Vincent. Did you know you have your father’s eyes?”

Vincent could feel Chaos waiting, appraising him.

“Chaos. You’re a Weapon.”

“Hm mmm, and?”

“I know how to wield a weapon.”

“Interesting, little one,” Chaos purred. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Vincent stood up, Chaos’s power coursing through his battered body, restoring him, sharpening him, strengthening him.

“Enough of this!” Hojo snapped. He shot an energy beam in Vincent’s direction.

Vincent held out his hand, marshaled his strength, and… the beam deflected uselessly off of his right hand, protected only by a thin leather glove, but now glowing red with Chaos’s protection.

Weiss’s face looked startled. “Interesting. Drawing on the power of Chaos while maintaining your human form. Very well. Let’s see what you’re capable of.”

Reeve and his companions watched in astonishment at the cosmic drama playing out above.

“Vincent’s like a god,” Aerith murmured.

Reeve smirked. “Chaos is. Vincent is just Vincent. But… I’m proud of him. He’s stronger than he knows.”

An explosion. They all shielded their eyes from the blinding white light. When Reeve could sense the brightness fade, he squinted his eyes open.

Red globules were falling.

“Vincent?” Yuffie whispered.

Reeve felt his stomach drop out from his body. He started walking, scanning the ground, rooftops, electric wires, as if he would find where Vincent had landed.

Vincent, whole and alive… right?

He stooped below a telephone pole.

There, dangling from the top, Vincent’s Cerberus keychain. Reeve had always found it incredibly endearing that big bad Vincent Valentine would decorate his gun.

“Vincent.” Reeve tried calling out, but his voice was only a croak. He cleared his throat, swallowed with difficulty, and tried again. “Vincent! Vincent! Vincent, where are you?”

He didn’t find him. None of them did. Reeve laid awake that whole night, straining his ears for the clink of sabatons, the rustle of a characteristic ragged cape, for Vincent’s quiet sigh as he settled next to him.

The morning came before Vincent did. So did the afternoon, the sunset, the next night. The next day. The next night.

Reeve despondently wandered between the Shera, the WRO headquarters (where he mindlessly signed off on various repairs that subordinates were organizing), Tifa and Aerith’s bar, and his apartment. He didn’t know where Vincent would go if he returned.

He called all the hospitals. No one of Vincent’s description had been brought in, alive or dead. He called the morgues. Nothing.

He called Vincent, texted him, left voicemails.

A week passed.

Reeve sat on the balcony of his apartment. Vincent used to love being out here.

“I thought you couldn’t die,” he said to the air. Maybe Vincent could hear him in the Lifestream, somehow. Reeve didn’t usually buy into those superstitious fairy tales, but… the idea that Vincent was totally out of reach forever…

Reeve’s vision blurred. “I’m glad we made up. I wish we could have enjoyed it for longer… But I’m glad you get to rest now.” The tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’ll miss you for as long as I live…. Maybe we’ll be reunited one day.”

He heard his phone’s cheerful meow notification tone. He grabbed it, the urgency more muscle memory than genuine hope at this point.

For: Reeve

From: Vincent

Reeve,

I didn’t mean to run away this time. I’m sorry. I’m at Lucrecia’s cave. Please come for me.

Reeve rubbed his sleeve over his face, suddenly wondering when the last time he’d changed clothes was. Or washed his face. Or ate.

“Goddammit, Vincent. You’re insufferable,” he grinned.

Vincent was wrapped up in thought at Lucrecia’s cave, her form, as always, frozen in place, refracted light from the water glittering against her crystal.

“I think I understand a lot more now, Lucrecia. I think you did care for me after all. But you felt guilty and pulled away.” His head sank into his cowl. “I can understand that.” He looked back up at her, wishing he could meet her eyes. But they were closed, as they always were. As they always had been. She couldn’t see Hojo for who he really was, see Jenova for the threat it was, see the experiment on Sephiroth as the cruelty it was, see her rejection of Vincent as the hurtful act it was.

“You thought it was for my own good, didn’t you? It was a mercy? Or perhaps it was selfish. You couldn’t stand the thoughts of my father I brought up; couldn’t endure living with the one face that made you feel guilt. No wonder you never wanted to listen to me. All I represented to you was guilt.” He sighed. “I wish I had been more empathetic about… everything. I wish I could have supported you instead of criticizing. But…” He sighed deeply. “I don’t know what the right thing to do was.”

He stood up, trembling, his head throbbing. His stomach roared for sustenance. Vincent looked down at his open hands. They shook, like they used to when he had coffee for breakfast and nothing for lunch in order to keep up with Lucrecia’s frenetic work schedule.

He’d fasted plenty of times since his death, and it had never affected him like this.

He looked inquisitively at Lucrecia. “Chaos returned to the Planet… So… I’m…” His stomach growled again and he thought he would vomit with the pain of his hunger. He dug a fist into his empty belly as he sank to his knees. “I think I’ll need a ride home, don’t you think?”

She didn’t answer, just like she never did, even when alive, not really.

“You’re the reason I survived. Hojo left me for dead, didn’t he? He put most of the beasts in me, and did all sorts of horrible things, but Chaos… that was you, and he’s been keeping me going for some time now.”

Vincent dug through his pockets until he found his phone. He groaned when he saw the number of missed calls and messages he had. “I hope Reeve still wants to hear from me…” he muttered as he tapped out a message.

Vincent sat cross-legged while he waited. “This is goodbye, I think, Lucrecia. But thank you. You’re the reason I survived and… I’m glad I’m alive.”

“Vincent!” Reeve called out. “I’m here! Are you in there?”

Vincent appeared in the mouth of the cave quicker than Reeve was expecting. “Reeve.”

Reeve’s face split into a wide smile. “How are you?”

“Hungry. Hungrier than I’ve been in over thirty years.”

Reeve held out his arm for Vincent to take. “You do look a little worse for the wear. But didn’t you go without eating a lot in the Manor?”

“Yes, but it didn’t matter as much then. Chaos would prop up whatever failures my body experienced… but… I’m on my own now.”

Reeve froze, looking at him sharply. “Are you saying you’re mortal again?”

“Maybe… It feels like… maybe…”

Reeve barked a laugh. “I could use a hearty meal myself. Maybe we can get a pizza and watch a movie at home?”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot.”

A year later

In the late summer heat wave, Reeve and Vincent laid side-by-side in bed. Reeve came to first, groggy and feeling sticky in the humidity. He didn’t run the AC as much as he would like since Vincent got cold so easily.

He turned over so he was facing Vincent. “You’re worth it,” he whispered, stroking his fingers gently through Vincent’s hair. Vincent slept so much more soundly nowadays. There was a time where Reeve could never have gotten away with touching him while he was asleep without startling him awake. He would like to believe it was because he made his sulky, traumatized partner feel safe, but it was probably mostly the medication his psychiatrist had put him on to help with his nightmares.

Reeve propped himself up on one elbow. Something had caught his eye. He leaned closer to Vincent’s head, twirling a small lock of hair around his thumb.

He huffed a quiet laugh.

Vincent stirred but didn’t wake.

Reeve slipped out of bed as unobtrusively as he could.

“When you wake up,” he said to himself in a sing-song voice as he entered the hallway outside the bedroom. “I’m telling you that I found your first gray hair, old man.”