Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Bare What’s Buried

The Forgotten City was laid in silence more often than not. It's natural state in this time and age, save for the creatures and the beasts that dared pass through it when occasion found them. 

So what was the hound-like beast, driving the altered carcass of one Vincent Valentine? A creature? Fiend? Beast? A man, or a poor soul? It mattered to no one, because no one was there to hear the wailing and the howling. No one was there to witness the ground being dug up and trees being carved in an aimless act of aggression. No one was there to witness the madness exhibited as the beasts’ body moved with fire and venom that was foreign and confusing and overwhelming in a way it could not seem to outrun.

At least, it was assumed it mattered to no one, especially in a place meant to be so empty. The creature would soon learn it mattered to one, because the beast was not as alone as intended. Galian had been racing through trees, pouncing through, leaping high to land in branches only to tear them free as if it would quell the fire at his core. He howled into the air, the noise tearing into a horrid scream as the demi-behemoth succumbed to the vicious whirlwind inside. But then, there was a sharp draw of scent, and energy. A presence, too distant to catch only minutes ago, but now very near and very familiar.

The fire spread in a strange new shift and in its spreading it weakened faintly, and so Galian looked about for the source. The beast was ready to hunt down this energy, this familiar scent. It stirred through the fire, soothing it and confusing that which fueled it, but he kept racing, claws digging, dirt kicking up as paws pounded and pushed him faster and faster. There was a fierce roar that sounded ahead of him that was not his own, growing more and more familiar and clear.

Galian roared back to the steady growling beast until finally, he saw it. Rapidly moving, growling darkness topped with a simple golden light, tearing through the glowing trees. The Galian Beast stopped abruptly, and gave out a loud roar into the air, standing his ground. And as the black mass of Fenrir came to a sideways sliding halt, smooth and intentional, the beast felt the Primary force within his consciousness coming into focus as the glowing trees reflected off the golden strands atop the black beast. The fire quelled further, but warmth was still brimming and fluttering within. The beast huffed, feeling the familiarity and focus and fondness of that Primary force almost as his own and mixing with his own instincts towards this figure. And Galian knew he would be drawn away soon enough, but he wasn’t finished. He had not released that gnawing thing yet and it was bristling under his flesh, leaving an unsteady beast of his own clawing and writhing in his gut.

The golden haired figure stepped forward smoothly, undisturbed by the beast barring fangs naturally. Galian gave a bark, taking a step forward, and feeling the Primary tugging at the reigns finally.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, huh…?” Cloud Strife spoke so easily, and Galian grumbled back, head ducking down, the bristling easing more and more, despite the intimidating air. The man looked around at the distant damage, and then back to the beast before him. “...You get into a fight? Or just stretching…?”

Galian gave a low rumble, as if to answer, soft at first before it trembled in his throat a bit stronger with frustration. A bark or roar was rising, as the beast was near to looming over Cloud. But he felt the reigns again. It wasn’t his question to answer, apparently…

Galian Beast staggered back, red black energy surging around him as he shifted, a cracking noise disturbing the lack of noise at first and then sound and movement came in a rush all at once. The energy dispersed, and the crimson-cloaked figure was leaned over, head dipped down as he was taking deep and careful breaths. Eventually, he slowly stood straight, red-golden rimmed gaze laying upon the blond figure.

“Stretching something.” Vincent Valentine answered, voice a bit rougher than normal as he adjusted back from the beastly influence. Cloud straightened but otherwise didn’t react much. “...It has certainly been a while. Didn’t expect to cross anyone here, least of all you.”

“Sorry to cramp your visit.” Cloud muttered easily, not seeming too concerned over the prospect. He looked around beyond the distant signs of damage, walking a little past Vincent, the crimson cloak disturbed for only a soft moment. Cloud took in the rest of the scenery; familiar, haunting…comforting and suffocating all at once. But, he would occasionally make his way here sometimes. For Elmyra, at least. He turned back to face Vincent once more. “Need me to go?”

Vincent shook his head as answer, though his eyes roamed over the other, decked out in one of his seemingly comfortable, albeit asymmetrical outfits as usual on his more distant trips. Vincent was looking for outward signs in his body language, before focusing on his face and asking the question his search was tied to. “Here for a delivery?” He continued to observe, to assess see how long he’d been here, what he’d heard or witnessed, and whether he was even comfortable being here. Vincent had learned some time ago that Cloud made flower deliveries for Elmyra, but he’d never asked how often that was, as the times he knew of never seemed to only be specific to any anniversary. 

Cloud nodded. “Yup. Usually I zip back out. Never take the time to take in the scenery.” he explained. “But thought I heard a helluva bastard beast making a racket, birds kicking up all over. Second guessed investigating.”

“Did you?” Vincent questioned softly, seeming to straighten up more. He’d still been hunched, regulating his breathing from the physical exertion and calming his mind. With such a focus outside of himself, it was certainly easier to come down from Transformation. Blue mako-tainted eyes seemed to roam for a moment before leveling their gaze once more.

“Trying not to bother with fiends if they’re just going about their business. But, the big bastard started sounding familiar.”

Vincent huffed with fleeting amusement, turning his red gaze away and dragging along across the disturbed dirt, to Fenrir, to the ruined trees in the distance. “Galian is touched, in his own way, I think.” he remarked, still keeping his gaze ahead. Galian had laid quite the damage here, but Vincent had allowed it. He was coming to a balance in his control with the others--not perfect, and he had greater control with deeper powers now, but even so…he’d let the beast free, for a purpose. He was simply waiting to see if Cloud was going to express any concerns or not, whether it be in defense of the land, or simply with concern of Vincent’s ability to contain his head-mates.

“About it being familiar, or the big part?”

“Familiar.”

There was a soft scoff behind Vincent before Cloud finally stepped to his side, joining him in gazing at the damage in the distance. Silence was shared between them, with only the whisper of wind and a distant sound of water disturbing the soft emptiness in the space between. It was an easy silence, something that could be found when their shared company usually. And usually, Vincent was content to enjoy it. Usually.

“I let him out on purpose, in case you were concerned. And I ensured it was far enough from where she rests.” Vincent finally decided to offer, in case that was why Cloud chose to investigate and now linger. Not that he minded this specific company, ever--their other friends were levels of toleration or moments of inclination, but with Cloud, there was just…existence. But he didn’t like the idea of any worry settling in. He couldn’t stand being worried over, or worried about, for any reason by others. He felt Cloud’s gaze on him, and slowly, he met it.

“Alright then. Just your usual exercise with the others?” Cloud accepted and asked. He was one of the few that knew about Vincent’s efforts to work with his head-mates and allow them chances of freedom, let them strengthen their bodies and minds, to nurture better balance. 

Vincent took just about a second, to consider being honest, before he settled with a careful lie. “Yes. They’ve been restless… I thought it was about time, and Galian’s always the most…specifically expressive.”

Cloud eyed him a little closer, and Vincent didn’t waver with his gaze. That’s when Cloud wandered over the Fenrir, Vincent’s shoulders easing a bit with tension he hadn’t recognized he’d started holding. But then Cloud simply leaned against the vehicle. He wasn’t leaving?

“Don’t be so worried about the area. I get why you picked a place like this. Secluded, with no one around. Private. There’s no one to worry about harming or disturbing here. You’ve been tense since you shifted back. You worried about the damage?” Cloud called him out then.

Vincent flexed his clawed hand under the cloak, before shrugging, glancing about. “Less concerned with disturbing anything here…more with the idea of disturbing someone’s idea of the land. I suppose I’m concerned you find my actions here disrespectful.”

Cloud crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “Not in the slightest, Vincent.”

Just four words and his name, and an inch more of tension eased, though most still lingered.

“There’s nothing to disturb or disrespect here anymore. It’s a ghost town.”

“Which makes my presence rather suitable.” Vincent quipped, and Cloud chuckled and shook his head.

“Still doesn’t explain that tension you’re holding.” Cloud pointed out, and Vincent felt that inch return.

“A side effect after shifting back.” Vincent tried to excuse. “It’s different every time.”

“Really?” Cloud questioned.

Vincent narrowed his gaze, faintly quirking his head. Cloud was being rather forward with his questions and his doubt. It was usually Vincent’s position, when Cloud was being stubborn and avoidant at the most stupid times. He didn’t appreciate the favor returned right now, especially when he didn’t feel he quite deserved to be analyzed. “Really. Is there an issue?”

“None at all. Just wondering why you’re lying to me. You don’t do that often, so I gotta assume something’s up.” Cloud shrugged easily.

So easily, as if he wasn’t accusing Vincent and putting him on the spot. Vincent really preferred not to have the focus on his current issue, he could handle it on his own just fine; he was trying to. Before Cloud’s arrival, he was managing, he just…didn’t need anyone else to play audience to his problems, much less this problem. “You really think there’s anything to be concerned about here?”

“You tell me.”

“No, there’s not.”

Cloud’s silence said plenty.

But Vincent stood his ground, with his own silence, features schooled, that burn pounding uncomfortably under the surface. Even after Galian’s rampage, it was not…taken care off, not fed nor strangled. His clawed hand clenched under the cloak. He wanted to turn to leave, but he had a feeling Cloud wouldn’t so easily drop this by Vincent trying to force it to be dropped. It would take Vincent flying off where Cloud couldn't follow at this point.

“You might be one to pick up and wander off, but you’re never one to run, Vincent. Come on. Out with it.”

It was unnerving to be assessed so sharply. To be...possibly seen so clearly. It wasn’t that it never happened, but it was rare these days. And it seemed to happen more often in a reversal with the man before him, not with microscope on himself. But he wouldn’t burden any of his friends, certainly not Cloud, with his petty and confusing issues. He was working on it--working with it and there was no need to unload any of it. It was his responsibility, his issue only he could fix. He just needed to be alone, without concern for the harm or disdain he might earn in the process, that was all.

“There’s nothing I need to tell you.” was his last stance, a bit dismissive, but honest enough. Because he didn’t feel like Cloud needed to worry with this. Truthfully, the source of the tension in his body, the reason he let Galian run loose as he did, was something he preferred to lock away. It had simply been rattling its cage recently and infuriatingly. 

Cloud raised a brow, clearly questioning that statement. Suddenly, the blond was marching forward. Vincent would almost be unnerved, but he expected no harm to come to him from Cloud. However, he was put off as Cloud stopped before him and reached under his cloak, and he almost drew back, but Cloud caught what he was looking for.

A gloved hand gripped the wrist of his gauntlet, tugging it forth as it was still clenched.

“This is a clear tell, ya know. Especially when you hide it.” Cloud told him, holding the clawed hand up between them for a moment, both of their eyes steady and stubborn despite the faintest tremble in the claw that was then clenched away, before Cloud finally released him. “I’m just asking you to be honest with me. Like you usually are.”

Vincent narrowed his gaze, unsure whether to tuck away his left hand again, flexing it faintly. The fire from before was flickering back and forth at a confusing rate, but he was trying to ignore it…tuck it away where he usually put it, like he always had to. Cloud was almost being unfair. All intent to leave as dramatically as he has before had seeped out of him all at once when the blond had taken hold of his wrist. “I’m trying to be. This is simply something personal that I see no reason sharing. Is that truly an issue?”

“Usually not. Call it an instinct. It’s nagging me. So…?”

Vincent just stared in continued silence, considering this back and forth and where it might go. He just needed to find his way to be alone again, and let beasts out with that damned fire again, if he could just appease Cloud long enough. He might have to find another location, what a couple of days with this locked down, but he-- 

“... Vincent .”

Steel resolve shuddered, and the gunslinger turned his gaze away and sighed. Weakness… He flexed his clawed hand again, looking down over the gleaming gauntlet then and back to Cloud. “There is a frustration…bubbling between me and the others, you could say. It isn’t new, exactly. But it is more persistent than usual right now. I simply thought letting things out physically was a solution worth exploring. For some of them, at least.”

“...And that was so hard to share….why?”

Vincent gave a narrowed look, before answering. “I’m not inclined to burden my friends with petty emotions boiling in the complicated dynamics within. Not exactly unusual in the company, is it?”

“No, but still. At some point, this specific company’s gotta be the exception. You realize how annoying it is for you to swoop in all tall, dark and mysterious, intimidating the truth into or out of me and the moment I’m ready to chew you out, I'm forced to accept it was out of concern?”

“And usually right.”

“ Exactly, smart ass .” Cloud inclined his head forward before straightening again. “Seems like it’s my turn.”

“Are you sure about that?” Vincent continued to deflect, but there was a playful flutter to his tone and he was failing to see a way out of this prying without resorting to his more rude and dismissive tactics. He was half inclined to give in to such, but that blue and tainted gaze seemed to hook him in place, latched on to some place deep inside him that he couldn’t quite locate and therefore he could not find his will to wrestle out of it’s acceptance of this current situation. “You seem to be reaching.”

He did, however, turn slowly and start walking down the path of chaotic and scratched up pawprints, tracking his way back slowly to where he’d let Galian Beast free to begin the tirade. He heard the footsteps joining him without delay, and resisted an amused sigh.

Cloud decided not to respond to either the question or the statement. Instead, his focus was on Vincent as he caught pace with him, for the most part. “So, this frustration that’s bubbling between you guys… Is it with each other?”

Vincent shook his head. “No, we’re all on fairly good terms, considering.”

“Considering?”

Vincent nodded, glancing for a moment to the blond at his side, before his gaze fell back to the paw prints they were tracking back. “The shift, with Chaos gone. It’s been a little while, without his, or…it’s…consciousness within us, even if the power and the aura stays with us. But it seems I can work well with the three of them, perhaps even better now. I’m doing my best to implement fairness, within reason, to work towards a balance.”

“That’s good. But then, if it’s not at each other, then what? I mean, to have you all frustrated, it must be serious, right?” Cloud offered, and it sounded reasonable, but Vincent was fairly sure that wasn’t the case either.

“I see what you’re getting at, but…I don’t quite think there was any trigger or stressor to cause this. It frustrates me further, it's illusiveness, but I reasoned there was no point in seeking an unclear source. Instead, I've been focusing on keeping this disturbance in line. Tonight was an attempt to…let it lose.” Vincent explained carefully, shame licking at the back of his neck.

“Through Galian?” Cloud asked.

“Yes. Any of them that felt it the strongest were welcome to come forth. Galian is simply…the most passionate, usually. Save for Maskers' madness.” Vincent told him, arms folding behind his back, right hand gripping at his other wrist rather tightly as punishment for it's betrayal.

Cloud nodded carefully, considering this. He seemed to be mulling something over, something from that jumble of information.

“...Do you think it was a foolish exercise?”

Cloud shook his head immediately. “No, physical expression isn’t inherently bad unless you do it all the time or, you know, aim it at others. I’ve had to learn that…but, in doses, it can be effective, I imagine. I mean, you’d have a better answer to that question; did it seem to help at all?” Cloud asked, looking at Vincent then.

He considered that question and considered how that burning discomfort, that frustration he had been feeling before he’d gotten distracted by the blond's presence had felt and shifted during the outburst. Galian was letting lose perfectly, actions growing increasingly more....more. Thinking back on it, however, he couldn’t really say if the sensation was decreasing at an equal rate. He sighed faintly. “I can’t accurately say--I didn’t feel a decline that matched the physical expression, though there was some declining progress. I’d say I’d…have to continue, to really see if it helps any.”

“Okay then.” Cloud nodded, and when he noticed Vincent raising a brow as they continued walking together, with Cloud’s encouragement, he raised a brow in return. “...What? Are you expecting me to leave?”

“Not…not so much expecting, I just didn’t realize you intended on…observing. Is that what you’re getting at?”

“It is. A second pair of eyes alongside what you can personally feel shouldn't hurt, right?” Cloud reasoned, sounding sure. But he noted Vincent’s gaze upon him and his delay in confirming or denying. “Why would me observing disturb the process…?”

Vincent stared back at him, sparing a couple seconds longer for Cloud to just GET it, like he’d been getting and gathering everything else, so he wouldn’t have to put it into words. But after about ten seconds, it was clear he wouldn’t. He took a deep breath, and then let it out carefully. “Being self aware of you, with your observations, it might distract from those frustrated feelings, I believe. Or add to them.”

“My presence would frustrate you?” Cloud questioned.

“No.” Vincent said a bit too quickly, and this time he did let out a more open, clear sigh, frustration clearly bubbling higher over the turn of this whole situation. “It’s just, the idea of having this all on display…to be exposed to the possibility of judgment, no matter how valid--”

“You can't really think I’d judge you?” Cloud interrupted.

But Vincent couldn't bother to really take that statement for more than its face value, immediately responding with, “Do you really think you’ve seen enough of me to be sure you wouldn’t? And how could I blame you…?” he remarked, that last part spilling out as a bit too reflective of his past and those heavy woes and sense of self worth. It didn’t seem to ring too deeply with the same weight of the former days, but it was clear from the twist of the blonds features, Cloud didn’t like hearing any level of that.

“I was considering backing off, maybe, if you gave me a good enough reason, but you’ve just sealed it, buddy… So, go on. Pick one of them to let out to express themselves, so we can get to the bottom of this frustration.” 

Vincent stared, only his red-gold gaze over the red collar, as if trying to hide as much of his hesitant demeanor as possible, but Cloud’s gaze was unwavering. “...Cloud…” he started, and when he saw the blond beginning to insist, he spoke quickly, “This isn’t your concern, I don’t enjoy the idea of burdening you like this.”

“You aren’t burdening me, Vincent.” Cloud remarked, staring him down deeper if that were even possible, leaving the raven-haired male to feel a restlessness stirred more and more. Cloud finally sighed, softly, taking one supportive step forward, only a half an arms length away now. “I’m insisting. Because I get to choose what I get to be concerned about. Now…please, unless you can give me a valid reason as to why I can’t be here…or you just truly don’t want me around, let’s start getting this figured out.”

Well, Vincent couldn’t validate either of those scenarios. He didn’t have a reason he imagined would be valid enough to be accepted by Cloud given how he's responded to his reasons so far, and he could not honestly say he didn’t want him around. He just didn’t want his own darkness, his own secret festering's to be around Cloud. But he couldn’t say that. So, he would simply have to endure the support of his friend. Oh, what a torture that was--it was a ridiculous mystery, why that was still so difficult to accept. His gaze lowered to the side, finally tearing free from the blonds unrelenting gaze. It was strange, he didn’t often see him this socially assertive. Not that he couldn’t be, if a situation was serious or threatening enough to call for it. He’d witnessed that, too. But this effort was--

He took a breath, eyes shutting as he let the breath out. “Alright, Cloud. You win. ” he remarked, and with his eyes still shut, he reached into the depths of himself, throwing a net into it's corners in hopes of coaxing that frustration, that burning into a more surface-level sensation and waiting for one of the others to stir to the surface with it. Eyes still closed, he tamed his brows to keep them from twitching into angry positions, though he could not tame the twitch and curl of his lips as he spoke again. “If Masker is the one to come forth, keep a careful distance. He knows what you are to me, but he has less restraint than the others, no matter the bonds…”

“Understood.”

Deep breath through the nose, another out, another in; all this, and he could feel the flames stirring brighter, then dimmer, then bright again. He could feel his inner beasts circling like an ritualistic dance. His invitation towards his head-mates was extended, and surprisingly, Galian Beast just continued his pacing about this flame and the energy growing. He…did not wish to come through again, not for this. It confused Vincent, but he accepted it. Waiting, waiting, waiting for the one who would take hold, and perhaps be able to grip this flame, this frustration, this burning emotion to be able to hold it above the surface strong enough. He tried to stir the frustration as well, to help define it, but it seemed so bound… How could such a loud and blinding flame be caged like this? He wondered, but he kept stirring it, kept coaxing one of the others. Surely, they could understand it more clearly. It seemed more suitable to their chaos. If they would only--ah, and there one goes.

“Hell--” Vincent was only able to grunt out before the red and deep energy that had been softly circling him seemed to surge and consume and shift like a tornado. A grunt, a yelp, and the sudden movement of Vincent doubling backwards in an unnatural arch, breath stolen and ceasing.

Cloud stepped forward for only a moment, the sight concerning even though it was mostly expected. It’s not a comforting sight, and there was no way he could simply endure any time he witnessed these levels of transformation without reaction. But he did remember Vincent’s warning, and he knew what that singular word meant. He took a few steps back, to give the incoming being plenty of space, but he would not take his eyes away.

When the light finally dispersed, as expected given Vincent’s warning, it was the masked figure that stepped shakily and restlessly out of the mist. He was as hunched and scrawny as Cloud remembered, though perhaps not as skinny as he once was. He was still dressed in nearly the same attire as when Vincent first let him free in battle amongst their friends and Cloud--tattered top with questionable belts hanging from various parts of it. Tattoos and wounds marking his arms and through torn holes in his clothes. Battered pants, no shoes. His hair was wild, dark as Vincent’s, but there were white streaks and patches that were shorter and choppier than the rest. And upon his face, the mask. It changed, over the various appearances he'd made over time. Not many of the others took note of that, but they didn’t see Vincent’s head-mates as often as Cloud had had the occasion to. This one had a thin slit for the eyes, and wild painting and carvings in it. He could imagine there could be meaning behind it, but he wouldn’t waste time asking. This time.

No, they had a mission here. And Cloud noted the masked figure tugging his chainsaw at his side as he walked about restlessly, pacing a line back and forth, walking in Cloud’s direction before doubling back and walking a line in an opposite direction. As the masked figure looked about, occasionally swinging the weapon about, seeming distracted by various points of focus that Cloud just couldn’t follow, he did decide to take one step forward.

“Hey.” he remarked, drawing Maskers’ attention, the figure aiming the chainsaw at Cloud, a low rumbling noise like a twisted laugh stirring from him, low and almost silent, but still present. “Come on…I know you’re feeling stuff, Vincent said so. So…? You wanna let it out or not?”

The low laugh stopped, before a high pitched one seemed to jump out of Masker's throat. “Let it out…?” spoke a raspy, clearly horribly used voice--underused for much of anything most of the time, except to yell wildly every once in a while. “The fire?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess, the fire…” Cloud nodded, encouraging, stepping forward and raising gloved hands. “What’s it feel like, huh? You feel it like the others do, don’t you? But Vincent doesn’t have the words for it, so…? What do you say?”

“What…what do I…say? HA!!” he surged at Cloud so suddenly, but the blond was quick to block with one of his smaller blades immediately pulled from his back-holster, holding his own as Masker continued to laugh and yell. “Say about the fire, huh?! HA haha!! IT BURNS!!!” he began slashing and Cloud continued to block. Only at least five or more blows, and the red energy of transformation seemed to be circling, building. Masker leapt away from Cloud and made a frustrated noise. “NO!! My turn!!”

Cloud noticed, recognizing Vincent was trying to draw Masker back…like he drew Galian back, when he seemed to get a tad bit aggressive with the blond. He was a bit insulted, yet not in a way he was used to, over the idea of Vincent thinking Cloud needed him to collar and leash these guys to protect Cloud . But they hadn’t even started exploring this yet. It wasn’t time to stop. “Vincent, don’t!” he denied, the mist still swirling around Masker, who shot a wild look at Cloud. “I’ll be fine, alright?! I’ll let you know if it gets overwhelming, but he’s not gonna hurt me. We’ve got something to do here, remember?”

“Not gonna hurt…? Ha…haha… I can try. Let me TRY!!” Masker cheered, and surged again. The mist was still swirling, growing stronger as the roaring chainsaw was clashing again, and again, and again with Cloud’s singular blade. But he was holding his own as promised.

“Let him be, Vincent! Let’s figure this out, first!”

“Vincent, Vincent , Vincent , VINCENT!! ” Masker chanted, slashing and then jumping away, running around Cloud, moving in close only to draw back. “He likes control…don’t you know?” he cackled.

“Yeah? Well, most people do.” Cloud defended, but the tone was easy, like natural conversation despite the occasional swipes with the intent to maim and wound.

“Control, control, control …” Masker grumbled, clearly sounding unsatisfied, before suddenly letting out an earsplitting scream and carving at the ground with the chainsaw. “It’s not real!! IT’S NEVER REAL!!”

“What’s not real?” Cloud asked, suddenly having to meet the others’ weapon again, but he was prepared and then shoved him off, stirring a soft chuckle from the Masker.

“Control…don’t you know…?” he quirked his head to an almost unnatural angle, before straightening his head, then hunching more than ever. “It’s never real… When you know…you’re free… like me .”

“Is that what you’re feeling? Free?” Cloud inquired.

“NO!!” Masker surged and clashed the chainsaw with Cloud’s blade, over and over and over again before leaping back again.

“Then what do you feel?”

“THE FIRE!!” Masker spat. “Burning, crawling, biting! He won’t let it go!!” He turned from Cloud finally, aiming for one of the glowing trees, and with unrestrained and dangerous swipes, he carved and sawed through the trunk over and over until it fell apart in a spray and collapse of splintered and wounded wood. “It’s crawling and biting all over!!” he remarked again, and cackled. Cloud couldn’t quite assess if that was excitement or exasperation; Masker could be hard to read, as sometimes he seemed to function on the barest and most obvious instincts, and other times he seemed to have his own brand of chaos and expression that needed time to translate.

Burning, the firing was biting, it was overwhelming, and control wasn’t real. He won’t let go… Cloud would do his best to connect these dots, but he wanted to keep pushing, so he walked towards him, careful but determined. “Tell me more, then. About the fire, and the control that isn’t real.”

“Tell you…mmm…” Masker seemed to consider for a surprisingly calm minute, turning to face Cloud, head quirking to the other side. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to help. You want to stop feeling the fire, right?” Cloud reasoned.

Masker just chuckled to himself, the noise wanting to break into bigger bursts, but mostly staying contained. “Silly… Stop feeling the fire? I like the fire…! I like how it burns! How it bursts, and I burst with it!!! The fire was my friend, before…!”

Cloud was confused, but again, he was collecting pieces, he wouldn’t work the puzzle just yet. “Before?”

“WHEN IT WAS JUST MINE! My beautiful fire!!” he cackled, but something about the end of that harsh sound seemed a bit shaky and distressed, almost despaired. It was less of a laugh, more…fragile, though it disappeared quickly.

“So, you don’t like sharing your fire, is that it? Is that how you all feel?” Cloud pressed, taking another step, only to have the chainsaw lobbed right at him. He deflected and dodged all at once, moving to one side as Hell Masker raced to catch his spiraling weapon. The hair stood up on Cloud’s arm as a familiar surge of energy filled the space, and he noted the glow coming off the Masker--a Limit Break. “Shit.” he sighed, and prepared, casting a guard spell in case it was his mana attack.

Instead of that, he noted it was Splattercombo. Cloud removed a second blade, and made sure to speak up loud enough for Hell Masker and his Primary to hear, “Just let it be--I can take it.”

“OF COURSE YOU CAN!!” Masker cried and cackled as his chainsaw clashed with more force and energy than before, the energy blowing around their blades, barely kissing Cloud’s flesh and causing a few scrapes and cuts across his biceps, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, one blade would hold against the saw, and as another slash came his second blade would knock it away, and this continued for nearly a minute before the Limit burst of power died out.

But Hell Masker was still just as thrilled, slashing, lunging, even trying to shove Cloud with his shoulder and through a punch. The punch, the blond ducked from, and the shove he met straight on, matching the others strength. The only move that surprised Cloud so much that he couldn’t act in time to stop it, was when Masker surged to the side, cackling while staring at the small trails of blood coming from his cuts. Masker reached quickly with his fingerless-gloved hand, gripped Cloud’s wounded flesh, then jumped away before Cloud could grab him in his frustration.

And Cloud watched as Masker stared at the blood and chuckled, huffing with growing laughter, before looking Cloud in the eyes as he streaked the red of Cloud across his own mask and neck.

“Everything becomes his, and all of his becomes ours… It never changes. You can change it…?” Masker challenged, clearly doubtful over whatever he was implying towards Cloud. “Try it. Try it . TRY IT!”

“I will.” Cloud promised easily, twirling one of his blades and standing tall. “But do you think you can help me…? I can’t help if this shit stays hidden in mystery.”

“He can’t control the fire. He thinks he is.” Masker mutters, voice lower and more level than usual before shoving the growling chainsaw into the ground. “He won’t look….won’t even LOOK…won’t even feel, not really… He thinks he controls it… But we look. We see. We burn, but it’s not our fire.”

Cloud’s brows were furrowing, listening, but even with the unique explanation, it seems as if something finally clears. The pieces just start falling into place, and Cloud just gives Masker a nod then. “I will change it, just give me time, okay? But I will. He’s gotta work with me, too.”

Masker eyed him, seeming to consider his earnest expression, before grabbing the chainsaw again. “Hmm… Cloud . You’ll like the fire.”

With that, the energy began to surge again, and Cloud was about to complain, to try and speak towards Vincent’s awareness to get him to stop, but Hell Masker wasn’t fighting it. He almost wondered if it was his choice then. The hunched figure shifted, adjusted, bent to one side, then the other, before hunching forward, red and dark mist covering him all over before dissipating in a sudden burst, leaving the long haired gunslinger on his hands and knees in his wake.

Cloud closed the space, kneeling before Vincent as the man was still recovering from the shift. The blond was glad to see his more natural experience to it rather than his lie about physical tension, but even so, seeing this strain was never a welcome sight. Cloud waited patiently for Vincent to settle back into himself. When he did, the other man sat back on his free and ran a gloved hand through chaotic bangs giving him trouble, and Cloud decided to finally speak up.

“...So, how much are you aware of in there, when one of them takes the wheel?”

Vincent took a few more careful breaths, before answering, looking at Cloud. “Most of it…some of it can be scattered…or too much at once, especially if…their thoughts and emotions are layered into it.” he went on. “It’s a brighter scramble when I regain control, but with effort, I piece it together…”

Cloud nodded slowly. “So then… I guess I’ll let you piece that together? Or do you want my opinion? Because I…think I made sense of some of it, at least.”

Vincent raised a brow, already curious what Cloud had assessed. He was trying to make sense of it all, of Masker talking about the fire, about control, him having…far too much fun letting loose and interacting with Cloud, like it was a thrill to fight with someone (he was still rather angry with Masker actually wounding Cloud, and touching the wound, despite it already mending as he looked at it now). That had certainly been uncomfortable to endure, sitting back like that, but surely it had to be worth it. 

But watching Cloud’s patient expression, his own curiosity grew. “And…what did you make sense of?”

“Well, for one… That frustration, that ‘fire’... It IS affecting all of you, spilling over, but according to Masker, he seems to believe it only belongs to… you .” Cloud started, gaze observant in a way that made Vincent uneasy, but he ignored it as best he could, considering the others’ words as he continued to listen. “That it belongs to you, and that he thinks attempting to control it is foolish. He doubts I can help, that either of us can change it, I sort of assumed… But, I don’t share his doubts. He seemed to really have an issue with the idea of control; either he hates it, or he just thinks, in this scenario, it’s foolish. He seemed like he wanted to stop having to feel whether wasn’t his own, in such overwhelming forms. He talked about liking the fire, but…his OWN fire.”

Vincent took a breath and let it out, features half hidden by his collar as he still sat back on his feet. “So…I’m forcing this on the others…and I’m foolishly practicing control…? That’s what you’ve gathered?”

“About Hell Masker’s experience, yes.” Cloud clarified. He was quiet for just a moment, seeming to think, before saying, “What do you think this ‘fire’ is? Frustration is too…simple. And it’s something deep, if it's grown so big, so overwhelming that it affects the others, right? Do your feelings usually overwhelm your head-mates like this?”

“No.” he defended rather quickly, before sighing. “...You’re…right, it is something bigger, it’s just… It seems to be buried so deep, I can’t see it clearly.”

“Well, maybe because you haven’t tried.” Cloud reasoned, and Vincent’s brows furrowed with some small level of offense.

“Haven’t tried…? What exactly…would you say I’ve been doing then, all this time?” he questioned, confused and a bit defensive towards the implication he wasn't trying. What was all this aggressive chaos, if not him trying..?

“Filtering.” Cloud stated, sounding very sure. “I’m not implying you haven’t tried anything but… You’ve made it clear you’ve seen this spilling over to the others, and saw their restlessness and let them let it out… But what about you? How are YOU letting it out? How are YOU feeling it, Vincent? I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but let’s be honest… You’ve been filtering this shit through them, and not bothering to really feel it yourself. So…how do you expect to understand it, if you don’t look at it and experience it yourself…?”

Vincent opened his mouth to defend, before shutting it, opening, and shutting it again. He wasn’t here to argue, he was here to figure this out. Cloud was a perceptive man, when he paid the right attention, though Vincent was holding on to the fact that he himself had been sitting with this for…how long, he couldn’t remember. It’s become so loud it's undeniable now, that was the greatest shift. But Cloud was only just coming into this, into awareness of this specific turmoil of Vincent, was he not? So, as much as he respected his opinion, it was hard to completely give in to this assessment.

But then he thought, how HAD he been trying to experience it himself…? He tried to reflect on it, he tried to stir it to the surface. It would stir and rise, this overwhelming beast with claws and tentacles and teeth, and he would look it in its face. 

But there was always the instinct to pull something else to wear that monster. Summoning Galian, summoning Masker, even Gigas on occasion who can give in to violence and aggression but has grown reluctant to continue to do so. Vincent wanted to work it out, wanted to get rid of it, but…using the others as a filter…? To let them… feel , in his place? He wanted to question himself over how that was supposed to help, how that was fair to the others, and yet even so, he felt…reluctance.

What would figuring this out even accomplish? He’d learned and let go, since Deepground; he’d let go of quite a lot, so why should he even be haunted still? 

“I get it, if you don’t appreciate what I’ve gotta say.” Cloud spoke up, suddenly tugging Vincent out of his own head, and he straightened up.

“No, it’s not that--”

“You don’t need to lie--you think I always liked what you had to say? You pissed me off, plenty, before.” Cloud admitted, though with the faintest grin.

Vincent sighed, but huffed a laugh. “...I don’t like the words, but I suppose they’re making sense. And I dislike that even more.” he looked at Cloud. “...But we both know words aren’t enough. There’s…far more to figure out, here. More that I’ll have to accomplish myself.”

Cloud nodded. “There is. Just, try not to push too far, yeah? Just…give yourself time…and let yourself actually… see it, feel it. Easier said than done, neither of us have ever been the type to face ourselves head on, FOR ourselves.”

“No, we have not.” Vincent conceded. It was perhaps a bit amusing, the times either of them sought to support and advise one another, and yet it could seem so contradictory to their own practices with themselves. Perhaps, one of these days, before the hour grew too late, he’d see the time where they could be their best selves. Observing Cloud, he could certainly imagine it. Cloud Strife was simply…such a man, that could overcome and grow. A man forced into strength, into responsibility, a man as flawed as any other, but growing more and more aware and accepting of himself.

Yes. Vincent could see Cloud achieving that future. He hoped to see it. Until then, however, he’d have to focus on looking at himself.

“So promise me…?” Cloud suddenly asked after some time of silent agreement between them, and Vincent quirked his head.

“...Promise you?”

“Promise me that you’ll do this. Promise that on the days you try and want to just let it go, shove it all down… Promise you’ll think about the next time we meet up. How about that? I’ll be expecting some progress at least.”

Vincent gave him a look, then chuckled. 

“I’m serious.” Cloud remarked, but was fighting a grin. He watched Vincent, though, and the grin faded just a tad. “Maybe it’ll inspire me for my own promise--if I can see your progress, I can keep working on myself. So, Vincent…?” he stood then, and offered his hand to the gunslinger. “We got a deal?”

Vincent just stared at the hand, following the strong wrist, and toned arm up to those blue eyes awaiting his answer, his confirmation. His promise. The weight was heavy in Vincent’s chest, a lacking feeling of worth, for the time and the promise and the effort, whisper at the back of his neck, and the fear of disappointment and judgment would continue to haunt him. But in those blue eyes, in that tender but strong gaze watching him expectantly, Vincent felt a rather inviting just maybe …

He took Cloud’s hand, tugged to his feet effortlessly, and Cloud continued to grip his hand as Vincent finally nodded. “I promise.”

“Then I’ll hold you to it.” Cloud confirmed, giving their hands a short shake before finally releasing. He secured his blades from where he sat them aside, then, strapping them to the harness at his back, and doing a little bit of stretching, even rubbing over his barely scarred wound from their interactions. “Man…I forget how energetic Hell Masker can be… Buzzy lil’ bastard.”

Vincent smirked behind his collar. “Imagine him bouncing around your head.”

“Hell no.” Cloud remarked with a scoffed laugh. He glanced to Vincent one more time. “Well, I should be getting on…if you’re good?”

Vincent gave a simple nod.

“Good. Just don’t forget--head-mates shouldn’t be your filter. Gotta let it out yourself, even if that takes time. Got it?”

Vincent just nodded again, crossing his arms. Cloud nodded in return, raising up a hand as goodbye, before turning and taking his leave. And watching the blonds retreat felt like witnessing the warm sun dipping out of sight, bringing on the familiar but cold night. That had certainly gone far different than what Vincent expected, and wanted, out of this exercise. But perhaps it was necessary. Perhaps Cloud was here just when he needed to be. Perhaps he was right, and it was the blonds turn to be the tough-love support when Vincent needed it this time. 

This endeavor was going to take….some time, enough that he felt like he’d prefer to avoid Cloud for a while from here on, lest they cross one another again without Vincent having made progress. He’d made a promise. He would have to keep it. And perhaps, as he worked on himself, he needed to make it up to his head-mates as well. The guilt was swirling, accepting now that he’d been unfair to them. But he could do nothing about what he’d already caused, now. He’d just focus on doing better from here on.

Starting with unearthing all the hidden, infected layers to this burning beast inside him. He might as well stay put, of course. The solitude would serve him well, walking through his own hell. He would not back down this time, however. He couldn’t. Not when the sun awaited him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Release the Chokehold

The amalgamation of parts and limbs, memories, emptiness and fullness wandered through ruins he couldn’t quite remember crossing before. But that is why he was here, able to walk freely, reaching discolored and patched together hands to run over stone and bark and greenery. To stir at memories from before his final union with the head-mates that were now his constant, to uproot what was traces of those he was made up of, and what were his memories from before.

It was difficult. Already so with his state with Valentine, Galian, and Masker, but his own independent pieces formed from his time before the cruel fate that landed him within Hojo’s clutches was quite the struggle to fish out. But that’s what this chance was about. What he knew for sure was, he missed walks, so he would multitask.

The smells of the sea, the smells of nature and the beasts moving about, they were certainly stirring something in his mind's eye but it wasn’t quite clear yet. Gigas wandered to the edge of the cliff upon which the ruins sat and gazed out at the sea. The waves rushed out and tugged back in, only to release once more. It was calming, and within himself in places he could not fully experience when bound up inside Vincent Valentine’s shell, he could feel a heavy, warm, aching swell at the sight; it was…beautiful.

He found it beautiful. Everything here, from the trees, to the stones, to the sea, and the imperfections in between. The fluctuation of life and decay, of scattered bits of past and present. It was beautiful. It may not stir the past, for the Death Gigas, but he could appreciate the present and what it held.

In leu of pushing deep to find memories, the unique figure would savor this moment to observe in peace. He did not wander far, but he wandered on slowly, across the grass and stone, down stairs, dipping under archways. In truth, memories weren’t as important to him as they were for the likes of Galian, and even somewhat Masker. Gigas remembered enough to know that his time before was no better than his time now--save for rare moments he could easily create anew now, there was nothing precious worth remembering in full.

It was as he observed the flora blowing in the breeze that he heard the beasts sounding louder ahead. He couldn’t quite decipher what they were from a distance, only their noises heard and their odor somewhat present. He halted in his aimless journey, aware enough that they were ahead on his path, so clearly, he’d have to change course or turn back.

Death Gigas could take care of them, easily. Far too easily, in fact. It was clear enough to the head-mates within Valentine that the figure that was both reliable AND fairly balanced these days at least when it came to the need for assistance in battle, if Valentine was inclined, was Galian Beast. He was not the mindless hungry fiend he was in the beginning, but he was not without natural hunger needed to simply give in to battle instincts when facing a threat. Then there was Hell Masker, who was far too willing to tear and maim and kill to be relied on for necessary battle unless absolutely necessary, and Death Gigas who was far too reluctant to take on that violent responsibility anymore.

He could, before. When Vincent Valentine began to release them, his emotions would come in a rush of turmoil that he kept locked down as he still did now but was working to overcome, and the threat of the end of everything laid before them in the form of the Calamity, and the figures within full of hurt and trauma and rage that he forced into slumber in that coffin were brimming with hate and aggression and painful energy that needed to be released. It was easier for him, then. All that aggression his creator theorized and perhaps wanted, what his benefactors certainly wanted, was certainly present then, years too late.

Hmm…memories, then. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? His creator wanted a weapon, made from parts, programmed to his specifications, commissioned or at least funded by another with the intent of the benefactor receiving something in return. Death Gigas would have been perfect, were it not for the mess of…feeling, and thought, and curiosity that began to grow like an unwanted fungus for those expectant of him. His creator could not get rid of it, no matter what he tried, save from taking him apart and adding new parts perhaps. But his creator became increasingly reluctant, and soon was enamored with Gigas’ own growth. A cruel man with twisted morals, willing to do the worst to accomplish his goals, not unlike the hands Gigas would end up in last…and yet in his own twisted way, perhaps he began to feel something for his creation, something men like him never expect to.

That is where they both failed. The memories following that progression of time were muddled, even as he tried to push, so he didn’t. But to remembered now, he supposed that was something precious to hold on to and keep to his individual self. He could be a great weapon, it’s what he was made for, and yet not long after his creation, it was what he grew to never desire to be.

Gigas would not fight, unless he must. A new path was his next direction. He made for unreliable stairs leading down to the cliffside shore. It was a slow trek down, but it was better than crossing those fiends, far better. Only a few stone steps tried giving way, but he stabilized himself before he could truly fall. Once he reached the bottom, he marched his way across the jagged shore edge to where one of the smaller boats sat, shipwrecked from years and years ago. He tried to think, and remember, and to his memory, it didn’t seem as if he had ever traveled by boat himself. It was no great surprise, but it did make him wonder.

A splash from the small pool made between the wooden wreckage and the shore drew his focus, and there he saw some daring marine life coming to the surface only to scurry back down into their depths of security once more. It was rather amusing, truly. Sitting by that little opening, he reached to poke at the water, watching a couple of fish observe in hesitant curiosity before vanishing again.

There, in the overwhelming ocean air that was both too strong and absolutely satisfying all at once, sitting amongst the rocks and wreckage, Gigas found himself….day dreaming. That’s what it was…wasn’t it? Eyes shut, his free mind drifting of it’s own accord. He imagined what the depths of these waters looked like, and how many ships still lingered. He imagined what this place was like in it's Republic days. He imagined floating upon a boat. He just kept imagining, as if daydreaming a completely other life with a body that was singular and only itself, and with the world at his feet.

He did not find himself pushing any specific scenario within the daydreams. No, he simply marveled and felt a sense of gratefulness over simply being ABLE to day dream with his own mind again. It felt…good, in a way that couldn’t really be defined, beyond simply being fulfilling, to be himself and just himself.

That’s when he felt the presence. Quiet and careful as it had been, and catching the Death Gigas in a moment of vulnerable peace, his mind and body went on alert. But as he turned his gaze, just as immediately, he relaxed.

Cloud stood at the bottom of the stone stares, watching, and looking as if he’d been caught, hands half raised. “...Didn’t mean to disturb.”

“...You are…here.” Gigas spoke, voice garbled and low and far beyond what Cloud may have last heard from Masker or Valentine themselves. His voice may not be natural, but it was his own. He knew the language, but his practice with speech was very simple. One of many things he never seemed to be given enough chances with. His stitched together features twitched in confusion. “...Why?”

Cloud seemed amused for a second, perhaps ready to say something sarcastic, but he thought better of it…mostly. “I’m not stalking any of you, don’t worry about that. Passing through again…heard Vincent had been here for a couple of days. Thought I’d come check on him, and what you guys had going on.”

Gigas nodded carefully, understanding. Cloud wanted to check in with Vincent. He had observed their mutual comfort with one another, as well as Cloud's easy acceptance of him and the others. But setting aside that acceptance, he moved to stand. “One m-moment…” he pushed out the words. Energy began to circle him as Gigas himself was choosing to try and draw back.

“Hey, hey, wait..!” Cloud stepped closer. “Stop for a second.”

Gigas was confused again, but he ceased his fading, surprised Vincent wasn’t taking the chance to draw forth as well, though he could feel the gunslingers awareness in the back of his own. “What…?”

“I’m not here to interrupt. Unless Vincent was already planning to return soon before I stopped in, you don’t…have to leave.” Cloud reassured, taking another step forward. “And if you need to be alone, I can leave. I just wanted to check in, on all of you. Would you rather I leave?”

Gigas considered the question, the chance for a choice as well, before finally shrugging. “Not…particularly. I’m fine…with you…here.”

Cloud accepted that silently with a nod, taking another step, but off to one side. “So how long have you been out?”

“..Just an hour.” Gigas answered. He took in Cloud’s gaze, the curiosity in his eyes, and he thought he saw something…encouraging there. He just nodded to himself, before explaining, “...He… Vincent is…letting us roam. Stretch..and feel… It’s a practice…in balance.”

Cloud’s eyes widened briefly before relaxing, the edge of his mouth turning up a bit. “Really? About time, huh?”

Gigas considered that statement, and felt….or was he assuming he should feel? Hmm, still difficult to discern, but there was a feeling of amusement, strong enough for him to chuckle. “Certainly… He does listen…he just…takes…time.” Gigas explained, referring to Vincent, and Cloud nodded as if he already knew that all too well. “Your encouragement…is a good…nudge.”

“Are you saying I should push him more?” Cloud asked, still grinning faintly.

Gigas just grinned faintly, before turning his gaze away. The easy silence…he’d occasionally witnessed it from the mind space, between Vincent and Cloud, but never really experienced it like this before. He liked it. It was strangely…comforting. It was a couple minutes later before either of them spoke, and those minutes were savored well enough.

“So…” Cloud started, “if there’s any way I can help you and the others explore things…? I’m happy to help. If you don’t mind me asking, what have you guys managed so far? How’s the, uh….filtering thing going?”

“No more…filtering…except accidental. A lot of…untraining.” Gigas explained to Cloud, who just nodded patiently. Gigas himself suddenly felt a rush of embarrassment and a bit of shame, turning his gaze away. “I apologize. My speech…is not…perfect. Slow…”

Cloud shook his head. “I’m not in any hurry.”

Gigas looked back at that, wondering if he was just trying to be kind, but he seemed earnest, and so he found himself smiling softly. “What we…have managed so far…is small, but…progress still.” he explained. “His fire…I don’t feel…it overwhelming me…anymore. The others…seem mostly free…of it, too. But they’re not very…restful.”

“Do you prefer restful? Relaxed?” Cloud asked.

Gigas thought for only a moment, before nodding. “Yes. Anger and chaos was…most of what…I knew… Aggression, fighting, surviving. But…not anymore.”

“Well…good. I’m glad that you’re able to experience something beyond all the hectic shit. I know it’s hard, for some, to live beyond it… I get the feeling Vincent’s like me, in that way.” Cloud noticed Gigas nodded to that, and enjoyed having the indirect confirmation, before continuing. “But you should be able to rest, if that’s what you want. Is that what you want?”

Gigas stared at Cloud as he considered, taking his time now. He proceeded to turn his gaze to the sea, to the cliff, and to the hills and mountain. He took a breath, taking in the open air, full of nature and life and decay and death and all that it was. It was…lovely. All at once. “I want…to walk… I like to walk. I want to walk…everywhere.”

“Everywhere, huh?” Cloud fought a crooked grin. “Is that literal or semi-figurative?”

“Figurative.” Gigas remarked with a faint grin. He stretched his hand and his arm before himself. “I’ve been…made…used…pushed…shoved away… I have never…just been. Even just monstrous…as I am…I’ve accepted the…parts that…I am… I just want to…make…those parts, me.” he finished explaining, looking at Cloud again. “So…I want, more…than anything, to walk, and breath, and feel. I am thankful…to finally be getting that. Thank you.”

Cloud looked confused. “Me? For what? It’s all of you, doing this, going through this, I--”

“Vincent…may have done…this, eventually. But you… Your push, your encouragement… It has meant more…than you may…know.”

Cloud opened his mouth, before shutting it again. He lowered his gaze, feeling a little strange receiving the appreciation. But he shrugged it off and nodded. “Well, of course. He’s…my friend. So, that means all of you are. Right?”

“...Right.”

“So, are we gonna walk some more? I know a good trail.” Cloud stood then, looking back up to the cliff, then to Gigas. “The coast is clear, by the way. Saw the fiends up there. Once they smelled me, they uh, decided to give me a not so nice hello.”

“Yes. We can walk. But…only an hour…more. We try not to…wear Vincent out.” Gigas explained. "Well...myself, and Galian, try... Masker...doesn't care."

“That makes sense.” Cloud remarked, making his way back up the cliff, glancing back to ensure Gigas was moving smoothly. “So, did I interrupt the flow? Did the others come out recently?” 

Gigas shook his head. “No…today, it’s just…been me, for a…short while.” he answered, but he considered that. The others were waiting, they usually were, more than him. They were respecting his hold of the reins, and Vincent had himself mostly smoothly tucked away, apart from that core layer of awareness keenly focused on their surroundings. But, Gigas had been rather satisfied with his outing so far… Should it really end with his simple walk? Seemed a waste of time to him. “...Do you think…I should let…Masker and Galian have a turn…? Vincent might…be more supportive, of each…of us having…a turn, with you here…to support.”

Cloud stood a little straighter, and nodded. “Well, if it won’t wear Vincent out too bad…so long as he and the others are all okay with it. Don’t ever want you guys being forced to do shit you don’t want to, anymore than is already…ya know, part of how you guys have to function. I’d…like to help. Definitely.”

“Yes, you would. Hell Masker…appreciated the sparring. Very much, actually. So, yes. I believe it…would help.”

Cloud hadn’t entirely been planning to achieve this so easily, but he was glad Gigas was suggesting it. He was never going to push their progress and efforts, but he couldn’t dismiss the desire to be a part of things, to see and to aid in their growth apart and together. He wasn’t sure why (given his usual reluctance born from a lack of faith in himself and his effectiveness when it came to helping friends), maybe because he knew he was the only one Vincent talked about his head-mates to, maybe it’s because he’d seen them more than everyone else, maybe it’s just because he recognizes he’s…invested in this chaotic dynamic, as a whole. He’s invested in Vincent’s…everything, that’s the best he could define it. So, to be allowed to step in, and help, and actually help without hurting ? He couldn’t just turn away.

With that decided, their walk continued as agreed, and Gigas savored once again what he observed often between Cloud and Vincent--that easy silence, where just the presence was a sort of…comfort, or reassurance. Where even without words, the sound and sense of the other by his side made each moment feel more grounded. Gigas liked it very much. It was the perfect addition to his walk. And as his feet brought him further and further, he found himself looking more over the ruins, to a towering cliff across a bridge. 

After all the walking, the thinking, the reaching through his mind, he stopped as he watched the bridge sway, and looked over the cliff on the other side, minimal ruins and a small facility atop it, and he felt…familiarity. This was familiar, he thought…? He stared for a time, and longer. Cloud stood silent and patient beside him, nearing the bridge, but not moving yet.

“...It’ll hold, if you’re worried about that.” the blond reassured.

Gigas shook his head, however, visions of running across the bridge, being reckless, tugging larger--no, taller people along with him flashed through his mind. He envisioned running, and then climbing the stone walls on the other side, observing the few creatures that once scattered about there, and a voice of a man telling him how to read the little things in nature and architecture. Hearing that voice and feeling a tug from that memory, from deep within, he realized what it was.

A memory that was not his. Perhaps he should feel disappointed, to recognize after nearly an hour more of travel and opening up to anything that could come to him, his attempt at remembering simply proved he’d never been here. But, he wasn’t. He was fine, realizing that he’d truly never explored in his former life, and there was very little for him to recapture when he had his turn with the reins, though not nothing. To him, this just felt like a moment to encourage making new experiences, now, in his existence.

He turned to Cloud and smiled. “Not worried at all… I was remembering…something that…was not mine. Memories, of someone…small, running about…here… Not mine. Vincent’s, I believe.”

Cloud looked surprised for a moment, and the curiosity was burning in his eyes, but he simply nodded. It would probably be rude to ask. But he focused on Gigas, and his smile, and he wondered. “What’re you thinking, then?”

“That I am excited…for the future. I’ve not even…felt for the future…in a long time.” he explained to Cloud. He looked across the bridge again, looking up the cliff, before giving a simple nod. “...That should be…a good place for Masker to…stretch his legs…you think..?”

Cloud looked on as well and nodded. “Yeah, he can have that space all to himself. You ready to go?”

Gigas nodded. “Yes. After the bridge.” and with that, he marched his way across, with confidence and pride and a strange new life in his step. He couldn’t put a word to it, so he wouldn’t bother. He just continued until he reached the other side, and they had made their way to a spot furthest from the cliff edge. Then he turned to Cloud. “Thank you, Cloud…it was good…to see you again.”

Cloud just nodded, offering one of his small smiles Gigas was only ever used to observing through the mind and awareness and firmly gripped memories of their Primary presence. “It was good to see you too. Will be seeing you again, yeah…?”

Gigas nodded firmly, before sitting down and shutting his eyes. He looked like a figure, however distorted, preparing for a simple nap after a nice walk. The light began to surround and gather around him, shifting his body abnormally, tugging forth grunts and a groan before he was hunched where he sat, morphing smaller and smaller until a lankier form took his place. The figure was already moving, restless, stretching, almost stumbling to stand. 

Emerging from the morphing red-black mist, Masker was pacing immediately, taking in their surroundings, laughing when he took notice of Cloud’s presence, and returning to his observations again. For the moment, he was unarmed, but Cloud knew that could change in a second.

“So, you had fun with me before, huh?” Cloud spoke, as a way of greeting.

Masker stopped for a moment, wide eyes behind his mask looking to him, before squinting with what Cloud could imagine was some sort of glee. He laughed again, a bit deeper then. “Yes, yes, lots. Fun, you’re lots of fun. Vincent never explores his own fire, never has fun. But you can do it, huh?”

Cloud wondered what Masker meant by that, and considered asking, but would hold off for now. He should focus on the Head Mates when they’re present, not wonder over what they mention of Vincent. “I guess I can, on occasion. Glad you think I was fun. Now…did you want to have fun again…? Or did you want to exercise your mind as well as body? Gigas seemed to be sifting around for memories. You got any?”

Masker hummed for a moment, the hum turning into a strange tune that seemed…rather specific, and then he stopped abruptly. “No memories. Don’t need them. Want to act. Want to move. Want to carve!”

Cloud sighed, exasperated but almost amused. “Yeah, yeah, carve…” he muttered, tugging out one of his blades at the ready. Masker was already beginning to giggle with glee, summoning forth his weapon then.

“Fun…fun, FUN!!” he cheered, and then launched without further ado. 

The clash of weapons met with sparks and a horrid scraping noise, and Masker seemed to delight in it, eyes roaming over the blonds’ features, as if trying to see if he felt the same glee. He saw the twinge of a smirk, and took it as good enough.

“We can keep this going…for a bit!” Cloud remarked, shoving Masker off, preparing his blade a bit better then. He cocked his head to the side. “On one condition.”

“Fuck your conditions.” Masker remarked roughly, only to chuckle and pace--he was waiting, and therefore accepting at least listening to whatever singular term Cloud intended to lay.

“If you got any energy for conversation after…you talk with me. Just a little. That sound fair?”

“Sounds boring.” Masker answered dismissively at first, turning off the chainsaw, only to turn it back on, then off, then back on, making it sound like a restless beast revving it’s growl. “If…” he remarked, and Cloud eyed him, confused and waiting. Finally, he realized that ‘If’ was the only answer he’d be getting. So he nodded in acceptance, and after the nod, Masker turned to clash his chainsaw over the cliffside stone wall. They were safe from the edges where they might fall, Cloud had made sure of that and would continue to. Again, boring for Masker’s taste, but he’d tolerate it. The swordsman never let it stay boring. That’s what Masker liked about him. He really was fun. 

“Well come on then.” Cloud invited, carving across the ground with his own fusion blade.

Masker cackled and launched, and they clashed the same as before, Masker’s energy and speed coming in bursts, intensifying and lessening, over and over. He was looking for new ways to attack Cloud, to test him, to try to overwhelm him. Yes, he sought to injure, but not entirely to carve. To compete, to push them both. He was a fighter, and this is what he lived for. He sought to overcome Cloud, and yet his desire to fight and to enjoy it only grew, the more he realized he COULDN’T overwhelm Cloud. At least at the moment, he thought.

As he felt his limbs, the closest he ever felt to feeling his true body once more (which it could never really be again), burning with expressed energy, he felt flickers in his head. Visual flashes he wanted to ignore. They were…memories? Ugh, it’s what the others sought, but he had no need for it. All he needed from his time before this vessel was his knowledge, his training, and that desire that’s kept him thriving all his life.

That wouldn’t be found in the past, not holding any worth. No, he was to find that in the now, and forge it in the future. And so he thrust the chainsaw forward for Cloud’s stomach, and was so easily blocked. He laughed, in frustration and glee.

Flickering visions of foes surrounding him, and fellow hungry survivors at his back. Bats, blades, clawed gloves, they were all equipped and ready to show the lethal fiends they could be. None would force them beyond their home, beyond how they chose to live. He heard the hearty war cries, and grinned bigger, eyes burning and wide.

“Fight, FIGHT, FIGHT!! HAHA!”

Masker’s fun continued for another ten or so minutes, Cloud occasionally encouraging chase, concerned the masked figure would grow bored. It ended when Cloud had disarmed Masker for the third time, and he blocked him from his weapon with the intent to force him to pause. Masker was huffing, on his knees, chuckling now and again between deep breaths, looking up at Cloud.

“Think we’re done. I don’t need you running back to the corners’ of Vincent’s mind before I get a second to talk to you.” he reasoned.

Masker groaned dismissively, but he wasn’t fighting to get to his weapon for the moment. Instead, he seemed to be waiting for Cloud’s lead, which the blond saw as strange behavior. He didn’t see that, to Masker, he’d earned it. “Then we talk…”

“...Are you gonna get up so we can find somewhere to relax, or do you prefer it there?” Cloud asked a bit sarcastically, brow raised in amusement.

Masker chuckled weakly. “I’ll stay. Join me.”

Cloud looked confused, but just shook his head. Setting his blade across the others weapon, the two resting upon one another, crossed, in the grass as Cloud moved to his knees to sit upon them across from Hell Masker. They were level now. So he took a breath, and sighed. “I just want to know what you’re looking for, like the others. I won’t push for how you’re feeling, not all the details. But, if I know where your headspace is, maybe I can help encourage things, for you guys. So--have at it. You feeling confined, or free? Feeling satisfied, or restless? Are there things you’re looking for…past, or future?”

“Questions, questions…so many.” Masker seemed to criticize, but didn’t seem too put off.

Cloud sighed and shrugged. “Hey. This isn’t exactly…normal for me. But I’m trying to give my best, most thorough effort. Vincent may not talk much more than me, but…he seems to always have the best choice of words, UNLIKE me.”

“Trying to be Vincent?” Masker questioned in a tone that almost sounded like a tease.

Cloud narrowed his gaze before answering, “To be like him, as a friend.”

“Words, too many words. Actions are better.”

“Well, no offense, but your only expression with your actions involves battle and maiming, so I think that translation is limited.”

Masker rolled his neck to and fro, head back and forth. It was unclear to Cloud whether he was stalling responding, if he was going back on the agreement. But Cloud didn’t push…yet. He stayed silent as Masker’s breathing finally normalized. “Satisfied. Still restless. I am always restless.” he stated, and seemed intent on being more clear, with that last statement. As if that fact was not an issue. “But satisfied. Fighting reminds me of before. Fighting is what I do. Fighting, carving… Using the body…and…lashing outward. It IS me.” he tried to explain, studying Cloud to see if he understood. He could see the confusion, but Cloud didn’t seem lost for long. Perhaps he understood, as deep as Masker sometimes hoped. Hmm…he hoped that, did he? He had not recognized that, before.

Masker laughed. “Don’t need memories. You won’t make me…reach for them. Only connection to memories…I want…is bringing them to now. I want the me of before…here now.”

Cloud nodded carefully, the wording always throwing him when it came to understanding his points clearly but, he thought he got it. Hell Masker didn’t need to remember and reconnect with his memories, he just wanted to live like he used to, however he could right now. He might still find limitations, if that meant hurting people, especially innocents. But, if they could return some of what was stolen, what was the harm in that? “Alright then. I suppose that means you’re on the right track? You’re getting easier to please, and here I thought you’d be the worst.” he teased.

Masker quirked his head with a scoff. “Me? The worst. No. You know…I’m not the worst. Not the most difficult.”

“Galian, I guess--that language barrier is…something of a road block--”

“No. Not the most difficult.” Masker interrupted. Cloud was about to open his mouth to question, but suddenly, Masker lunged at his weapon, revving it back to life, carving up the ground and letting out a wild, cathartic cry to the slow sunset in the distance as the red and black energy surged around him faster and faster. Cackles and chuckles faded into cries, that faded into grunts and growls.

And suddenly Galian tore from the mist, on all fours at first and giving his own beastly cry out into the echoing skies. Then he turned on Cloud, on one front paw, the other lazily showing claws at his side as he eyed the blond, and his blade, and him again. He sniffed at him, only to huff out his nostrils.

“Hey there, big guy.” Cloud greeted, feeling brief whiplash before dismissing it. “Your turn now…which means a lot more speaking for me, I guess…? Which is fine…uh… Guess we should start with this--you need to express yourself a bit? I can take you on, if that’s what you want, like Masker. If not…? Uh…”

What the hell did he offer? Offering to walk with him sounded degrading, he wasn’t sure if offering to spar was the same or worse than doing so with Masker. Should he encourage him to hunt? He didn’t entirely like this barrier of communication, and yet…it had him excited. No, not excited, but intent--he wanted to be able to understand Galian Beast on the most basic levels, to join him on his level, understand the animalistic balance between thought, feeling, and instincts. 

Galian marched over to him, on his hind legs now, and getting close like he had the last time they faced off. Cloud stood up, standing his ground, not lowering his gaze from the beast as it sniffed the air around him, blowing hot air to ruffing the blond strands spiking towards the sky. Galian sniffed at Cloud’s face and neck, huffing against him, looming over him. Galian took a step or two to Cloud’s side, the blond keeping a peripheral gaze on him. And Galian gave a low then growing growl that turned into a sharp bark at the end. Cloud didn’t flinch, only stood straighter and raised a brow, expectant.

Galian huffed, the noise almost reminding Cloud of an amused scoff. And then Galian barred his fangs and showed his claws, only moving enough to not stand in Cloud’s path to his blade. He was being gracious, but Cloud could feel, that wouldn't keep for a long. Like Masker, this wasn’t just playing for safe sport. The intent to kill, he hoped and mostly trusted, wasn’t there against him. But neither Masker nor Galian were creatures of performance. They acted on deepest desires and nothing less.

Cloud gave a short nod, to accept the implication of what Galian wanted, and then with lightening speed he threw himself in a rolling lunge, collecting his other blade and launching to his feet to face the beast as a clawed paw came slashing down. He did knock the blade down, somewhat, but Cloud raised it steady, blocking the teeth and taking a smaller blade and aiming for the beasts shoulder on instinct.

He wasn’t seeking to maim or kill either, he honestly didn’t want to even manage to hurt Galian, but his body was acting, and he trusted Galian’s abilities to defend himself. And he did, releasing the blade, using his other claws to block to the side and leap back out of Cloud’s range. He leapt for the cliff wall, before surging down with a red, flaring burst of energy. The ground blasted apart a bit, casting about this small clearing in the core of the cliffs. Cloud used his blades to block some of the chunks of rock, before facing Galian and pacing him. The beast paced in returned, barking, small at first and then louder, before stopping, standing his ground, and roaring to a depth and intensity that it rang in Cloud’s ears and vibrated in his chest, taking his breath away for a moment.

He wondered if that was an expression of emotion; frustration, satisfaction, anger…? It didn’t… seem negative to Cloud, but he couldn’t be absolutely sure. It felt like he needed Vincent to translate, but this should be between them right now.

Galian charged him again, but this time it was with less intensity than just before. He didn’t have the same hunger as Masker, it was clear in the shove of his shoulder, swipe of his menacing tail, or the reach of his claws. He was putting up a fight, giving effort, moving with instinct but the longer they went, the more this seemed like…exercise. Which was exactly what it was, and once Galian felt he had stretched enough of himself he settled into pacing Cloud. He moved from his hind legs, to all fours, hunched but mostly using his front and hind legs to move. He clawed at the ground, huffing, and seeming dissatisfied until he could find a patch of grass to dig claws into.

Cloud took the moment to catch his breath. He wasn’t as worn out as he has been before, but, these head-mates certainly were pushing him. It felt good, honestly, to have some activity that’s not just deliveries and on-delivery fiend clearing, or gods forbid, sitting in on W.R.O. meetings as favor to Reeve (they were rare, but still very agonizing). He took note of Galian seeming to seek grass to claw at. He wasn’t sure why, but it didn’t matter. He just knew the beast wasn’t going to find much of that, here. 

“If you wanna feel the grass and dirt, we’ll have to head back for the wilds. That what you want?”

Galian looked off in the distance, towards the wilds, then back to Cloud, and gave a huff out of his nose with a dip of his head. Clear enough answer, he reasoned.

“Come on. I’ll lead the way.”

It wasn’t long, to get back to where Cloud started on foot. Or, if it was, he didn’t really notice it. They crossed only a small group of fiends, most running for it. Cloud and Galian dispatched the defiant few, and Galian gave chance to the last one standing that decided to try and run when it was too late. Cloud simply observed and continued on, expecting the demi-behemoth would catch up easily.

As he made it to his bike, he climbed on easily, resetting his secondary blade in one of his slots and only keeping one on his back. As he was starting up the vehicle, and Galian caught up to him just in time, he revved a bit and noticed Galian pacing. It was different than Masker. Where the wild, chainsaw wielding mad-man would pace and stalk with his eyes on a target, in that case Cloud, Galian kept turning his gaze from Cloud to their surroundings…as if seeking something.

Cloud eyed Galain and revved again. And the revving drew Galian’s attention, coaxing him to dig claws in dirt, rock and grass as he growled back low and encouraging. He knew what that beast Cloud was upon was made for…and he was intrigued. He glanced to Cloud again, before looking ahead. Digging claws, he growled and huffed.

“...You wanna run…? That it?” Cloud asked, his confidence in understanding the other growing, and he received what he could only take as a bark of confirmation. He grinned, crooked. “Okay. Want to make it a race, then…? To the farthest edge, Vincent’s been there before, so you should know… See if you can beat me there, huh?” he revved Fenrir a couple of times, causing Galian to let out a low growling that turned into a couple of barks, and he dug his claws in deeper. Cloud was excited, and it seemed like Galian might be too.

“Ready?” he called loudly over his vehicle’s roar, only to earn the beasts’ roar in return. He laughed, and decided words were no longer needed. His body language, turning to face the path ahead, was clear enough to Galian. The beast got the message, and claws and tires tore up the ground as the both set off at an increasing pace.

Cloud wasn’t intent on holding back, that was clear to Galian. He was giving him a proper challenge, and the beast's limbs were alight with effort and good strain, the muscles burning deeper with increasing effort. He bound with his hind legs, landing on his front paws, digging, dragging, launching, and pushing further and further and further, faster and faster. The wind was rushing past his ears, he could sense the creatures turning away from his and Cloud’s very presence. He could smell the meal that could be hunted, were he to turn from his path now. But he wouldn’t. Instead, he pushed harder, because Fenrir was extending past him and Galian couldn’t very well stand for that. A huff, a growl turning into a bark, and he was bounding even further with each launch, gaining on that machine-beast and burning Galian’s pride hotter. The burn increased particularly, when he leapt ahead, behind, or over Cloud, and the blond so easily weaved through his actions, keeping pace only for them to continue to work to gain ahead.

The cliffs gave way to the mingling wilds until they finally reached a spot where Cloud and company had camped once or twice, in the half shadow of the towering mountain cliffs. Galian could see it ahead, and Fenrir was revving louder, surging forward like a taunt. The beast recognized there was likely a speed Cloud was not reaching, and it left something boiling in Galian’s gut, but he wouldn’t bother snapping at the blond for his foolish choices, at least not while his limbs and muscles were still screaming with joy. He was reveling too much. Their destination was closing in, and with that, Cloud gave a last burst of speed. And Galian growled loudly with his frustration, only matching the vehicles reach for a second to leap over the blond, but almost as if he were leaping at him--the look of surprise and brief concern on Cloud’s face was priceless to the beast.

In the end, he couldn’t quite tell who won. Likely Cloud, with that underhanded last move, but he didn’t care. Galian was pacing slowly now, gently pawing at the ground as if trying to mark the space for them. Hot breaths in and out, wandering on hind legs and overlooking the area for threats as his tail swiped back and forth across the grass and dirt. Cloud was dismounting and taking stuff out of his vehicle, so Galian left him to it. Huffing from exertion, and ready to settle in, making ‘camp’ as Cloud would put it. Galian was just….feeling things he could not quite define. Feelings were not foreign to the beast, they never had been. They were just…simpler, more singular before. Being joined against his will with Vincent Valentine had complicated and overwhelmed it all with unwelcomed layers.

Still, even knowing his reach of emotions had expanded, he had not had time to feel it often. When Cloud last saw him, Vincent was using him to feel the anger, not really allowing Galian’s own venture of following emotions. But, he was allowing more now. And this…time free and out, he should perhaps tap into more. But without experience, it was difficult. Happiness seemed too broad. Joy seemed closer, but still not quite right. Nothing was perfect. This existence was still one he never would have asked for, confined within another and never able to live as a beast as he should have, free and wild and hungry and strong.

Euphoric…perhaps…something not so simple, not so easily gained, an experience brought on after some sort of trial, he seemed to reason. But still, a fulfillment, a satisfaction, in that moment. That, to Galian, was the closest he could define it, from what he observed and tried to feel.

Cloud began laying things out, preparing a well-used tent. So he truly would be making camp here. It humored Galian, but that was the others’ human comfort. Galian would take it upon himself to make their perimeter clear, then.

“That was a damn good run, Galian. Uh…okay to call you that? Vincent…calls you that, and beast just seems…eh…” Cloud shrugged, and earned a soft bark of confirmation to the question, but had Galian’s full attention to him due to the praise. “Never really got to see how hard, or far you can run, before. Pretty amazing.”

Galian settled on his hind quarters, puffing his chest and huffing softly.

Cloud chuckled. “So…did that feel good, doing that?” he asked, and received another huff of confirmation. He watched as Galian started to stretch, and licked lazily at his chops. “I know I can’t really ask about memories. I mean…I could, but…that’s probably a barrier we can’t quite manage to cross via understanding.”

Galian gave a quirk of his head to one side, then another, and Cloud could almost define it as sarcastic. Almost. He didn’t want to throw assumptions at the beast's actions, and assume incorrectly. But, he could at least confidently assume…that Galian had fulfilled some neglected things, right…?

He eyed the beast where he sat, standing toe to toe with him for a moment. “We can do that again, some time, if you’d like, yeah?”

Galian let out an approving grumble that to Cloud almost sounded like a purr, and then suddenly leaned low, to the blonds face. Cloud assumed it was a test, a challenge, just his usual habit, and stood his ground without flinching. Until suddenly a hot, wet, rough tongue lapped from his jaw, over half his cheek and up into his hair.

Flinching back with a look of surprise and mild disgust mingled more strongly with his surprise, he just stared at the towering beast, thinking he saw a wisp of black and red mist but it was gone the moment he thought he witnessed it, and nothing more. He was…very confused. He didn’t think this was a threat, as if Galian was….tasting him, but why would he do that…?

He just barely noted the mild movement of the beasts tail behind him, and something in his brain shifted so suddenly he chuckled. He just faintly wiped the excess slobber, trying not to offend but not up for tolerating the wetness, at least not against his face and in his hair like that. “Guessing that should be taken as a good thing?”

Galian huffed, a bit too clearly amused by Cloud’s reaction, and the beast leaned in again. Cloud guarded his face, only for the beast to nuzzle the top of his head and other side of his face, sniffing him in, and huffing out against the human before him. He smelled like their past, but he smelled like something his own, as well. He had for some time. A smell Galian could never forget…he was just the smell of Cloud Strife.

Leaving Cloud confused, Galian went to find a place to stretch out and lay down, while the blond finished setting up camp amongst the logs and dips in the dirt. He set up a fire, the tent prepared rather quickly too after that. He dragged out some simple rations, but didn’t seem intent on eating just yet. Once he settled down on a comfortable enough log, Galian suddenly wandered over, circling him briefly before nosing at Cloud’s ribs and his arm until finally Cloud lifted his hand and looked down at the beasts rather large face…nuzzled up against him.

“...What are you--?”

A lick to Cloud’s hand was the only answer he got. Cloud rolled his eyes but laughed, getting the message. He began a careful pet to start, feeling…weird. Not as if it was wrong or uncomfortable, but just...unexpected, and unusually interesting when maybe it shouldn't be. He tried to remember this was Galian, not Vincent, and Galian seemed to want this. He wanted simple, civil contact, and he’d never experienced that from the beast before. But soon, his fingers were digging further, scratching at the beasts’ ears, running over it’s neck where he could reach it. He WAS rather big, of course, so Cloud could only do so much from where he sat. All the while, Galian’s eyes were either shut, or turned upwards to the starts with a lazy gaze.

After a couple more minutes, Galian finally moved to all fours again, padding over to the stone across from the fire. He gave a few gruff grunts, and then a strong howl before it died down. And suddenly, the red and black mist was truly surrounding him, overtaking him faster and faster until finally, it vanished.

Vincent Valentine was left huffing in it’s wake, reclined against the stone, one leg stretched out, the other bent but lazily hanging to the side. His shoulders rested atop the stone, head falling to one side as he breathed in and out through an open mouth. He was worn out, it was clear to Cloud, and he couldn’t quite imagine what all the sensations were.

It was aches, it was pains like the forceful healing of broken bones. It was a release, it was an ease, it was like running for days on end despite it only being a handful of hours. Vincent wasn’t truly one to slumber anymore, except on extremely rare occasions, or otherwise his past attempt at punishment and payment. However, times like this, he did require rest.

“I can speak…in a moment… I just need some recovery time…” Vincent remarked when the seconds of only their breath and the night air mingled. “Just…a small rest.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Vince…” Cloud assured easily, eyes taking in the sight of his friend with mild concern but growing ease. He would be fine, he knew that. He just needed rest. And Cloud would be here until he got that. He just focused on keeping the fire steady and warm, and cooking a simple soup with the supplies he had. Not great, but good enough with the simple spices he stashed away. He wasn’t very hungry, and he knew Vincent well enough to know he usually wasn’t either. But it wouldn’t hurt to have something on his stomach.

As for whether it hurt or helped Vincent…well, Cloud should know that by now, shouldn’t he… But that’s not a casual thing to just ask.

As minutes passed longer and longer into an hour, Vincent did not move apart from breathing, the heavy rise and fall lessening into an easy one where he lay sprawled out and exposed like he never usually was. Creeping ten minutes past the hour, the smell of the finished food having been filling the air for the past twenty, Vincent finally took a deep breath and sat up. Running his right, gloved hand through long black strands to assure it did not fall around his face to overwhelm him, his gaze turned upon the fire.

“Made soup.” Cloud announced, but it didn’t seem urgent, as Vincent looked upon the other already finishing his own bowl. “In case you eat that sort of thing.”

Collar draping lower than usual, Vincent’s small smirk could be seen. “Not usually, no. Sometimes it helps recovery, or I used to think it did….perhaps it was just…a mental game.”

“More for me, then.” Cloud accepted easily.

“Mmm.” Vincent nodded, still watching the fire, the light of it reflecting hauntingly yet beautiful in his red-gold hues. “...The others, they feel…different.”

Cloud gave that statement a moment to consider, before asking, “Different bad or…different good?”

“Good.” Vincent quickly reassured, almost-glowing gaze turning upon Cloud. “There is always a restlessness, a tension, even when….we’ve managed mutual agreements on presence and control. I don’t think the restlessness will ever fully leave, not with us bound in such an unholy fashion, but…the best way to explain it is they all seem more calm and…content. I’ve been trying, for a few years now, to slowly allow these chances and freedoms with them, and yet it never worked so effectively until recently.” he quirked his head. “You helping me realize what was wrong, between the four of us, it is what they--what we ALL needed. And whether it was your plan or not, your presence today was very beneficial to them. I need to thank you, Cloud--”

“You don’t, Vincent, really--”

“I do, and I will.” Vincent insisted. “My understanding, my patience, my help is what they needed, but it’s hard to do that alone. You…” his gaze lowered, before looking to the stars, “your aid not only eased things, it made the process more welcoming to them. I don’t think they would have found things to fulfill, on their own, with only me to push them. So thank you, my friend. On their behalf, and my own.”

Cloud lowered his gaze to his last bits of soup, not really able to find the words to respond to that. It left something heavy yet weightless in his chest, shifting between there and his stomach uneasily. Eventually, he just shrugged, and looked to Vincent again, meeting his gaze when he did. “Of course. Now…just one more.”

Vincent looked confused, for longer than Cloud expected, and the blond could almost laugh at how the usually brilliant man could not see the obvious. But he didn’t laugh, because there were likely too many reasons why that awareness still wasn’t present in his mind and habits.

“Your turn.”

Understanding, Vincent somehow managed to resituate himself in a way where the previously relaxed collar stood straight again, hiding half his face. “This process wasn’t about me, I’m fine--”

“This process has been needed, but it was PUSHED by you, and what you have going on, Vincent. And don’t bother with the ‘I’m fine’, I know that well.” Cloud remarked, downing the rest of the bowl before setting it aside. He raised a brow. “You still feel the fire, right…?”

In leu of lying, Vincent opted for not answering for the moment, gaze steady and guarded.

Cloud kept the stare with the other man, not relenting. And so silence passed, with neither wavering in wherever they stood. Even without exact words and statements given from either of them, they both could see where the other stood. Cloud was determined to push Vincent, to address more of what he had going on. And Vincent would rather not bother at this current time, which ran the risk of turning into forever--because that’s all he had, right? Forever.

Cloud shrugged, taking the food pot and setting it aside. He stoked the fire a bit, before focusing back on Vincent. “I’m not rushing. Just saying, you owe it to yourself, the others, and to this whole process, to take a turn yourself. You understand it anymore than last time…? The fire?” Cloud asked patiently.

Vincent didn’t answer right away, as Cloud expected, but the blond knew that didn’t meant he wouldn’t or that he was ignoring Cloud. This was just a process that couldn’t just flow smoothly. It would take effort, and uncomfortable effort at that. It was clear, despite progress to recognize his own importance, Vincent still had habits to train up when it came to taking care of himself. 

The flame between them flickered and moved, crackled and spat it’s embers towards the stars. Amongst their chitters, Vincent’s intake of breath was finally heard. “I do. Understand it more. It’s…rather clearer now, it just…what I recognized frustrates me still.”

Cloud nodded carefully, waiting a moment before asking softly, “Why…?”

Vincent reached his clawed hand towards the flames, the gold-tinted metal being licked by the wisps of fire before he drew his hand back. “Because it is…things that I thought I was finished with, I suppose. It’s why the others didn’t feel the frustration and rage, not authentically. Only through my influence and overflow. Because it has next to nothing to do with them. I don’t know if it’s simply their way of existing, as tucked away layers in a vessel, or if it’s…simply their own progress being beyond my own, but they’ve let go of quite a lot--any issues in them are smaller, and only grew when my issues flood them. The times I tucked or shoved away my own feelings to not look at them, to not be overwhelmed. I let it trickle into them, thinking I was moving beyond things.”

“What things, Vincent…?” Cloud asked, increasingly confused and just a tad bit concerned.

Vincent’s lip twitched as thinking through it all at this moment to put it into words had that fire alive in his veins, had him bristling. He took another breath, this time through his nose, as if trying to calm and settle as he found exact words to really look at what he was burning over, to relay it to Cloud and admit it to himself all at once.

“It…makes the frustration worse, to recognize this is what I’m having these feelings over, but as I’ve taken time off and on to reflect, I’ve unearthed the few things I can only imagine are the sources. I just…I faced these things, I accepted them, and…” he shut his eyes, nostrils flaring, but he forced a few more breaths as he spoke through a tensed mouth, “and I thought I had moved beyond this. But it’s as if it turned, and festered like I’d not done a thing with it, I--”

“What is it…?”

“Rage.” Vincent remarked, looking to those blues eyes with his own burning with that very word, and more emotions; hurt, disappointment, disgust, grief, but rage was the lifeline that kept it all together and breathing in the mans’ gut. “Rage at…Hojo… At Lucrecia …and even…even my father .”

Cloud straightened up, taking that in. It wasn’t unreasonable, as he considered it. From what little Vincent had shared, and seemed to only share mostly to Cloud himself, maybe Tifa, he had every reason to feel rage. And yet, Vincent seemed to think he didn’t. “Of course you feel that, though… Why is that frustrating? I mean, I know things are complicated with the last two, I don’t really know too much about…your father, but it’s perfectly normal to be angry at what the others put you through--”

“But I shouldn’t STILL be angry…!” Vincent found himself uttering in a burst of frustration. He wanted to tighten his mouth, stop the words, but a few more stumbled out with the flickering of the flame. “I faced it, all of these things, years before, and I accepted it… It should not still BE here…! I’ve lived with Hojo’s cruelty for over half my existence, I’ve accepted…Lucrecia’s part, and selfishness therein… I’ve accepted my fathers ill-conceived and…and fatefully stolen theories and work being used to bring hell upon me and so many others, and what he would have…done if he was still living. I’ve faced this, so this SHOULD. NOT. BE HERE.”

At this point, the gunslinger moved to stand, and began to pace, unable to sit there with the heat in his veins. Cloud watched his movement as Vincent continued his progressively pointless breathing to calm himself, and the blond allowed him this moment a bit longer as he considered all he had said. But to him, it seemed…rather clear. So, he might as well put it out there, as bluntly as necessary. That was their way, when most needed. 

“But you haven’t faced it, Vincent.”

Vincent stopped abruptly, his back to Cloud, before turning and looking at him with confusion and a flicker of annoyance aimed at him, despite every habit to usual control such. “...Excuse me?”

“You haven’t faced it. Not all of it, not really.”

“Do tell me how I’ve failed to face it.” Vincent invited, facing the blond completely then, and Cloud wasn’t sure how to feel with that frustration flicking in his direction, except that…he wanted to encourage it. 

He wasn’t a glutton for punishment, warranted or unwarranted, but Vincent was still committing the actions that made this such a problem. So, he’d do as Vincent asked. Standing, Cloud crossed his arms, standing straight, chest puffed a bit. “You’ve failed to, because seeing something and accepting it logically or with sympathy…is not facing it. We have this habit, Vincent, both of us… We look at our issues, our problems, and if it’s only ours and ours alone, we file it away mechanically. Sure, we get better, every day, every year, but it’s a slower process for us. And sometimes, we let ourselves feel or focus on other things because…we think that’s more important, or to be honest, we’re just scared.”

“You think I’m scared of facing my feelings?” Vincent challenged.

“Yes. Not in such simple words, but yes.” Cloud stepped closer.

“I’m aware we have a unique understanding with one another,” Vincent started, just barely containing the tension under the surface, made worse by how Cloud’s words and gaze felt like they were seeping under the surface of his skin, “but this is an instance where I don’t believe you completely understand me.”

Cloud just eyed him, before letting out a short, sarcastic laugh. “...No, Vince. No, I think I really do. More than ever. You LEARNED these horrible things, you UNDERSTOOD them, and you faced the CONSEQUENCES of it all. But you have not faced the things THEMSELVES. And no offense, buddy, you slumbered through a lot of it.”

“Cloud--” Vincent growled in impatience.

That growl had chills running down Cloud’s spine, though he knew he didn’t fear the man before him in the slightest, so he pushed that aside and focused on the point here. It wasn't that he didn't see the threat he could pose. It's just that...he only saw Vincent. “What did you do about Hojo, what he put you through, what he made you feel? What did you do about Lucrecia? About what you learned of your father?”

“Are you really asking me these questions right now?”

“Yes, I am.” Cloud took another step. “Unless you’re not up for this work right now, then we can put it off a little longer. But I think you’ll need our special brand of support through this, Vincent, because you can’t do this by yourself. So? Do you want to put this off?”

Brows furrowed at Cloud before Vincent started pacing again, looking like reflections of the habits of two of the head-mates Cloud had interacted with today thus far. He didn’t like how Cloud’s question made it sound like he was backing down from something, but he was furious with the others’ words, furious with the implications. “You know what I did about Hojo, you were a part of it--”

“No.” Cloud denied, causing Vincent to stop again. He’d never seen the gunslinger so exasperated, his cool and collected mask cracking in so many places. So Cloud persisted. “What you did, relating to Hojo, was help us stop him. You acted out some anger, some hate, some blame. But more so you were acting out your sense of justice, as well as the burden of responsibility. Same reason you stayed with us to face Sephiroth. If you were facing him, you would have tried harder to kill him yourself.”

“Are you saying I failed because I didn’t give in to bloodthirsty urges to end Hojo?” the question was barely restrained through teeth, red-gold gaze more narrowed now.

“Not at all.” Cloud shook his head, noticing the frustration growing with the rise and fall of Vincent’s shoulders--his breath was no longer deep in the attempt to calm, but heavy in the attempt to restrain. “But I am saying you didn’t face anything between yourself and your feelings when it came to Hojo. You defaulted to me and the team, to deal out the punishment. Vincent, you need to realize I don’t say this as judgement. But I DO say it as fact. You…have ended up, on so many occasions, only ever defaulting your feelings to focus on the greater good, to put them off to focus on what was the most right thing to do with your needs detached from the consideration…or you just…act like it’s your sins to bear, despite the cause being the crimes of others. You have seen and recognized and experienced and stood before so many things, but I don’t think you’ve ever…FACED them.”

Vincent opened his mouth, but the words would not come out. Cloud’s assessment felt so wholly wrong, and yet he did not wish to look at the fact that it was wholly right . 

“Your feelings are not damned, and nor are you. This is the time for you to realize that. You’ve got to face YOURSELF, and who you are and what you feel in RELATION to these things that have brought you this rage. Or it’s never gonna go away. Because in choosing to turn your head, it just…makes roots, instead of falling away. So you need to start by putting it into words, and then eventually, whether it’s tonight or another night months from now…you need to put it into action.”

“A-action? And how in the hell do you suggest I put this horrible mess into action?” Vincent questioned, daring Cloud to have an answer.

To which Cloud DID answer, “Same way you were trying to get the others to do for you, I’d say that’s a good start. You need to look at it, you need to feel it, and to start, I think you should try letting it out physically. Lash out, yell, whatever the hell you gotta do. And we’ll see where to go from there.”

“You’re insane.” Vincent dismissed it, absolutely against the idea.

“Then I’m in good company.” Cloud quipped, and Vincent only huffed a low growl. Cloud had never heard him sound like this before, never seen him act like this before. He knew rage and frustration wasn’t a positive feeling, but…sometimes it was necessary, and for Vincent, who seemed to NEVER allow it unless his monstrous vices pushed it, certainly seemed to need it. Maybe Cloud’s instincts were wrong, but he was willing to bet they weren’t. “I’m still here. I’ll still keep watch.”

“NO.” Vincent damn-near barked. “I’m not accepting that suggestion, because I won’t be doing anything to warrant that from you. I’m not…I cannot let this out.” he looked at Cloud again then. “Do you not realize how my emotions have tied to the dark abilities I have? And now, without Chaos, it’s solely me having to master the control and expression of it? Why…why do you think I put these things away…!? It's not safe to just...release these things!”

“I’m here to make it safe.” Cloud stated easily, and Vincent suddenly stepped up on him, both eyes shining with a ring of gold, canines now sharpened as he spoke far to close to the blonds face.

“Are you really so stupid to think this is worth the danger I can pose? Are you really so foolish to push this chaos free? Why can’t you understand…” he started asking the last question, brows furrowing, before he stepped off Cloud. The blond certainly didn’t back down, eyes staying locked before Vincent drew away, but the gunslinger was already feeling the disgust mingling in his gut. Already, he was losing control. He was showing fang to Cloud, over words . “Why can’t you see the monster these feelings will make me? I can’t..I can’t become…”

Suddenly, a hand was all his bicep, firm and grounding and bringing his awareness sharply out of the pits of fire, if only for a moment. Vincent looked as Cloud stared at him patiently.

“I know it isn’t easy…none of this ever is, especially…for people like us. Twisted, warped, whether by our actions or others actions, we’re…not the same as everyone else. But Vincent…this isn’t healthy, and despite what you’ve believed and maybe…still haven't let go of with everything else, you don’t deserve to stay like this . I’m here, and I’ll keep an eye…like I did on the others. Like I did when we battled foes in the past and you lost control. But please…now, or another night, you NEED this. I…I really feel like it will help you actually finally face this shit. When I say face it, I mean…recognize what you already know, about what they did…how it affected you…maybe the understanding you’d give to Lucrecia and your father…but turn that understanding from them, back upon yourself…and recognize you have FEELINGS caused by them…and you HAVE to feel them. Or they’re never gonna leave you. I know…or else my guilt…over Aerith, and Zack, would still be choking me as often as it used to...”

Vincent shook his head, shutting his eyes and there were a few last, writhing shreds of denial and defiance that made him want to run again. Made him want to shut it all down, as he had in the past. Swallow the beast, and return to being the cage he’d lived as since he woke from that coffin. But the beast could not be swallowed. It was frothing, it was hungry, and the growl rumbling at it’s core could not be stifled unless through great pain. Even so, that defiance was turning to panic, and now the breath Vincent took in and out was shaky. 

“Cloud…I-I…” he started, voice trembling, and Cloud gripped his arm tighter. “What if…I can’t…stop feeling it? What if I fulfill every fear that leads me to lock it away, what if…I lose myself to the monster I can be…?”

“...You won’t…Vincent. I don’t think you have ever truly seen who you are, and what you can be, properly… But it’ll be alright. That’s why I have to be here for it--”

“No, you can’t--you shouldn’t see me that w--”

“I have to. And I want to. You’ve…you’ve seen my worst, so I’ll see yours. Just let me protect you through this, okay?”

“ Cloud. ” The name was spoken with such strain it was almost, almost a whine.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll make sure you feel it, but feel it safely. We’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s only us. But you gotta feel this. If you want this storm to calm and drift away, you gotta let it rage…”

Vincent took a shuddering breath in and out. There was no fighting it, not even if he wanted to anymore, and he still wanted to, like the last threads of a tattered rope. It was bubbling and building in his core, waiting to burst. And he was afraid, and he was frustrated, and every layer to his rage was vibrating all over. He could only look to Cloud, binding some sort of life line to those mako-tinted blues as he took a few steps back, further and further. He saw some concern in Cloud’s face…perhaps he’d fear he’d run, like Vincent always found himself wanting to do, literally or figuratively (because why stay and have this spread to others?). But he didn’t believe he’d even be able to outrun Cloud, not forever, not given his state.

But he just needed…space. He may have been working with those powers, that…Void darkness and the energy it provides beyond its purpose of cleansing and transferring, he may be working to explore and understand and control it as he believed Chaos had left him to do. But, he had not absolutely mastered it yet, and that added to his fear, because he could not let this power harm anyone, least of all Cloud.

However, he couldn’t keep dragging this out by drawing away for the blonds safety. This burning, gnawing feeling may be staying below the surface, but it would not stay there forever and if it did, it would just constantly be at the edge, he could feel it. He couldn’t live like that. Not now, not as he was trying to actually live. For a fleeting moment, he half considered whether he should take this feeling, this edge of burning hell full of his own emotions wrapping their searing fists around his throat, and tuck himself away in that coffin again.

But Cloud’s point from before rang in his head, even pointing out his slumber and how it had kept him from facing this, and he knew he couldn’t…but the thought seemed to scratch at that last barrier holding it all back. Slumbering, in his own hell, for the sins of inaction, incapability, to stop that which was…never…his…responsibility.

He huffed, heavier and heavier, coughing briefly. The fire was spilling up his throat, like bile and horrible heat, and he huffed harder until he was grunting. Clawed hand gripping through fabric to his chest, it felt as if it kept scratching with every breath out. He focused on the feelings filling his throat, the memories tied to them, and the emotions long since tucked away for whatever reason to avoid the overwhelm. The choices… the horrible choices Hojo made and was allowed to make. What he was willing to do and risk, the harm he carelessly caused in the name of science--science itself, in ShinRa, rarely ever being pure of that toxic, harmful desperation. Even Lucrecia was prey to that, as much a figure of the corrupt as well in her own way, but Hojo … He’d never let the hate live freely before, not when he served as their assigned Turk, and not even as strongly as he could have when he awoke from the manor. The closest this hate, this burning rage had gotten to the surface was when he’d found his body still faintly clinging to some form of life during Meteor fall evacuation, and there he had failed to finish him before his final desperate act to continue his horrid existence.

If ever there was a man underneath his monstrosity, it withered away long ago. Hojo killed Vincent, in cold blood. He, with Lucrecia, subjected their own child to unknown ramifications and a complicated existence, that only ended in blood, tears, and suffering. He corrupted so many innocents, just to see what he could make of them and his damned theories. Zack, and Cloud. The victims to the reunion theory. Vincent himself, and whatever Hojo had done to acquire his head-mates before forcing them together. Many more, too many. Everything he touched, he tortured and corrupted, and for what?

For WHAT?!

Huffing, grunting, it felt as if something had hooked into his chest and was twisting painfully, faster and faster until Vincent finally turned from Cloud (he could barely see him, vision going red, with Cloud a vague cool hue in the distance), and as he faced the open wilds ahead and the clearing before him, what tore from him was the most bloodcurdling, tortured cry. If Cloud were not standing there, watching him and holding hard to patience and understanding of what this process would entail, he would be more sick to his stomach than he already was listening to this….because it sounded just as clearly like the man was being tortured, torn apart as if it were happening right here and now.

His voice tore and rose higher in pitch and intensity, birds fleeing from trees as the sound echoed back to them. He could feel his Chaos-gifted energy at the edges, beginning to seep out, and he tried to hold some awareness to keep it reigned in. But then that mans sick grin persisted in his mind, that laugh echoed, those mumbling of ideas, hopes, theories whispered like insects in his ears from the memories of Hojo over him…knife in hand, and everything felt open, exposed, raw, bare.

“NAAAHHH!!!” Vincent cried out, this time sounding almost pained, clawing at his arms and chest, black licking off of him, his cape, as he paced with no clear path. It’s like he could feel the bastard dissecting him all over again, pulling him apart, reaching in and--he cried out again, but this time with just as much rage and hateful feeling as it was despair, and his clawed hand, glowing red-purple, lashed out towards the trees, tearing a couple of thick ones to shreds. His grunts and howls of rage and pain were erratic, occasionally sounding like words, but never clear. Sometimes it sounded like Hojo’s name, others curses, some moments Cloud thought he heard another language but couldn’t be sure.

The energy was whipping and licking off of Vincent like some dark flame, and his shoulders were heaving up and down. The memories of the others and him tearing forth from his vessel, confused and overstimulated and aching in their new existence flashed through his mind. And some remark, sickening and unimpressed, about how un-insightful the ‘session’ was. All the torment, all the hell, all the madness Vincent was left with, left to die and live with all at once, and Hojo acted as if Vincent’s horrid existence he’d created was just a disappointing mix of chemicals. Tearing hell across his skin, pain into his muscles, despair into his veins, and it wasn’t enough .

Vincent began blasting and carving up the ground before him with clawed bursts of energy, surging at the trees and blasting them apart with surprising intensity. Cloud followed at a distance, staying at the ready, but he stayed observing as Vincent let his emotions carve into nature. He let out another enraged cry, this time ending up on one knee.

All this pain, all this suffering, Hojo would have left him for dead. He did, actually, in the end…but it was her that change his fate. Lucrecia, in her desperation, for herself and for him and for layers of guilt he could just barely fathom, she saved him. But did he ever get a choice? He took a shaky breath in, and a ragged one out, as if it pained him. There was a somber layer to the sound of his breathing, to the grunted noises coming from him, small as they were. It tore as something in Cloud’s chest, but he still stood at the side.

Lucrecia...she saved him, and he had no choice. No choice but to be a vessel. No choice but to fulfill her last hope. No choice but to be the undead coffin of monsters. No choice, but to live forever, with all of this. She didn’t give him a choice, and when next he awoke, in tattered old clothes of the father stolen from him, she couldn’t even give him a chance to face her….to condemn her or thank her. She was gone, and he was alone. His job, failed, beyond any power or influence he couldn't managed. She herself faded into her own guilt. Her child, condemned. And Hojo, able to live on with his wicked mind and wicked ways. 

He no longer wanted to die, not really, not like he had in those early confusing years, but he found his arms resting in his lap as he sat on his heels then, taking a shaky breath in, and a shaking breath out. He had no choice, now. His release from guilt and pain and loss was denied to him. His freedom to live any of his original life was taken from him. Everything he cared for….died. And he didn’t have the power to stop it. Why couldn’t she just let him die…?! Why couldn’t she have just spoken to him? Why did she lie…?!

Why did she lie!? His father, all of it, all the lies, all the running, and it brought them to such a horrid end where the guilty run, the innocent are ruined, and the corrupt thrive. Lucrecia Crescent… The echoes of her visages’ apologies, echoes of a dying star, rang in his ears, and the ringing got louder and louder, until he found himself screaming out new despair to drown it out.

Betrayal…loss…feelings of insignificance, feelings of…disappointment and hate, for what she was willing to do. He could understand, he had made himself understand for years over Sephiroth, and a few years for Chaos and the process of reviving Vincent himself. But for this moment, he didn’t want to understand anymore. He didn’t want to ignore just what that understanding masked; she’d wronged him. Used him, lied to him, cared for him but never enough to respect him as he respected her. And he’d been fool enough to respect her to a reckless and improper, blind degree, ignoring all the things that got under his skin. The lengths a scientists mind will go, the willingness to do anything to prove their point, their passion…it had sickened him once, and again, and again. He could understand the allure of proving a brilliant theory. But what that realm of study and work became, what he witnessed…was never what science should be.

And finally, his mind settled on those reports he’d come across. Old, but clear…of stagnant mako theories, and hypothetical processes. The very foundation of what would become the jenova project, as well as a few other ill-intended experiments using children as their subjects, all of it, began…with a brilliant scientists unexplored thesis. Grimoire Valentine had penned the idea, just far enough to give footing to so many other scientific minds. Grimoire may have shelfed the idea, having enough boundaries to recognize that it would be going too far. But his mind was the first to consider it.

Would things have been different, had Vincent’s father never run down that path, had he never let his mind wonder that deep into the unknown? Sometimes Vincent wished his father had had more boundaries with his work. Sometimes, he wished he had stepped away from it more. Sometimes, he wished he’d…faced him one last time, before his death. Another lie, from Lucrecia, or at least absence of honesty, to never tell him how his father died and only make it clear with her guilt that she was present or a part of it.

Loss, loss, loss. Pain, pain, pain… Regret, sorrow, anger, hate, despair, betrayal, guilt, mourning, mourning, mourning--

Mourning himself.

The realization hit heavy, weighing him down, and Vincent was then on hands and knees, crippled down to his forearms for support as he took shaky breathes in, and shaky breaths out. There was a faint rocking motion, slow and with his breathing as he worked through each wave of emotion, tapping into it all. Darkness swirled around him, lashing out in Cloud’s direction and that of the trees and nearby boulders, but it would only spread with a pulse, then retract once again, over and over.

Witnessing Vincent in such a state, Cloud yearned to step forward but…couldn’t. It didn’t seem right. He imagined if it was him. Granted, it was hard to imagine Vincent nearing him and it being too overwhelming, for some reason, but with the presence of any other people in his life, yes, it would be too much. It’s like a buzzing ball of energy, with no idea what to do, is swimming through ones river of pain. Their movement only ripples it all back around you. He feared it was the same for Vincent, so he would just have to stay close. That, he could do.

It was the beginning of sunrise before the darkness finally drew back to its vessel completely, having been lashing at the ground or letting out bursts with his exasperated breath or occasional grunts. It began to tuck away back into it’s home, expression spent and done for the time being. Vincent sat on his legs once more, shoulders low, head lower, but coming back to him the higher the sun began to rise. It was the smell of food being cooked once more that finally brought his head to turn, and there he saw him. Cloud, cooking what smelled and looked to be breakfast. This time, on two plates. He wouldn’t even bother denying him, he knew this before he even rejoined him. It wasn’t a necessity, and rarely helped him replenish, but…if only for old habits sake, perhaps he’d indulge the idea.

He began to move his surprisingly worn body, one limb at a time, to walk back to the campsite. Rejoining Cloud, he took a seat upon the small boulder opposite him, relaxing a bit more easily. Every breath in seemed less…heavy and tense in his muscles, and every breath out felt more natural like…

Like he should be breathing.

Vincent looked at Cloud, surprised that he didn’t seem tired. He wasn’t sure whether the other had slept at all. A part of him felt some guilt over that but he let it be. “...Eggs, sausage, and toast… Doesn’t seem like your usual fare.”

“I save it for special occasions.” Cloud lied. He’d only managed to make his way back to Junon proper during one of Vincent’s longer periods of silent brooding, and he’d made quick work of collecting what he could from who he could, paying well enough for it. The sausage WAS from his own supplies, but the rest had made sure to acquire.

“And this is special enough…?” Vincent inquired.

Cloud glanced at him, then nodded easily. “Yeah.”

As Cloud finished preparing the meal and dishing it out, leaving Vincent to collect his plate, he started digging in intently, enjoying it. He kept his attention on what he was doing, and not on the man with whom he was itching to question and show concern over. 

Vincent decided it wasn’t worth it to question the meal further. He just accepted the silly sentiment, and the grateful effort and took up his plate, beginning to eat as well. It was rather good, though he was less focused on tasting what he was eating than he was on simply taking in the moment, the silent presence and support. Now, and through the previous night. He was trying to find words that were beyond just thank you, to truly convey the layers to his gratitude but he hadn’t quite found the right, most satisfying words yet. Especially because they both knew, the interaction had been rough. Vincent was raw, emotionally. It hadn't been easy to coax him, and he certainly wasn't extremely comforted by Cloud's bluntness. Yet, in his...or their own special way, he also was.

And Cloud, in all his focus, was just intent on taking in the look of Vincent, as discreetly as he could. The man looked tired, worn out, like he’d clearly just been dragged through the heaviest and most unrelenting waters. But, there was something…lighter to him that he couldn't place, but he could only explain as a positive result of what had been done. The beginning of the outcome he was looking for. He wasn’t sure such physical and extreme expression would always be the most helpful, but it was a rather effective start, in Cloud’s opinion from what he saw.

They finished their breakfast in mutual silence, the morning warmth filling their bodies along with the food, and the air around them shifting, whether they recognized it or not. When Vincent finally set down his dishes, he turned his gaze upon Cloud with words he’d finally settled upon.

“I’m not fool enough to believe or tell you that anything is vastly different, that releasing anything…quelled all the flames. But I do know that something feels different, now. I…hated the process, and I will not look to repeat it too soon, but…I know it was necessary. And it has helped…greatly.” Vincent explained, looking to Cloud, who held his gaze in return. “For your persistence, your presence….your words and your support…and that damned stubbornness, thank you. Cloud. Truly. I…don’t think you quite understand the friend you are to me.”

“I can only hope I manage to be the same as you are to me.” Cloud shrugged it off a bit, but he was reasonably pleased. “You did good… I know it was hell, but…you’re trying. You realize that…right? Finally…you’re trying.”

Vincent raised a brow, wondering why the statement of trying felt more loaded, until he remembered, and chuckled.

Are sins…ever forgiven?

I’ve never tried.

“I suppose…with you…it seems easier to do so.” Vincent confessed.

“Then you should’ve said something sooner.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Forget What’s Missing

“Miss me, Cloud?!” The far too upbeat voice spoke with all the energy of when he first met the young ninja, despite Yuffie being some years older since then. And yet, the pang in his head never seemed to go away where she was concerned.

He wore a teasing smirk. “Can’t say I did.”

Yuffie pouted, hands on her hips. “One of these days, you’re gonna slip up and show just how happy you are to see me, and I’ll just brush you off acting all cool and untouchable, too. Then how will you feel?” she played along.

“You think I’m cool?” Cloud responded instead.

Yuffie pouted harder, shaking her head. “I’m gonna find Tifa, you’re no fun. AS USUAL.”

Cloud just grinned to himself, but the further Yuffie drew away, the quicker the grin lessened into nothing. He sat at a table in Seventh Heaven, in one of the more cozy, secluded corners. He was going over some maps, working out better routes, for himself but more so to point partners to--he’d had enough occasions during his deliveries where acquaintances would ask his help in finding the best routes to other towns. He had a good mind for this stuff now, but, he needed a better idea of the safest routes. Maybe he’d take a ride, test them out, and make note of it. Not that fiend-activity couldn’t change at the drop of a hat sometimes, but he liked to think things were balancing out in the world as a new year kept passing.

He could hear Marlene in the distance, talking with Yuffie. Tifa’s familiar laughter sounded now and again, and he was rather sure he heard his name tossed in with some of that laughter, but he couldn’t be bothered to investigate what was so funny about him.

Instead, he’d rather just focus on the task before him. He wanted to keep his mind working, as the occasional feeling of an internal echo was starting to get too loud in his head. He couldn’t help wondering to himself, suddenly, if Vincent’s experience with his head-mates ever kept him from feeling that…echo. Cloud, when by himself long enough, with just the right thoughts or memories rushing through like a river, would find himself drifting into a strange hole in his mind. It wasn’t as if he was stuck, or overwhelmed usually, but there he always felt an echo…an openness. Not a positive one. Quite literally, negative. It was like an empty, exposed nothingness when he thought on it. And in that nothingness, there was an echo.

But he could never make any satisfying sense of the feeling, and the longer he reflected on it, the louder the echo got. So, he would busy his mind.

Would the echo be gone, if he had others to fill the space, though…?

A flash of brunette and pink, followed by a loud chuckle from a firm figure with raven haired, and ending then with thin lips smirking, and sickeningly icy green eyes piercing right through that nothingness.

He shook his head. He shouldn’t wonder, about filling his mind with the noise of others trapped within. He shouldn’t act as if that would be a solution, Vincent clearly was never truly happy with that part of his situation, even if he was making peace with it. What twisted mind would actually …want to be overwhelmed by others? Why would he want to weight of others, when he still couldn’t quite handle himself without loosing himself…? He’d experienced being in the background of his own existence while displaying a reflection. It didn’t help it. It didn’t change the echo. It just made it hurt more, and made him feel less himself. Like he lost a piece, every time. Was that what happened? Had he lost--…? What had he even lost…?

Cloud sighed, taking up his pen, focusing back on the map before him and scratching notes in his notebook with more intent than necessary.

“Careful not to tear the paper.”

Cloud snapped his head up, knowing the voice before he confirmed it with the crimson-covered figure before him as he looked upon him. A sudden feeling of his breath caught like a ball in his throat, before he swallowed it down, and he slowly found his words, however stuttered. “A-ah, Vincent… You’re here…?”

Vincent faintly smirked. “It would seem so. And at just the right time.” he last statement held notes of sarcasm, as he looked in the direction of the bar, where the girls were still locked in conversation. “How long have you had to endure?”

Cloud knew he was talking about Yuffie, and chuckled briefly, putting down his pen. “A day already.”

“Ah. So, fresh hell.”

“Pretty much. She seems to be doing well.” Cloud reported casually between their shared mocking of Yuffie’s unique affect on people, or more often specifically the two of them. “And how about you? Seeing each other three times in three months--gotta be a record, huh?”

Vincent drifted nearer but didn’t seem intent on taking a seat quite yet. “I suppose so. I hadn’t noticed.”

Hadn’t noticed, huh? Cloud wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. Was it the passage of time that wasn’t noticeable, or…Cloud’s presence and absence? He eyed Vincent a moment, considering it, before shrugging it off. “Well, have a seat if you’d like. Though I’m sure Tifa would be happy to serve you--she literally never breaks out that wine except for you. No one else requests it.”

Vincent shook his head. “I might ask for a glass later. Wine isn’t why I’m here.”

“Oh yeah? Why are you here, then?” Cloud inquired, finding this surprising and welcome visit and the ensuing conversation to be a perfect, necessary distraction from the echoing.

Vincent quirked his head, and raised a brow. “The company. For the most part.” he responded humorously. 

Cloud grinned faintly but shook his head. “Well, you’re certainly about to get more of that. You’ve been spotted--”

“VINNY!!”

The impending attack of a hug from Yuffie was prompting halted with a gloved hand planted right over the upper part of her face, though her hands were still reaching for him until he nudged her back with the flex of one finger. And yet, when Marlene closed the space, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing him tight, he didn’t fight it in the least. He did awkwardly stand there, however, before resting his hand on her shoulder to return the gesture.

“Meany!” Yuffie complained. “So what, you’re his favorite?”

Marlene grinned. “Most of the time, yup!” 

Yuffie stuck out her tongue, and Marlene returned the gesture, before looking up at Vincent.

“Good to see you, Vincent! It’s been so long! How are you?”

“I’m well, Marlene. And you…? How are…you all doing?” he asked, as Tifa had finally joined as well, hand on her hip and smile on her face.

Cloud could only observe the exchange, noting how Vincent was genuinely trying and succeeding in his own way, to interact with the others and to take the time to connect….but boy, was he still adapting his practice given the occasional stiffness. He wasn’t horrible, though. Perhaps old social habits were coming to the surface, after all these years. Cloud’s map was forgotten for the moment, either way, with the display before him. He sat back, arms crossed, and an amused grin on his lips.

Marlene launched into a run down of her week, her successes and frustrations with school and such, and a few ideas she’d mentioned to Tifa that she was considering for the bar. Ever the skilled mascot and right hand woman of Seventh Heaven, of course. And as she finished relaying her little updates, the four seconds of silence that followed were immediately claimed by Yuffie, taking the chance to update them BOTH, because she apparently felt Cloud hadn’t been paying proper attention before. 

“Now the hospital is doing well, the numbers are really going down, and AND, my training school is going UP now that people are getting their energy, their FIRE back!”

“Training school…?” Vincent reluctantly asked, only for Cloud to mutter behind him, “ Great, now you’ve done it. ”

Yuffie was beaming with the chance to brag then, eyes twinkling. “Yeah! Yuffie’s Badass BootCamp is what the kids call it~.”

“Do they?” Vincent inquired sarcastically, not quite believing her, but Yuffie couldn’t bother to notice as she launched into a history lesson of its formation that no one asked for, and Vincent found himself finally drifting to take a seat near Cloud, as he imagined he’d need one through this.

After about five or seven minutes of an origin story, she finally informed them of how the ‘Schools’ progress had been, what her students got up to, how often she was there to run anything, and what expectations she had for its impact on her home, etc.. Despite the grueling process of sharing the unwanted details, Vincent and Cloud could actually admit it didn’t seem as ridiculous as they previously assumed. It was better defined as lectures and story telling with battle and ninja training thrown in, for the youth of her home town, but she was doing her part to teach them what the adults might neglect or even miss out on experience to inform the next generation of; she put the hell she went through on her journey to good use, even if some of it involved heroic, over-exaggerated tales traded for praise.

“Well, since we’ve got so much company, seems like a big dinner is order.” Tifa reasoned as she was still lounging with the others, the day having slowed down and the few customers well taken care of for the moment. “What’s everybody in the mood for?” 

The kids barely got started claiming their votes, Denzel being very eager about spaghetti, before Vincent sat up a bit straighter and cleared his throat noticeably enough. 

“Actually, I’d like to offer to pay for a meal somewhere, where no one needs to cook, unless you prefer what you can make yourself; I arrived unannounced, as I imagine Yuffie did too, so it’s only courteous in my opinion to provide.” Vincent offered.

“Vincent, you don’t have to--” Cloud started, as well as Tifa, “You two are guests, we wouldn’t expect you to spend your gil!”

“You’re not expecting. I’m offering, and it’d be rude to refuse.” he reasoned, fighting a smirk when Tifa seemed to feel forced to relent with that last statement. “Besides…I have the gil to spare. Believe me. So…let me.”

Cloud wanted to shake his head, but he just resigned to it as well, turning to look at Tifa and raising a brow before shrugging. Tifa sighed before completely giving in. “Fine...but only this once! So, let’s get votes in, and Vincent gets last say, since he’s paying! Come on, what are we thinking everyone?” she remarked, more talking to the kids and Yuffie, but she did shoot Cloud an expectant look.

Cloud shook his head, looking at Vincent. “You know, you really don’t have to do this.”

“And what if I want to? Are you going to deny me?” Vincent inquired, voice low in such a casual yet...strange way, for a moment it made Cloud feel like it was just them in this space. He wasn’t sure why but he was fighting a smirk before he just gave a singular shake of his head as answer.

“Didn’t say that. You do you, Vincent. Just be prepared for those three to milk it.” he warned, pointing at Marlene, Denzel, and Yuffie.

“As I said. I have the gil to spare.” Vincent answered coolly, and to Cloud, it sounded more like he wanted to spare it. Made him wonder just how much the other man really had, but he wasn’t curious enough to ask.

“Have it your way.”

In the end, the group found themselves at one of the few restaurants that boasted a balance between bougie and actually comfortable and down to earth at the same time, but they happened to have some of the best sandwiches around, with a great variety, and unique sides as well. Denzel, Marlene, and Yuffie each got different sandwiches to share when they couldn’t decide, as well as sharing a large order of curly fries. Cloud settled with their BLT without sides, and Tifa happily indulged in a burger with all the fixings and some homecooked fries.

Vincent, for the sake of easing others discomfort, got an order of fries to casually eat on despite not needing it nor really feeling hunger. But no matter how he explained it to his friends, he knew his lack of really needing sustenance was hard to witness in person. He didn’t mind keeping a slow pace of occasionally munching while the others eagerly chowed down and shared, the kids and Yuffie talking about school and work they’d be doing in each of their communities.

He did, however, feel rather aware of the fact that Cloud was matching his pace of eating, and clearly it wasn’t an intentional mimicry. He would listen to the kids, and Tifa when she offered extra details, while his gaze drifted to the blond off and on--and when Cloud wasn’t giving the smallest of smiles and avoiding eating, he looked zoned out, occasionally munching. Sometimes, he’d even be staring at his food, almost seeming lost, before he’d come back into focus again.

The droning conversation made Cloud’s overwhelming thoughts easier to fall into the grasp of. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing right now or not, though he made sure to keep an eye on Tifa, and Marlene, and Denzel. In that order, they were the ones that were more keen to notice him spacing out. It’s not like he was doing anything wrong, or as if he was feeling…bad. He just knew they might assume quite a few things, if they just saw him drifting. He, of course, forgot the rather keen eyes of Vincent. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t feel the mans presence, he was hyper away of it. He blamed his strange comfort with the gunslinger, and their last few meetings, for his inability to keep the mask up in Vincent’s direction.

But thankfully, nothing was said, and Cloud continued to avoid giving recognition to the others’ attention.

The silence towards his behavior was not left untouched forever, of course. It was as they were walking their way back from the restaurant, and the kids were plotting their evening together with everyone home and visiting that Vincent matched Cloud’s delayed pace behind everyone and decided to take that moment.

“Are we going to talk about it…?” he questioned, to start.

“Don’t know what you mean.” Cloud lied.

“I don’t have a living human stomach any more. So what’s your excuse for matching my pace of consumption?” he got straight to the point, as if retaliation for the lie, before being a little easier as he glanced at Cloud and spoke differently. “We all have our days, with a heavy or disconnected mind. I just wanted to be sure you weren’t sitting with it alone, needlessly.”

“Thanks Vincent.” Cloud remarked, sounding a little more at ease, putting on a chuckle. “But it’s nothing that serious, really. Not even that deep--just spacy, it happens sometimes. You can ask Tifa.” he explained further, offering a reassuring look with his gaze, though it was fleeting. Only the reassuring smile stayed on his lips as they continued to walk.

However, Vincent didn’t trust it. He knew how much more comfortable it was, to duck away, to masquerade beyond the concerns to continue on how he saw fit. Even now, as he worked on his scattered issues at different paces, that desire was still enticing, and it still passed through his mind, worked to convince him. He understood, and that’s why he couldn’t very well ignore this. 

“Then perhaps I will ask her.” Vincent stated, as if a half warning that he wasn’t inclined to leave this be. “Though I wouldn’t have to concern her, if you considered attempting to talk about what could be making you spacy.”

Cloud picked up his pace, if only the tiniest bit for a fleeting second. “Not everything has a reason and an answer, Valentine.” he told him, his short dismissive chuckle a bit more noticeably forced this time, at least to Vincent. “Sometimes people are just spacy.”

Vincent’s gaze narrowed at the other, however. After his last month or so, he certainly wasn’t inclined to fail to meet their general exchange they’d evolved to--of noting when the other was having issues, and addressing them however they could--he wasn't sure when it shifted to this, outside of just a sense of urgency during Advent time and that leaving them unwilling to give issues away to time to figure out. Perhaps this wasn’t as serious as one of them being found in a monstrous form running amok, which had Vincent hesitating with the points he could make. But, it didn’t feel like something he should just let be dismissed as easily as Cloud was expecting. “Sometimes.”

And Cloud took that singular word as what it was; the end of the current conversation, and the clarity that the focus was not being dropped. Cloud was still glad to have Vincent here visiting them all. It was always a nice change for him, a welcome habit for the gunslinger to keep feeding. And yet, right now, he was also wishing he just…wasn’t here, right now.

But they took the mutual silence and marched on, rejoining the others in Seventh Heaven. The kids made quick work of cleaning up so Tifa wouldn’t have to worry, and Tifa set to work preparing the kitchen/family living space on the next floor, for story telling and movies the kids were intent on sharing with the others.

With Marlene, it was clear she was missing her dad, wishing he could participate, but she was happy with the company they were gifted with, which was made clear by her slotting herself near Vincent, whom she occasionally leaned into for secure comfort, once they settled in to watch the TV. Cloud found the sight rather amusing, wearing a more real grin as he witnessed the raven-haired male looking stiff and unsure, taking forever to relax into the young girls trusting warmth. As compared to Yuffie, who just took up as much room as she could, butting heads with Denzel on what they’d choose to watch. Marlene to one side of him, Denzel to the other, Tifa on the other end, trying to reign Yuffie in when she got to be too much.

It was a comfortable, sweet sort of evening. Cloud liked savoring these times, and so he did. The laughter. The mild, fond annoyances. Tifa’s comfort and satisfaction on her face, because of the simple domesticity they were able to take in. Vincent’s continued awkward thawing, still, oh so slowly. It was good.

They were fine. Everyone was fine. And so was Cloud. Their guests were staying the night. Yuffie was taking the guest room, and after some expressed concern of a proper place to sleep, Vincent assured them he’d simply relax down in the bar, as he wasn’t tired enough to bother resting--he made a point of collecting a book, making it clear he would not be bored and lonely on his own. Cloud had everything he needed. So perhaps he could make that more clear to himself, and anyone staring and worrying, tomorrow.

Yeah, tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better.

Like he could believe that --this shit never let up that easily.

The morning came too early for Cloud’s liking. Noise, movement, and lots of it was bustling outside of his room, and at an hour he didn’t quiet approve of. But what could he do? He endured for a couple more minutes, before managing to listen for the movement of others intently enough to slip his way to the bathroom for a morning shower. He let the warm water wash away the prickling unease. He thought rest would rejuvenate SOMETHING, make today easier. Make that echo fill up so it wasn’t too loud anymore. Instead, all it did was make the echo even more clear, with the dread of how to face a home bustling with energy, and perceptive friends awaiting him. One was far too honed in at the moment, and the other likely would notice if she hadn’t already.

He just…wanted to feel different. He wanted to feel…however he SHOULD feel, already. He was tired of these numb spells, and no answers for how to fix it. He could deal with it, mostly, on his own. But he was on his own less and less, these days. He tried to shake it off again, as he finished washing, rinsing, and drying. He dressed quickly, and as much as he could feel the threat of a headache from the rowdy energy outside of his bubble, he welcomed the loud and the overwhelming. Maybe it’d get him through this. These echo spells usually dimmed down after a day or two. It was just being stubborn this time, because of course it was.

No point in waiting any longer. A deep breath in, he sighed it back out and marched his way downstairs to the accumulating noise and the smell of eggs and bacon and something sweet.

Junon toast, he would come to find, as Tifa was manning the rest of the food, and their red-clad guest was, surprisingly to Cloud, taking care of the sweet smelling toast. He wasn’t sure what all the man was putting on it, but some of it had to be sugar, and he could smell that some had clearly requested syrup. He was standing at the stairs, descending into the kitchen and shared space they’d been watching movies in last night, just taking in the sight and sound of Yuffie competing her energy against Marlene and Denzel, and the two adults taking care of the food.

The corner of his mouth twitched a bit, but he kept his amusement eased as he finally completely entered enough for anyone to notice.

“Cloud, you’re awake!” Denzel remarked, grinning. “I was waiting--tell Yuffie I’ve been practicing with sword skills with that staff you got me, AND skateboarding! She doesn’t believe me, and Tifa won’t let me show her until we have breakfast.”

“Please, you’re still a little ankle biter, I’m supposed to believe you stay upright and steady on a skateboard?!” Yuffie dismissed with a dramatic laugh, “HA!”

“Cloud, tell her!”

Cloud marched his way over, noting Tifa's fleeting, fond glance in his direction before focusing back on finishing up cooking, and the gunslingers faint incline of his head in his direction though without ever truly looking at him. He focused on Denzel’s expectant gaze, before looking at Yuffie, who's arms were crossed and chest puffed up like she was so sure.

“He has. And he’s a little badass.”

“Ha HA!” Denzel stood, the chair scratching the floor and Tifa scolding briefly. Denzel offered a weak apology, gaze focused on Yuffie as he was now crossing his arms and puffing his chest. “Told you so!!”

Yuffie gawked overdramatically, before waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, whatever, you still wouldn’t be able to keep up with me!”

“You challenging him on a skateboard?” Cloud remarked teasingly, knowing how Yuffie was when wheels and motion were involved.

She noted the dig, and she looked a little concerned, before trying to recover quickly. “Please, childs’ play, I wouldn’t waste my time with that. I’m talking COMBAT! You and me, kid, one on one, toe to toe, mono e--”

“You are NOT challenging my kid to a fight.” Tifa scolded then.

“Tifa, I can take her!” Denzel complained.

“I don’t care what you can do, we’re not getting crazy like that today. So why don’t you two calm down, or there’s no junon toast for you--me and Marlene will just gobble up both of your shares.” Tifa threatened, causing the two bickering to pout, shooting each other glares. “Alright, everyone, get your plates and line up!”

They all followed suit, Cloud taking up the rear with his plate, and Yuffie unsurprisingly taking up the front. Tifa dolled out the food fairly evenly, though she was respectful enough not to pile on to Cloud’s plate like she did the others. Vincent didn’t bother joining the line, manning his post dolling out the sweet toast. Cloud glanced at him as Vincent lay one piece of bread with a spatula. Vincent raised a brow and asked, “Syrup or no syrup?”

“Nah,” he chuckled, “I’m good, thanks.”

“Is something funny?” Vincent inquired though his lip twitched, just at the sight of the casual amusement.

“Nothing.” Cloud shook his head, then went to take his usual seat, deciding to keep the amusement of the unusualness of how casual and…normal it seemed to perceive Vincent serving breakfast like this, to himself.

As the cooks made their plates, Vincent’s not surprisingly minimal, everyone dug in more fervently. For a moment, Cloud thought he might have the possible piece yet unease of the only noise being silverware against plates and the like. But, just his perfect luck, he was wrong. Yuffie apparently couldn’t keep her mouth occupied enough as, with mouth half full, she was back to running it.

“So, what are we doing today? We gotta get out, stretch our legs! Don’t you think? I wanna see Edge! See how words’ spread of my good deeds, ya know?”

“You just wanna go running around bugging people to see if they talk about you? No thanks.” Denzel remarked, and Cloud noted Tifa covering a chuckle almost too late. She covered it as a cough, that almost choked her, but she settled soon after. And Cloud could only wonder what she had almost choked chuckling about, ridiculously unaware of how much the young boy had sounded just like him.

Yuffie was clearly revving up an argument, and looking a little too ready to pick food to fling, when Marlene chimed in.

“What about the recreational centers’ opening fair? All the other kids have been talking about it, they said there’ll be games, food and fundraising, but most of all, it’s a grand opening! I really would love to go check it out…!” she offered, earnestly intrigued.

“Oh, yes, the Rec Center!” Tifa agreed. “Oh, that would be perfect--I’m so glad they’ve managed to finish that, and I’d love to go and support. Oh, Yuffie, it’s wonderful--because you know most Edge kids, they’ve just been stuck with school, running around, or staying at home since the adults finally wrangled them away from all the work they were doing. Though some still try to make extra gil offering their services,” she looked pointedly to Denzel, who just shrugged, “but it’s such a necessary thing for the community--giving the kids a place to...just be kids. Come on, we should all go! Right?”

“Yeah, I think that’d be fun.” Denzel agreed. “Tommy said the games are really awesome, and most of them, they’re keeping for the center!”

“Food, community, the chance to beat some brats at some games? Count me in!” Yuffie cheered.

Tifa looked to Cloud then, to assess his reaction and preference.

Cloud almost shrugged, but caught himself--that might come off dismissive. He couldn’t say he was entirely up for anything, but he could ensure he played along. No point making Tifa aware of the state he was in and trying to drown out. It was bad enough he felt Vincent’s attention on him so much. So in the end, he just nodded. “Yeah, sounds like it’s worth a visit. Just don’t get too ahead of yourself, Yuffie. I don’t think you know who you’re challenging.” he remarked with a small smirk.

“Pfff! Come on, I can take the brat.” she teased, reaching to try and mess Denzel’s hair, but he ducked out of reach.

“Who said I was just mentioning him?” Cloud raised a brow, then nodded towards Marlene. “She’s pretty protective of her brother, ya know--just wait until they team up.”

The siblings puffed up proudly over his praise, both sticking their tongues out at Yuffie, who simply proceeded to do the same, but harder.

Each of the adults shared a knowing look--this was going to be quite the trip out.

“Look at the decorations!” Marlene cheered. “Debbie was collecting those flowers and fabrics with the others weeks ago. It looks amazing! Oh, I helped her get those flowers!!” she cheered, running over to point them out. “This is amazing!”

Tifa grinned at the young girl, enjoying witnessing her joy over seeing hers and her friends' work come to fruition in this lovely, and much needed tribute to the kids. It really was brilliant, a wonderful way to pay back the young ones in this community that put so much long and tiring effort into forging their city. She was glad to see that…they’d have a place to be themselves again, even if they were still shouldering weight they shouldn’t, this would be the place for them to leave that behind.

Yuffie and the kids were drifting all over the place, trying to find games to compete in, and so Cloud and Vincent were following behind Tifa as they observed the show.

“I knew they were working on this, but I’ll be honest, I hadn’t known how far along and in-depth the project had gotten until recently.” Tifa relayed to Cloud and Vincent, as Yuffie was competing with Denzel in a sack tossing game, bragging about how far she’d tossed her shuriken before. Tifa looked to the men, grin warm and soft, and yet sheepish. “I feel sort of guilty, not being involved earlier…”

“Perhaps they had it handled without needing the extra help. You are a business woman, remember.” Vincent offers, and Cloud nods.

“He’s right. And you’re here now. We can offer funds, and support here now, which will matter just as much.” the blond added, looking about. He didn’t entirely recognize his shoulders had started to tense a bit, the noise and overwhelming amount of bodies around them seeping into his senses more and more in a way he hadn't really been looking for when he'd wanted to drown things out.

“I suppose you’re right.” Tifa sighed with a small grin, and started looking for the donation booth. “Shall we, then?”

“We shall.” Vincent nodded, he and Cloud following behind her and leaving the kids to their competitive fun.

Tifa arrived at the booth first, the other two just behind her. Cloud hung back, just a bit, as there were a lot of people gathered around. Which he knew was a good thing, though he didn't want to encourage what might come from those that would point at him, wave, and murmur amongst themselves. He was fighting back annoyance at himself--he’s dealt with crowds before, and what was the harm in this one? He was frustrated, but should he just bare with it? It was distracting from that empty echo mostly, so perhaps it was a blessing.

He distantly heard Tifa ask if there was a goal they were trying to reach, or if it was simply open donations. He didn’t hear the answer, now trying to focus on the noise and the bodies all around him as thinking about that echoing space made him way too aware of it again.

“Cloud.”

Just his name spoken, and yet the deep rumble of it from the gunslinger, feeling as if it drowned out both the echo and the loud noise of the crowd, was strange and curious and had him turning his gaze upward to Vincent.

“Huh…?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah--yeah, of course.” Cloud dismissed quickly and low so no one else would hear but the two of them, and he fished his gil out of his pocket to give over a decent amount after Tifa. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He stepped forward, giving most of what he had on him, and even when the young man running the booth tried to deny the amount, Cloud just put up his hand and stepped aside for Vincent. He seemed to follow Cloud’s lead of distressing the booth attendant by offering more money than they would’ve expected at all, before catching up to Cloud to answer what he knew was a rhetorical question.

“That’s what I’m looking to find out.”

Cloud sighed, and shook his head, putting on a small grin. “Your knack for making things come off more dramatic than they actually are is kind of admirable, you know.”

“As is your quick, well trained ability to play issues down.” Vincent remarked swiftly.

Cloud shot him a look, before catching up with Tifa, who seemed to be browsing the booths and making conversation with neighbors. “Don’t act like you don’t do the same.”

“I’m not the one acting this time.”

The way Vincent Valentine’s awareness always seem to pierce through to the core of things, to force him to be alert or accepting, no matter the issue, was infuriating. Just like in the Forgotten City…he’d never forget those piercing eyes, the grip on his bruised arm, it’s like the very actions tore Cloud out from under the shadows he moved in, to keep people unawares of his vulnerabilities.

A part of him knew, after his efforts regarding Vincent’s issues the last couple of months, he really should be more understanding. But, this was different . It just… was . This was not some complicated denial of self, this was not Cloud tormenting himself because he deserved it, this was just…a part of his existence, now, that had no clear answer or solution. And he handled it better some days than others. The past few days just happened to be a part of the ‘other’.

“You aren’t always right, you know.” Cloud remarked, trying to play at that cocky tone, but it came out a bit bitter. And as he marched on after Tifa, he noticed her looking between then two of them, before focusing ahead again. He sighed, as silently as he could, and followed on, trying to find something to…buy, someone to talk to, something to do to put all of this behind him. He’d be better, in another day or so. He just had to keep people as unconcerned as possible until then.

Suddenly, Denzel tore through the crowd and grabbed Cloud’s hand, and the man made quick effort not to tense at the sudden, unexpected action. “Cloud, come on, they’ve got music down over there! There’s a stage and everything, and Yuffie thinks she’s gonna make her way on stage.” the boy laughed at the idea, clearly expecting chaos and wanting Cloud to join him in paying audience to it as he tugged him along.

“‘Kay, okay, I’m coming.” he laughed to covering his tension, letting himself to be tugged along. But at every corner, there were bodies, people, laughing, talking loudly, bumping him, greeting him, whispering about him. His hand around Denzel’s tightened before he reigned in his grip once more.

And there it was, a whole audience of people cheering and laughing as Yuffie was trying to dance and climb her way on stage. He knew she wasn’t trying nearly as hard as she could, simply enough to keep the laughter going. But it still provided noise. And that’s what he was here for, right?

Not to support the community, or the kids, or the joy here, just to fill himself up to ignore his own emptiness .

He suddenly tugged his hand free of Denzel’s grip, though they’d already stopped. The boy glanced back, and Cloud forced a smile as he felt two others stop behind him. Through the throng of neighbors he was barely familiar with, he could only think about those two…the known presences, in the sea of TOO MUCH. 

“You okay, Cloud?” Denzel asked, but the boy still had a carefree amusement around him, and so Cloud just smiled still and nodded to ensure it stayed there.

“Yeah, I’m fine, kid.” he reached to ruffle his hair. He drew it back, shoving it in his pocket then. He watched Yuffie struggle, Marlene scolding her and giggling from the edge of the crowd. She was smiling, as was Yuffie, as was Denzel. He should just focus on that. He was trying to focus on that.

“Cloud…?” came Tifa’s patience voice, nearer than before, and he glanced to her.

He was met with worry in her eyes and understanding in her features. She didn’t say anything further, just stared at him, observed him, as if she was taking in everything he wanted her to ignore, and he wanted to hide it all away, as if, if anyone stared too long, they’d see that empty space. He faced her completely, as if to reflect confidence as a shield. “What…?”

She straightened up, then glanced at Vincent and he watched her nod. Nod for what..? Then she smiled at Cloud. “You know, if this gets to be too much, you can step away. Okay, Cloud?”

So she was seeing it, too, now. He wanted to at least hide it from his family, but if she saw, it wasn’t long before Marlene would see, and then Denzel. Still, he wanted to dismiss it, to deny it, to push through. “Like I can’t handle a little noise and energy…?” he challenged, tone attempted to be playful, but even he could here the faint hint of tension in the back of his throat. He shook his head and looked ahead at the performance going on. “It’s nice, really.”

Tifa turned her gaze ahead, too, for the moment. She wouldn’t push too hard, unless she knew it was necessary. She didn’t like to call him out often, but, over the years, she was slowly working out her way to do so that was effective but balanced. She just…didn’t want to see him fall back into that lonely, detached state. She knew he functioned well at times on his own, but she still believed that’s not somewhere he always wanted to stay. And if she turned a blind eye, she feared he’d drift back.

But she glanced to Vincent, who wasn’t even bothering to pretend to observe the band or even the crowd. His attention was locked in, and there was a suddenly stark yet comforting feeling of a shift of weight. She caught his red gaze with her warm brown, she considered him, the look of his eyes… His gaze was intent, there was a look of patience, but even in seeing how Cloud was starting to act, she knew he wouldn’t back down.

She could trust Vincent, to do what Cloud may not tolerate her managing right now. She offered Vincent the softest of grins, something bittersweet in her eyes, and gave a short supportive nod. A nod she hoped conveyed her intent; ‘I trust you to take this from here’.

Vincent got the message clearly enough, and felt the weight that came with it.

Cloud, however, stayed unawares of the exchange. He was enveloped in his performance. Nothing, nothing , nothing was so terribly wrong for him to be feeling the agitation and unease coming on, and it frustrated him to no end. THAT is what made him feel so stubborn about this, twisting up his annoyance and his exasperation with himself up inside. If he was going to have any sort of breakdown, internal or external, he’d rather it be a worthy cause. What sort of endurance did he have if a simple…moment of silent time alone, and a lack of loud or busy thoughts left him restless, uncomfortable in his own skin, and far too aware of disconnect from the world around him even still?

Why was the silence still SO . FUCKING. LOUD …?!

There was a shaky breath in, and back out, and back in, not loud enough to be heard by anyone else except for the those listening. But it was enough, and before Denzel’s gaze could drift with too much awareness to his father figure, Tifa took the boys hand.

“Look at Yuffie!” she pointed, laughing, and tugging him closer to the stage. “Think Marlene needs help wrangling her?”

Denzel laughed and gripped her head. “Yeah, maybe.” he turned behind himself, spotting Cloud just as the blond felt the sudden cool touch of a pointed gauntlet finger slipping below the wrist of his glove and giving a tug. ”Be back in a bit, Cloud!”

Cloud just nodded, raising his free hand, before turning on Vincent. He barely steadied his breath to speak, getting out short and quick words to get to the point, “ What the hell…? ”

“Stop pretending.” Vincent got to the point as well. “Unless your stubbornness prefers you have an episode here, I think it’s time we step away somewhere to talk.”

“Vincent, I don’t n-need--” he hated the stutter in his voice, but then the cold metal, felt even through the fabric of his glove, made a secure bracelet around his wrist and he was tugged in a such a firm, sudden, unshakable fashion that his body somehow was coaxed to move along without resistance, much to his…

Fuck , he didn’t even know what he was feeling, so he just let his boots carry him to follow, the red of the others cloak billowing across his legs occasionally.

As the minutes drug by and the city was shifting around them, and he was only slowly becoming aware that the two of them were both walking at a pace most others around them didn’t and couldn’t, he was finally beginning to wonder where their destination was going to be. He understood looking for privacy, but at this rate, they were going for the outskirts.

“I think we’re far enough away from people, Vince, can we just--”

Suddenly, Vincent stopped, giving a firm yank of Cloud’s wrist he still had practically cuffed by his grasp, causing the blond to walk and almost stumble before him. Cloud glared, yanking his wrist free then. He rubbed his wrist needlessly, looking around. It really was the outskirts. There wasn’t a store or residential building in sight--just piles of metal and sheeting waiting to be used, and a few empty stores under construction. But there did happen to be haphazard tables and chairs strewn about. Whether they were tossed here, or brought here for people to sit and relax here, Cloud wasn’t sure as he didn’t come through here much. It seemed like the latter, though, and he wondered if Vincent himself had made use of this spot during his travels or his visits through Edge.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Which part?” Vincent asked dryly.

“ All of it. ”

“ Yes. ” he answered easily, gaze steady, stature mostly straight, except for that sort of loom he got when he stood too close. Sometimes Cloud reasoned it was intentional, but others, it just seemed…incidental. “You’re clearly in a state to reasonably recognize and address things unless firmly encouraged, so--I firmly encouraged you.”

“I would’ve been fine--”

“There’s no one here to perform for, Cloud. So why are you still pretending?”

“You know what, Valentine, you don’t actually know everything!” he snapped, somewhat regretting the heat of his tone, but he was frustrated. Just as much as he was holding to his rightful annoyance with the other mans efforts, he was doing just as much to ignore the irony and hypocrisy, given how he'd been during their last encounter.

“When it comes to you, I know a lot more than you like to always accept. Though you were more than willing to be aware of it, when it came to turning that perceptive effort my way.” the gunslinger pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest then. “So, have your anger if you must--but I’m not taking the bullshit. All I ask is you tell me what’s wrong. There is at least something, you just refused to speak it out loud.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t an issue.” Cloud continued to bullshit, knowing there was no point in wasting the words. Was he being a brat about deflecting either way? That was neither here nor there.

Vincent just gave him a mildly exasperated look, before responding. “You can lie better than that, Strife.”

“And you could drop it, Valentine.” he retorted, crossing his arms right back at the other, taking a step towards him, as if the challenge. “There’s no sad issue for you to find here, just a frustrated delivery boy with a fluctuating social battery. So, can we get back to the fundraiser before the kids notice?” he started walking, arms dropping at his sides, only for Vincent’s gloved hand to reach and grip the blonds bicep in a familiar spot, firmly holding him.

“I know better than to believe you won’t be frustrated if your little act fails and Marlene and Denzel notice. No. We’re not leaving here, until you tell me the reason we’re here.”

“YOU are the reason we’re here.” Cloud snapped, trying to tug his arm.

“No, what you’re hiding and failing to ignore is why we’re here.”

“Just let it go--this isn’t the same.” Cloud dismissed, referring to their last few experiences together--he wished they could be back in the middle of that, where he could feel useful, with purpose, like he was doing something good for a friend who had issues he could understand but didn’t have to actually experience.

“This what?”

“Just let it go..!”

“Cloud--”

“Let me GO!” Cloud barks, hand going to grip Vincent’s wrist as a frustrated panic was setting in.

“No.” Vincent said far too calmly, and as Cloud’s notable grip and force was beginning to pull him off, Vincent still managed to resist, keeping a firm presence and grip. “Not until you stop being a hypocrite--”

“This is different from that!”

“And what is this ?” Vincent still asked, way too calmly, with that ridiculous control he had that Cloud almost thought he had worn down in his work with the others. It frustrated Cloud, more so because his own emotional state was such a ridiculous opposite to it.

“Vincent…!” Cloud almost growled, looking him in the eyes, and he wanted his gaze to burn the other, to get him to back off, but instead, it was desperate and twisted.

Vincent moved to grip his other bicep, giving him a shake. “Just let it GO, Cloud, when you’re safe to do so…!”

“It’s nothing !”

“ Cloud! ” Vincent tried to insist, that control shaken for just a moment.

“That’s it! It’s nothing!! ” Cloud remarked, and something in how the blond repeated ‘nothing’ seemed to ring with honesty, however confusing to Vincent. It didn’t clarify the issue, but it was the start of the answer.

So Vincent released him, but did not move. Cloud was trembling before him, breathing openly shaky. He was frustrated, he was annoyed, he was overstimulated, and he was exposed. It was never a good state to be in, but sometimes, necessary….and Vincent didn’t want Cloud to get to the same place he himself had been in before Cloud interfered; stuck in his own emotions to where it’s secret from his own self. To have to dig through ones’ depths to understand who you are and where you’re at in your existence and your feelings… He was still dealing with the rage, and the blame, but those feelings were free now. And as the days went on, he felt less and less heavy.

“Nothing.” Vincent repeated in acknowledgment. “Your feelings are nothing…? Your pain is nothing?”

Cloud took a step back, trying to calm his breathing. “It’s…difficult to explain, it…barely makes sense. One of many reasons I didn’t think anyone should bother addressing it.” he stated rather pointedly before going on. “I deal with this…sort of state of mind from time to time, I always get through it. I just deal with it on the road, more often, so…”

“You don’t have to worry about people noticing.” Vincent finished for him, and Cloud sighed and nodded.

“It will pass. Alright? And like I said, it doesn’t make much sense, the… the issue . It’s not like I’ve never thought about trying to address it, I just…don’t know how to. I’ve tried, and it was just pointless. It passes, so I just ride it out.” Cloud continued to explain.

“So that’s what you think you just have to do?” Vincent asked and Cloud nodded again, but Vincent pushed. “You don’t think you should look into other options? Assistance, even?”

Cloud sighed. “No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s my issue.”

“So was my rage and my monsters, they had nothing to do with you. But that didn’t stop you from inserting yourself at every corner of my monstrosity, now did it?”

Cloud rolled his eyes. “Sorry to have inconvenience you, Vincent--” he started to snark, but Vincent took a step closer, and Cloud was suddenly made aware how close he was to the nearby buildings’ wall, as Vincent leaned and planted one hand on the side of him, causing him to back up and collide with steel.

“Don’t do that.” he demanded, voice rather firm and low. “I was as bitter during the process as you’re being now, but I don’t regret having your assistance, Cloud. It was…very much needed, and eventually accepted. You’re distracting from the point--you’ve supposedly tried to address this issue--”

“I have .” Cloud asserted, offended by the implication he was lying, but Vincent only quirked his head in acceptance and persisted.

“You’ve addressed this issue independently and haven’t had any results. So I’m offering my aid. Let me return the favor.”

“Me helping you before was returning a favor, so…”

“Cloud …” there was that low tone again, but there was no frustration or demand, or threat…just, the clear FEELING, not just sound, but feeling that Vincent was urging him. “This is just how we exist, in this strange and precious friendship of ours. We help each other through the shit no one else can quite level with. Because we just…know. If I cannot help, I will remove myself…and insist you find someone else to help. But the least we can do is try.”

Cloud kept his gaze turned down and away for a moment longer. He really just…didn’t feel like this was worth it. Somewhere distantly, he had to accept that it absolutely was hypocritical of him, but maybe he’d just be a hypocrite, endure the rest of the day, and no one would have to bother again. He didn’t want to…focus on that emptiness and it’s echo, and what was etched in those supposedly empty corners. He didn’t want to, not even with Vincent’s assistance, even though he knew it’d be…secure, in a way.

Finally, his gaze turned back to the gunslinger. “I’m not…trying to avoid shit when I say it’s nothing…or that I don’t understand it. It’s hard to describe or make sense of, alright…?”

Vincent stood up straight, lowering the arm that had been blocking Cloud on one side. He then nodded to the table and chairs nearby without a word, suggesting they get comfortable as they begin to touch on this. Cloud sighed and followed suit, taking a seat in a lawn chair across from Vincent. He rested his arm on the table, hand rubbing over the former source of pain that he knew Vincent grabbed at for a reason.

He wanted Cloud to keep going, Cloud knew that. He didn’t want to, but, unless he just wanted to be an ass and storm off, fighting the other man off, physically or verbally, he wasn’t getting away from this. And he didn’t want to fight Vincent. Especially not right now.

He rubbed the ball of his palm over his eyes and forehead in frustration, as if he might rub free the words or the clarity or the answers. But it didn’t work. So he’d just have to make sense of it with the words and thoughts he had available thus far. Hands crossed before him on the table, occasionally fiddling with a finger or the fabric, Cloud started. “I don’t always…entirely understand what I’m feeling…or…or NOT feeling. Because sometimes it IS like I’m not…feeling? If that makes sense? Like, feeling how I should, I guess.”

Vincent just nodded once, and continued to listen.

The more words he used, the more that echoing emptiness began to yawn, and so Cloud unbound his fingers and began tapping on at the table in a mindless rhythm as he spoke. “All I know for sure is a few things; times when I experience this shit, it makes me aware that I’m not always feeling the things I should, or that I think I should, or that other people might believe…” he sighed, tapping a faster rhythm to drown out the emptiness filling his head with every word spoken. “I don’t know if I’m not…feeling, properly, just during these periods or…or if I’m not feeling properly…all the time and I’m just not aware of it? I don’t…I don’t fucking know,” he admitted with an exasperated huff. “I’m not always as sure of myself during these times.”

“Do you think you can give me an example? Of times where you’re made to believe you’re not feeling emotions how you should…?”

Cloud sighed, unoccupied hand running through hair, and rubbing at the back of his neck. “I…I don’t know. It just sometimes seems like I should be feeling something specific, but I don’t. Or I don’t feel it as…deeply as I should… Like I should be sad, or nostalgic about something, more than I actually am and it just seems…fucked up that I’m NOT.”

Vincent just gave another singular nod. “Alright… I can see how that belief can be nagging and upsetting. So what were the other things you know for sure?”

Cloud looked at Vincent, squeezing the back of his neck to an almost painful degree, as if he could cut off sensation. Finally, he released, took a breath, and sighed again. He REALLY thought this was going to sound crazy, but he’d just…have to deal with it. “I know that there’s a feeling of something…missing… I sometimes think it’s tied to the issue of how I feel things or don’t, but can’t really prove it. It…” he started to explain, having a clear example, but it stuck in his throat…like he was afraid to admit it out loud. Because he was.

“Take your time.” Vincent encouraged.

Cloud was running his fingers, that had been tapping before, back and forth against the glass of the table then. “How it feels… It almost reminds me of-of when I was…scattered. Scattered, in my head, in the Lifestream, and Tifa had to help me…put myself together. Being the only one that knew my past, like no one else that knew me could. She…she saved me then, and that m-means something.” Cloud stated, more so pointed at himself, as if his issues were bringing that into question.

“Of course it does.” Vincent supported his statement, but he could tell there was something behind it. “...But?”

Cloud shook his head for a moment, eyes shut tight, remembering that place. The overwhelming mako, every feeling rushing around him, in him, outside of him. Memories scattered and unclear, inviting and terrifying, real and not real, and him hollowed out in so many places he barely felt like he existed. And Tifa helped him grab the pieces and put them back together, from what she knew. “But…that’s what TIFA knew… There were still pieces of me, scattered there, that she couldn’t know. Stuff only I knew, when I was still completely me… I haven’t been completely me since that mission in Nibelhaim, though, and…and so, I had no one, not even myself, to grab all those pieces Tifa couldn’t have known about. So…so what if… What if we left parts of me behind, that I didn’t know then were me, and now it’s gone and there’s just a part of me left...empty…?”

He looked at Vincent then, almost wishing the other could either admit this was ridiculous and drop it or, perhaps more so, that despite everything he could understand. He expected to see the minute implication of confusion or curiosity, that few beyond Cloud could pick out in the other manes features, to make clear he just couldn’t grasp his issue. Because how many could? How many could say they’ve experienced all he had, to know this?

But, he never saw the tell tale sign. Not how he expected. There was a look of curiosity, but then it shifted into…understanding, maybe?

He didn’t want to feel hopeful that the other could understand, though. They connected on quite a few things, in a way that could be…disarmingly and endlessly comforting and inviting for Cloud, but he knew he couldn’t depend on that in all experiences of life. So he kept talking to dismiss the thoughts. “I can almost FEEL the space, sometimes, and it’s uncomfortable. It’s like there’s a black hole…inside me, and it’s loud, and it echoes, and…I almost wonder if there are answers in that space, and I just avoid it. Ignore it. The more I think about it, the more unsteady I feel. Like it makes my entire existence…and how I function…some silly game, like it’s not real, and that’s not true--I am ME. I’ve made myself my own man in the last few years, damn it, but…that emptiness, and the doubt when I find myself not feeling the sadness for home, or for A-Aerith anymore like before Advent day, or…or e-e-even Z-Zack…” he balled his hand that had been moving frantically, keeping active and noisy, into a fist then. His voice was trembling, eyes stinging, but he just kept shaking his head before forcing himself to sit back and take deep breaths.

As if he could breathe out each layer of overwhelming thoughts and feelings, or the sudden loud silence in that lacking space.

“See what I mean now, Vincent…?” Cloud challenged, after a few more steadying breaths, eyes shut tight as he reached to pinch the bridge of his nose. His balled up fist began knocking knuckles on the table then. “I’m weirdly emotionless in bouts, I’ve got an imaginary hole inside me, and there’s NO way to fix it!” he forced a bitter laugh. “If there was, only I could find the way to do it, right? But I’m not the me I need. Nope, just…someone else, in the wake of that broken, fucked up bastard kid…” he laughed again.

Suddenly a warm, strong hand stopped his hand knocking knuckles on the table, drawing Cloud’s gaze to Vincent’s hand wrapped firmly and…securely around his own. It kept his efforts steady, yet he didn’t continue feeling restless like he would’ve thought. The touch just beginning to ground him, he looked to those eyes he could feel waiting. And he saw understanding there…he just…didn’t get HOW the other man could even understand him right now. WHEN HE COULDN’T EVEN UNDERSTAND HIMSELF!

“We’ll just have to test that theory of yours first, then.” Vincent stated, sure. “If you’re willing to trust me.”

“Th-theory? Vincent, seriously, what…do you expect to do? This doesn’t even make any sense--”

“It does, to me…more than you might think, though perhaps not exactly as you might wish.” Vincent clarified.

“What…do you mean?”

Vincent inclined his head then, and sighed. “...You’re not the only one that lost yourself…become something else… And though none of this is the same, I do think I have experience in feeling an emptiness left by something removed…whether it was meant to be, or not.” 

Cloud was still confused, but then as Vincent blinked, something he certainly didn’t have to do nearly as much as others, it’s almost like that golden ring glowing around his pupil answered him immediately. Chaos had left him… It wasn’t the same, but still … there was an emptiness .

“So…” he gripped Cloud’s hand then, encouraging, and grounding further. “I’ll ask more clearly now; are you willing to trust me?”

Cloud wasn’t sure what he needed to trust him over, what he had in mind that would even require that to be up for debate, but the blond didn’t really need more than a second to know the answer.

“Of course I am.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Frequency of the Forgotten

Cloud remembered the faintest, strangest crooked grin he’d ever seen tug on Vincent’s lips, when he had answered 'of course' about trusting him. He still wondered the meaning behind its unique form on his thin pale lips, but that didn’t matter as much right now. Not with the mission they’d now committed themselves to.

“Alright,” Vincent had said. “Then I have one offer, for how we might…attempt this.”

“Attempt what…part…?” Cloud had found himself asking.

“Figuring out what’s missing, and hopefully…sorting out how that’s thrown off your sense of self." The raven-haired male had answered, and Cloud had simply given him a more confused look.

“And just how do you expect to do that?”

“...With the Void gifts of Chaos that are now mine to bear.”

Cloud rarely ever questioned Vincent, and his reasoning. He wasn't really questioning this validity offering either, exactly. But suffice to say, while in Edge, and now, a day later traveling together on Fenrir, he was still almost unbearably curious and unclear on what this would entail. Vincent had explained it, after they had informed Tifa they were taking a trip (a joint delivery run, is what they told everyone else), but he still had ways of being vague. Cloud just wasn’t sure if it was intentional, for petty suspense, or simply because Vincent…couldn’t explain further.

He had collected himself enough after Vincent’s offer to endure the rest of the day and they took the time with the family, but as soon as morning came, neither of them saw reason to waste time. And once they were preparing Fenrir for a long ride, Vincent had explained what more he could.

He had been working to develop his own experience, knowledge, control and use with the abilities Chaos left behind with him as the Vessel. It wasn’t something he could use too openly and freely, of course, given their core purpose, and the risks posed for anything deemed impure to it. He supposedly had had the help of the W.R.O.’s science division after discussing it with Reeve, in testing it out. He and one the lab techs even took to interviewing Shelke, and Yuffie, on their experiences with the Tsviet Nero the Sable.

Ever since the rise and fall of Deepground, and all the secrets unearthed and piled on Vincent from the experience, it was recognized and accepted that Nero’s abilities were…born from Chaos. From Hojo’s twisted efforts, and involving processes’ Vincent still preferred not to dwell on even trying to consider, Nero had been made. He had existed, in his own way, as a Demi-Weapon, like an unconsensual spawn of the ‘Squire’. The conception wasn’t the important part, but the experiences their friends had with him and what that said for the risks, the experience, and the potential of what Vincent might could do was.

Shelke and Yuffie both could speak endlessly, or not at all, on the dread, the despair that surrounded them in that space. Like emptiness yet overwhelming darkness and despair was filling up around them, and Nero seemingly sought to consume them into it. But at the same time, it seemed to tug forth memories…negative and neutral. Shelke had more comfortingly experienced a moment of connecting with some part of her sister, which she was sure was only due to her exposure to Nero despite her shield magic. Even though Shalua had not been consumed by Nero, in his powers tie to Chaos, they recognized that meant he had ties to the planet and it’s stream, too, though the Tsviet likely didn't take advantage of that. So it was Shelke’s urgent belief that Nero unintentionally, or perhaps…somewhat otherwise, provided a pathway that Shalua jumped to take advantage of.

That was close to the power they would be relying on. Sometimes overwhelming, dark and full of profuse energy that could hold despair or something completely other…something that could pull you apart, making you relive horrible memories, pull at connections…but could also just allow a path to memories, and connections, and a pathway between the stream and Cloud that Vincent would have control over.

When the man that existed in part now as the Vessel had made this all mostly clear to Cloud, he also made it clear he was not experienced in every potential of the ability. He had been training with it, but he had not perfected it, with the few years he'd had thus far to understand it and accept it as his responsibility now. And with that fact, he needed Cloud to be aware of the risks that further posed.

But Cloud simply reiterated what he’d answered him with before; he trusted him.

And so, after some discussion about where was best for them to attempt this, and after some back and forth and mutual reluctance and dread, they had set their destination.

Mt. Nibel. Chaos’ Grotto, to be exact; it was the exact Holy Ground they needed to further stabilize and empower this process, Vincent was sure of that. Cloud could only scoff at the irony of returning to the mountains of his childhood, in the vicinity of the place where he had lived as himself most, however complicated that life was, and where he had lost that same life and been forced to bear a new one. The place Vincent had been forced to do the same, even.

They knew everything about the location would be heavy, but Vincent was banking on that being beneficial to the process. Cloud had his opinions on that, but he couldn't deny the logic to that.

The ride was quiet, and determined, despite the mutual tension both men seemed to ignore in the others’ body. It wasn’t as if they’d never been close before, nor was sharing the motorcycle something so unusual. And yet, the hyperawareness was automatic, mutual, and would not be addressed whatsoever. When it came time to travel by boat, the two took silent advantage of the time to stretch their legs.

Landing in Nibel Harbor, Cloud stepped on the solid ground first, taking in the familiar air and noting even more differences than when he last was here, which had…been a while. He usually didn’t take delivery orders from here, unless it was absolutely necessary or a big gil order. Even then, that wasn’t always enough.

Vincent was right behind him, though, stepping further and taking in the view. He seemed to be looking for something, almost, as he eyed the mountains and the small falls in the distance, the little islands ahead in the Nibel waters. Finally, he looked back to Cloud.

“...I haven’t been back much at all, since my return after Omega… I…I think I can feel him resting here; like he's...rooted. It’s a sense of Chaos I’ve…never experienced before.” Vincent found himself admitting, to explain his observant silence.

“...How he should’ve been, huh?” Cloud reasoned.

Vincent nodded easily. “Yes. This bodes well for us, too. He may be resting, but his original energy isn’t slumbering too deep. So I know, even so far from the Grotto, we’ll have that stable ground to work from.”

“Good.” Cloud nodded. “Otherwise we would’ve made the trip for nothing.”

Vincent fought back a grin, before looking to Cloud’s vehicle, which he’d tugged off the boat to settle beside where he stood. “...Whenever you’re ready.”

Cloud nodded, dismissing that silly twist in his gut and mounting Fenrir without a second thought. Vincent, far too smoothly, slid his way behind him once again, taking a firm enough hold of the others waist to keep himself stable. Cloud ignored the firm warmth of the hold, of the solid presence behind him, and revved Fenrir a couple times before tearing off for what would be winding, bumpy, and gravity defying terrain. Cloud hadn’t traveled this path more suitable for vehicles that many times, really only…one notable time by himself. Any other time he traveled the mountain, it was by foot, and from different paths. However, this had been his way to find Vincent after the Fall of Deepground so, he had it mostly memorized.

Funny… Last he traveled here, it was in hopes to find Vincent. Now, he’d be returning with the man, in hopes of…finding himself. Irony, he supposed. Either way, it made some sort of weird sense.

Only when the mouth of the cave was in sight did Cloud slow down, having been practically ensuring they rode a slingshot through the sharp and threatening corners of Mt. Nibel until they made it to the furthest edge of it. He stopped a short walk away, letting Vincent dismount first, before following suit. With Fenrir silenced and left to await them, Cloud found himself standing at Vincent side, and silently joining him in observation of the last leg of their destination.

“...You sure you’re up for this yourself?” Cloud found himself asking, knowing that what awaited them wasn’t just experiences with powers and abilities that Vincent was still training with, but…memories for him, too, at least one some level.

“Yes.” Vincent assured him rather quickly, shoulders rising and falling slowly with a singular breath. “Are you ready?”

Cloud scoffed. “...Dunno that I can really one hundred percent be ready, but… Yeah. Sure.”

Vincent nodded, accepting that, and leading the rest of the way. They needed nothing but themselves, and their intentions, as they entered the cave. Vincent knew his way, despite how he said he had not been their many times, and certainly not recently. It was almost like a home he was revisiting, which perhaps made sense, with the legacy he bore.

He led Cloud through a few winding paths that Cloud barely remembered from the first time the two of them and the rest of the team traversed here. There weren’t many tricky turns, though a few could lead one astray, or to a pit of beasts if they weren’t careful. But Vincent kept marching on, as if the path had him in its very grip. Soon, the glow of the grotto crystals began to surround them, drowning them in its ominous yet breathtaking light. Cloud barely looked around, only glancing once or twice. Mostly, his eyes stayed ahead, as if he would see something in Vincent's own body language to indicate anything…wrong, wandering here.

But so far, there was nothing wrong. Just something…intense. Never had Vincent felt the energy here like it was--he felt as if he was wading through a magnetic pull, that could easily claim him and keep him here, yet gave way to his will and simply kept contact…a distant hand, holding, caressing, and then pushing on. The energy was intense, deep in the core of the grotto, beyond where any were ever meant to reach, just as it should be. He knew he could tap into it, pull it’s depth to the surface, but he didn’t need to.

“...I can feel him here, truly. More clearly than before. He’s slumbering, deep where he was before…but even so, it’s…everywhere.” Vincent finds himself mentioning to Cloud.

Cloud had been focused on Vincent, as the man seemed to wander a step or two here and there, looking up, around, down. So he hadn’t really been focused on his own sensations, until Vincent spoke. He certainly didn’t have the connection Vincent had, but he knew it felt different. There was a heaviness, a strange gravity. Something that could easily turn threatening, but for now, it was the weight of the sleeping beast. “I can feel it too, a little… Do you think…” he began to ask, before stopping himself. The question had slipped out without him thinking it through, and he shook his head.

But Vincent looked to him, looking more at ease yet fascinated than Cloud had seen him in a while. That controlled mask, the collected features, were nowhere to be seen. He didn’t seem vastly different but still, this was…another look at Vincent, and Cloud couldn’t help but take it in as the man asked, “Think what…?”

“Uh… Nothing. Stupid question.” he tried to dismiss.

“Cloud?”

“...I…wasn’t thinking, when I started asking--... Just, for a second, I wondered if… they felt it, like I do now, back then.”

Vincent seemed to realize what he meant, a heavy shade passing over his gaze, before it softened. “Lucrecia and my father… Yes, very likely. Though, it could have been lesser, or stronger back then. To my knowledge, he’d never been disturbed, before them.” he answered rather easily.

Cloud was curious, but also…proud about that, and he followed him onward, where the small pools started to spread, as did the crystals, growing larger and more wild until in the distance he could see the brightest glow. He knew which crystal that was, and what awaited them there, and Vincent still so steady wandered forward. Cloud’s feet stepped a few paces behind, as he felt a weird dread. He wasn’t sure why, but his gaze stayed on Vincent’s back, as he was waiting to see her.

And there she was; Lucrecia Crescent, bound still in her own personal coffin, but…something was off. She was…

“Has she…faded…?” Cloud found himself asking. He was no expert here, but…her features seemed more blurred, as did the length of her hair…the shape of her body didn’t seem as clear at every edge. Her face seemed smoky, though still mostly defined. The only thing that shown clear in her vision, was a shining reflection of a tear. He looked to Vincent, who when he asked had been observing, but now seemed to be searching for something beyond her, his feet carrying him on much slower now.

“Yes.”

“But…how… Why?” Cloud should stop asking. Why did he care? Why did it matter to him, whether or not Vincent seemed to display that same widower-like devotion he’d been wracked with when they first arrived here all those years ago? Something he admittedly couldn't say he'd really seen since then... Why was Cloud himself reacting more than Vincent…?!

Vincent glanced back at Cloud, raising a brow. He then turned his gaze to the crystal coffin, and then ahead once more. He stayed still to answer, however. “How, is simply the way of planet. The Lifestream has been reclaiming her for a long time now. The why plays into the how--it was only a theory before, but given my abilities, I’m sure of it… Whatever kept her clinging here, it seems my last words to her gave her what her remnants needed to release and let go. So the Lifestream has been ushering her remains on properly, as it’s meant to.”

Cloud wanted to ask more, to push more from Vincent…but it didn’t really make sense why he should, so he just let it go and picked up his feet as Vincent found a path leading into a deeper, lower level of the cave.

“Did I ever tell you, Cloud…? That day we came here, Chaos had locked himself in slumber within me until he was in proximity to this resting place…?”

Cloud balked. Sure, now that he thought about it, they….really hadn’t seen the demon as often as they saw Vincent’s other head-mates before then, but he assumed that had to do with emotions or energy level as Chaos was just something…more than the others. “No, don’t think you did.”

“When Lucrecia offered his weapon, I wonder if it was the grotto using her to stir Chaos…perhaps to give himself a chance to consider his new existence within me, and how he would handle it until the time came. It all seems rather fitting. The awakening, the slumber…the returns found here. And now, the power and foundation. Here.” he announced, as they wandered to the end of a steep incline into an open space of the cave. Crystals scattered here and there, as did puddles, but there was a strange black texture of stone that seemed to swirl and lash out in curves and coils across the stone ground. It spiraled to a center, where a singular, circular dip was left. The stone ground here, in the light, reflected purple one moment, and a deep red the next. It was much heavier here than before, to Cloud.

To Vincent, it was like walking into a deep embrace, that wanted to pull him deeper, but he would not let it. 

“This is where we’re doing this…?” Cloud asked.

Vincent nodded, and faced Cloud completely then. “Absolutely… This is where he finds his slumber. This is where they excavated and uprooted him. This is where the power swirls and culminates, waiting. So, this is where I will forge our foundation. How are you feeling?”

Cloud scoffed an awkward laugh. “Uh…a little heavy and overwhelmed, but I think that’s to be expected.”

Vincent faintly grinned and nodded. “I think so, too…” he paced the area, and briefly around Cloud, and the blond could literally feel the gravity shifting, like Vincent pulled it magnetically after him. It was…a strange and fascinating experience. He wasn’t sure if it was the low lighting of the location, or something he was actually perceiving, but the tattered edges of the red cloaks’ cape billowing across the ground seemed to meld with darkness licking up at it and over it as he moved. His gaze roamed up the mans form as he damn-near floated in his paced circling, gaze almost glowing. Cloud imagined he was coaxing or connecting with the energy here, or both, but for a moment, he didn’t care to make sense of it.

He’d…never seen Vincent so in his element. And he knew that was just being the Vessel. That was not a fate he chose, that was not all he was and should ever be, not exactly what he was born for. There was so much more to the man circling him right now. But, still…right now, as he worked, he seemed…

“Sit, when you’re ready, Cloud.”

Cloud heard the words, but it was about three seconds before the clarity of them echoed to the depths of his brain enough for him to understand and react. He nodded, deciding to step closer to the center before sitting carefully. His legs criss-crossed, arms crossed over his knees as he still watched the other man, waiting.

Vincent paced a circle one more time, taking deep breaths as he did, and when he finally took a seat before Cloud, looking upon him, Cloud noticed the yellow/gold glow in his eye had spread further through the iris, and now was reflected in the other one, too, as if battling for dominance over the glowing red. Cloud only half resisted a shiver, the rest of it making him sit up straighter and swallow.

“I’ve made my connection with the power here, so that it will follow my will and intention, but will now stir Chaos. Next, I’ll be working to sort of…build a foundation with his--THE Void energy.” Vincent began to explain, assuring Cloud would understand the following process. “Foundations, meaning the Void’s darkness will surround and cradle us, with it’s potential at the ready for me to forge into the tools necessary. It will take hold, and when necessary, it will grip us. But the hold is to keep us steady and grounded in the secure plane I intend to forge. The tools…they will take different shapes, like tendrils, or hands, they will…search to reach and pull forth, even cleanse what’s needed. It might be intimidating, but unless I tell you otherwise, do not fear it and do not fight it.”

“I won’t.” Cloud found himself promising.

“I will prepare all of this, and I will tell you when we’ll begin, and what the Void will be doing…what I will be guiding it to do. I need you to do your best to endure, within reason. If it is upsetting, I urge you to persist. If you trust fear, at your core, that there is risk of harm or loss of yourself further, tell me, and we will stop as quickly and safely as possible. Understood?”

Cloud nodded carefully before verbally confirming, “I understand.”

“Last thing…” he then reached out both his hands. “...It doesn’t matter how, or…what you seek to grab hold of, but you will need to keep hold of me, and I you. It keeps you safe, and secure in the plane I will create. If we loose contact, which is extremely unlikely with the…ways I can keep hold and claim, there is a risk to you, and your spirit. The Void could go about its natural process in cleansing and dispensing you, and that is not…not acceptable.” he cleared his throat. “I can’t know how quickly that would happen, but given certain cells still within you, it will…attack rather viciously, that I’m sure of. Are you sure you’re still willing to do this, knowing these risks?”

“I know we can manage this, together.” Cloud answered instead, his faith in his friend clear in his tone. He noticed Vincent offering his right hand, the one lacking claws, more than he offered the gauntlet bound one. And so he took the left, firmly. There was only a seconds hesitation, before the clawed fingers wrapped around Cloud’s hand.

He felt the darkness kissing across his wrist and forearm first before he looked down to see it, billowing from Vincent’s hold and encircling Vincent. The sensation of it across his skin was…strange. His skin was covered in goosebumps, hair raised, and it felt like biting ice and sparks of flame. It felt like a vice, yet it felt like a soothing lap of a tongue, as if Galian were licking at Cloud’s wrist in this very moment. But he didn’t fear it, because it was Vincent.

“Alright… Just keep hold. I’m going to begin.” Vincent warned him, and his shining eyes finally shut. In that instance, the darkness seemed to spill from him and up from the ground to meet one another, billowing and spreading, trying to take shape, rising like a wave before crashing down again.

And then he heard it… Voices, men and women and people in between. Young and old. Creatures, too, chittering and hissing and growling. The sound came in and out like waves, and now and again, they seemed to hiss harshly when the gravity tugged at Cloud heavier, but then they both would let up. There was so much going on, Cloud started feeling dizzy. He didn’t understand why, but he just gripped Vincent’s hand and shut his eyes, ducking his head. He doubted he had to play witness anyways.

And yet suddenly, once his eyes were shut, there was an entirely different vision behind his lids….as if he was seeing his surroundings with clear sight denied to him seconds before.

“What the hell…? How am I seeing this?” Cloud asked and even his voice is different, like it echoes in the empty space beyond their foundation.

“Because I’m letting you.” Vincent’s deep, soothing tones echo right to him and Cloud lets out a a shaky breath. Even HE looks different…! Not vastly, but there’s a violet purple aura wisping around him, and his eyes are steadily half lidded, surrounded in black save for the glow that was now mostly golden yellow, with hints of red.

“R-right…”

Cloud took in his surroundings more clearly then. The foundation, the literal ground they seem to be sitting on, is just like the stone he knows they were literally sitting on…except there were pillars, not gems or cave stones, arching up all around until an endless above. Between each pillar, there seemed to be stone paths that lead down into various shades of darkness. Some paths led to soft shadows, others seem like a deep, dark blackness that might suck him in if he stared too long, much less neared it. He wondered what they were….and why tendrils were reaching and slithering from them here and there, snaking about.

He felt a sudden weight on his ankles, looking down to chains binding him to their foundation. He saw the same binding Vincent, as well as a strange winding black whisper circling their bound hands, like an eight figure, infinitely wrapping their wrists. He supposed if he had been in a different place, the binding of their hands, and around his feet, might unnerve him. But right now, as he believed it should, it reassured him.

What did briefly unnerve him, however, were the tendrils that were now reaching from the violet and black aura surrounding Vincent, his golden gaze locking on him so intently as they were reaching closer and closer. Finally, they halted but they seemed to hover all around him, circling him, and some of them were crossed with one or two tendrils from the archway paths.

He trusted there was a reason for that, and tried not to be uneasy over the look of them.

“I’ve created a place for us to work safely…now, I most connect my power with you…and therein, the paths you see will be sections where the Void will summon and work with your energy and memories. Does that make sense?” Vincent asks him in that echoing tone, intense gaze unyielding.

Cloud nodded. “Yes…”

“...Are you alright?”

“Yes. Don’t start worrying like that now. I’ll endure, like I promise. So…you do the same.”

Vincent made a sort of hummed noise, nodded, and then continued. And then he felt the tendrils and the energy sucking power--it felt like he was being drained, pull apart, yet stitched together, with flame, with ice, with a whirlwind of power. He was huffing and he could already assume this was only the BEGINNING of the experience.

“F-fuck…” Cloud muttered, gripping Vincent’s hand tighter, his other fist balling at the fabric of his pants. He could feel the flashes of memory more than he could see them, and that was strange enough. But he felt dread, he felt fear, he felt joy, he felt anxious, he felt bothered, he felt alone, he felt curious, he felt all the unique levels of emotions a child and a preteen tends to feel that got twisted and mutilated and forced into something else for him after the incident and the time on the run. He felt it pooling into him, like something was filling him up but at the same time, it was seeping out into these tendrils. It was overwhelming enough to have him taking careful and then shaky breaths in and out.

Then there was the tendril at his left bicep, and as it gripped there, he hissed, feeling that strike of pain through his head, that left his heart pounding in a threateningly intense rhythm. “A-aah..!” he grunted in pain.

“Cloud…” Vincent's voice was low, expecting clarity and reflecting a flicker of concern, but not relenting with the will of his darkness.

“I’m fine…! I think! It just felt like… him, for only a s-second…” Cloud explained. “I don’t understand why…though…”

“...The cells…” Vincent found himself uttering the answer. “The S cells…they’re being attacked on some level… Whether they’ll be completely destroyed, I can’t be sure. But those are not you…you are still safe, it just feels…”

“Like it's tearing a part of me up…?” Cloud grunted, almost opening his eyes, but he kept them shut tight, focusing on these alternate surroundings of this project plane, then back on Vincent. “I’m fine…I’m fine… Just…do I just need to endure, or--?”

“I will contain it’s cleansing intent as much as I can while we were here. You just need to think back.” Vincent told him. “Think back on your earliest memories, then try and let your mind wander from there. My power is seeking the memories out within you, but it needs you releasing and flowing it just the same. It needs you connecting and perceiving and working with it, as it takes hold.”

Cloud sighed and nodded. This had been a great idea . He clearly hadn’t let himself think that far to really consider the entire process and what that’d entail for him. What he'd feel, what he'd face, expected and not. There was no point complaining now, though. With heavy dread and fluctuation reluctance, he did his best to push his mind further and further back into the muddled past.

Remembering his earlier years had been hard, for…a while. During his journey with Avalanche, hunting down Sephiroth, he avoided thinking back on his childhood apart from key moments that seemed the most defining for how he felt at the time. Because if he tried harder, it was like looking for something precious in a mound of watery mud with unknown depths. Since his dip in the Lifestream with Tifa, things were…clearer, and more lined up. But sometimes, it took more effort to sift through the lesser mud of his foggy memories. And as he’d already discussed with Vincent, there were parts that she couldn’t have known or understood that were missing or misplaced.

But he kept drifting back, almost witnessing the flash of memories on the back of his eyelids, overcoming the vision of the Void plane. Running in fields, hiding in forest, overhearing town kids and adults gossiping or mocking his family, very few ever having gentle words. The beasts, the near run-ins with fiends. The dares to go into the ‘haunted manor’, the stories of the wails heard deep within by the adults and the teens alike, the mix of visions of the land tied to pride and disdain for his home.

There was a brief flicker of thought that disrupted memory, causing Vincent to come into focus again--Cloud found himself wondering, or more so realizing, that those ‘haunting wails’ were just as likely fiends, or even…Vincent himself, during his former transformation outbursts he’d rarely told him about.

“Focus.” Vincent’s voice echoed distantly, but softly coaxed him back into his own memory, like dipping him back into a pool to be baptized.

And so he continued; he saw flashes of how the town changed as he grew, which was very little. The old folks that passed, the few families that moved. The teenagers that talked big about traveling across the seas or going to follow great careers. But most everything stayed the same. The same eyes boring into the Strife home. The same whispers complaining about how unusual the widower living there was, and how bratty or quiet her kid could be. The same community that projected warmth but was far more complicated underneath.

This journey back so far was annoying, but he could push past it. He’d endured this bullshit as a kid, there could do it again now.

“The father left them behind, you know… Didn’t want the boy, likely, that Strife fellow wasn’t the domestic sort.” he remembered overhearing.

“And that poor woman, saddled with that problem child, all on her own? How she manages, I have no idea!”

“Well, she’s not the domestic sort, either. She manages, but she’s not really…what a mother should be, don’t you think? Ugh, stuck on the strange ways of the past, and yet dabbling in new age curiosities!” an old woman complained. “That Claudia is a strange one…”

Cloud remembered sitting behind a food stall, considering snatching a sandwich from one of the more bitter ladies, just because she deserved it. Yeah, he might get caught, and they might say more bitter old lady shit, but they deserved it, didn’t they? Yeah, his mom was weird, but she was also amazing…! Better than any of the other mothers around town! He was tired of hearing them--

The memory shuddered, and suddenly, it was his mothers voice and it stole the breath from Cloud.

“You remember what I told you, right, sweetheart?” she had spoken so patiently, sitting with Cloud, trying to finish a braid, picking a rune-marked clasp to use when she finished. Cloud remembered pouting, kicking his feet, feeling restless. His eyes were stinging and he just wanted to…he didn’t know! Say words, loudly, drown out his mother! But he didn’t have the gumption…just yet.

“Mm…” Cloud shook his head in the present, the memory feeling heavy and bitter and comforting in a way that could so easily snake it's way into choking him. “Not…”

“Persist, Cloud. These clearer flashes we’re seeing…?” Vincent explained, only just now making it clear to Cloud that these memories were a shared vision. Which Cloud wasn't sure if he minded or not, apart from the initial shame and discomfort. “These are tied to you, stronger than the rest. These are memories that shape you. So you MUST endure.”

Cloud sighed, hearing her voice echoing  ‘sweetheart’ as a question, until he dipped back into memory.

“Cloud.” she persisted, and he remembered standing, disturbing her work on his hair, the braids falling loose. “Young man.” she said with only half patience.

“What does it matter, momma?!” Cloud complained with a stomp, turning to face her. “They never change! They want US to change, they call us weird, they call YOU weird! Like…weird as if it’s bad! Why don’t you call them out?! You call ME out all the time when you think I’m wrong…”

“Because you’re young, Cloud, and that’s how you learn right and wrong and become a good adult.” she explained, and Cloud scoffed. “THEIR mothers didn’t scold them enough when they were young, so now they’re thoughtless, tired, and messed up adults. At the point they’re at, they won’t hear it anymore. So it’s not worth either of us wasting our energy. Now will you sit back down, so I can finish?”

Cloud pouted, arms crossed, his little body shaking internally with his emotions, he could almost feel a tremor in his hands, so he stuffed them under his arms more. But when Claudia narrowed her gaze, expectant, her eyes showing her patience would only last so much longer, he huffed and stomped back over.

Her hand in his hair undid the braids to start reworking them. He remembered feeling fingers card through the wild strands atop his head and over his scalp--completely unnecessary, since the hair she was working with was at the back and near the nape. He wished she would just get done, but she kept up the random pets through his hair, and as a child he couldn’t be bothered to notice his huffy breath would calm and his tremors would ease into nothing under the ministrations.

“Are you going to answer me, Cloud…?” she eventually asked, sounding amused.

“...About what…”

There was a flick to the back of his head, as punishment for the tone, but she finally put a clasp into one braid to keep it. “What have I told you, to keep in your mind, no matter what people around here say or do…?”

Cloud was still silent, but he could feel her waiting and waiting, expecting him to echo her words, her lesson she liked to drill into him now and again. He sighed, feeling her gentling tugging hair into a second, smaller braid. “That I’m your son… You’re my mother… And that…” he fought the very pout of his lip, biting it briefly as if to punish himself for his emotions, before persisting, “That we are strong, because we know ourselves…we watch the world, we learn…”

“And we flow with the way of the world. Be it one gods will or another, be it the flow of the ancient stream, be it one person's belief or another's… You know here,” she wrapped her fingers across his forehead, then reached to press her hand at his chest, “and here,” then she poked at his belly near his bellybutton, making him giggle before he strangled it to keep up his pouting demeanor, “and here, what is real. Okay? Too many people get stuck following just one of those three things, and they believe every word of what it tells them. But you can’t see the world, and the people in it, clearly unless you’re listening to all of it. So, keep them steady, and keep listening to yourself Cloud. Don’t listen to them, and if you ever actually feel like I myself am wrong (and not just because you’re upset),” she poked his chest, “then you speak your belief. You stand your ground. But only when it feels right, in your mind, your heart, and your gut.”

“...So calling them out is wrong because…?” he persisted somewhat, because his self was saying a lot of damn things about this situation still.

“Because you’re only following your heart, and a little bit of that gut of yours.” she chuckled. “You keep forgetting your mind… need to bring it down from the clouds , Cloud, sweetheart.” she chuckled teasingly, and Cloud heard himself complain, before suddenly the memory shuddered out again.

As Cloud felt himself focus back on the present, he felt his breath tremble in and out, throat aching and eyes stinging. He’d cried a bit, he could feel it. He only ran his free hand over his still mostly shut eyes, before no longer focusing on the display. 

Her little lesson, about listening to all of himself… After hearing it again, it felt like a memory that had always been there, had never left, and yet, he knew he hadn’t thought about those sayings or that instance in a very long time. He rarely perfectly took her advice back then, to be honest. There was always some imbalance, whether he was listening too much to one and not enough to others, or listening to only one the entire time. He couldn’t say he really ever managed it again, not perfectly. The path of communication from heart, mind, and gut had been rather gargled since the incident. 

But, now…? His hand fell around his stomach, thinking about how well he'd incidentally been balancing the three in the past year or so, if much at all. He was…doing better. It just seemed like sometimes, he dismissed the heart to listen to the others or listened to it too much. Could that be a part of what’s missing…? The young man Claudia Strife had tried to raise and shape, lost to time, but striving off and on to achieve that balance so that at the very least, he made her proud and never became like those shitty adults back home…?

Maybe. But, he imagined that it was too soon to start figuring that out. That had been early memories, as it were, so he imagined there were heavier ones to come, from a few later years. 

“Cloud.” 

His attention was drawn to Vincent, whose glowing aura seemed to have spread a bit, since he last observed him. “Yes?”

“Look around again. The archways should be taking shape, as gate ways to specific moments. Let me know if you..feel anything, implications of memories or even feelings of sensations or thoughts from them. They may be the key to what’s most important.” he coaxed, a yellow, glowing gaze flitting about the room.

Cloud nodded, and looked around at the archways. They didn’t seem any different, at first glance, other than the tendrils seeming less deep in their shadowy shade. But the longer he stared, a light began to fill the archways, and from each one, he could hear echoes of voices, could feel echoes of feelings. “Holy shit…” he muttered, in awe for a moment. He continued to look around at every arch. Out of about ten that he could see, only six were glowing and exuding what he simply assumed was the collected memory energy.

“Six of them… So, what…? I have six core parts of myself that I gotta work on…?” Cloud asked, thinking it sounded like a bit more work than he felt was worth it.

“You don’t exactly have to work with every single one in deep detail,” Vincent started to explain, “Unless this ends up requiring more than fishing and reaching, which it very well may. If you work through three, and find what’s missing, then if you desire, that can be the end of it. It…may do you good, to at least work a little with each of these core memories, however. They’re important for a reason, and given how you’ve felt within yourself, that feeling of missing things you don't know are missing, it might bring clarity and security within yourself. There are many things you could tap into, here, if you ever chose to outside of this practice--including more of these core like memories. However, what’s presenting itself right now is what’s most prominently bound to your emotions and focus in this present time.”

That still felt….like a lot, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. Cloud just nodded carefully. “Alright, then… So, core memories…?”

“Significant moments, positive, negative, any assortment of an impactful experience that happened to shape you enough that it’s etched into your soul.” 

Cloud swallowed. “Mm… Intense. And you, uh…see everything I see here, don’t you, huh? Like a shared projection.”

Vincent nodded carefully. “I do. I apologize, but it’s just how it works.”

“It’s…fine. I just…don’t know what to expect, you know?” Cloud remarked, but tried to dismiss the discomfort. It was like waiting for someone to strip him bare, but he never knew when or to what level of bareness. But one fact was sure--all of him would be on display for Vincent to see. The thought was overwhelming, and that’s the only way he could define it. “Whatever, let’s just…get to this. Where…do you think I should start?”

“Being a logical masochist myself, I would start with what feels the most negative and work towards the positive cores. But, feel free to go at your own pace.” Vincent responded, and the sarcasm in his tone somehow eased Cloud’s dread. At least a little bit, enough for him to chuckle, before looking over the archway paths once again.

The difficult shit first, huh? Made sense. Rip off the band aid, let himself recover in the easier shit after. But as he searched, and reached out, he felt the deepest, darkest, most heavy core and it was…hot, burning, full of fire and the stench of burning flesh and the overwhelming sense of being gutted and choking on ash. He drew back from that archway, knowing exactly what it was. “No…I…mm… Not that one. Not…yet.”

“...Alright.” Vincent supported, though Cloud could almost sense there was more he could say. But he didn’t, and so Cloud focused. He would try, he would try and face the hardest, sooner rather than later, but…not just yet. Not when he was still getting used to this process.

He focused on the nearest one, reaching out with his mind as well as his hand, feeling as if the energy of the memory was drifting towards him to close the space. As it drew closer, he recognized what it was--a rather neutral memory, but he supposed he could understand it’s impact.

He sifted through the memories of his time after meeting Tifa in Midgard. He was surprised at first, imagining most of these core memories might be based before he fell apart, but…he supposed he was still shaping himself, even if he had been missing pieces. At the time, talking to her, reflecting over their mismatched time and experiences and with Cloud latching on to every misconception that sounded good or fitting for the vision he sought to mold then, he could feel his present sadness and sympathy for himself. But back then, it was just like…waking up, and every new waking second was him projecting a shinier and shinier image.

Remembering Tifa’s confusion, now, made him feel rather guilty. She was confused, and she knew something was off, but she was unwilling to address it. Would anything have been different if she had? He couldn’t help but wonder that. Would he have snapped to sooner? Or would it have had made things more difficult and complicated? Both very likely, in his opinion. He didn’t hold it against her, though. It…was difficult for both of them. All of it was.

But, he remembered the promise. Despite all the mud in his mind and memory, he remembered his promise to her, and he shaped himself around that, and around the drive that took him into ShinRa’s grasp in the first place. That promise, and the desires behind it, were the blessing and curse that followed him from then on. The promise was from their youth, but in that moment, Cloud would keep hold of it like a compass guiding him.

Cloud felt himself drifting out of the memory, as he and Tifa separated ways, flitters of later events; missions, interactions, all flashed before him but eventually he was back to his center, and the archway seem to swirl, as if something was stirred and satisfied within it. It was no longer reaching the same way.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Cloud muttered with a sigh. “A little rough, a little heavy in reminders, but…bearable. So, the rest are gonna be worse, aren’t they?”

“Likely.” Vincent answered dryly, causing Cloud to chuckle. The Vessel of the Void gripped his hand, however, a singular grounding source of contact supporting him.

He grinned faintly, and nodded, turning to the next memory, which pulled him in just as smoothly as the last when he started reaching for it.

As he dipped in, he saw laid before him…fields, giving way to trees, wild woods, rivers, and the climbing paths and boulders leading up hills and into the mountain sides. He was confused, at first, about what memory this was. Clearly, nothing that he held close to him consciously, but strong enough to make it a core memory, that was clear enough.

Finally, he felt and perceived himself properly. He was small, and reckless. Smaller, by at least a year, from that other memory with his mother braiding his hair. He had been following some adults, some town merchants, going to neighboring homes outside of town to work out some deals. He wasn’t sure why, he just wanted to follow and observe, but then he found himself draw out further and further. It wasn’t as if he never went outside of Nibelheim and the familiar buildings and nearby forests and cliffs. But, he didn’t go very far on his own.

This was the start. That’s what this memory was--the start of his rebellious adventuring and facing what the world had to offer on his own, exploring his home for what it was, alone without adults lecturing him or other kids daring him to do one stupid thing or another or worse, doubting he could do anything. It was just him, Cloud, against nature; the scary and crazy and amazing stretches of nature laid out before him. 

He strayed from stalking the merchant folks, and scurried off to run the length of the river. When he spotted boulders perfect for leaping across to make his way to the other side, he didn’t hesitate. He leapt, nearly slipped, panicked then laughed and leapt on until he made it across.

“Ha, yeah!!” he cheered for only him to hear, and ran for the tall grass, giggling and enjoying the burn in his legs, enjoying taking in the different smells than the ones around town. He even spotted a wild chocobo in the distance! He wasn’t a dumb kid, though, so he steered clear other than to climb a tree and watch from afar as it grazed and then ran off for its family perhaps.

He knew his mother would have his behind for this, so maybe he’d get back home before she noticed he was uncharacteristically absent from his usual corners of town. But, not quite yet. Instead, he hopped down from the tree and hurried up a hill, as fast as he could. He found he misjudged his momentum, and ended up tumbling back a bit. He was frustrated, but kept pushing on anyways until finally, he reached the top, higher than most the trees. He could see the bridge and further past the river from where he was, and the air was so open here. He knew it was the same air he breathed every day, but something about it just…felt better in his lungs, tested better on his tongue. He let out another cheer of victory, of joy. That’s when he heard the howl, and his blood ran cold.

Nibel wolves.

Fear struck him as he scurried back behind a boulder. Dread, regret, a million other feelings filled him. His mother would use this as an example of why she warned him against doing things like this, if he even lived to see her again. He felt sick, and was fighting sniffling. He heard them howling again, barking. There was more than one, and they were communicating. Cloud knew they had sharp senses, and if they were hungry or bored enough, they’d give chase. He couldn’t run. He was done for.

What could he do…?!

Then he remembered, some of the men at the inn would talk outside about their run-in with fiends, and their close calls. He rarely believed half of their tales, but he remembered some of them talked about how mud or dirt helped cover their scent, from wolves and birds and even upset chocobos if they bothered them bad enough. It was worth a try!

So he hurried, keeping ear out, and feeling like they were surrounding him. Finally, he found a good patch of dirt that was just a little wet, and he started rubbing it in random exposed skin, then wiping it on his shirt for good measure. Still, if they saw him-- Ah, the trees! He hurried, and climbed as fast as his tense little overworked limbs could manage to get him. He climbed higher and higher, arms trembling, but he climbed as far as he dared and hugged tight to trunk of the tree as he waited. Would they still smell him? Was this pointless? He had no idea of Nibel wolves could even climb up a tree.

The minutes seemed to tick by like hours. What was only seven or 8 minutes felt like he was gripping tight to the tree for the entire day. But eventually, he saw the hind quarters of one passing under the tree through the leaves, and the tail of another, and over time, the sound of them retreating. It felt foolish to come down, but if he didn’t, he’d be stuck there forever. It took a while to gather his courage, and recover strength in his tired limbs, but finally he did.

Climbing his way down, he looked over the the clearing, noting the paw prints and the direction they had headed. Thankfully, it was far behind anywhere he had or would travel, and so he set off back for the river as quick as his aching legs could take him. He tripped a few times down the hill, but used the momentum anyways. Coughing and huffing, he made it to the rocks in the river, and looked back, just to be sure…and there was nothing. It was clear, and he was safe.

He was safe…! He’d avoided them, all on his own! A kid! The Strife kid, and he’d avoided NIBEL WOLVES, all on his own! Man, if only he had someone to tell…! No one would really believe him, and he couldn’t very well tell his mother, but…still. He’d done it! He huffed a tired laugh, and leapt from rock to rock, ready to be home, and feeling pride giving him a last boost of energy. Each hop was met with a cocky chuckle--that is, until he slipped on the last rock. Lucky for him, he didn’t fall into the current, though he did splash into the water on the opposite side of the boulder, where he could climb out. But being drenched couldn’t be helped. He used the water, which froze him to his core, to try and clean some of the dirt and mud, and then he hurried back to the path he knew well.

Claudia was never told by Cloud what all he’d gotten up to, but she still punished him for being gone without a word, and getting into enough trouble to be so dirty yet soaked to the bone. Cloud remembered being so annoyed that he hadn’t managed to overcome his mothers wrath, despite overcoming damn WOLVES. Looking back with his present mind, though, he recognized his mother knew--she didn’t know specifics, but she knew he’d gone too far and been stupid, and sought to punish him accordingly.

It had been a crazy experience, that he looked back on with pride, and which inspired him to venture further on his own, all around Nibelheim. It got to a point where his mother simply had to accept it. Few people ever believed how far he’d go, or what he’d experienced, though the kids would ask when he was gone for a while without a trace. He didn’t care if they believed him…most of the time. No, most of the time, he just loved the feeling of going. Facing unknowns, understanding the world around him, and making it back in one piece, because he just could. It started a hunger in the boy that never really died out, never completely.

Drifting back to the present, he sighed, feeling an amused grin on his lips.

“A good one, then…?” Vincent asked. 

“Guess. Just funny looking back on the brat I was.” he admitted. “I really did push myself.”

“And succeeded. Didn’t you?” Vincent offered, with the smallest of grins.

“Eh, sometimes.” he conceded, taking another breath and sighing, before turning to the next memory and reaching out with clear determination.

And as if to play into his answer to Vincent, he found himself falling into one of those impactful adventures or times where he went against rules and expectations that…didn’t work out so well.

He felt himself fall into this memory more than anything. It was breaking into the Shinra Manor, or Mansion--the adults never seemed to agree on which it should be called. It didn’t matter to him. All he knew was that those jerks that hung around Tifa all the time kept daring each other, and chickening out, despite talking as if they'd managed it. They dared him indirectly, too, but he hadn’t have a chance to prove himself. Yet.

But he finally managed to get up the courage to do it.

He’d broken into a side window…which lead him to struggle to make it out of a locked room. He wasn’t going to JUST snoop in one room, and not have anything much to show for it. He planned to make a map, too, to prove to them he’d been in there--especially if he could challenge the boys that talked about getting in there, or that their older brother that left down had with what they knew of what was inside. He would see if the boys and Tifa realized how pointless the challenge was, and how chicken-shit they acted. Granted, Tifa always saw it as pointless already, laughing the other kids off. But they never listened.

After damaging a handle in just the right way to free the door from it’s locked state, Cloud set to work hunting around. He found himself focusing so much on what little he’d observed there--his present self barely even remembered actually entering the place many times at such a young age, but there he was, collecting items that looked old enough to fit being in such an ancient dusty place. And he was using the pencil and notebook he’d taken from his mothers room to draw out the inside as best he could.

But before Cloud could really dwell on the memories of anything he saw or experienced there, it seemed the focus was on afterwards. Suddenly, he was in the town square, the boys were mocking him, and one of the old hags that were always complaining about his mom overheard.

They accused him of desecrating property, of breaking in, of stealing. They accused him of disturbing the horrible secrets there, and that turmoil would follow him, or spill out to the town as punishment for his actions. 

He pointed to the other boys then, making a point that they all talked about it all the time, that he’d seen signs that one of them had broke into one room, and one through the front, if only for a second. He wasn’t the only one, but no one wanted to listen, and he remembered Tifa’s dad regarding him with disdain and judgment. Her mother never looked at him like that, when she was around to look at him--

The memory shifted, and he damn near felt like he had been in a pool of water, only to be spilled into another. He fell into the next core memory, barely grasping what he was defined by from the last; the townspeople, the judgment, the fact that his intentions and actions never mattered if people had their minds made up? He wasn’t sure.

But he remembered Mrs. Lockhart's warm smile, and felt bitter over the memory. He remembered Mr. Lockhart's dismissive glare, and the sadness that eventually followed him for a time when he’d walk through town. He remembered Tifa…disconnected, until her friends forced themselves upon her and she forced her own positive energy, which wasn't immediate. Her mother was gone, and she was grieving, yet no one saw it for all they should. The neighborhood could do next to nothing to mend a child's broken heart, her father was too broken himself to be able to go that far, and the neighborhood kids wouldn't even try to understand.

Except Cloud could see. He didn’t understand the same way, he didn’t remember his fathers face, or how it would pull into a smile or frown, he didn’t remember his voice like he knew Tifa remembered her mothers. He didn’t lose as much, but he could still understand enough in his own way, to do something about it.

Finally, against all dread and disconnect and preference for distance because he just couldn't seem to…fit with everyone else, with Tifa when she was surrounding with the children that just served as echoes of their parents…he pushed himself and he reached out. Not as soon as he should have, and not as hard as he maybe should have. Life thus far had shown him that very few people listened to him, and this town found it easier to disregard or judge his actions than to hear him out, so he’d hesitated for too many days.

Not anymore, though. Not when he heard what Tifa planned to do, and how uselessly her gaggle of male friends and stupid egos just egged her on and sought to join her on her ill-fated journey. He tried to say something against the choice to climb the bridge to Mt. Nibel, to seek out that passage that could bring them to passed loved ones. He wasn’t sure, even then, that he believed Tifa completely believed it. It was just something to do, a way to reach out for what was missing. 

“Oh look, Strife’s chickening out again, huh? Since when do you think you can tell any body what to do?” one of the older boys dismissed with a laugh.

“Tifa’s got more guts than you, jerk!” another boy remarked. “You just don’t want anyone telling anything better than your made up crap!”

“What, don't wanna make the hike, like your dad?!” another boy laughed.

“Just stop. Cloud, you can come if you want.” Tifa shut the boys up, ignoring their chuckling. Here features were devoid of emotion, but something in those burning brown eyes was full of intent and desperation. “Or you can stay. I don’t care. I’m going to find my mom.” And she took her first step to--

Flashes to her cries, to her father yelling, to a deep dread and regret and rage and--

Cloud felt himself drifting out of the memory, struggling, uncomfortable. “N-no….it’s…I can’t..!” he muttered, feeling it was all too heavy, too fresh, his emotions like that of the overwhelmed, emotional boy who felt like he’d just failed everything that mattered to him. The memory twisted, and he felt the tendrils tightening around him. “I failed…!” he grunted through gritted teeth.

“Whether that's subjective or not, it doesn’t matter Cloud. It happened, and you have to push through it again.”

“I can’t…” Cloud complained, drawing back more intentionally now, the dread and regret swirling up, the look of Tifa hurt-- “I don’t WANT to…!”

The tendrils gripped and tugged to keep Cloud’s body steady, and Vincent gripped Cloud’s hand in his own tighter. “I know you don’t, but you have to. This won’t be finished, if you can’t push. We can’t know where this piece is hiding…so you have to keep…looking through it.”

Cloud gripped Vincent’s hand back, shuddered, gritting his teeth. He’d stopped pulling back, but he was still apart from the memory. He glanced to Vincent briefly, those golden yellow eyes boring into him, before blinking as he nodded. Cloud sighed, and with deep reluctance, he dove back in.

She took those steps, leaving the petty and childish bickering behind her. The boys scurried after her, and Cloud remembered hesitating. Reliving this, perhaps there was the slightest chance that finding an adult, even just his mother, would’ve been a better idea. But he wanted to reach out, he wanted to help Tifa through this, and he knew this wasn’t going to end well, so he couldn’t just sit by. He just knew…his mothers words were more right than the old wives tales--there was no pathway to the afterlife. Just a pathway to death.

So he joined the crew, trying to figure a way to reason with Tifa, to get her to turn back. He couldn’t find the words, and he knew if he spoke up, the others would just drown him out. He knew he had to figure something out, though. Maybe if they reached far enough, he could say he heard that this was the end of line, where his mother told him this pathway should reach…but there was clearly nothing, so they should turn back.

He’d been up this way of Mt. Nibel a few times, they all had, but, they never went this far. They were all forbade, and had enough self preservation to usually listen. But they kept going, through twists and turns, having to avoid a couple fiends that sent at least two boys running. Cloud remembered rolling his eyes, but his dread was building. They had to stop soon.

“Don’t you think…you should try coming up with your dad, Tifa…?” he tried to offer. “If you’re trying to find…your mom--”

“He wouldn’t listen. Said this was stupid and I shouldn’t listen to old fairy tales.” she dismissed, barely sounding like herself.

“What is it, Cloud? Suddenly wanting to do what the parents tell you?” one boy mocked, though it was pitiful and forced.

“Better than wandering around like an idiot.” Cloud spout, and the boy got annoyed, stomping up at him, ready to shove--

“There it is!” Tifa cried, pointing at the the rickety bridge blowing unstably in the wind. “We made it…! Come on!” she picked up her pace, and the boys didn’t move a muscle.

“Wha… Tifa, really? I mean…that bridge really isn’t that…safe… Maybe we should take a second, test it first?” the oldest boy offered, but Tifa was already three steps onto it. She looked back at the boys then.

“Are you coming with me or not..?!” her eyes were shining. But they waited too long. “Fine, go home then…! I’ll find my mom myself!”

“Tifa!” Cloud complained, shoving past the other boys. He didn’t bother watching their retreat--his eyes were on her, as he hurried onto the bridge after her. His body was pounding with fear, but he couldn’t not go after her. “Tifa, stop for a second!” the bridge shook even more. “You can’t go! This isn’t safe!”

He couldn’t quite remember, times before, but now, it seemed clear. He told her then, she wasn’t going to find her mom there. She denied his words, continued. He hurried after her, but it was too much for the bridge. And everything fell apart. Tifa was hurt. He got her back and got her help, only to be blamed by the cowards that left them behind. He was forbade from her, labeled even more of a troublesome child than he’d already been. The only one to listen to him, to believe him, was his mother, and even she scolded him for doing something so risky and not coming to her. She understood, in her own way. She cared for Tifa, and she’d cared for her mother, but he knew now he’d scared her into thinking she could've lost her last bit of family left, too.

Memories swam, full of seeing Tifa from a distance, seemingly with dismissal or disdain, then randomly with a welcoming but sad wave. He would never forget the hate in her fathers eyes, nor the argument he’d gotten into with Cloud’s mother. The eyes didn’t stop glaring at him for a couple years…but, even through the muddled misunderstandings and the words and judgments of others…Tifa still came to him, with time. She thanked him for helping her. She apologized for getting them into it, then never spoke of it again. She also never hung out with the other kids again. Despite her fathers wishes, she made time to spend with Cloud.

A short lived friendship, pined for over years and given life nearly too late. He could’ve done things much differently. Sometimes he really wish he had. But, they found their place, eventually. Over time, they recovered, and for a little while…it was just Cloud and Tifa.

And then the boys started leaving town for ShinRa.

With that, Cloud felt himself fall back out of the memory, his breath stuttering out of him for a brief second or two. He settled into the now once more, taking deep breaths and riding out the after-layers of emotions that came with the memories. He really did hate that time, but he was thankful for what he was finally able to reach, in spite of it or…because of it.

“Still not sure I’ve…felt anything yet, in regards to that--that piece. How do we…know when we’ve come across it? Will we even notice?” Cloud found himself asking, because honestly, so far, he hadn’t made sense of anything yet. Yes, he was taking back layers he’d let drift nearly too far, and he could see parts of why they meant so much for who he was now. But he’d yet to feel or perceive something that just…somehow SCREAMED ‘I’m what’s missing!’.

“You’ll feel it…know it. I’ll be able to sense it as well. I can’t say what it will feel like yet, just…trust that we’ll know. But you’ll have to keep going for us to keep looking.” Vincent told him, tendrils shifting a bit now and again. Cloud looked over the arch-paths, noting the spaces that seemed to have that sort of winding affect, like they were left to flow around after he interacted with them. He supposed that was a good sign.

“So…the next one...”

“Yes. That one is next.” Vincent confirmed, gripping Cloud’s hand and Cloud gripped back immediately. 

“...Are you really even sure I can…endure…this?”

“I am. You will, like you have everything in your life thus far. But it will be hell, all over again. So there’s no way to make that better. It defined you, no matter how it should’ve never happened.”

Cloud let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. But he looked on towards the pathway…and he could feel the heat…he could smell it all, and hear the cries. He felt sick, felt the bile stirring up his throat that he had to swallow back down. “ Vincent .”

“I’ve got you.”

Cloud wasn’t sure how that would help, but nonetheless, he gripped the mans hand as he reached for the memory, and it took him with burning claws, plunging him into the depths of all the worst sensations and moments. This one was so…scattered, like it was all happening at once, and Cloud felt his breath coming in panicked rushes, coughing on the smoke that wasn’t really there. Arriving, the fiends, Zack, Tifa, his home, Sephiroth, the reactor, Sephiroth, the other trooper, the moments of thrill and the moments it all turned sour, Sephiroth burning at the core of it all .

“It’s all…too much! Vincent, it wouldn’t even clear..! I can’t make it…right itself!”

“It’s damaged memories, full of wounds and infections. You’ll have to fight to put it back as it needs to be.”

“I have to fucking FIGHT to re-experienced this shit?!”

“Yes.”

“This is bullshit!” he spat and huffed, choking back a sob as he shook his head.

“It absolutely is, and it’s the only way. And I’m sorry.”

He knew Vincent wasn’t placating him, but it didn’t help. He still had no choice, and he didn’t want to do this. But he began pushing through the memories, trying to line them up as they should be.

He felt pride and admiration towards Zack, and Sephiroth as he settled the arrival at the beginning. He felt dread and shame, over wandering around town and doing nothing. He felt confusion and conflict, as he sorted the memories of what little he did on their journey while Zack and Sephiroth shouldered the most of it and he'd only hear about it after or experience from the sidelines. Fear, dread, regret, shame, as he tried to sort the memories of after Zack and Sephiroth returned. The dread would go around, starting at his feet, winding up his leg, over his waist, his arm, binding his throat .

He choked, feeling himself falling out of the memories again, and they were slowly getting disorganized again. “Vincent--” he almost sounded like he whined, and he hated it.

“Keep going, Cloud.” Vincent’s voice echoed with urgency. “You have to hold to it, finish it..! Don’t let this fall apart!”

“I can’t!” he tried to deny, and tug away from Vincent’s hand, but Vincent gripped tighter, as did that infinite loop binding their hands.

“Cloud, if you draw back like this, everything could fall apart, we could loose control--the damage could be worse than before! I know this is your hell, you don’t deserve to live it again, but you HAVE to! You have to accept it as part of you again, or what’s missing will stay buried and lost! Don’t! Let go of me!”

The urgency in the other mans voice was more than he’d ever thought he’d heard, outside of Vincent’s recent personal trials, and he wanted to do as he said. He didn’t want to ruin all the hard work they put in, that Tifa put in, that he himself put in, but…how could he go through that again? All of it again…?! His resistance trembled, but so did their foundation, the tendrils loosening and gripping once more. He could feel the affect his resistance was having. He could feel the tremble of repercussions, could feel the grip of Vincent’s hand, of his power, and he just wanted to scream.

And so he did, before plunging himself into the memory headfirst.

He shoved the memories into place in a rush, feeling every movement burning him in his blood, and suddenly, he felt himself stumbling from begin to end at high speed and yet a snails pace.

The star struck feelings towards Sephiroth, the admiration towards Zack, and the hopes and fears towards home. As the boy he still was, he wanted to see Tifa, he wanted to see his mother. But as the man he thought he was supposed to become while he was gone, and failed to, he couldn't bear to show his face. And so he never did. He hid away, like he never had before in his own home. He did the bare minimum, while everyone shown bright with their heroism. 

And he didn’t understand what was wrong, until it was too late. He was too worried about his reputation, about what he had to prove, what he meant to show to those that mattered. He meant to figure out how to right his failure. He was intent on introducing his mother to Zack, and facing whatever reaction was waiting for him from her at the very least. He was ready to face the worst.

That’s what he’d thought.

But then the fire. The cries of voices he’d learned to hate or ignore, yet he never wanted to hear like this. The old women and men that never had the patience for him, stumbling for escape, or left to burn in their homes. The few teens left crying in fear, searching for their parents. The parents cries. He felt sick.

His mother. He could hear his mother, calling for him, begging him to escape, for this monster to have mercy.

The monster that had once been everything Cloud wanted to be. The monster that had been the chance Cloud sought. The monster that had taken Cloud from home and urged him to another life. The monster who had seemed almost impossibly human, for a fleeting moment. The monster stood in the flames shining silver and gold and orange, and those sick green eyes boring into the poor souls he cut down. Cloud was nothing. He hadn’t become anything he wanted to be. He was weak, and he was too late, and he was unprepared.

And yet he made his way after that monster. He traveled the wilds and the winding paths, he ignored the frightened fiends traumatized by the very presence of the one Cloud hunted. He made his way into that reactor. He found the last soul he was bound to from this town, bleeding out beyond the form of her fallen father, and the last shred of anything good bound to the life the monster had brought him into, the raven haired SOLDIER bloody and wounded on the steps of the reactor, leading to that last damned room.

He saw the sword, and everything in his body burned. It burned like when he ran through the wilds. It burned like when he wanted to yell at the closeminded bastards in town. It burned like when he was dragging Tifa back home. It burned like when he trained until he felt sick in the barracks of ShinRa. It burned, and he let it burn. He let it burn him as he ascended the stairs, as he observed the soulless monster distracted by the shell it was speaking to, and he let it burn through him as he lunged the blade through the monster. His home, his mother, his friend, everything. This monster had burned everything, and Cloud would burn him back, even if that’s all he would ever do, he would do it before he was done. And so the monster fell…and then, so did Cloud.

He remembered Zack, reaching out to him. He remembered…Hojo. Distantly, outside this memory, he felt a firm grip, but he focused. The heat was still around him, even though it was gone. He still burned. His hope, his energy, his awareness, his mind, it all burned and was buried beyond him until all that was left…was Zack. Zack beside him. Zack’s name carved in the tube. Zack carrying him, for that long, long year. He burned until the fire forged it’s own creature in the wake of all the ashes he had consumed.

When Cloud finally came out, he gasped and grunted, feeling as if he may have worn himself out with a scream but he couldn’t remember hearing it. All he knew was he was falling forward. The chains still bound his ankles, but he’d somehow ended up on his knees, before falling forward. He could barely move his free arm to catch himself, but he did. Hand on Vincent’s knee, and the Vessels’ free hand on his arm, their shared efforts steadying Cloud as he caught his breath. Everything in his body, head, and heart ached as if the very pounding of his heart pulsed in reopened wounds. He coughed, and sobbed, and his face planted in the arm holding him. Distantly, he could feel Vincent’s supportive grip turning into a hold as his overwhelmed body gave way to weakness.

“I’ve got you.” Vincent echoed once more. “I’m so sorry…but you’re out of it… It will fade again.” he spoke to reassure, to ease Cloud’s turmoil, but the regret in the other mans voice was clearer than ever. He almost sounded worried.

Cloud might feel weak about this later, but he just savored this support, this contact, a little longer until he finally felt his breath level once more; Vincent was solid, secure...absolutely safe, and Cloud let it seep into him. He slowly looked to Vincent, who he could see the regret in the eyes and features of. He sighed. “It’ll fade… I know you’re right… If you can endure your shit…I-I can, too.”

Vincent looked ready to say something, but Cloud shook his head.

“No need to apologize. We…got that out of the way at least. Just two more, now… But…I’m guessing if…I didn’t feel anything, you didn’t either?”

Vincent didn’t confirm his concerns, though. “I didn’t feel the piece clearly, but I felt something more stirred. I don’t know where we’ll find it, but…I’m sure we’ve awoken it, where ever it’s slumbering in your memories.”

Cloud was surprised by that, but nodded. “Good… And…s-sorry, for almost loosing it, before. I could feel things becoming unstable, and I’m sure that put strain on you--”

“No need to apologize.” Vincent cut him short, and Cloud gave him a look, before feeling a weak smile on his lips.

“Just a second or two more…then I’ll continue.”

“Take your time.”

Cloud nodded, taking a couple of easier breaths, in and out. In and out. In and out. Then he turned his gaze on the next arch-path. The pull was slower, but he leaned himself into it, dipping further and faster.

As he looked around, he found himself surrounded by bunks, scattered uniforms, and his attention turned on his own bed. He was…back in the trooper barracks, his space organized, bed immaculate, and uniform ready.

“Get to, guys--the captain will be through here soon. I’m not paying for your shit-ass excuses for effort.” Cloud told the few that were still dragging themselves through their chores and clean up. Somewhere distant, he could almost laugh at this stage in his life--going from a quiet, angry boy, always running around looking for something, ready to cause problems left and right. But during this time he found he didn’t even recognize the connections he made back then, and he had direction and purpose. In this place, despite the corruption lying underneath that he would, with time, fight against…he had found his way for a little while. He could almost…miss it.

He had been one of the top recruits, there had always been talk of him rising up ranks, though back then he never truly cared--it wasn’t where he wanted to be back then, it wasn’t the rise in this company he’d been seeking. If he couldn’t make SOLDIER, then why bother doing any more…?

And yet he still put his best effort into everything he did, making an example for his fellow troopers. He always functioned with a level of disappointment and dissatisfaction, but that still drove him to do his best. As if, even in a position that made him feel unworthy, he could not allow himself any further dissatisfaction over the idea of not being good enough. And in doing so, he shone bright, only half aware of it the entire time if aware of it at all.

Look back through the memory, Cloud could see it now, and he ignored a flicker of feeling foolish as tiny moments of effort, of making himself an example, flashed through his time in the barracks, in training, and on various small and medium scale missions. Finally, it settled into a last concrete vision for him.

And this vision…had a bittersweet layer to it all. Because as it all came into focus, he was walking back to the barracks, having finished a long couple days of unique training, which involved them working through a simulated battle situation, sleeping where they could find, simulated enemies all around. Their assigned captain was disqualified (KIA in the simulation) early on, and the squad had scrambled, a few waiting for someone to follow, and the rest scrambling for loud ego to claim the spot left open in the unexpected attack.

Only when they were ambushed again did Cloud take control when everyone else froze. He was not without concerns, he was not unshaken, but even so, his mind was running scenarios and soon he was calling out attack plans and finding their way to escape, regroup, and plan to overtake their enemy. It didn’t take long for the squad to follow suit, and once they looked past themselves and worked together, with his level head and no-nonsense focus, they were able to finish the rest of the mission flawlessly.

But of course, Cloud came out of the simulation feeling dissatisfied. They shouldn’t have lost the first captain in the first place, and they wasted so much time arguing for control. He expected quite a few lectures, and was more thankful the rest of the team eventually listened to him. The bittersweet layer, of course, came upon him when a heavy, muscled arm was slung around his shoulders, weighing him down for a brief second before he steadied himself. He looked up, already recognizing the warmth and the scent, but still that big smile had his chest swelling with fondness before he looked up at Zack’s blue mako eyes.

“Look at you, buddy, effortlessly working his way to infantry’s best and brightest!” the SOLDIER praised with a chuckle, and Cloud remembered thinking it was either a joke, or Zack just popping in, hearing talk, and wanting to make Cloud feel better despite his teams failures.

So he scoffed. “Yeah, as if…” Cloud dismissed. He considered trying to carefully nudge the man off of him, but he didn’t want to seem too harsh. Besides, he imagined if Zack chose to persist, he’d push his presence. So instead, Cloud chose to bear Zack’s weight.

“Look at you, trying to play cool and unbothered! Ha!” he ruffled Cloud’s hair, causing the blond to blush and duck. “Who do you think that works on, man?”

Cloud just sighed, trying to move a little in the others grasp as he was still walking with the SOLDIER attached. “Not trying to be anything for anyone. Just being honest.”

“Well then, my friend, you’re HONESTLY a little dense.” Zack continued to tease, finally letting up his hold and causing Cloud to turn on him in confusion. “Do you SERIOUSLY not hear how the other troopers, and your captains and commanders talk about you?”

Cloud just looked confused. “What are you talking about…? All I do is try to get the job done and I couldn’t even do THAT on our simulated mission until the last half of the day…! So what are you talking about?!”

Zack seemed unbothered by Cloud’s frustration, which bothered Cloud more. The man just stood there, grinning, looking all too pleased and…bright, and proud.

Proud? Was that what Cloud was seeing? It couldn’t be. He ducked his head.

And Zack took another step, grabbing his shoulder in a familiar way, giving him a shake to get Cloud to look up at him, which despite trying to fight a pout, Cloud couldn’t help but do. Their friendship was so…strange, and sudden, and sometimes Cloud couldn’t believe it was real given how scattered their interactions were…and yet here they were, having these specific, nonverbal communications that were just automatic and effective.

“You should start listening more, man. And maybe look at yourself a little clearer. I think you get caught up on an image sometimes, and forget the real picture.”

Cloud’s brows furrowed in confusion, then he scoffed and muttered, “So what’s the real picture?”

“A damn good man to have working with me in the field. With anyone. You got more potential than you let yourself show. You think you only did something at the end, and that’s not enough? From what I heard, everyone fell apart, and you were the driving force to pull everyone back together from the brink. Your squad would’ve failed, if it wasn’t for your leadership. That’s something, don’t you think?”

Cloud just stared, though, unsure what to say. Sure, that all sounded like…simple, basic facts, but the way Zack talked about it, it made it…sound like…

Zack chuckled and shook his shoulder again. “Come on, Cloud, you were their HERO!”

Zack…called him…a…?

He so suddenly fell back out of the memory, feeling warmth down his cheek as he settled back into the now. He moved his free hand to wipe over his cheek, taking a deep breath or two. He supposed he could see why that memory was…impactful. Whether he fully appreciated it or accepted it then, that was…a defining moment of self worth. He may not have made it where he wanted to be, but in that moment, he’d made it as close as he might’ve ever gotten at that time. He felt…worthy.

But he was back now, settled, and worn out from various trips into himself and memory and feeling and definition, and after all of this, after engaging with every arch that called for it…he still didn’t feel that undeniable draw within the memories. Surely, he hadn’t missed it.

He turned his gaze upon Vincent, then. “...I’m still missing something.” he remarked, almost with a sigh.

“Not as severely as you might be imagining.” Vincent answered. “I’ve felt something stirring in the background, for the last few gates. I will simply need you to hold on a moment longer. Just focus on your mind, your emotions, all you’ve felt thus far…let it swirl like a whirlpool.”

Cloud looked only briefly exasperated, before nodding. Vincent offered his other hand, and Cloud took it automatically. As he did so, he focused on the feelings, and the thoughts. He considered what each memory taught him about himself, his strength, his faults, how moments shaped his endurance, his weaknesses. What each moment showed him about himself, or forced him to hide away.

It was all a bit overwhelming, of course, and he found himself gripping both of Vincent’s hands, only to be met with a reassuring grip in return. He let it all swirl in his mind, repeating, reflecting, overwhelming him and--

He felt pressure, electric and harsh, running across his arms, his shoulder, his neck, his side, his back, and could almost feel it swirling behind him. He looked around, trembling and barely keeping the swirl of emotion and memory going. He spotted the tendrils consuming his body, constricting him yet he could feel them wrapping and combining and reaching, reaching behind him…like there was one singular, serpentine tendril formed from them all that was on the hunt.

He shuddered and grunted, feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated by the pressure of Vincent’s darkness, and yet, he couldn’t quite be pushed to complain yet. It was an edge of too much, but not quite. He just watched Vincent, who’s eyes were shut as he worked. Vincent, glowing pink purple aura stretching further than ever, was the focused anchor of darkness and Cloud felt at his mercy, bound and consumed, and it was…strangely…comforting.

It…shouldn’t be…comforting…should it? He felt Vincent, tight around him, his arms, his waist, his neck, and all Cloud could do was…relax and give himself over. There was a shudder, and a grunt from Cloud and followed by one from Vincent, and the darkness seemed to flash with a sudden spark again, but before he could question what that meant, Vincent’s eyes shot open.

“Focus, Cloud--I’ve reached it…! Now you must keep your mind focused, open to itself…and you must reach for it. You will both resist, but you have to persist. Do you understand?” Vincent urged.

“Y-yes..! I understand!” Cloud promised, and he could almost see the glow and strange light flowing over him and then before him. The tendrils had this strange, shapeless light in it’s grasp at every corner. It seemed likely to escape, to slip through cracks, if the darkness wasn’t all consuming and possessive. And as he stared at it settled before him, he felt an overwhelming…longing and dread. This was it, that magnetic pull he’d been waiting for, that sure fire sign…but the dread concerned him.

What was there to dread? Had he not thought this through? What if it was a part of himself that…he NEEDED to let go…? What if it was something…wrong? There were already so many twisted parts of himself he was forced to stay aware of, so many dark moments… What if this was just another…? And his empty echo was simply the payment, to be free of this…?”

“Cloud…!” Vincent urged, as the memory was struggling more and more, though the tendrils seemed to keep it secure. “Focus… Breathe, and focus.” he repeated.

Cloud did as the other told him, taking breaths, and focusing on the memory. The dread stayed, but…he had to do this. He had to know, and if nothing else, if it was something monstrous…what better company to be in? And so he let himself reach out, trying to envelop and take hold of the memory, of the part of himself tight to it, as he fell into the memory all at once.

As the scenario fell into place, the familiar wilds and mountains of Nibelheim, and the feeling associated with where he stood overlooking it all, the dread persisted…and suddenly, the dread made so much more sense. This memory had been lost to time, this memory might as well have not existed to Cloud for the past few years, and yet now as it was so clearly returned, the reality of it was immediately clear, too.

It was his last personal adventure, or mission more like. The last, because not long after this, he would make his decision to head for Midgar. It was an undertaking that he took and endured on his own, not a single other soul would’ve known about it to remind him. 

Knowing what this was for, that dread had him trying to pull back one last time, just brief and fleetingly panicked.

“Cloud.” Vincent warned firmly and with a flicker of scolding, voice echoing with the weight of it.

Cloud didn’t answer, he’d found himself between enduring and wanting to abandon this all together. He knew it was nowhere near as horrible as the fire, and yet still it was an experience he wasn’t sure he wanted to relive. He took shaky breaths, feeling overwhelmed. 

“You must continue, Cloud. If you fail here, then this was all for nothing. You risk loosing yourself completely. That cannot happen. Persist.” Vincent urges, and Cloud sighs.

“I…” he wants to say something, to deny, to argue, but he knows better. He grips tight, and dips back in.

That day, he had traveled with only a small backpack. He’d told his mother he was going for a walk and he’d be back later that evening. He was prepared to be back later than that, and to endure a lecture for it. He’d apologize when that time came, but he wouldn’t be deterred. He had a mission.

And so he started up the well-known path to and through Mt. Nibel. Any local knew the basics of traveling that mountain, and there were paths mostly clear and somewhat safe, carved out by the ShinRa company as the years went on. But few knew every turn, every easy and dangerous path, every beautiful corner and deadly turn. Too many were lost to it, really. But Cloud wouldn’t be one of them. That was the point; he had to be--no, he WOULD be different.

And he committed to this personal mission, through great pains. His hands were scared from gripping rocks and climbing treacherous corners, his body aching from the climbing, clinging, running, and even maneuvering around boulders and other such obstacles. He’d even crossed a few fiends. Some, it only took the town pitch-fork he’d at least had SOME sense to bring, but others had him on the run and loosing his way for a short time.

That was the worst of it--losing his way. He’d been so sure of his path, but one threat and heavy distraction, and everything felt as if it was falling apart. He was hungry, and had lost his pack in the scuffle. He’d been too proud to eat earlier. He’d only managed to hydrate himself thus far, but now he was missing his water. He remembered tucking away in a cave, waiting for more fiends to pass by, hiding in a dark corner and clutching the pitchfork. He’d sat, and sobbed, in anger, in fear, in sadness, in bitterness. Every flavor of tear he could shed, he shed in that shadow of a cave, before finally, he’d had enough. He wiped his tears, checked that the fiends were gone, and set back on the hunt. His eyes were raw, nose still sniffling, and face still wet, but it didn’t matter.

He tracked his way back to his path with a great deal of struggle, as some corners and caves in these mountains get to looking too similar. But he spotted his tracks, and a specific spot that looked distinctly familiar.

Back on the right track, he did not relent. He pushed on, and on, heading for a specific peak that few ever travel to anymore. It’s not usually advised for anyone, local or tourist, to wander from one side of Mt. Nibel to the other--the death toll had been great, for generations, for so long into the lands history, which was likely where myths of life and death and the path between came from. You start the journey with all the life in you, and you’re given death as payment in return for your efforts to make it the rest of the way.

But that was just it. Whether the myth had truth to it or not, it was a bitter lie. Because no one ever made it, did they? No, they just became memories lining the path onward. There was no reaching the end, just wasting life on the journey. But Cloud persisted. He had a purpose…if he could just achieve his goal.

He remembered some men from town talking as if they’d gotten this far, and further, but he doubted it. There was only one story he cared about. One of the older men, older or as old as his mother, had since moved out of town…he’d talked about trying to travel this same path, and that along the way, he found the signs of an old friend. Some say he found the remains of said friend, but most everyone doubted his stories, dismissed the lengths he went to and what he witnessed.

Cloud was just here to prove it right or wrong, once and for all. He found himself climbing uphill at such an angle that, any second, he could slip up and go tumbling all the way back home. But he wasn’t ready to give up yet, no matter the fears gripping him. He was at the last point he remembered the old man talking about. He remembered him talking about a weird, twisting tree…and stones laid at it’s roots for some remains that had been put to rest from years before. And there, half tucked under the stones, a small bag.

His heart had started pounding then, and new life flowing through his limbs. He dragged himself over, huffing and tearing the back open. Nothing…nothing but a camera. But still, it was a clear sign, and Cloud was bursting with a sense of yearning for what lay ahead, and a dread….and sense of deep satisfaction at the length he’s gone, and a bristling unknown over what it would all mean as well.

Cloud, in the present, felt overwhelmed with the memory emotions and his own in the moment, his focus shaking for a moment. “I-I’m sorry, I’m pushing, I just need a second…!”

“I’ve got you.” Vincent repeated the promise, and Cloud could feel those words personified by the darkness supporting him from every corner.

He let out a shaky breath and nodded, focusing in once more.

Cloud walked on down the now-level path. There was a cave ahead, and a boulder. The cave wasn’t deep, and it had another entrance further on. But Cloud didn’t feel too focused on the other end. Instead, his focus was on the boulder, as his formerly energized limbs moved now like lead. One step, and he shuddered. Another, and he sniffled. Another step, and a sob almost tore from his throat, before he forced himself to fight it back. Finally, he rounded the boulder, and there he was.

Withered clothes of a Nibelheim local, a torn up and seemingly most empty bag sat behind the mostly decayed skeleton of a man. He was forgotten to time, forgotten to the path. He was a soul that traveled too far, and reached death. A fools errand, all on his own, without experience or the right determination. Cloud wasn’t sure what it was. Was it fate? Was it myth, a trickster, cursing travelers for their hubris? Was it weakness of the men who came this way? Perhaps this man had taken a longer, unnecessary path, and worn himself and his supplies down. Perhaps he’d run afoul of a fiend.

There were so many questions that could be ask, but there was only one answer that rang clear. This man had chose to take this journey, and in return, he’d died…and left his life and those that waited for him, behind.

Cloud sat down at the feet of his father, and hugged his feet to his chest.

“...You were an idiot…you know… Don’t even care that you weren’t there for me. Maybe it would’ve been nice. Maybe not. Tifa’s living proof that dads aren’t always great. We didn’t have anything…for you to leave behind…me and you. But you left HER behind.” he finally looked up the empty shell, eyes burning. “Mom didn’t deserve that….you bastard. I’ll never forgive you, for that… But that’s fine. I don’t need to. Because I’m here. And I won’t be lost to some mountain, like you. I’ve come this far. And I’ll go home. That’s more than I can say for you…” he sniffed.

Finally, he stood. He turned to the other end of the cave, took after it with a sprint, and once on the other side with the evening light just beginning to dim, Cloud let out the loudest scream his young self could produce. He’d released quite a bit with it, too, so much so that it faded into a sort of confused laugh of triumph and catharsis. He took a few more gulps of air, and turned back. As promised, he would return home. It was as treacherous on the way down as it was going up, if not moreso. But he took it slow where it was needed, and ran has hard and fast as his feet could take him when it was suitable.

It was night fall when his aching and scrapped up body finally dragged itself into the outskirts of Nibelheim village, and he found the softest patch of grass to flop himself upon. It was cold, perhaps damp in a spot or two, but he was thankful for it. Heaving breath in and out and staring up at the stars, his mind was swimming, that swimming sensation echoing loud and clear to his future self, but the focus was on this moment.

He’d traveled the way of the man who was his father, the journey that ended him, the journey that left him forgotten or a mockery in the village. The journey that had taken him from Claudia Strife, and Cloud himself had stepped about ten or twelve feet further. He’d gone further than his father and he’d done what his father failed to--returned.

Despite the village looking at him as just the trouble maker, the brat, the angry Strife boy, the bad influence, the quite boy, the strange boy, the sad body coddled by Claudia, it didn’t matter anymore. He’d proven he could do more than any of them, and though he was hurting so bad he could cry, and he was scraped up and thirsty and starving and the vision of those remains would stick heavy with him for years to come, or so he thought, it didn’t matter.

Cloud chose to do it, and so he did it. Because he could. Because he was determined, and he made it so. Because he had the intention, the drive, and also the decency to fight to come back for what mattered. Now? Cloud felt like he could do anything! He could be anything! A small part of him was brimming with the desire to tell EVERYONE what he’d done, to make it clear once and for all, just what Cloud Strife was made of.

But he knew it wasn’t worth it. They wouldn’t see. And Cloud didn’t care what this village thought. His mother, other than moments of stress and worry and minor disappointment, never seemed to think anything of him but the best. And the town thought the worst. There was only one person he looked to, saw strength and wit and brilliance in that…he strove to feel he stood side by side with someone he wanted to make proud too.

He just wanted to see Tifa look at him, just once, the way he always looked at her. She was amazing…so surely, one day, he’d show her he could be that, too.

Maybe one day, he could even be something like the hero all those other boys mention, Sephiroth…! Fighting the war, proving that heros and great men can be found, even in boys so young and from any kind of walk of life! Cloud was almost old enough to enlist…and in this moment, he finally decided. He was going to do it. He’d tell Tifa soon, and that would be all he would tell. She didn’t need to know his journey. He’d proved himself, to himself, with this mission. His next mission, would be to prove himself as a SOLDIER! Then, she would see. The village would, too, perhaps--they wouldn’t look at him with hate anymore, as they had ever since the bridge incident (it didn’t matter if Tifa didn’t blame him, and she and his mother supported him, the view of all the rest did not change). But nonetheless, he wouldn’t come back here until he could walk back as the SOLDIER he was so sure, in this moment, he could be!

He could push, he could fight, and he could survive. Even when his own father could not, even when all of Nibelheim couldn’t manage what Cloud had, he proved them wrong now, and would prove them wrong again. He would be Nibelheim’s Sephiroth!

Sephiroth..! Fire. Sephiroth! Screams…

Sephiroth!

Sephiroth!

“ Cloud .” The name echoed as the vision of the memory swam with too many thoughts and emotions, clutching at his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He felt the heat of that day , the ash filling his lungs again, but he tried to push it out, and the pressure around him seemed to assist with that. Visions of the faces in Nibelheim looking to him, just like the troops, just like thoughts he fought with AVALANCHE, just like the kids looked at him, just like the world. Sephiroth’s face, Tifa’s face, Zack’s face, Aerith’s face, Vincent’s face, all of them seem to swim and shudder and scream and stare until finally all Cloud could see…was himself.

Blond hair, green blue eyes that if he blinked the wrong way, looked too-green, but that was beyond much of his help. He saw a tired face, a face easy to anger, but a face capable of softness. A worn face. A familiar face, in a way it had not been familiar for some time. And that echoing emptiness seemed to choke as it was filled, and Cloud suddenly felt very heavy.

“ Oh gods …” he groaned, breathing in and out, in and out. It was ringing in his head. And it was so strange…it was not so far beyond anything he’d been aware of, of himself…it was that desire to be what others expected, to be able to protect and fight for others…to be a hero, to be a survivor.

But he forgot how important it was to feel like he was that, just for himself. Yes, he felt…a  fulfillment when validated by others. But, that had been one of very few times he had seen himself as valid, that he had believed in himself on something he did alone. He forgot what it was, to live and choose for himself. To believe in himself, and be for himself. Even in that time, he’d so easily forgotten it to the yearning of reactions from others as he went forward with his plans, but in that singular moment…Cloud was for himself. He’d forgotten.

But he remembered, now. He remembered, and it was so much , now that it was making its place once more in his mind and spirit. He felt weighed down, leaning forward and head dipping, but he didn’t fall forward just yet. He just bore it, wondering fleetingly how long it would take to get used to this. He’d felt the effects of his and Tifa’s work, for a little while after…he imagined this might be much the same. He could honestly say now, though, that he’d rather bear a heaviness, twisted or complicated or painful, than to hear that…empty echo ever again. There was no empty echo now. In its place, there were echoes of voices and echoes of faces…echoes of feelings and moments, each one leaving a warmth and an ache in his chest. His eyes were burning and he couldn’t care how many tears he hadn’t noticed falling or would still be falling now, he just let them be as he just sighed and found himself laughing briefly.

The pressure was still around him, secure and, he noticed, supporting. It barely shifted, as if recognizing his state and him coming to, enough that it drew back to allow Cloud room to move and act. The tendrils were slowly unwrapping and releasing, and the feeling was fleetingly disappointed, but nothing could overcome the sentimental highs and lows in every corner of him now.

“Did that part of you fit the emptiness…?” Vincent asked hesitantly. He sounded sure, but there was no harm in clarity.

Cloud slowly nodded. “...Yeah.” he glanced at Vincent, still in awe of this vision-form of his. Barely different, and yet the energy reflecting off of him, the glow, it all spoke to something more under the surface and Cloud felt nagging curiosity. “Mmm, definitely did. I feel…heavier.”

Vincent smiled softly. “I’m sure you do. You took on many things, many forgotten layers… You’ve sewn quite a bit back into yourself.”

Cloud nodded, feeling more and more worn out as the seconds ticked by just…sitting in the wake of this. He still felt worn from reliving trauma, from tapping back into old memories full of people and places that…no longer were. He knew much of this would catch up to him, after today. But he could deal with that. He could say, without a doubt, it was worth it. Even facing that choking fire was worth it, because he was able to pull some of himself back from the ashes.

Feeling another tear fall, it was swept away halfway down it’s path of his cheek before he could even think of wiping it away. But his hands were still preoccupied, one in Vincent’s stabilizing grasping and another clutching between his chest and stomach. He looked down at the gloved hand, following the trail of it as it jerked away an inch after removing his tear, then drew slowly back to it’s own after. Vincent’s shining yellow-gold eyes were steadily locked on him, and Cloud felt the tendrils draw back at once. He thought he saw his aura shudder or strike through the darkness, like lightning, but that had probably been happening and he’d been too busy to notice. Vincent didn’t seem to react to it. Just seemed to retract after the contact, which left Cloud feeling a different warmth and a strange amusement. 

Was the other man…worried he’d be upset? Cloud saw no reason. He’d been surprised by the touch, sure, but…if Vincent returned his hand, Cloud couldn’t imagine himself drawing away. Quite the opposite, actually, if it was offered...

“Thank you.” he found himself saying then, before the other man could continue drawing into himself, as if that were even possible in a plane like this, but it almost seemed to be happening before Cloud spoke. “All of this…Vincent… Thank you . That last piece…I know you saw, but it… I know why it left me feeling empty. What it meant to me, to fight for myself …I’d forgotten, but no more.”

It was so much more than that…it was about how he’d failed himself for so many years, defining himself in all the wrong ways. How he was still fighting for himself, on some level, but could never do it just right. He could never do it with his own power and worth, sure and independent… He’d lost sight of his mind, heart, and gut, it seemed--his mother, of course, had been too right. He’d been too busy performing, adapting, being pulled this way and that. Maybe now, he could start making her proud.

“You…put me…back together.” Cloud muttered, throat tight before he swallowed. He just needed Vincent to understand what he’d did--again, far more than Cloud did for Vincent. He needed to know Cloud felt and appreciated what he'd done.

“No.” Vincent shook his head, another strike or two of the pink-purple energy shook through the darkness. “No, Cloud, I didn’t. You put yourself back together. I was simply honored and blessed with the ability and chance to help you gather the pieces.”

Cloud sighed but conceded, still holding his stubborn point. “Just accept the thank you, damn it, Valentine…”

“Accepted.”

Cloud looked up to the man, gripping their hands again, reaching to take the other retracted one. Everything was swirling like a whirlpool, the archway paths shuddering in and out with light, but for this moment, he was at peace. Even as strange light and energy shuddered through this absolute darkness of Vincent’s cultivated Void, Cloud was, for the moment, at peace.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: By Your Side

“How are you feeling?” Vincent asked, both his hands turned palm upward to cradle both of Cloud’s that had been given to him and kept, through all of this. 

“That’s…a loaded question.” Cloud chuckled, giving him a worn look.

Vincent shook his head. “Fair enough. I’m aware emotionally and mentally, it’s quite a lot. But…physically, is there any painful pressure, any unwanted overwhelm of sensations?”

Cloud shook his head. “No. There’s been pressure, but…it’s kept me stable, which I assumed was the purpose, so I didn’t worry.”

Vincent sighed and nodded, seeming relieved. “Good. And yes, that was the purpose. Everything flowed as it should have, even if at times it had to be overwhelming. I’m thankful that...I could accomplish this, for you. I was…worried it wouldn’t be enough, and I had--I wanted to help you with this, if I could.”

“You did.” Cloud repeated, giving the other mans’ hands a firm grip. “You’re kind of amazing, you know..”

Vincent seemed taken aback by that statement, another strike of pink-purple energy webbing briefly through the darkness, far enough to wrap around the darkness circling them. Vincent narrowed his gaze at it, mouth opening to say something before he spotted it.

“What is it?” Cloud asked patiently.

“That light…”

“Yeah, it’s been moving a bit off and on, since we collected that missing piece. I’m sure it’s been spilling out of that…aura-energy around you, right? Chaos’ abilities always had their strange glow.” Cloud shrugged, feeling rather used to it. Honestly, he found it sort of…fascinating to see. Such unique light, burning in such darkness.

“Yes…” Vincent conceded, but stayed distracted a moment longer, before focusing back on Cloud. “Yes. It’s good to see this darkness is useful for more than brooding.”

Cloud scoffed and shook his head. “Of course it is. It’s supposed to be.”

“Chaos’, yes.” Vincent clarified, confusing Cloud, but he went on to clarify. “His power has it’s purpose, and that was passed on to me. But within it, also lies unexplored potential. Potential he didn’t really often need to explore. Potential Nero evolved with him. What I’ve been left with at it’s core is Chaos’ legacy, it is born from him, bound to him, but…it’s brought forward in a different way with me. I’ve been left to test and try my hand at my own potential, with it. I’ve been careful but curious. However, I’ve never gone this far into testing theory. As you can understand, there were concerns. Not for your safety, but simply our…success. My potential.” he repeated.

Cloud nodded carefully. “Well, genius , you seem to have proven your theory right. And thoroughly; you’ve worn me out.” he wasn’t sure why his words were becoming a tease, but there was a sort of bubbling energy rising up from all the distress and nostalgia and the strain of it all. He smirked at Vincent, and found the other smirking in turn. There was a fleeting moment, of the two of them falling into a sort of cathartic laughter, where all memory that had been endured flickered in and out, like the weight still settling, and Cloud just welcomed it in. But Vincent’s chuckles slowed sooner, and there was only a moment, a second where he seemed to tighten his hold on Cloud’s wrists, before it seemed like this vision of the plane erupted into overwhelming roars and strangled silence, and everything was overtaking them all at once.

Torn from the visions and the mental plane they’d been projected to this entire time, Cloud and Vincent were brought to the real, physical here and now, eyes tearing open to observe their space in the cave surrounded by a Void-formed tornado…no, no as it swirled above them and seemed to draw air and energy and pebbles and crystals upward.It was clearer the longer they stared, it was a vortex.

Vincent was suddenly on Cloud, trying to keep him has firmly close to the ground as he himself hovered over him, watching the vortex above them. There was so much noise, like an unnatural roar, yet it was being swallowed by the swirling darkness over their heads.

“Vincent?!” Cloud called over the noise. “What’s going on?!” he questioned, more so over this current and concerning situation, but he didn’t understand why Vincent had him pinned…unless it was to keep something between the unknown above, and Cloud himself. He clutched Vincent’s clawed hand in his, currently pinned to the ground. Vincent’s other hand was planted to the side of Cloud’s head on the stone ground, so Cloud’s other hand twisted and made its claim in the cloak, as he felt concerned if he didn't keep hold, Vincent would be torn away from him.

“I don’t… I don’t know! But it’s falling out of control. Don’t let go of me!” he demanded, turning his red-gold gaze down upon Cloud, who nodded without hesitation. There was a pounding between them, mingling with the roar, and Vincent felt frustration and concern and dread overtaking all his other swirls of emotions that had been stirring all this while. He’d expected this ordeal would be intense, for them both, because of how raw emotion could be at the hands of this darkness, but he should’ve kept himself more in line, controlled. He'd been too focused on Cloud's experienced, he had not kept aware of his own.

He could almost hear Hell Masker mocking him for thinking he could’ve controlled things like he imagined, like he usually tried to. He knew all he was learning and adapting with his version of the Void’s darkness was not untrue, he knew some level of control and influence, he had trained well and had true claim to. And yet still, he’d let something slip. He just didn’t know what, and now here he was… Chaos’ grotto shaking and groaning, the Void above them trying to claim them within it, and Vincent was unsure where to grasp hold other than to the man below him that he refused to subject to the harmful edges of darkness he did not deserve to endure any more.

“Vincent.” Cloud calls again, but there’s no sign of that former concern. Instead, he’s trying to call the other man out of his head, bringing him back to focus. “Hey, I’m holding on to you, you’re holding on to me. Do you know…is this your darkness, or something here in the cave?” He was looking for clarity, so Vincent wasn't facing whatever this was alone in his own mind.

“I’m not sure…! It feels like…something beyond me, but… It seems like it’s my power… It--” he was trying to reason with it, but then the roar turned into countless voices, and the strange glowing strike of light seemed to flow with memories through the roar and the cries. But this time, not just Cloud’s. As the pink-purple light seemed to carve over Vincent, and up into the vortex, it seemed to drag flutters of energy and memory from them both.

Flutters of suited men lined up, firing off in a firing range, with Vincent, short haired, at the end, emptying his clip with cool precision. Another flutter, with Cloud exploring Midgar in his brief moments he was allowed, as a trooper. And then another, with a little boy with black hair, sat between woman and a man…who looked almost exactly like Vincent, though with stronger features. It was unclear if the difference was structure, or simply due to age (a mystery that could never be answered for Vincent, frozen in a singular form for the rest of his existence).

Cloud gasped and huffed, feeling like the air was getting thinner, thinner than it usually was this high up the mountains. “Vincent…? Is that…?”

The was a flutter of a blond boy running around a house, a rather distress blond woman chasing after him, before the flutters became harsh like a sudden gust of air, shoving Vincent down upon Cloud and guarding him.

It was the cries…cries from a voice Cloud knew all to well, that drew the blonds attention again. But they did not come from the man hovering over him, looking paler than ever, frozen as if unbreathing and he knew the source of the sound was the cause of this state. Instead, behind him, the flash of visions shuddering up into the vortex were fleeting, but stark--a blade, mako tubes that turned Cloud's stomach, and claws and visions of deformed monsters as Vincent’s voice cried in despair, in pain, in madness. It was as the last scream echoed that everything went quiet, and just as suddenly as it went quiet, every sensation and surface around them seemed to vanish. Cloud felt as if he was being pulled left and right, forward and backward, and it was all he could do to grip hard to Vincent who practically enveloped him against the unknown.

They had been pulled into the vortex of the Void, that much was clear to Vincent, and he made absolutely sure to keep himself securely bound around Cloud, cloak included, as well as attempt what he could manage of a psychic shield around them. He’d used the darkness, but he was hesitant to influence it too heavily before he figured out the cause of this current situation.

Where ever they were, it was…solid, in it’s own way. He was still over Cloud, save for one arm scooped under him, but his clawed hand could not relent it’s hold. Especially as he raised his head to take in their surroundings. It was as he feared…it was just like then, when he found Nero, and found himself pulled into the dark-spawns haven of sorts within his own Void. A place made solely for him, to reflect him, to house him, to hold that which he chose to hold. Or toy with, at the time.

Except this…was Vincent’s. It seemed undeniable now. Whatever happened, it was a slip up on Vincent’s part. He’d done something, or failed to do something, with influence with his darkness. He’d never truly given himself time to delve into the darkness to create such a place as this intentionally; his own haven. But it had still formed, raw, on it’s own. For what purpose, he did not know. He wasn’t sure they should find out. But he hadn’t even brought them here intentionally, so he’d have to take time to figure out how to get them out.

“V-Vincent…?” he looked down, only just then recognizing his arm around Cloud’s back and shoulder was not only still wrapped, but had brought the other man against his own chest as he was still half leaned over him. Cloud just sat there, still gripping his cloak and holding his other hand, but as Vincent looked at him then, his face almost seemed…red. 

Vincent felt warm himself and drew back only a bit, sitting back on his feet, but keeping a hold on Cloud’s other arm instead of his back. “Apologies… it's just...I must keep you shielded.”

“Shielded?” Cloud inquired. 

Vincent nodded, noting the shapes and shades the darkness and the unholy light here took, and distantly he noted archways that likely could lead them to make contact with various things. Too many unknowns, and it was still shifting beyond his control. His emotions were still brimming beyond his control, too, he was only able to center most of his mind because of the present concern. “Yes. As I’ve told you, Chaos’ Void purifies…which is never a simple process. But that means that, beyond my shielding and protecting you, this place which is…a haven within the Void formed from my darkness, could very well attempt to start pulling you apart. And that would be counter productive after all our hard work, don’t you think?”

Cloud laughed, the noise a little tense, but he seemed to relax. He started taking in the look of everything, too. Overall, it…reminded him of the manor in Nibelheim, or even more accurately, the haunted mansion at the Golden Saucer--except all of it was shadows and strange light; it was defined in blacks, reds, and the faintest purple. Definition came in red and pink glowing light, and nothing more. That was his closest comparison for the elegant stairways that led to high levels, to wisps of black clouds and into endless nothings at angles that weren’t quite natural. It was the few areas with balconies that reminded him of the manor most. There were shifting rooms, archways that he imagined would lead to new areas or were like the ones they used before, and would lead into memories. But as he looked further around, there was a field of grass and flowers, dark in shades except for glowing flowers. A few arching trees that looked…perfect to sit under. There seemed to be hints of places they’d been, too, but none of it consistent enough to claim; hints of Midgar, of mountains, of Edge, of Junon, of Wutai, and so on, but they seemed to shift with the strange grand stairs, until even the field went away and gave room to a new space.

“So…this is…you, huh? Yours, I mean?” Cloud found himself asking, though it sounded more like a comment then a question.

“...Unintentionally formed, yes… Something…shifted. My control, emotions, but… It’s strange, I didn’t LOSE my control, nor my influence. It’s almost as if something increased and simply grew beyond the influence I’ve…trained myself with.” Vincent tried to explain, making sense of it himself as he spoke. His hand around Cloud was now at his elbow, gaze flitting across the rocky ground, shifting and tearing up through the carpeted and wooden floor in various areas. “Just give me a little time, and I will get us out of here. I can’t be too hasty, with too many unknown variables.”

Cloud just nodded. He could tell Vincent was worried, and he could understand; he was wielding great power that only he was generally immune to, and yet it slipped beyond his control and current understanding. But Cloud could be patient. He didn’t…really feel concerned, to be honest. He was just waiting, and as he sat and observed this accidental haven, he was…wondering.

He was growing increasingly curious . This place would reflect Vincent in ways the man couldn’t exactly control, and Cloud…Cloud felt the allure to take this rare chance. But then, this was beyond Vincent’s control and consent, and Cloud would not violate such vulnerability. Even if the other man had witnessed Cloud’s own layers of vulnerability through his memories from before. Still, this was a bit different. So instead, he just sat between Vincent’s legs, the man still half crouched over him, and he just focused on the cool metal of the gauntlet in one hand, and the softness of the cloak in the other.

Around them, the dark energy seemed to shift occasionally but not to great degrees currently. Since the vortex dropped them here, it seemed fairly calm, save for the roars and echoing cries in the distance occasionally stirring up, which was…certainly morbid. Given what Vincent told Cloud, it was to be expected, though. That energy shift felt like a swirling breeze circling them off and on, but it never more than that. As Vincent began to sigh, tension clear in his face and body, it became all too clear that the soft breeze was certainly not what it was meant to be.

Vincent was willing the vision and intention of the vortex taking them back, of returning them to the mountain cave in Nibelheim. He was willing it to open a way, somehow, somewhere, for him to take Cloud through to safety where he wasn’t at risk of Vincent’s darkness harming him. That is something he refused to allow. But even as he felt himself gripping hold to the cultivated influence, it’s as if he had tied reigns around a chocobo, knowing it might buck and struggle, but if he pulled just right, they could move in sync with a clear vision shared. Only now somehow, all at once, that chocobo had morphed into a behemoth, and Vincent could keep hold of it, but it was going to take newly honed strength and experience to get control of the reigns. And there was no telling how mad the beast would get before he could pull it back into focus.

He felt guilt gripping his throat, not recognizing the noise growing there akin to a faint growl. No, he was simply reflecting on his blame; he had been feeling a great many things, watching Cloud and his memories. Sympathy, bitterness from his own youth, bitterness for what people put Cloud through, fondness for seeing him through stages of his life, seeing all that he admired forming in key moments. Even fondness for seeing the hint of who he was, with his mother. Flickering affection all the while, and stubborn concern that many times nearly led him to end their trial. He didn’t understand why it all stirred such raw emotions from HIM, they weren’t even his memories…but he’d barely practiced this with anyone, so…it had pretty much been his first time. So he should have been more prepared. Or shouldn't have offered at all, without trying it before. This was his fault. 

“I’m sorry… Cloud.”

“Huh? Why? What is it?” Cloud asked, not seeming bothered any more than before, only confused.

“This--it seems this fell out of balance and control, because of my emotions. I was focused in one place and didn’t recognize the effect things were having on me. This power is linked to my emotions, at it’s more primal. As you saw in the wilds in Junon… Without clear intention, this energy can tend to...burst forth and act out.” he sighed, sitting straighter and looking rather disappointed with himself. “I should have kept better control, and better focus on the task at hand.”

“I think we established that control isn’t always an easy answer.” Cloud reminded, though he wasn’t sure yet if that still rang true. He wasn’t rushing to decide that for this predicament just yet. 

“Well this lack of control has put us somewhere I’ve never been, and it’s going to take more concentrated effort and time to make a way out. So perhaps a bit of control could’ve been worth it.”

“Perhaps.” Cloud responded, his gentle sarcasm not lost on Vincent. “Okay, so, it’s going to take longer, and you’re unclear about what this place holds because you’ve never been here AND its come forth from a moment of lacking control. Then we take time. Is there any way I can…I don’t know, help focus anything?”

Vincent shook his head. “No. This will have to be me only.” he stated, sounding sure.

“Okay. Then you’ll have to take time. You’ll find the way out, Vincent. This is your power. You.”

Vincent stared at him a moment, before letting out a soft but exasperated sigh. “Why are you so…at ease with this?”

Cloud wasn’t expecting the question and quirked his head, but then he really tried to think of his response. “Would you rather I be losing my shit?”

“I’d expect some concern, at least.”

“Well, it’s not as if I feel zero concern. But I know you’re doing everything you can right now. And…I think you’re forgetting how thoroughly worn out my spirit was and kinda still is coming in to this place, yeah…?” He raised a brow. “There’s no imminent threat so it’s hard to be concerned. Unless you…feel like there’s an imminent threat?”

“Well I'd like to think you've understood from my warnings thus far how risky exposure to the Void can be.” Vincent reminded the blond, not truly answering the more broad intent of Cloud’s question. He didn’t like Cloud being stuck here period, he was furious with himself, and feeling heavy with protectiveness and responsibility. Heavy because it seemed he was going to have to protect Cloud, from an extension of himself.

“I’m aware of the usual concerns, yes.” Cloud responded. “I’m aware that I, and we, will have to be careful. I’m aware we shouldn’t stay here forever. Beyond that? I’m not concerned.”

“Why not?” Vincent felt his exasperation grow. Perhaps it’s just because Cloud hasn’t experienced the worst of this side of Vincent, even in all his outbursts and woes in their time knowing each other. Perhaps he just doesn’t understand just what surrounds him.

Cloud stared at him silently for a moment, brows furrowing and head quirking, before it straightened again. “Because…the only thing I feel here is you. Just you. There’s no sense of an impending threat, and we both know how keen my senses are, usually.” Cloud reasoned.

Vincent could only stare, of course. The way Cloud stated that, that all he could feel was just Vincent, made it seem like it was reassuring, and not a part of what should be a threat. He was tempted to speak some other warning, to make Cloud realize what he was overlooking. But, Cloud’s easy acceptance of all of...this, it had caused a lump in his throat, cutting off all words as he couldn’t quite swallow it yet. There was a shudder of noise and light through their surrounding darkness then, and Vincent sighed, fearing he was the cause. He should be focusing on centering and containing his emotions right now, if they were going to continue to possess such control here.

“Is there a threat I should worry about, Vincent?” Cloud asked, not actually seeming to ask out of concern or preparation, but to further push his own trusting ease he possessed here.

Vincent stared at him, features just faintly twisting with reluctant frustration. “I can’t absolutely say that there is, no.”

“Well then, you can be the prepared, anxious one, and I’ll be the cool-headed one this time. Sound good?” he teased, smirking faintly.

“Only this once.” Vincent met the others sarcasm laden faith with a bit of his own, causing Cloud to smirk further. He took a breath and looked around. “So, in being prepared, I will say this; you will have to hold on to me while we're here. I will be working to level out my emotions and whatever part of them this place has bound itself to, but there’s no telling what these power bursts are going to cause in the meantime. It might be safer to stay put, until I can figure this out.”

Cloud nods carefully, looking around and adjusting, causing Vincent to shift further back, seeming to finally recognize how much he had steadily loomed over the blond. “Well, I know you’re probably right, but…should we try and investigate eventually…? Maybe the way out it already here, given it’s your haven. But it’s not something you can summon because it’s already present somewhere…?” Cloud reasoned. Part of it was his curiosity, but also he really would assume that if Vincent was focused hard enough on willing the darkness to provide their exit, it surely would have done it…? Unless it was turning on Vincent, which he highly doubted, perhaps they just had to adapt to this realm within the darkness, before Vincent forced it to adapt to them?

Vincent seemed unsure. No, that wasn’t right. The more Cloud looked, he saw he was hesitant. He seemed to understand and see the logic in Cloud’s reasoning, but he still didn’t seem eager to comply. “Perhaps. You know it’ll be more dangerous, the further we delve into this place? It’d be one thing if I had been here before, but I haven't…”

“I know…but, what other options do we have? It’s about the same risks you warned me about, in the memory plane.” Cloud pointed out. He gave Vincent’s hand a squeeze. “Besides…even with the risks, like you said, you haven’t experienced this place before. Even if it wasn’t intentional…it’s made for you, by your own power. You aren’t…a little curious…?” Cloud raised a brow, the look in his eyes a little too adventurous.

Vincent just did not understand him at the moment. So easy to trust in this situation, curious of the unknown, and it seemed like he was getting a second wind despite all the over exerted stress he’d just endured minutes ago. “ You’re crazy .”

“That’s not an answer.”

“The answer isn’t so simple.” Vincent delayed, finding himself playing into this pettiness. But, he was still reluctant. This wasn’t like exploring mountains or fields or abandoned buildings where any issues simply needed awareness, clear reasoning, honed instincts, and battle skills. This was dark edges of the unknown and unsteady power bound to emotions, throwing memories about. He still did not appreciate the digging up of buried Hojo memories right before they were brought in, and he tried not to think about the fact that Cloud must have seen more of it than Vincent ever would've wanted him too.

It was risky, it was everything Vincent usually worried about when it came to the overwhelming power he held within. Above all else, it was Cloud that was the one at risk, and yet he was curious. He would rather, if he ever allowed this place to continue existing after this, that it be defined by his own clear intent and influence. But…if they could make it through with his influence protecting them, and he could understand further the depths of this power…? He could almost feel an untapped draw, through the unshakable dread that came in and out in waves.

Vincent lowered his gaze, before looking back to Cloud. “...A little more time, for you to rest, and for me to…try and feel this place out. If I can’t summon an exit forth, or find a clear path…then we can try to explore.”

Cloud nodded, accepting those terms. With attention brought back to his current state, after his trials, he found his energy felt…strange. He was very tired, at his core, heavy and worn out and feeling like his body could easily shut down for a few days, and it would be very necessary to do so. But at the same time, he felt more awake, alive, and full of some sort of energy than he had in a long time. He felt more aware, perhaps because he had more to be aware of? Or something that was brought from the missing pieces falling into place, so things were running more like they should have been. The conflicting experiences were tiring themselves, but he was focused. Apart from occasionally shutting his eyes, taking the time to settle his mind, he couldn’t stop looking around. 

Especially as he noticed that when he stared at those archways that could lead to memories, he…still felt a warmth that made them familiar. Like they were his. If he stared hard enough, he could almost see a memory form, and not the figures from his life therein. So his memories were here…? It seemed as if everything involved in that memory plane and all they had been finishing off doing had been sucked up and tossed out here; Cloud’s memories, the pathways, Vincent’s own memories and his influential emotions. Cloud wasn’t sure if he was up for facing more of his memories, reliving more, but he wasn’t entirely opposed either--not like he could do anything about it even if he was. But he’d gotten a taste for reaching that which had been lost to him, so he supposed it made sense to to be less resistant to reach out again. Vincent had said there were countless core memories, it was just that the ones Cloud did relive were the most relevant to his current struggle.

He looked back to Vincent, who sat in a meditative position contrary to Cloud’s slouch, observing the focus in his features. Cloud had stated it jokingly before, but if Vincent was going to hold tight to his worries, then Cloud would be the counter to them within reason and as was necessary. That’s one of the many ways he relied on them to function. They grounded one another, constantly. They supported each other. Even just in silence, the understanding could be found. They brought clarity, through patience or addressing the issue head on. Perhaps, sometimes, they went too far. But the more they interacted, the more Cloud couldn’t keep denying he…depended on the other man more and more. Not in a way that he couldn’t function on his own without, but in the fact that he didn’t mind relying on someone else being there anymore.

His gaze drifted to one of the archways that seemed to lead toward a basement area. He didn’t feel it flowing to him exactly, though it began to flow a bit at the attention. He didn’t hear any clear voices floating toward him either, but it was more clear why as he witnessed images of a black haired young man. Vincent’s memories .

He was far too curious. Cloud just focused on Vincent, not recognizing the strike of purple light that almost came off blue across the dark corners and walls behind him. Finally, Vincent let out a soft sigh, and gripped Cloud’s hand still in his grasp. “I suppose we should begin exploring, then.”

Cloud squeezed back. “It’ll be alright.”

Vincent eyed him a moment, still in wonder of the others faith in the face of this situation, but he would try to hold on to it. Vincent nodded. “Come on.” he moved to stand, given he was the one only partially over Cloud still, and as he stood, he pulled Cloud to his feet, keeping their hands bound by his grip. He took in the sight of the place again, noticing what Cloud already had…last collected remains of Cloud’s memories in corners here and there, but Vincent’s own memories had been stirred forth as well. He dreaded reaching for them, and wasn’t sure they’d need to--surely, there was a corner of simple solace somewhere here? A place that didn’t end in the past reflected back.

“Try not to engage with any of the memories. There has to be more to this space than them.” Vincent advised.

“Not even one in exchange for the 7 I had to expose between us?” Cloud offered, not at all serious. “Kidding. I’m following your lead, Vincent.”

“Recklessly so, too.”

Cloud chuckled shortly. “I call it confidence.”

Vincent glanced back at him, shaking his head, before continuing on. They walked through the open space, much like a foyer apart from the mountain stone making jagged obstacles through the floor. He looked up to the balcony, seeing a wisp of something, some sort of glow. Or at least, he thought he did. He was still trying to make sense of the going-ons, here.

Cloud’s attention had been drawn toward the stairs; the many that led to memories, and the few that wound around, to the balcony, below and out of sight, as well as up into some sort of unknown. Vincent seemed to be leading in a still-hesitant fashion, but he made for the space on the first level around the stairs. He intended to investigate in case there was a corner he hadn’t considered, a space that might hold some clarity and better structure. But it was nothing but shapeless darkness swirling in rooms, the only thing to be found there being more memory archways, and stairs leading in and back out. With a glance to Cloud, he led him back to the main area, considering their options. The door, similar to the doors of the Shinra Manor, were waiting for them but…Vincent had enough sense within this place to recognize what was waiting out there--the absolute Void, not just the layers of darkness that he had made his own. That is the one-way path to the nothingness that awaited what and who was consumed and cleansed by this power he held as Vessel.

“That’s not an option.” he made clear to Cloud, turning back on the stairs. “Beyond that space, it’s the absolute Void. That IS a threat.”

Cloud nodded, looking to the doors and trying to sense the heaviness waiting there. He could, faintly, but it’s like something was blocking him. He turned to the stars as well, seeming to understand like Vincent that that was their only choice; ascending. They climbed the stairs side by side, hands still bound, and as they made it to the top, to one side lay a gaping doorway that yawned wide with memory; a woman's lullaby and a mans deep voice soothing voice echoed from within.

Vincent turned slowly from the door and marched on, avoiding the other archways and doorways stretching open for them. Vincent could hear echoes; Turks, ShinRa Administration, Hojo, Lucrecia, Gast, his mother, his father, old friends (however few and scattered through the years they were), Aerith, AVALANCHE. They kept ascending stairs, turning corners, descending into another space and all the while, he ignored the reach of the memories, his own and Cloud’s, and instead focused on sensing out any specific pooling of energy that would indicate their exit.

But still, nothing. He wasn’t done searching, though. This place was either expansive and certainly prone to shifting, and he needed to figure it out before he gave up on one effort or another. He couldn’t give up on getting them out, however. Cloud couldn’t stay here, and even if the threat was greater with him unprotected which would be impossible so long as Vincent was conscious and holding on, he couldn’t be sure the effect even being here protected would have on him down the line if this exposure lasted too long. 

Just as they turned another corner, they came face to face with a gaping archway, one of Vincent’s memories beckoning them, the energy reaching out for him as he took a step back.

“This space is shifting.” Vincent muttered in frustration, turning them around to go back and look for another path, another set of stairs. In all their wandering, he’d had yet to come back around to the balcony, further proving his statement. “I’m reigning my emotions in as best I can, I don’t…understand why this place would be changing itself.”

“I’m not sure either….other than the fact that it might be functioning like the memory plane you created. It keeps trying to force us to engage with memories, OR emotions.” Cloud offered his assessment. “Do you think your emotions are still influencing things, even if it's just the emotions from before that stirred all this?”

“I’m trying to ensure they don’t… I was hoping it was simply a one time thing, in that…burst of power and loss of influence, it took hold of emotions then. But I’m beginning to wonder if it’s anchored deeper, funneling from corners I haven't noticed yet.” he explained, shaking his head. “I’m…beginning to worry your trust was misplaced, despite me asking for it.” he confessed, unable to look at Cloud. “I believed I understood and connected with this darkness well enough, to provide. I was clearly wrong.”

Cloud was about to say something, as they turned another corner, descending stairs into the foyer once more,  now with the balcony missing. But as he tried to stop the other man with a firm grip and tug of his hand, there was a flash of purple-blue, and pink-red light that flashed across the ground and up in the air. And after it, a flood of hazy light and mist followed after it, one young boy running in one direction with a mess of black hair, while a blond boy ran in another direction. “--the hell?”

Vincent tugged Cloud behind him on instinct, observing the visions. Memory overflow, that much was immediately apparent, as was the identity of the two boys running their separate paths. Himself as a boy, and then Cloud as a boy, too. There was no archway they specifically seemed to stir out of, and they flowed out together… It didn’t make sense. Those memories shouldn't run together.

And suddenly, the archways were shutting, then evaporating, leaving a mist to drift around and begin overwhelming them below.

“Vincent?” Cloud asked, sounding confused and a bit concerned.

“The memories--I don’t understand why they’re doing this…! They’re spilling out into the haven, outside of their confinement.” Vincent explained what little he could understand currently. His intention of shielding Cloud intensified, willing more defensive layers. This place was acting up the longer they were here, and he was still reluctant to trust any of it.

“Do you think it’s because we kept ignoring them…?” Cloud offered, thinking it seemed a little ridiculous. However, there was no telling what logic this place was functioning under--it wasn’t Vincent’s intentions, but it was still his darkness, his emotions, and some sort of source bound to him. That much Cloud felt mostly sure of.

Vincent sighed. “That’s possible, and just our luck.”

“Of course it is.” Cloud almost chuckled, shaking his head, but watching the mist descending upon them, shifting and trying to take shape. “...Feel free to say I’m crazy but…we’ve been searching in circles with everything shifting, right?”

“Correct.”

“And just our luck, maybe…where we have to go, involves going through memories.” Cloud offered, looking to Vincent to consider his reaction to the theory. Which caused the other man to deflate a bit, then nod. Had he considered it himself? Cloud wondered.

“That’s…possible. But I’m not exactly sure about this. The memories are becoming unstable, now, as they mix, but we can’t know which ones were latched on to and brought forth here.” he explained. “We don’t know what we’ll be walking into, what we’ll be subjecting ourselves and each other to.”

Cloud nodded, having already understood that. He really didn’t expect either of them to have a lot of positive memories, but he wasn’t looking for them to be positive and perfect. He was just trying to understand this place for what it was, to understand Vincent’s darkness better with this rare chance he was getting, and because he knew they would have to get out of here sooner rather than later. He didn’t forget the risk his not-so-human cells were under. But, even so... “It could be rough. It’ll probably be a shit show. But you’ve been working with this power for some time. You’re…shielding me from it right now, aren’t you? And it’s not trying to tear us apart right now. We don’t know it’s intentions, but we have to trust that it’s not harmful. I trust your darkness, Vincent. You need to trust it, too.”

“It’s hard to when it acts beyond my intentions.”

“Of course it’s hard.” Cloud validated, squeezing his hand which was becoming so normal to his senses he barely noticed that’s not how his hand was supposed to feel; cradled and secured by a form weight. “You still need to keep control over as much as possible. Something we both try to rely on in our lives, clearly. And it’s necessary, but…I think we’ve been realizing, it’s not always manageable, at least never in the way we think or want.”

“It’s not just about control.” Vincent remarked, looking to Cloud, then towards the mist again, seeing memory visions fields that he couldn’t quite define the location of. “I know there is so much I’ve influenced, intentionally and not, but there’s still so little experience. Without the experience, I can’t…trust myself. Not when there’s more for me to worry about than just myself.”

Cloud fleetingly noticed the strike of pink-red light, but was steadily focused on Vincent. “I understand…but, frustrating as it is, this might be the time and moment where you have to start. It may not have been by your choice to begin with, but you can still experience this. And I’m right beside you. You trust me?” he gripped his hand again.

Vincent nodded without much hesitation, in regards to the question. He knew Cloud was right, if the man was prepared to endure what was ahead, he could endure it with him. He’d just have to bear the dread and regret of putting them both through this until they were free. And perhaps a little while after that.

With the Vessel of darkness conceding, the mist seemed to spread and shift the room further….where a long hallway stretched endlessly before them now, the mist taking shape further down its path. It was beckoning them on, and so Cloud took the steps to lead them on, Vincent joining at his side and simply willing the worst of his memories to stay at the furthest edges. If nothing else, he hoped this supposed haven would allow him that.

The first couple of steps felt heavy, but there was nothing stark or overwhelming yet. It didn’t feel exactly like how engaging with his memories before had felt for Cloud, but there were similarities, like that level of a magnetic pull. As they walked deeper into the hallway, he started noticing the walls wall other side were like mirrors, reflecting and almost projecting…scenery. Buildings, old and new. Fields, mountains, and sea cliffs in weird clashing jumbles that he knew were not found in the lands they'd traveled. Cloud almost felt like, if they wanted, they could step into those areas. He could tell a few of the buildings looked very much like old Nibelheim, but then they seemed to meld with the architecture and building types in Junon, and even some of its ruins. Mountains gave way to the sea and the forests and it was almost beautiful, if not a little overwhelming. 

Cloud’s younger self projected from memory stomped before them, looking off at a building that looked like Tifa’s, though lacking the usual surrounding scenery. Cloud’s present self and Vincent observed as the young boy stared then looked off to the boulders just beyond Vincent to his side. Memory Cloud hurried off to the boulder, climbing to stand on one side, but as he steadied himself, there was another boy already standing on the other side of the boulder. Vincent’s younger self, unaware of the other boy and undisturbed.

“Hm…I don’t remember climbing on boulders like that until I was going up the mountains.” Cloud muttered.

“...I did, occasionally, as a boy.” Vincent admitted. “A childhood pastime, when I had nothing else of interest to engage with.”

“Hmm… So we were both a little adventurous…?” Cloud asked, silently pleased, but mostly trying to focus on the simplicity to be found here, rather than the dread he kept feeling coming off the other man.

Vincent noted that, really recognizing Cloud’s curiosity now. He grinned faintly. “It would seem so, in our own ways.”

Cloud just grinned smally, taking a step onward. Another spill of memory, acting out before them instead of drawing them out, and this time it seemed to be solely Vincent. And still from his childhood, too. Young Vincent was knelt at an alter, with a woman Cloud assumed was his mother, speaking a prayer in wutanese. Cloud stared, stepping closer, scared to disturb the vision of the memory so much that it dispersed. He could only somewhat see the woman’s face, but he could tell he had her eyes, perhaps her chin, at least at that age, and her cheekbones. She was rather beautiful.

Before he could think better of it, Cloud found himself asking, “What was her name…?”

“Shion.” Vincent answer, voice low and tender, the usual natural husk to his voice seeming to have softened, for only a moment. 

Cloud nodded carefully, committing that name to memory. So long as what he saw here wasn’t something Vincent was clearly uncomfortable with Cloud knowing, he was prepared to commit quite a lot to memory. He’d never been so…nosy about someone. He preferred curious, but it went just a bit further than that. But, every new part of Vincent he learned about always seemed to be like a gift he should appreciate, because of the rarity of getting such from him.

“Shion.” Cloud repeated.

The memory dispersed as Shion leaned to kiss at the raven-haired boy's head, running her fingers fondly through his hair, until the motion gave way to mist and visions of scenery once more.

Vincent took a step at the same time as Cloud then, and they walked together as the scenery shifted into the line of their path, a mountain that soon crumbled into the glimmering visage of ShinRa HQ in Midgar, shining bright in the morning sun. And so suddenly, it seemed the vision rushed across roads and through doors, up stairs, through elevators, until it finally settled on the training floor. Two elevators standing side by side, and two people stood waiting. Those elevators were not natural meant to be side by side, given where they led. Nor were the two figures.

Memory Cloud, at the ripe age of fourteen and hair freshly cut as orderly as it could manage to be, was dressed in one of the spare uniforms offered for those preparing to go through assessment. And to Cloud’s right, Memory Vincent stood, around the age of eighteen or nineteen. His own hair was long enough for a short ponytail then forced into a messy bun. He was dressed in a fine suit, and holding papers at his chest. Transfer papers.

Cloud himself was steadily curious, stepping closer to consider the vision. “This isn’t a straight memory…seems to have melded ours together. This seems to be around the time I was…going through testing for SOLDIER. We know how that ended up.” he sighed, looking over Vincent’s younger self, a fresher face with the beginning definitions of his adult features, and already, a heaviness to his brows.

“Were you going through any sort of assessment, too? Maybe that’s why these two memories are connecting right now.”

“At this point, I’d begun assessments already, and had more ahead, I suppose. But I believe they’re connecting because these moments…they were key shifts in our lives, that defined our roles in ShinRa as well as our futures.” Vincent reasoned thoughtfully, before glancing to Cloud. “This seems to be a reflection of the day I went to hand over my transfer papers; when I transferred from R&D to the Turks.”

Cloud nodded to that, never having thought about what landed Vincent in the Turks in the first place. Given how this melding memory was heavy for the both, he wouldn’t ask the questions he wanted to. He knew the disappointment and the upset that awaited him after this time. So he wondered and assumed there were similar outcomes in the continuation of Vincent’s memories, too.

Their memory selves continued to stand it wait for their fate, as they themselves stood in observation, before finally Cloud recognized they needn’t see anymore. “Come on.” he tugged Vincent by the hand, the other following easily.

They walked for a minute or two with nothing overcoming them or crossing their path. Just Junon, shifting into Kalm, shifting into Nibelheim, shifting into Midgar, all in the strangest patterns and mashups. Cloud couldn’t help but consider the specific places that impacted them most melding in strange, beautiful, and horrible ways. And s peaking of horrible, it seems a singular memory sought to play itself out then. Memory Vincent stood, with shorter hair and a signature Turk suit, within a lab, looking around. Cloud felt Vincent himself grip his hand, just as his younger self, not yet harshened with husk and strain in his voice, called out into the lab.

“Lucrecia?”

Softly spoken, curious, searching. The lab tried to shift around him, into a decayed version, into the grotto, into a version of it with a muddled vision of him in the tube standing in that very room, but it mostly stayed steady as Memory Vincent called again. “Lucrecia..!”

He had stepped deeper into the lab, looking confused as if he had been expecting to find the woman there, as if he’d been summoned. But as he neared the computer system, he saw something on the screen there. What he saw, what Cloud did not understand from here, suddenly caused his features to twist with emotion and confusion.

“...Father…?”

There was the clack of heels, and suddenly, Lucrecia Crescent entered her lab, looking steady and intent and pleased, until she laid eyes on the Turk and her guard, standing there in her lab, looking over her previous pulled up files. Files she thought she’d closed out of and secured, one might imagine. Files, Vincent knew now, she never expected him to see.

The vision began to muddled as Lucrecia made some complaint, looking firm yet shaken in her defensiveness. Clearly she was trying to stay strong, but this situation had her overwhelmed and taken off guard. Much like Vincent in the memory, who instead was looking confused and rather…upset. Upset in a way he rarely ever was at Lucrecia, if ever again, to her face. That had been his father, and she had held something from him, that much was clear. Too many horrible things were falling into place and making sense for him, and likely for her, falling apart. Anger and denial shoved between them, before Lucrecia broke down. Vincent had let go of his confusion and anger, his need for answers, far too soon, he recognized that now. 

She’d run off, the memory of her fading into the fuzzy layers of this vision, the texture to it growing and spreading. But not before Vincent turned back to the computer. He longed to go after her, but she’d clearly run from him, so he hesitated. He looked at the file on Grimoire Valentine, and with a shaking hand, he'd reached to touch the screen and scroll through. He considered closing the file, and he considered looking deeper.

Could he find the answers to what happened to his father that he'd been looking for all this time…? Had Lucrecia held them, all this time…? In a stroke of emotional judgment, he began trying to search the files, to look into more on his father that she might have. But it required passwords, and her handprint for extra security measures. Vincent could’ve hacked in. He should have. But something in him was defeated, with that flashing denial of information, locked beyond Lucrecia’s signature.

Memory Vincent stumbled back against the control board of the mako tank across from the screen, and as he sat back upon it, the memory was finally overcome before fading into mist once again.

Vincent tugged them along, dispersing the vision further and Cloud was steady at his side as they moved on down this endless hallway. The silence between then was tense, and Cloud new better than to do or say the wrong thing, where such tense memories and emotions were concerned. But still, he wanted to say…something. In the end, he couldn’t find the words that felt worth it, so instead, he just gave Vincent’s hand a firm squeeze, causing the other man to flex his fingers and wrap his hand more securely around Cloud's. 

They didn’t walk too much further before another vision seemed to literally spill before them, Memory Cloud rolling across the path as if tossed down upon it. He was thirteen, and he was bloodied, but he was back on his feet in seconds. Cloud himself sighed at the memory, wishing they would be done with his past, but he supposed they’d stirred up so much of what was lost, this was the majority of it. His memory self lunged at an older boy, who dodged and shove him, but he steadied himself.

“What a brat!” the other boy had said and cackled. “When are you gonna learn, Strife?! You can try all you want, but you’ll never be anything else but the Nibelheim brat!”

“Nibelheim bastard is more like.” another boy had muttered, and suddenly received a kick to the gut, then a punch to the chin.

Cloud stood steady, glaring, hands up around his face. “Come and get it, then, assholes.”

Vincent glanced to Cloud at his side, noting him rubbing the back of his neck, then over his face. The memory shuddered into other scenes, other moments, fleetingly, but it was much the same. The only difference was his emotions became more focused and centered. But he’d stood strong against challenges to his potential when going through assessment for SOLDIER, through training as a trooper, all of it. And the brawls after joining up with AVALANCHE that he got himself into, before everything went to shit.

Cloud just seemed to cringe at it a bit. And Vincent found himself chuckling, which drew Cloud’s attention.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“Out with it.”

“Nothing. Just interesting to see the parts of you that endured, is all.”

Cloud scoffed. “Yeah, that shit-starter layer is made of some durable stuff I guess.”

Vincent chuckled again, giving Cloud’s hand a teasing squeeze that time, and Cloud gave him a tug in retaliation before Vincent followed his lead as they moved along once more. Their feet carried them with more confidence, the further they moved. All the while, Vincent was still projecting his protection around them, and still searching for the ties sending influence from him through to the darkness. Even so, he found himself observing a bit more than enduring. At least, for the moment.

The next shift was rather strange. Another one of those memory spills that mingled and morphed into something not exactly true to origins but, still bound to it if they could trust it’s current function. First, Cloud watched as his young self observing the Shinra Manor, unsure if the vision of Memory Cloud trespassing again was true memory or more a fantasy of what might’ve been attempted. He had felt so sure he only ever made it through to the foyer and a couple of rooms, but then there was Memory Vincent, looking worn and half transformed into Galian, watching from the balcony with Memory Cloud absolute unawares he was being watched.

From the faintest twitch of Vincent’s grasp on Cloud’s hand, the blond glanced to him to note the tension in his features, seeing the half transformation. Cloud looked back to it, wondering what he was seeing. Perhaps it was symbolic of the turmoil of transformation, to be caught in between? Cloud himself had to keep himself from staring, in case Vincent noticed and got the wrong idea…or even the right idea. He wasn’t sure he wanted to admit how much that look of Vincent (with horns, one claw, shining eyes and fangs, a tail) fascinated him at this moment, so he turned his gaze down.

As he did so, the mist shifted, dispersing the image and bringing in the scenery of Junon, of the ShinRa Academy there, bringing forth their front doors as many faceless figures wandered in and out. There was muddled talks about the department and the branches those people within memory intended to explore. There was talk of careers, and the inspiring potential that ShinRa boasted and bolstered.

And suddenly Memory Cloud stood in infantry uniform, a decorated trooper…no, that was a SOLDIER uniform. Strangely, every minor movement the memory visage took, the uniform seemed to change shape. Even the features of Memory Cloud could not seem to settle, between age sixteen and age twenty-one. He seemed to be walking beyond the Academy, but his destination was unclear.

Suddenly, running up to his side, was Memory Vincent around age fourteen, looking up at the academy with a bright look in his eyes and a strong set to his shoulders. Memory Cloud looked over him, almost concerned but still curious, but Memory Vincent could only look ahead. Vincent looked down at a journal in his grasp, running fingers over…the Cerberus emblem that was now, in the present, noticeably from the gunslingers firearm.

Cloud himself was a bit curious, brow raising, before he just considered it may be another bit of overflow. As Memory Vincent then hurried off, unawares of the concern of his audience, Vincent beside him hummed softly.

“You looked confused there at the end.” Vincent remarked. 

“Hmm? No, just the sight of your emblem you adopted over the recent years.” Cloud told him, but he didn’t bother going further, as it was surely obvious to both of them these memory spills were full of warped time overflow.

“Reclaimed, actually.” Vincent corrected, which drew Cloud’s attention.

“Huh?”

“The Valentine family crest. My…father gifted me that journal, when I started at the Academy. He had high hopes for what I might fill it with.”

“You have a family crest…??” Cloud asked with an unnecessary tinge of shock before he could stop himself, and when Vincent just chuckled, lips tugging softly, he flushed at the neck a bit and shook his head dismissively. “Nevermind. Uh…come on.” And off they went, marching more intently as Cloud was trying to outstep his strange embarrassment over his reactions. The visions of memory shifted and flowed again and again, like waves coming in and out around them as the two settled into a steady pace again. But they kept going, nothing forming right away. It was the sound of gunfire that had them halting.

The vision had not fully formed, but to both of them, the sound was familiar. The shots ringing sounded much like Cerberus, and then…another, familiar but less so. They both looked around, then to each other, as nothing but mist and a weird glow surrounded them. Then there was the sound of something whipping through the wind.

Around them, the memory seemed to shift beyond what happened, yet it was like it was repeating itself, just at different angles.

Distantly, there was the implication of the presence of the Remnants, threatening at all corners. But at the center of the vision was the red flow of Memory Vincent’s cape. Memory Cloud was on the ground, half conscious, and Vincent was taking hold while firing off return shots to deter their enemies.  The present figures observed the memory of Vincent taking hold, and taking flight, with Cloud cradled to his side, only for the vision to revert back to Cloud on the ground again, exposed, under threat. And there, the unholy specter of red swooping down like a ghost, like a shield, claiming the blond for it’s own. Still mostly the same, they seemed to see a view, as between observing targets and firing, Memory Vincent’s gaze would fall upon the face of his friend, staring with concern, and staring deep. 

Cloud himself felt warm, just at the sight of it. It wasn’t even Vincent’s present gaze on him in the here and now, and yet just the way Vincent stared down upon him--his free hand fisted in the side of his pants from the strange nervousness it stirred. Vincent as well found the vision heavy and far too…intimate. He couldn’t say that it was exact like how it had happened. He had been intent on saving Cloud from the Remnants, and nothing more. And yet the vision repeated again, this time with less gunfire, both of Memory Vincent’s arms pulling Memory Cloud close as the red cloak had a life of it’s own, shielding them, and the blond was just conscious enough to cling to the other, face leaning into his chest.

“That’s…not…” Vincent found himself muttered with barely any sound, confused by this shift. Confused, and feeling exposed. But before he could worry how deep that exposure would go, the vision shifted again, the glow of the trees in that forest falling away, and replaced instead by nightfall only disturbed by the overflow of the visage of Omega, brimming with the glow of the Lifestream, and yet he was seeing it from an angle that was not his own.

Instead, they watched as memory of the battle against Deepground played, and Memory Cloud carved down yet another couple of DG-SOLDIERs, every once and a while looking to the skies where a purple pink light streaked to and fro. Memory Cloud would leap higher, taking on adversaries atop the old Reactor pipes, and with each slash, he kept looking to that glowing figure in the sky somehow gleaming despite the overwhelming light of Omega’s collected stream energy.

The more Memory Cloud fought, the more he looked to the sky, as if he could leap up and join that singular chaotic light. Of course, this wasn’t how it happened. Cloud himself knew he’d stayed mostly focused on the ground. Did his eyes stray upward as he observed what he could of his friend facing this Weapon to end all Weapons, especially as the signs of his presence would come and go, leaving his fate to the unknown? Sure.

But Cloud knew he hadn’t…actually been staring every second, trying to damn near climb Omega to join the battle above. So…why was this memory showing it so differently? It made something in his gut twist, a concern brimming in his chest that caused him to reluctantly steal a glance to Vincent in the present, fearful the man would see…. something …there. All he found was confusion in those red-gold eyes, but even so, he didn’t feel comforted seeing that either.

Instead of watching his Memory self drag nearer and nearer, seeming more and more desperate, he huffed aloud, trying to give a laugh and somewhat failing. “These memories are…getting more and more unclear, huh?”

“It seems so…” Vincent conceded. “Can’t say I understand why they’re…projecting like this.” he explained, as even though he wasn’t able to see how Cloud handled himself on the ground during the Deepground fight, he could gather from his knowledge of Cloud in battle, from Cloud’s current reaction, and from the previous strangely altered memory they'd just left that this was beyond what was true. He didn’t understand the purpose, with either of these memories, to make them…

False was the accurate word, and yet he knew there was some raw truth attempting to be relayed in the visions. His question was why…? He had deep dread over exactly WHAT it was. So how did he prevent it? Because it was unfair enough that Vincent’s darkness had them trapped, and had Cloud at it’s mercy without Vincent having sufficient intentional influence. But if it was going to begin flooding him with… with things, truths, that he doesn’t need to bear , Vincent would never forgive this part of himself.

Withe the two of them on the same page, they took the next steps at the same moment, gripping each others’ hands as they marched through the vision as Memory Cloud was just watching in frozen awe of the energy burst after Vincent in Chaos form finished Omega. And neither of them recognized just how hard they both ensured they did not witness the implied longing and despair that was depicted on Memory Cloud’s face that was watching the light fade and return down to the planets core.

Their movement dispersed it all into mist, and that mist stayed shifting for a while, no longer holding clear shapes, not even of mountains, or buildings, or moments. It was only the mist, and shifting light, and echoes of voices. Voices familiar to them both, of family, of friends, present and gone. Then suddenly--

“Cloud.”

The blond looked to Vincent, slowing his steps as he asked, “Huh?” However, what he found was Vincent looking around, and then back to him with brows furrowed.

“That wasn’t…” Vincent stopped, as his words wouldn’t be exactly true--they’d both heard it, the tone, the rasp, it was so clearly his voice, and yet, “ I didn’t say anything…”

They looked around, and still, no vision or even hint of a shape of a memory had formed yet. Vincent was becoming a bit exasperated, feeling they were being played and he wasn’t up for the games. He was about to take another step forward when--

“Vincent..!”

The gunslingers gaze immediately fell to meet Cloud’s as the blond just shook his head to convey that that wasn’t him, either. Not really him, at least. Vincent sighed.

“Let’s keep moving.”

And as they did, the echoes of not-them continued to speak their names, speak their conversations back to them, though the further Cloud and Vincent marched together, the more silent their voices became, as if the sound was drowned out until nothing. Even Cloud himself was becoming a bit impatient to reach some end, or at least move past this current focus the havens' energy had. He kept hearing statements, words that had been too heavy from his mouth to Vincent in the past, or things Vincent had spoken to him that he held on to a little too long after the fact. He was annoyed and unnerved, remembering and recognizing that this space still had a grasp on tugging his memories and feelings and it clearly was bringing that forth in it’s own way. The why was something he’d like to know just like Vincent, so they could overcome it but at this point, they may just have to outrun it. If they could even manage it.

As the mist suddenly swirled into a thick fog, and the gravity within the haven got heavier, they seemed trapped in the eye of a sudden tornado, and Cloud for the first time wondered of the Void Darkness could be fucking ironic.

“Is it trapping us now, what the hell?” Cloud remarked, looking around, stilling holding tight to Vincent, but he felt the other man press against him, back to back as they took in their surroundings.

“Are you expecting logic and reason after everything you've seen?” Vincent found himself muttering dryly, but even as he did so, he gripped Cloud’s hand a bit tighter in his grasp, silently comforted by the fact that no matter how they moved and shifted against the visions rushing at them, their hold stayed bound as if by an unbreakable magnetic pull.  Only then did visions begins again; and they could only be defined as visions, for though a part of them reflected memory back to the two men, it did not stay exact, did not stay singular to true reality.

What appeared next, at various angles every time they tried to turn to another section of the tornado of memory mist swirling around them, was the moment against Bahamut SIN. Cloud was rising through the air with aid of his trusted friends, but there Vincent waited. He had used his ability of flight for himself and to aid the comrades that needed it, but he sat there waiting…watching, as the figure of his friend brimming with power rose higher and higher to meet him. Vincent even witnessed it from Cloud’s view, watching himself waiting, then leaping to meet him with a sure grace. And then their hands met, gripping tight. There was a word said, here, but it was muddled. They knew Vincent was supposed to use his grasp on Cloud to throw him further on to face their enemy. However, instead of the memory continuing, the grasp was replayed, as if the two were trapped in the never ending flow of time that required Vincent to reach out and Cloud to take his hand.

They would reach, and they would find each other. They would reach, and they would take hold. They would reach, again, and again, and again.

Cloud’s chest was aching, and he didn’t know why. Vincent’s stomach was in knots, and he did everything he could to lock the sensation away behind a locked door within, for fear of it flowing out and…and…

And then the vision shifted, but their memory-vision selves never stopped reaching. There were moments that were true. A moment where Cloud had found himself on his knees, and took Vincent’s offered hand. A moment where Vincent took his leave, Cloud offering his hand, and the man taking it to offer the goodbye until next time. A moment where they were fighting against ShinRa, a missile shot in their direction, and Vincent had taken Cloud’s hand just to yank him out of the way. A moment where Vincent, weak after his return in the very cave they had traveled to for this entire trial, weak after defeating Omega, and Cloud was there with silent and automatic support to keep him stable and on his feet, grin beaming like it rarely did now that he’d finally found him.

Then there were moments they both knew could not be true, a few feeling familiar to Cloud, and others to Vincent. Not from experience, however…but from the deepest imaginings of the mind. The two simply standing, observing a sunset in Edge, something they’d done at least once as they were both passing through, that itself was truth. But Cloud reaching a finger to wind with the other mans, and Vincents’ returning the growing intent of contact was not. There were moments, like when they’d shared that table, and Vincent offered his stabilizing grasp...but back then, their fingers had not intertwined as smoothly as they did in this vision. Hands, hands would reach, and they would seek, and take another hand, or touch a cheek, or brush the hair.

Hands, hands, hands, reaching out to make contact.

Cloud himself wanting to look away, hoping if they weren’t observing, it would just fade. He was tempted to reach out and disperse it. If he fought it, would it flee? But, heavy as the mans grasp was in his hand with the weight of these visions consuming him, he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk fighting against the inner workings of this place, making things harder for Vincent and his control. He just wished his heart would stop hammering in his chest, he wished he could focus on any other thing than his memories and feelings twisted up in the existence of the man pressed to his back. There had to be a purpose, here. It was…distracting them? Or perhaps preparing them. It had been pulling memories, showing them how they were similar and how they were different. It had latched on to feelings and thoughts. Had it latched on to the fleeting flickers Cloud might’ve felt during the memory trials? Was this his fault? His mind had wandered, now and again, in awe of Vincent, comforted by his presence and all consuming support. He had felt…well, all he ever felt where Vincent was concerned, but would it truly latch on to that?

“Vincent… I-... I’m sorry.” he spoke up, unsure what more to do. “What if we just…stopped looking! Maybe it would finish with this shit, and we could move on! What do you…think it’s trying to convey to us? There’s gotta be something!” he reasoned. Was the darkness warning them of their…or maybe just Cloud’s dependency…? He could only imagine what was next would be heavier. He’d been feeling it brewing at the edges, far too curious up until now--like something heavy had been latched on to, likely with them both, something around the gut and it was waiting to spill out.

He feared the corners the light would continue shining on, but right now, he’d do anything to remove the spotlight from this. Turning to face Vincent, he opened his mouth to speak, “Vincent…?”

But as he turned, he panicked and gripped the mans hand tighter. What he saw was not just the mist swirling around them ever still, the visions playing over and over, but Vincent was grasping his chest, tendrils of darkness reaching out into the mist and being torn free in the process, unable to overwhelm the flow just yet. Vincent looked pained and distressed and… furious .

What was the fury aimed at? Cloud was growing sure of what, but he turned and grasped Vincent’s shoulder, as the man seemed to strain, eyes glowing more and more, teeth gritting and showing fangs Cloud had not noticed before. The tendrils were spill out more and more, some seeming to come to life as if they’d been there, but invisible, until now.  “Vincent!” Cloud cried, concern in his voice.

But the man didn’t respond. His darkness was spilling out, while the haven’s mist and darkness was spilling back in, lashing at him, knocking him unsteady for a moment before Cloud righted him.

“V-Vincent…! Stop, what are you doing?!” Cloud asked, not understanding, but feeling for the first time, a sense of danger. For both of them, but especially Vincent. That anger, the displeasure in his eyes was unsettling. He didn’t like seeing him put through such, and he tried to dismiss the ache in his core realizing it had to be in reaction to these damn visions they’d been forced to witness. “Let’s just…just block it out, for a bit! Vincent! You can’t FIGHT your darkness, it’s not going to help!”

“STOP!!!” 

It was a command, not aimed at Cloud, but at everything else around them, and Vincent’s intention echoed through out, everything seeming to freeze in that very second. Cloud gasped, breathless and feeling strange. It was as if everything ceased, frozen, tight and heavy. He gripped Vincent’s hand and arm.

“...Vincent, whatever this is, I’m sorry, but you have to--” He wanted to warn him to be careful. He wanted to remind him that surely it couldn’t do well for this process to fight himself. He wanted to hope Vincent would forgive him for whatever his own energy put into this space to cause all these unwanted twists and turns.  But the energy around them began to move again with such sudden force and pulling in all directions opposite them, Cloud found himself lifted off his feet and began to be pulled, pulled away, pulled from Vincent were it not for the bruise-inducing grip they both made on one another.

“Cloud!” Vincent cried, voice desperate as his other hand reached, trying to tug Cloud back to him, but his stability fell out from under him, too. They were both caught up in the whirlwind of energy shifting into a tornado again. There was so much, too much, going on. There was so much to put away, so much to protect Cloud from, Vincent just wanted to lock the flood of his deepest secrets away until he could free them from this place, but in this moment, all he could do was hold tight to Cloud. Because this damned place was finally, against all intention, instinct and desire that Vincent felt all this time and certainly at this very moment, it was trying to tear them apart.

He felt their grasp slipping, and he saw the panic in Cloud’s gaze.

“No!” he growled, hearing Cloud call his name again, but he just gripped tighter, clawed fingers tearing the leather fabric in his strain to do so. He tried to pull, but the harder he did so, the harder the intention of this damned haven seemed to tug Cloud away. But he didn’t stop. Willing what little darkness he had left to trust, he sent it around them to binding to Cloud and continue to pull him back. Tendrils shifted into a blanket, latching on to every inch of Cloud and tugging him slowly closer and closer. T he force against them wasn’t letting up. Vincent would not stop fighting it, but he was losing faith in himself that he’d overcome it. So, he needed to ensure protection, even in the face of his own failure.

With every ounce of focus, intent, and will, he projected power, protection, and a sort of tie binding them to a layer of his darkness, and then he tunneled that power into his cloak. Teeth barred and fangs exposed, eyes glowing beyond his awareness, Vincent’s arms ached with strain as he tugged Cloud to him with all his force. The blond gasped, and looked to him, straining to cling to his pauldrons, his leather, his neck. He saw fear and concern in Cloud’s eyes, and it sat like poison in his gut, but he would bear it.

Cloud would be torn from him at any second, so with his clawed hand latching around the blonds waist, making Cloud wince, his other hand worked to smoothly and quickly wrap the red cloak around Cloud’s shoulders. He secured it by will, ensuring what was nearly an enchantment willed upon the fabric was finished and absolute. The haven pulled upon them both again, and Cloud huffed and groaned.

Vincent sighed heavy, and brought himself to Cloud’s neck to ensure he could hear him over the roar of wind overwhelming them. “Don’t let go. I’ll find you. I’m so sorry…just don’t let go!” he gripped Cloud’s hand over the cloak, making his intention clear. And Vincent only saw a flash of dread in Cloud’s eyes, before they were torn apart.

They were lost to the fog, the vision dispersed and Cloud’s physical form out of sight. Vincent’s willed enchantment on the cloak had worked, though. He could feel the magnetic draw, even though he could not yet follow it, pulled and tossed about. He let his darkness coat him, to level his gravity and control here. If this place intended to make him the unstable figure, the monster he preferred never to show, then he would become it, if only to save Cloud from himself.

He supposed this was going to come, eventually, given the very mission Cloud encouraged in him. To understand his emotions, and face them. And he had been facing the rage and hate and blame he needed to hold against others. So why would he be spared? Accountability towards the others had been a long time coming, but that did not change the fact that he did have blame. Not in all the places he’d made himself believe for so many years, no, but…

Cloud was stuck in darkness, now, even if bound in Vincent’s last protection. Darkness that could pull him apart. Darkness that could overwhelm him. Darkness that could force visions and feelings into his mind that he did not want or need to endure. Darkness that could expose all of Vincent that should stay in the shadows.

The Vessel’s gravity grew and grew. He’d failed Cloud… He’d failed the trust his friend put in him. With dread and self-hatred brewing in his monstrous darkness spilling out of him, he knew he would not fail again.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Look A Little Deeper

Vincent had never unleashed the darkness that constantly seeps and slips through his veins so easily, so naturally. 

For too many years, it felt like a curse, and only in recent years had the weight of it shifted. It was not the curse he believed, not the demons’ weight he had formerly carved into his bones. But even knowing what it was, it had not removed the weight immediately, it had not changed the threat he was seeing differently but more clearly. It had not changed the fact that it was a part of him to handle with care, and with thorough, if somewhat impartial, judgment. 

Yet there he stood, as the storm settled, leaving him on his knees and torn so far from Cloud, and he was practically draped with it. The darkness caressed across his limbs as if naturally flowing and settling into a cycle and flowing again. It billowed around him, across his back and behind him, as if to make up for the cape lost or the wings that were truly meant to weigh there. Allowing this release and flow was not something he did with any sense of catharsis at the moment, simply another burden to bear, to do what needs doing. It was another mistake he made, to believe he could aid Cloud so…compeltely and perfectly, to save him from his turmoil, and not pay the price. But he would bear this sin, too, only after he ensured Cloud never had to bear this dark realm again.

He moved to stand then, feeling heavy but strong. He could feel his sense of influence and domination of the gravity here, though he did not yet influence to demand all he wanted from the majority darkness around him. Likely, he had his own trials to face, initiations of sorts, before he could claim such absolute control. But he parted the mist energy like a divine might part a river, and he turned his gaze north--that’s where he could feel him. Cloud, distant and not yet active, but still bound and secured by Vincent’s ties. His chest ached, and his darkness billowed stronger, but he pushed on. The mist morphed, followed him like beasts taking shape and waiting to challenge him. He paid them no mind, his focus singular.

But that was not how this would work. The mist crossed before him, somewhat giving way, but flooding stronger to make up for the energy the Vessel tried to disperse from his path. Vincent hiss, low in his throat, barely patient.

“ Move. ” it rumbled from his gut up his chest and out of his throat, and the mist-figures shuddered, almost dissipating, only to continue their flow in earnest defiance. Vincent pushed and spread his darkness harder, deeper against the flow, and it began to give way again. However, only too late, he recognized that as it gave way to his intentions and movement, it also crashed down around him, drawing him in it’s overwhelming energy.

It did not harm him, and it did not pull anything apart from him, as it would any other poor soul. However, it still felt as if it seeped through him, flesh, blood, muscle and bone. It felt as if it filled him up and attempted to pull something free all at once. He persisted, one step at a time, the waves of mist shifting around him wider and wider. Once there was a simple path to trek, the flow around him began to spill visions and memories once more. And Vincent sought to ignore them. He was following the tie to Cloud, and he couldn’t let anything slow him down. Not if he had will enough to fight it.

He recognized the strikes of pink-purple energy sparking from him as its source, and stretching out like webs, giving life to the darkness, only to shift to a purple blue. He would not be distracted. The light mingled with the mist, the two swirling and shifting to take shape and perform more visions. Vincent did not wish to give any of it an audience, even as he felt the darkness flowing in and out of him tugging, like a spiders’ web disturbed and signaling need for the predators attention. But h e couldn’t keep Cloud waiting. So, as visions would shift, playing memory of a young Vincent, or tumbled memory and vision of Cloud fighting, reaching out, speaking, acting. It didn’t matter. Not until he felt the weight of Cloud’s hand in his own again.

His light spiderwebbed strikes within the darkness, as his umbral aura continued a give and take pushing intention and domination back and forth, but he would not cease. Nor would he recognize as soon as he should, the primal energy brimming with every second spent dominating his own nature. He refused to see what he would have to make of himself, if he wanted to reach his goal. For the moment, at least.

And as he fought, Cloud had found himself apart and alone and overcome with a crushing weight. He knew if he pushed himself from his knees and moved onward, he could, but it would be with some strain. The strange gravity, when he was outside of Vincent’s vicinity, was ridiculous. As he grasped the fabric Vincent had wrapped him in, he had to wonder if it would be weighing him down harder without it. That is, if he'd even survive long enough. He gripped the red cloak harder, though, as he took slow breaths and took in the look of the area. It wasn’t much of a sight, apart from mist swirling around him slowly and ominously. Cloud had to focus on collecting himself and recognizing his situation, before continuing on.

They were separated. Vincent was…far from him. He’d recognized they’d been pulled apart, and Cloud knew him giving him this cloak was the only thing protecting him. They were lost, and this haven wasn’t finished trying to accomplish…whatever it’s mission is. Cloud wanted to understand, but wasn’t sure if he was the one that was meant to. Surely, Vincent’s understanding of this place was what was most valuable…? Even so, it had been wielding quite a few of his memories thus far, which he didn’t appreciate.

Most certainly not those last few. The…simple secret behind those memories and warped visions of them were NOT necessary to put on display, and yet it was oh so obvious. He still wasn’t sure what Vincent’s reaction was. During some of those moments back there, Vincent had seemed overwhelmed and upset, which was exactly one of many reasons Cloud could never find it in himself to do anything but occasionally acknowledge the depths of his emotions for Vincent Valentine, and even that he rarely did. He…felt and thought things, in the moments he was inspired to feel them, but all he could do was let it fall away. No point bothering his friend with something that wouldn’t serve him, no point in Cloud enduring just another wound on his heart when it was dismissed, no point risking this…. thing he held so tenderly with the other man, something that could not be found in the exact same form anywhere else.

This damned haven was a bastard, for trying to ruin what they had. It was far too precious, and too singular, for Cloud to lose. He would do what he could to mend the damage, but only after they make it out of this place. But first, he would have to stand. He gripped the top of the cloak in one hand steadily, taking a deep breath. It smelled like Vincent , all around him. He let out a shaky breath, and a fleeting shudder as a wave of comfort fell over him. With that, he finally stood, and looked ahead.

“I need to reach Vincent.” he spoke aloud, speaking his mission, as a demand, a threat, an intention, and a request all at once. Whether this dark realm would hear him and consider his words or not, he somewhat doubted. But even still, he took one step forward, and then another, and then another until he was walking. His pace was slow, as he was looking around. The mist around him acted like hedges, trying to guide him. Cloud honestly had…no idea where to go. What he did know was Vincent told him not to let go, and so he wouldn’t. His gloved hand was twisted in the familiar and comforting red like his life depended on it. It was rather likely it did, at this point. Just then, though, as he kept taking steady steps, he watched the mist begin to take shape again, somewhat a vision displayed in its darkness, and somewhat depicted with figures nearly brought to life. As the vision stirred to begin, Cloud stopped where he stood.

He saw himself in memories. His memory self marched through the mist, as a child. His other self looked around Nibelheim, during mid day, all the children running about as demanded by their parents so they could have some quiet hours inside their homes. But every time he moved to engage, he was met with laughter or clear efforts to ignore him. He tried a couple more times, until it was too much disappointment. He ran off then, running hard and fast and into the woods surrounding their town, trying to lose himself and the feelings in the tree.

His memory self settled there, between some boulders, amongst the trees. He would look around now and again, but mostly, he hugged his knees, brows furrowed and angry as he settled there. He’d wanted to run away from feeling alone, so at least here, it felt…more right. More bearable. Here, he was fine being alone. At least in the wild, in nature, it felt as if it was how it was meant to be.

Then his memory self looked up, and the moment he looked up, Cloud’s true self observed another projection of himself walking through and disrupting it all. This time, it was him, arriving at Midgar, being ushered from room to room. He remembered and felt again through this projection of memory, the pride and eagerness he felt while being processed and going through tests for SOLDIER. He felt so confident, so sure, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel unsure, flickering with doubt… He felt alone, again. Everywhere he looked, it was city folk. Few boys or men his age had made it this far, either. He held the weight of his dreams and he held it alone. And he would simply have to bear it.

Another memory figure of him disrupted the current, but he was far more familiar now. He saw the memory of himself mingling with the original AVALANCHE team he had worked with. Barret, Tifa, Jesse, Biggs, and Wedge. They were a team, and he was simply a paid weapon. Even as he might seek to engage with Tifa, he would feel so far away. The team might try to engage, and he found himself retracting. He was alone, but that was easier…simple, familiar.

Another figure walked through, disrupting the merc Cloud as he sat alone at a bar, only for…that figure to sit at the bar, too, on the other end. Except the bar changed--it wasn’t Seventh Heaven, and it wasn’t familiar to Cloud.

Nor was the figure, it wasn’t him. Then he saw the details clear; The raven hair of the memory-figure was short and well kept. Even with knowledge of who this person must be, it was noticeable to Cloud how the memory-figure held himself differently, how the height and some level of size differed. It made it hard for Cloud to discern the age but it was clear, this was a memory of Vincent. Perhaps a specific one of the other man's memories themselves. Cloud was tempted to question it, but he accepted there was no logic to make sense of in this place right now.

Young memory Vincent sat with a rounded glass in hand, dressed in half in a suit, but the vest was unbuttoned, no tie, and he was dressed in a long coat--it was strange to see him young, but even more so for Cloud to see him in the clothes that weren’t…he wanted to say Vincent, but those clothes weren’t HIM. Just all Cloud knew him to wear. Cloud took a careful step, afraid to disrupt this vision, but it stayed for the time being. He felt a shift around himself, like he’d pushed somewhere within him along with a sudden press of the haven’s gravity only for it to rush away. He moved differently, feeling physically affected, but he dismissed it as a gravity shift and focused on what was before him.

He watched Memory Vincent finish whatever deep red beverage he’d ordered and he sat there staring at the glass in his hand. Tapping his fingers, he looked around. For a moment, red eyes (just red) passed over Cloud. But they looked through him and beyond, before drawing to the other side of the area of the bar. Cloud wondered, was he looking for something or someone…?

But then, like with his own memory visions, he suddenly….felt within these memories, too. He knew these were not his own feelings, and yet, it was so much like his own experience. The weight, the edge of looking for awareness, for recognition, for some sort of draw and finding nothing. He felt the solitary resignation of the moment. The acceptance of being alone.

Without thinking, Cloud took another step towards the center of this vision, and suddenly, along with the feeling of that gravity shift and feeling something in him pushed or shifted with it, the vision dispersed. As quickly as it fell apart, it rushed back into a new vision. Now, it was Vincent walking amongst scattered groups of men and women, all talking between one another, but few to none paid him any mind. He didn’t seek the engage them either. At least, not yet. The Memory Vincent watched how they moved, how they conversed, and how they looked over him and avoided him. Only one figure bothered to look him the eyes, a deep purple gaze staring firmly through a half curtain of rusty, deep brunette hair falling to one side. And Memory Vincent stared back, unwavering red gaze holding steady, before the hold of the gaze finally fell. 

Cloud watched Memory Vincent set his shoulders firmly before marching on, no longer caring for a single gaze. He didn’t care as he caught the dismissive whispers about his last name, about Professors and R&D and geniuses. He marched on. He pushed through doors, and the vision shifted into training, with him showing every bit of skill he had. There was plenty he could do better, but he was quite the natural, and he was singularly focused. So much so that he didn’t bother with teaming up until it was absolutely necessary. He worked just fine, in his singular focus.

The vision shifted again, and he was older, and in a later memory. Cloud stepped closer, around the scene, as Memory Vincent stood across from another Turk--seemingly the one he’d held the stare of, however many years before. His hair was longer, but only a little bit. He looked older as well and he stared at Vincent with an intensity, but a different one than back then. Deep, concerned, unyielding. Cloud was so focused on this new stare down, he could barely notice the weight of the haven’s gravity was shifting again, feeling lighter than the last shift.

Instead, he was distracted by how the sight of the scene twisted something in his gut, but he ignored it and the shudder of purple-blue lightning through the mist above and around him.

“Just take time, Valentine. This is your last chance.”

Cloud looked as Memory Vincent stood straighter, and his eyes…they looked…lifeless, tired, yet heavy with emotions behind a misty door all at once. It tugged a stark and harsh sympathy and understanding in Cloud's gut. 

“I’ve continued my work with no mistakes. I am not compromised, as I'm sure you've receive no reports stating otherwise, so I’d ask you to cease treating me as if I am. I will not be taking time, Veld. Leave it alone.” Memory Vincent remarked, clearly having made this point already.

The man, Veld, walked around his table to stand before him, and Memory Vincent stood straighter. “You’re my partner, Vincent.” He said (Cloud once again fought the strange turn in his stomach, the uncomfortable pang in just seeing or hearing and recognizing the emotions and weight sitting between these two). “And you’ve lost someone. Someone important. I don’t care what you THINK about how you’re doing, you can’t know if--”

“I think I know myself better than you, with all due respect.” Memory Vincent cut Veld off and the man stared, with annoyance, offense, and then resignation, standing straighter, too.

“...Sure. Of course you do. Then if you know yourself so well, then I suggest you take a look at this assignment, and get back to work. If you’re so sure you’re suitable for work, then you’ll be on your way to fulfill your next task by tomorrow.” Veld walked back around the table, tossing a folder across it and turning back to other tasks. “I expect an update by tomorrow morning, Valentine.”

“Yes, sir.”

He grabbed the folder, and turned to make his leave.

“Maybe you could at least call home before you do so, too.”

Memory Vincent couldn’t even manage to stop. Cloud had been feeling the man's grief snaking around the corners, could feel the weight of regret, of blame, of anger, of confusion. But for a moment, the guilt and the sadness weighed heavier, and he caught visions of Vincent’s mother flashing, before being dispersed. There was that solitary feeling again. Cloud wondered…if he thought even his family couldn’t understand his exact grief…? Or did the circumstances of the loss lead him to believe he deserved to suffer alone?

Cloud sighed, taking a step on, incidentally following Memory Vincent as he felt familiarity again, unawares of how much easier it was to step, how much lighter it was to move. Solitude always seemed easier, at the time. Even when the grief or regret or sadness, or even blame, sat heavy and threatened to suffocate one. Somehow being around others, who wouldn’t be able to see or feel, it made it heavier. And if that wasn’t horrible enough, there was the way his energy would spread and hurt others.

It always seemed easier to be alone. Vincent seemed to have understood that well. Cloud knew they were learning differently, adapting slowly but surely in the last few months, even the last year, but it was still a convincing state. Ironically, it seemed to be one they were growing more apt to…share, despite how that should forfeit the state of solitude.

The next few visions were….rapid, and raw, and Cloud could only stand and observe.

Tubes that turned his stomach, cold stone and underground paths. There were unwelcome voices, one mans far too familiar--an ill reaction turned in Cloud stomach, but it was made more intense by the emotions and reactions tied to these memories currently playing. There were flashes of cuts, of cries, of begging for it to stop that had Cloud’s chest aching. Then he saw the next as if watching solely from Vincent’s point of view.

Overwhelming dark energy swirling, pulling apart, shifting everything that’s natural into something other, until he was left with aching limbs, a weak and tired body withering away from its former life, and claws. Such horrible claws. A vicious tail. He remembered them all clawing and seeking to tear. Even when the claws gave way to other hands, it did not cease. Discolored and stitched up hands drug and punched and clawed in their own way. A sense of heaviness, of too many feelings and not enough center. He felt like he was full of too many things, too many feelings, too many all at once. He screamed, screamed all he could. Then dirty hands, still clawing at the walls, and the screaming turned into wailing behind a stifling mask.

None of it made sense, certainly not the strange new experience of feeling present but gone, like he was near the reigns yet lacking all control. His body was tearing into monsters, and there was nothing he could do to settle it. Nothing he understood. He just wanted to scream, and tear, and cry. He wanted to die. He wanted to release it all. He wanted to hunt down the one responsible, and he might have if he'd had the energy and persistent motivation. He had certainly just begun to try. But he saw his reflection as the tailed beast, and despair gripped him. He found his true body again, but gave way to weakness and despair.

There were a couple more moments, of seeking Vincent’s lack of control, with his head-mates finding their new existence and seeking to cause havoc. They would not let up, until finally, Vincent decided the burning rage and the desire to cause ruin would get him nowhere. Finally, he settled into the coffin, and there he would stay, not knowing how he’d been dressed as he had, not understanding the passage of time between those first transformations and these last few where he had more control and energy, but no less pain.

He wanted to tear it all apart, and instead of unleashing it, he bound it up in his wooden grave.  Cloud stood and observed, before sighing and speaking into the space, or perhaps himself, he wasn’t really sure. “You felt so much…you tried to release it, and then locked it up…Vincent.” he sighed, feeling a strange sort of validation and deep sympathy all at once. He stepped towards the vision of the coffin, free hand hesitating to reach to touch it, feeling a sort of deja vu. And as his hand hovered, it’s as if he could…feel it. The twisted emotions, the burning desires. He’d felt things similarly, and though he did not witness the visions, he heard the echoes.

Echoes of his friends begging Cloud to listen, demanding he stop. Heard himself say cruel things, or words that shouldn’t have been his own. He remembered…losing control, but horribly enjoying giving in to the darkness, the twisted desires, if only for a moment. And times after, where he was more than willing to end a casual enemy, beat a bastard to a pulp, carve…carve things like Masker.

That was a part of him he tucked away, or usually tried to. Right now, he felt it more raw than ever, though it didn’t feel present. It was a reminder, like everything here, was. A reminder of the worst, most cruel man he could be pushed to be…that he could sometimes want to be. Hand still hovering over the coffin lid, he felt it, like a twin to his own experience, and he shuddered and gripped tighter to the cloak, pulling it around him and breathing in the scent. As he did, there was another shift and he wasn’t sure what it came from. Like something released and relented, but as he looked around, there was nothing but him and the drifting mist.

He held onto the cloak, searching for a moment, before focusing ahead. If Vincent was facing memories like these, too, Cloud didn’t want to leave him alone much longer. There was a purpose here. He could feel it, and he could just nearly see it--he could see, these visions, and their connections were being pulled forth to be seen for a reason. He had to find Vincent. And with no heaviness holding him back, Cloud set off at a steady pace once more, unaware of the energy his urgency was sending through the darkness.

Vincent had been feeling the tugs on his dark enchantment bound to Cloud for the last few minutes as he pushed through. The pull he just felt nearly had him tripping to chase after it. But the visions were overwhelming, as was the haven’s gravity, which seemed intent on boring down upon him. Every vision he tried to push past or walk away from, it pressed down harder. He’d only managed to push past a few because of his own darkness being freely released and pushing dominance, he knew that, but this was a tug of war he wasn’t sure how exactly to win right now.

Because they just kept pressing and the memories he tried to outrun kept repeating, no matter how hard he focused on Cloud or how he willed it all to just disperse. He didn’t understand the price to pay for the control he sought. Stubbornness pushed him for a couple minutes more before he was forced to one knee, huffing and growling through each breath, his frustrating brimming and billowing at his core like the darkness licking off of him like smoke.

He was forced to witness what had already been pushed on him, again. He’d seen it, but he wasn’t letting it rush over him, wasn’t taking the time to truly observe. He was tired of observing, without the clear purpose being at the forefront of his awareness. He was tired of being forced through this, without a chance to choose it or deny it. They had BOTH been through enough without a choice, they shouldn’t have to face it once more, in the depths of Vincent’s darkness.

“Pay attention!” the memory had called to Vincent, and finally, after dismissing his own memories displayed of his time wandering the streets of his home, searching for something to do and never seeming to find the other kids around to play with, the memories had shifted to Cloud’s. Stuck on one knee, Vincent settled his attention with bitterness and reluctance, but with increasing focus. He clearly had no choice.

He caught moments of Cloud at home as a child, his mother out shopping and making trades in town, while he watched out the window. When outside felt like too much or too little, being at home felt like a comfort, Vincent could assess of Memory Cloud’s feelings. But even in what should have been comfort, there was a lacking sense of connection and purpose, and the loneliness snaked through it all.

It slithered on to another memory, and another, much like ones he’d witnessed already, and some far too familiar to his own--standing solitary against the expectations of ShinRa, and giving their all. Pride could be felt, perhaps, as well as drive and focus. The loneliness never left, however. Whether it was a burden or a part of the fire driving them, it stirred at the core. He was still resisting the flow, however. He already knew their similarities, he didn’t need this trap to tell him any more. He didn’t care to focus on how the sight and feeling of the others loneliness seemed to lighten the feeling of his own sensation of it, and he didn’t bother focusing on how something shifted within him. The only thing he noticed after the faint sensation of the shift was the way his darkness seemed to spread further.

He found his strength again, standing against the heavy gravity and pushing on. The visions shifted again, giving way to memories slowly but surely. He was tempted to continue ignoring, but he knew at this point this would not cease. Despite his stubbornness to push through, he couldn’t keep denying he had to give in to the whims of the haven at least a bit more.

As his next memory unfolded before him, of course, he felt a bitter laugh fall from his lips. “I give in…and this is what you bring me…?”

As if the answer, the vision of Chaos losing control flashed before him, brought forth first through heated battled…then pushing through Vincent’s own lack of control and consciousness, acting as a defense, but a hungry one. Finally, him unbound by the Protomateria, delighting in releasing rage and carnage, and seeking more. He remembered experiencing that, as if locked in a cage at the back of a stage, watching but too weak to act. He had been disgusted, he had been overwhelmed, he had felt guilt. But all while feeling that, there was a twisted catharsis watching Chaos impale Azul, of feeling the WEAPON unleashing and hungry for bloodshed. Because that desire was pure, and it was righteous, and there was nothing to hold Chaos back from feeling it, expecting it, being drawn to seek it. 

Except for Vincent’s will. A will that failed him now, but he found himself stuck in the memory. He knew he’d overcome Chaos with a struggle, before he could seek out innocents (if he even would have), but the feeling…the hunger, pure and righteous… He remembered almost wanting to…stay in the cage, and let him continue. Or worse, join him. Once or twice, and then forever ignored after, Vincent had longed to release his own carnage. He longed to find those deserving and tear them asunder, hear their cries, feel their struggle and know that it was his rage and power and darkness that dominated their fates. He knew that hunger, and he forever did what he could to ignore it.

“Is this what you want of me?” he asked to the darkness, unsure if he wanted an answer. “You can’t have that…because that is not all that I am.”

An answer did find him then. A voice, undefined, perhaps not even really there, but a force communicated with him nonetheless, just in a few simple words.

You have never let it be, and so it shall stay.

Had never let it be…? Of course he hadn’t. He couldn’t…! What would his friends do, if they saw the beast he held within that had no name but his own…? When they saw it was not a figure or presence with another life, another drive, but it was only him? Cloud had seen his rage and hurt in the fields of Junon, he’d seen a hint of the darkness. But he still had not witnessed the corrupted hunger. He couldn’t. After the monsters Cloud had already faced, how could Vincent give him more to witness? How could he himself…stomach the rightful disgust that would bring?

The visions shifted again, the rush of the mist and the shift of the weight in the gravity here causing Vincent to stumble forward a moment. Standing straight, he looked about, searching for the next vision, the intentional force here that had found a way to speak to him, or even just searching for the energy of Cloud again, but the pull wasn’t there…just the soft magnetic tug, not strong enough to draw him to a clear direction.

“It can stay where it is for the rest of my existence. You cannot change all of me! I will not be forced into something I’m not!” he growled out into the darkness, as the mist began to shift and take shape again.

Just before it did, however, that voice spoke again.

You already do that to yourself. You do not live as all you are. But you must.

He was about to growl another edge of denial, feeling anger was becoming far easier to tap into than it had been in years. He balled his claws into fists claws? both? , but marched on as visions took shape, though not into himself as he expected.

It was Cloud from a memory. It was Cloud standing before Aerith, after hurting here. Distantly, he felt the disgust coming from the memory of the other. But with it, there was a sense of…euphoria, in his lack of control. In giving in. He watched it shift to Cloud fighting monsters and foes, carving through them, feeling the rage and the weariness, feeling the ache in his veins and his head as he sought to carve. Memory Cloud stood on his own, looking heavy with regret and self-hatred, and Vincent found himself stepping forward, extending a clawed hand, but Cloud dissipated all at once, before taking form once more, to Vincent's left.

He stood, feral-looking after battle, covered in blood. His eyes, looking wild and intent and looking for the next enemy. His eyes….were no longer blue tinted with mako green, but a sickeningly familiar, icy grin with slit pupils. But Vincent knew in that moment, either by instinct or by sensing Memory Cloud’s feelings and experience himself, it was not so simply the presence and influence of Sephiroth behind those eyes. It was Cloud’s own connection but…part of those cells, the part that fed into his own feelings and emotions. The part he had some control over and, just once in a while when he’d had enough, he let his control slip with.

Vincent could only consider the sensations, the…righteousness and the hunger so familiar but not his own for so long, before really recognizing the weight of it. And as he let the realization settle in, more moments of Cloud’s rage, his aggression, his cruel words, his dark urges not fulfilled played out relentlessly. Vincent could see it, could feel it, all around him.

Rage, hate, pain, and all of it settling into one focus; they hungered to release it, and so why not release it? Why should they bear the pain alone?

Here it was, however, as the memories dissipated into nothing but the most bloodcurdling cry he’d ever heard from Cloud, mingled with one he recognized as his own. Here it was; they bore their own experience of pain, and rage, and darkness, and yet he had never let himself recognize Cloud felt it just the same as he did. He was not alone, in this twisted existence. He’d just forced those feelings into solitude, leaving Cloud without that twin-pain to meet him on the same level in the process.

This…is what the darkness wanted? For Vincent to accept that in himself, and to share it with Cloud? He still didn’t understand what purpose it would serve, save for simply allowing them both to accept they were not singular in their twisted natures.

When he would reflect on himself, it was hard to see the worth in confronting that nature, but if he looked upon Cloud’s own dark and cruel nature? Oh, how he would cradle it and ensure it was never choked down into a shriveled thing that would never breath, but never leave. He would coax it to attention within Cloud and help him face it, so his dear friend might stand more whole. They may not do well to set it free, but if they could hold it, together…? Perhaps that would be enough recognition.

Recognition. Acceptance. After all these years, Vincent was still learning things he must continue to admit to himself, and to others. The haven’s intentions were becoming clearer now, and with that clarity, the weight around him shifted once more. He continued his march, feeling more sure of the direction of his destination.

Where Cloud still wandered alone, he moved his feet faster and faster, feeling hope pounding his chest. This place, this haven, was familiar in its directness and its harsh efforts in achieving its goal. It was familiar in its energy, which was to be expected with Vincent. But Cloud had begun to wonder, and believe, there was another's’ intentions here. He wasn’t sure how strong, because he wasn’t sure how all this shit worked, but then again…

Who or what else would be so intent on teaching something to Vincent with his own darkness, if not its originator? Cloud wasn’t sure if Chaos intended to teach him something, too. He wasn’t sure why he would be of any importance, or if it was happenstance given his presence within the darkness beforehand. But, even so, as difficult and strange as it was to witness the depths of similarities between himself and Vincent, he welcomed it the further he marched. Like the fear of his darkest depths, something he’d dreaded facing in searching for that missing piece of himself at the beginning of all of this. Though he was thankful that wasn’t what he needed, to complete himself, this dark haven had given him chance to face it anyways. And in facing it, he’d witnessed Vincent’s similar experiences. He saw how the other figures spurred those cruel desires, but he’d witnessed them form in the gunslinger himself. And Cloud felt not a single shred of concern, or fear, or disgust.

He understood, and it caused something in him to swell with longing and yearning. He needed to find him. He could feel something changing around him, the air becoming freer in some ways and heavier in others, but he just ducked his face into the collar of the crimson cloak and felt his feet drawing him faster, he was practically jogging. He saw the mist taking shape again, but didn’t stop moving. He didn’t seek to outrun it, but he wouldn’t let anything stop his feet as he hurried on. At least, he believed so.

He feels the bubble of feelings first. They were feelings he knew well, feelings he was used to pushing back. They were feelings he felt the hint to all time this while separated from Vincent but, there was no purpose in having them at the forefront like this in this moment. It would not bring their reunion any sooner, he believed. But there it was; t here was the fond draw, the soft admiration and affection that came with the thought or vision of the other man. It was stirred from the presence, from the memory. In moments where they found a chance to speak and share, however briefly, there was a deep comfort that Cloud wanted to wrap around him like this very cloak. There was a warm and sharp stirring from just the thought of the other's voice, or his gaze. The yearning was so intense is made his throat feel thick, and his chest feel as if it were in a vice grip of some beast.

For a moment, he thought he was loosing control of himself and feeling these things overwhelming him in his hunt for Vincent Valentine, as if the yearning to find him brought every other feeling the man had caused within Cloud to the surface.

Only then did the mist vision that had been stirring take shape, but it was like a split vision. One, he saw Vincent…in some moment, over recent years, when they’d just been sitting together, occasionally speaking, and sitting on their own. There was nothing special in this moment, except for Cloud; it was a simple, precious moment with Vincent. Cloud distantly heard himself speaking about his work on Fenrir, and he remembered Vincent listening intently about the vehicle.

But as the echoes of his voice went on, the feelings swelled bigger and felt heavier. They were…tied to this moment…but why? He didn’t remember feeling this, so intense, at that time. He looked between the split visions again. Just the way Vincent was looking towards him, that gaze always stirring a warmth in Cloud that almost always made it’s way to a flush to his skin, as it did now. But then he looked back to the vision of himself, clearly in this memory it was Vincent’s view of him. Watching Vincent’s point of view, the emotions once again felt heavier.

The more he stared, the heavier he felt, and the clearer it became, it was not… Cloud’s . It was not Cloud's swelling emotions.

Breathless, Cloud turned his gaze to the vision of Vincent, the way he looked at him. The depth of his gaze, his attention never wavering, and the faintest of grins soft on his pale lips. Cloud felt the warmth shift into the most fragile heat as it felt far too clear, unbelievably so.

The visions that flashed then were not of the haven’s doing, nor were they projected in a physical sense. Instead, they were in his head, where they should be. But it was moment after moment that he found himself wondering and considering and realizing…just how often he’d ever caught Vincent looking at him, like that . Cloud had never tried to look for such a gaze, never thought it was worth hoping for, that someone like Vincent could feel…for him like that. And yet here it was, and Cloud was clinging to the cloak with both hands now, fearing and hoping and confused and overwhelmed as he wondered if it was possible this was all just another altered memory. But, for what purpose…? So far, the haven had been pushing them to recognized how they were similar, how they felt similar, and here this moment was. 

“V-Vincent…”

The Vessel could almost hear the echo of Cloud’s voice, the shift in the energy around them, and he pushed forward once more. He felt an ache in his chest, the desire to reach him, to have hold of Cloud again, burning him in his core.

The visions played, and he offered them some attention, recognizing their intent thus far but still stubborn to seek Cloud out. Every step he took, heavy and then light at a weird pace, he felt the desire to reach him burning hotter. He felt the swell in his chest, so familiar. He felt the admiration, the affection, the yearning to be by his side and know he was alright. It was more intense than it had been this entire time, but he just let it drive him.

Until it began to distract him. These were not feelings he was unused to, but they seemed to be spilling forth from all directions without a usual trigger. There was no suitable cause for how intense this was. Was he really so desperate, so worried, that his emotions he usually tucked away were surfacing to scream their desperation? He supposed he wouldn’t put it past the influence here to cause such. But he was used to simply living with it on a smaller scale. There was no need to allow it at the forefront; Cloud didn’t need that sort of attention complicating his life, and Vincent was never fool enough to think an old tormented soul like his would be…desired. 

He didn’t need it to be. He just needed…Cloud, however he was allowed to have him in his life.

But even that thought made the feelings heavier, and heavier. The mist shaped into moments, moments of Cloud and Vincent crossing paths at random, so many times. Even not so random times, like the singular moment after Advent day, when Cloud was the one to accompany Vincent in purchasing his phone. It had been such a simple outing, but Cloud helped him choose one suitable for Vincent’s experience and comfort, but something also functional for this day and time. He remembered Cloud's fondness when they spoke of customizations, and Vincent talked about some ideas he might have.

But only then, as Vincent glanced over the memory, with the distant flashes around it of other times of Cloud joining him, or crossing him, reaching out, speaking, giving attention--in this memory, the affection swelled more with the moments of Vincent himself seeming excited or curious. Why would Vincent feel things about--

And the vision of the memory shifted to Cloud, with a crooked grin on his face, watching Vincent patiently and fondly. The look in Cloud’s eyes, the easy attention and effortless support for something so trivial, after all he’d just been through recently. The feelings of warmth, of yearning, of intent, of desire, of affection, they were bearing down on him then and Vincent was speechless, and just a bit breathless.

He could try to deny it out of stubbornness, but there was no point. He could feel when the haven had forced the mist to display something altered, and he knew when something was real. This was…undeniably so. Just another thing the haven, and it’s other influential figure, intended for Vincent to realize connected him to Cloud. It sat in his stomach like butterflies, but it was overwhelming. It felt undeserving, he felt he could vomit it free and refuse it at any moment, to convince himself he didn’t deserve it, because when did it ever work out right?

But then the mist parted clearer than it had thus far, and the magnetic draw of his dark tie to Cloud was more intense than ever. He didn’t wait another second. Vincent was running. He was running as fast and hard as his feet could take him, as if everything that weighed him down and held him back was falling away with every step. He could feel the magnetic draw becoming more and more overwhelming, until a last fog stood in his path, and with more demand in his voice than when he last spoke these words, he called out, “ Move! ”

The mist parted, only for Cloud, draped far too well in red, to stumble forward to his hands and knees a short distance from Vincent. Only the sound of their huffed beats were heard, before their gazes settled upon one another.

Cloud was….different. Taking in every singular change in his visage, his energy almost pulsing with a purple blue aura, Vincent could see it shifting and taking form as the seconds were ticking by. But the more he took in the feeling of the energy before him…there was nothing he did not already recognize. It was Cloud, freed and bare, much like how Vincent felt in this moment. Something else might form, but he didn't need to observe just yet. Distantly, as he watched Cloud take him in too, and he wondered if he looked different, too. But he couldn’t care. Cloud was right there, and Vincent was tired of the distance.

Vincent took a step, and Cloud moved to stand. Cloud took a step, and Vincent moved faster. As if each movement of one of them was bound to stir the other, they closed the space like pieces falling together. Cloud practically threw himself on Vincent, arms thrown to wrap around the taller mans neck, clinging tight and burying his face in Vincent’s chest. Vincent’s arms wrapped so securely around the blond it hurt, but there was no complaint. Not with the arm around his waist, fisting at his back, nor the hand that moved through his unruly blond strands, caressing and then gripping as if it would bring Cloud closer.

Here in one another's' arms, the raw exposure was it’s heaviest. The solitude, the disconnect, the toxicity, the cruelty, and the deep affection that had been floating between them all this time was now felt and seen for all it was.

Vincent was scared to speak it, to speak all they’d experienced, feeling sure in this moment Cloud had likely experienced much the same as him. But he was more afraid of the silence continuing, and what that would mean. He barely drew back, speaking by Cloud’s hair after he let out a sigh. “Cloud, I…

“I know.” Cloud spoke, voice small and just as scared as Vincent's. He looked up at him, and Vincent felt a twist in his gut, seeing that which he’d only just understood moments ago, on display for him in the here and now. He reached his hand that had been in Cloud’s hair the cup his cheek, thumbing there so tenderly. Cloud’s hand moved to Vincent’s hair, gripping as if to cling or stabilize them. “I… I feel it, too.” he muttered, voice shaky. Cloud sniffled, suddenly wearing a wobbly smile. He looked so scared yet…so happy and Vincent gripped him tighter, closer. “I feel it all. L-like you…?”

Vincent nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Yes. Just like me.”

He had never felt more scared and equally safe than he did right now. Cloud leaned in then, and pressed his cheek to Vincent, and Vincent let out a deep sigh, nuzzling his cheek back, ducking his head down into Cloud’s neck and hair, breathing him in. Vincent distantly worried over what the change to their forms meant, what Cloud was seeing of him--Cloud himself was finding it strange to take in and make sense of, but in this moment, he couldn’t care. He couldn’t care for what he seemed to be on the outside. All he needed was the man he loved in his arms in the moment, and knowing they were safe once more. The man he loved…and a man that loved him in return…it was certainly something he would’ve never have expected. He distantly felt the energy shifting around them, greater than it had in all this time, feeling more like that vortex swirling from before, though it seemed to be at their feet this time. But despite the shifting chaos around them, they continued to embrace one another, holding tight.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Monster of Mine

When the dust and energy settled, and he could only feel it swimming at the corners bound to its foundation at their feet, Vincent knew they were back solidly in the grotto. The glow was brighter than before, but familiarly mingled within the darkness found in the cave. And as he turned his gaze and attention around the space and then drawn back to look at Cloud, the strange visage he’d only saw forming once they reunited had now completely taken shape.

Cloud stood before him, taller than normal, though he almost didn’t notice as his own height had increased. Vincent drew back a little more to take him in, aware Cloud was doing the same, but with a brief thumbing of Cloud’s cheek again and a caress of his neck, Vincent took a step back, only keeping hold of Cloud’s hand as he moved to kneel on his knees, Cloud following suit after him without a question.

“...You can look at me, while I look at you.” he invited, the words heavy on his tongue. But even for these things that would feel difficult and uncomfortable to give in to, he couldn’t deny Cloud when he saw the desire in his eyes. And Vincent desired to observe the other in turn, so perhaps that is what would become their way. Given consent to bare what they abhor about themselves, if only to appreciate what they could see in return.

The first striking feature was Cloud’s eyes. One pupil was rounded, while the iris was an icy green with distant blue at its core. But the other eye, the right, his pupil was slit and far more blue than Vincent had ever seen them outside of the memories he’d glimpsed. There was a hint of icy green at the core, spreading from the pupil, but not much further. Cloud’s features were, mostly, unchanged, though his brows were smaller, finer. The shape and look of his face, the beauty of it, was unchanged apart from the strange otherworldly glow it held in certain spots across his flesh where it was exposed, and the faintest sense of a haunting gaze.

Cloud's hair was mostly unchanged, at least at the front. The strands lengthened, however finely, from the back with a few of them done into braids like those done in his youth. Vincent reached to card fingers through the strands, bringing them forth to watch the fine, pale yellow fall through his fingers. It fell around an armored layer across Cloud's skin on the right side of his neck, from which a sort of halo was meant to grow, but it seemed to have never reached beyond just around Cloud's eye level. Or had it been broken? Vincent could not tell, as he noticed the other armored layers upon his form. His clothing shifted between reality and this projection, like a mirage. When Vincent didn’t perceive his usual attire, he watched strange clothe falling from those armored layers and crossed in an uneven fashion across his chest, and down over his legs and hips in a haphazard skirt yet uniformed armor across his legs. The armor covered his shoulder, chest, and back over his left side, but more so over his stomach, waist, and forearm of his right. Another halo, larger and reaching almost over his head, had grown from his back, but still had not made a complete circle as it perhaps was meant to. 

Then he noted the other limbs. The vision of them faded in and out, of two other pairs of arms, one more like a tentacle, the other another arm settled to his left. They never stayed solid, and Vincent reached out to touch the hand. He almost felt it, and noted the way Cloud looked down then back to him, before his hand shifted through the others. His hand rested on Cloud’s armored hip instead then, as he looked behind him. Beyond the unfulfilled halos, he saw them….and felt the strangest affection upon sight of them.

Wings, and the most abnormal pair.

There was one in a more natural spot coming from his shoulder blades, extending to his right. It was perhaps a little over half his size, but it had the strangest shade of feathers, almost iridescent or unclear, but they did not cover the entire wing in its unique shape. No, instead, they gave way to webbed flesh of a bat-like wing underneath. To Cloud’s left was a smaller wing, similar but with less feathers, and it seemed to sprout from his low back, curled up as if ashamed.

Vincent gaze followed back up Cloud’s form, noting the hints of strange markings barely noticeable cross his skin, but he cared not about making sense of them. He just looked into those eyes, and knew it was just Cloud. It was not so simply some hidden, absolute version of Cloud, because he was himself and would be himself more than ever from here on. But even so, this was a necessary reflection. And absolutely divine, in every uneven edge.

“.... Beautiful. ” Vincent finally muttered, sighing into their shared space. “I can’t imagine what you’re seeing…” he remarked, though his words were more clear despite how they were chosen; I’m not sure I want to imagine .

Cloud just shook his head, though, planting his free hand on Vincent’s chest, there at the scarred center. “Don’t do that. Don’t you dare. Not right now.”

Vincent fell silent, and sat up straighter, chest puffing up a bit under Cloud’s touch as Cloud took in the look of him in return. Everything about this vision of him, this abnormal form Cloud was gifted with seeing right now, was oh so familiar and yet so very new.

His hair was longer than usual, though not immensely. Some of it seemed to shift and curl into wisps of smoke, but mostly draped around his shoulders and neck and back like a black curtain. Where Cloud’s hand rested, Vincent’s chest seemed broader than usual, and…in the strange mirage of vision that Vincent had already noticed, one moment he was bound in his usual leather, and the next as he observed the mans form, his chest instead was bare. Tattered threads hung from his shoulders, wrapping or fall around his arms, but his chest was on display. Cloud selfishly took in the sight, only somewhat aware of Vincent’s eyes on him. The scars he knew of but had never seen before were still present in this form. The autopsy scars, lines marked with former torn and stitched and stapled flesh, they now seemed marked with black yet shimmering ancient script and markings. Cloud's fingers fell to drag where the Y shaped scar joined in the center, middle and index fingers dragging gently down to trace the center line, the markings coming to life under his touch. He noted the rise and fall of breath and Vincent faintly leaning into the touch. 

His skin was so pale, his scars marked in shimmering black or a strange and deep golden glow. His forearms where they were exposed were blackened, only given way to his pale skin tone near his elbows. Cloud’s hand in Vincent moved to expand Vincent’s clawed hand, now matched with the clawed state his right hand. He stretched the long, long fingers wide, observing the clawed nails with a deep fascination. He glanced down his arm, noting the darkness curling around his ribs, towards his back, over his hips which were wrapped in a tattered but multilayered loin cloth it seemed. His bare legs were thicker, and though he could barely see the lower half, he saw enough to note his legs looked far more like that of Galians’, the skin pale and black and marked here and there in gold and shifting into the black shade just around the bend of his leg.

His gaze drew back up to look into Vincent eyes, fondness in his features as he took him in. His eyes were no shock. They were not what Cloud was used to seeing from before all of this, but it was not beyond what he’d seen thus far; unbeknownst to Cloud, they seemed to mirror his own in their difference with their twin. Vincent’s left eye was much the same, red with a glowing yellow gold at the center, but the right was much like it had been in the memory plane. It was fully glowing yellow, with red at its center, seeming to bleed out almost with intent. Cloud saw no brows, from what he could glimpse through the flowing bangs falling about the others forehead, which he reached to brush out of the away. His face was just a bit different, in size and shape. Something of the jaw and mouth seemed animal, yet it was still Vincent. Vincent, with a sharper jaw, and clear fangs peaking behind his lips. Across his jaw and chin was something like a lower part of a mask, without it’s top and that didn't go any further than his jaw and chin. It acted like a monsters jaw bone, one side reminiscent of Galian Beast, and the other side of Death Gigas in the shape of it, and almost in the coloring. But it was a mask, and it had similar markings crudely carved or colored. It so clearly reminded Cloud of Hell Masker, as he ran his fingers over it, fingers grazing Vincent’s lower lip and exposing lower fangs.

Vincent was ever an amalgamation of beings and energy, but now, it’s as if their marks were laid upon him, but Vincent made claim to the rest. Even as Cloud looked up into his hair, noting how still Vincent was under his gaze, he admired the horns found there. One larger, one smaller, with a couple of smaller growths stemming from the little one. They were like Galian, and they were like Chaos, but they were neither. Cloud reached to graze his fingers and grasp carefully, to feel. They were Vincent, as were the spines he would feel as he dug his fingers through those black strands. He felt small spine along the back of his neck, growing in size as he ran his touch down Vincent’s spine. He would have continued down between his shoulder blades, and further…but he had distractions and disruptions.

The distraction came from the way Vincent’s eyes rolled before shutting, and he noted fanged teeth nearly tearing into Vincent's lower lip…to contain something? Cloud felt himself drawn closer, drawn to something that he couldn’t quite grasp yet. But the disruption drew his attention next. That disruption being Vincent’s size making it harder to reach without leaning up on his knees, and…well, the tight limbs bound at Vincent’s back until Cloud found his hand moving to rest over it.

The uniquely shaped, demonic wings extended carefully behind them, and then slowly around them both, until Cloud could feel them against his own appendages he’d been ignoring, his wings. Wings that reminded him of that horrible calamity, wings he couldn't see himself in right away, and yet as Vincent’s own made contact, all he could feel was himself, and Vincent.

“Beautiful, to me. ” Cloud finally returned the favor of assessment, making it clear to Vincent that he would not tolerate another word against the sentiment. Yes, this form was unnatural, it was reminiscent of creatures, of threats that have been oh so real. But he felt this form as much as he witnessed it. Every threatening and gorgeously abnormal edge to Vincent WAS beautiful, to him .

Vincent let out a shaky chuckle, his hand on Cloud’s hip moving to settle securely at his waist, the other still bound with Cloud’s hand for the moment. He looked back to him. “There were so many things…so many parts of you…and me shared…that you were not given a choice of whether to share.”

“Vincent, it’s fine.” Cloud started, but the dig of claws at his low back had him catching his breath and stopping his words.

“No matter what it was, or why…I wish I had found the words, the willingness, to speak this on my own. I wish this had been different. But I wouldn’t forfeit this moment now, for anything. To understand you, to know you understand me… I would’ve never let myself hope for such deep understanding, for things I didn’t think needed it, much less believed it possible.”

Cloud nodded carefully, chuckling weakly. “Yeah, me either. Thought it was just…fucked up shit, twisted horrible shreds of me that I’d have to hate or pity. But during all of that…? I’ve never felt so seen, and the closest I’ve ever gotten is in the worst desperate moments with others…or just..in quite moments, more often, with you.” Cloud found himself slowly confessing, both his hands taking Vincent’s left in his grasp. “I’ve always thought loneliness was a curse and a shield all at once. Either way, it was something I’d always feel by myself. Because that’s how loneliness is felt, right? No one could really understand how it sits within me…except…except those memories, of myself, and then you… I know our lives were different, but when I’d watch you, I could feel…myself. Even feeling waves of loneliness, I felt a sense of security. Vincent, I’ve never…felt that before now. Not like that.”

Cloud only half fought a shudder as Vincent’s touch at his low back slowly caressed up, grasping under the small wing and bringing new sensations to fill his awareness.

“I know…I feel it, too.” Vincent muttered so softly between them, as if it were a blessing. Which perhaps, for them, it was. Quirking his head to get a better look at Cloud (Cloud, who when he wasn’t bound in the strange layers of garb, was still wrapped up in Vincent’s crimson claim), Vincent stared with a deep fondness. With that fondness, there was a desperate sort of happiness flickering, though it didn’t tug a smile on his lips. Instead, it simply burned in his gaze. “I witnessed, and I felt…the darkness in you. And it was just the same as me. We’ve held darkness within us, been gripped by it, when it has not been our own…but we’ve bore our own in silence, and held the weight of blame when we couldn’t strangle it. It was easier to believe I’d allowed myself to be corrupted, out of weakness. It was easier to believe I was…never meant to free my own, self-born darkness, unless I could bear the weight of being my own monster. Unless I was willing to take the hate, and the fear, and the disgust, because surely I deserved it. But then I saw it, so much like my own, but from you. I don’t know that I can ever look within myself so freely, but what I can do is accept that my wickedness is not alone.”

“It isn’t.” Cloud nodded, knowing his own guilt of his fucked up thoughts, his twisted urges, his darkest thoughts. But he was more than willing to offer them up, if that meant Vincent’s own did not weigh him down to drown. “Never has to be again.”

“No more hiding, hmm?” Vincent questioned, and chuckled.

Cloud grinned smally. That was a daunting statement, to imagine he may never be able to hide behind words or actions around Vincent ever again, as if he’d been managing it well their last few meetings. He knew it was going to be a frustrating thing to get used to, but there was also something comforting and inviting in that, as well as scary. “Nope…”

“In that case,” Vincent began, his touch suddenly gone, only for Cloud to find it on either side of his face. The hands were almost too big, making Cloud feel small, yet completely held in the others hold. He shivered as clawed nails grazed across his neck and through his hair. “Cloud…I have loved you…for some time. I never kept track of where it began, and I never…sought to feed these feelings. For the sake of tending to my own fear, but also due to convincing myself I was…protecting you from something unwanted and perhaps even cursed. I never would’ve pushed, nor did I ever expect… But I know what we both saw, and we both felt.”

“W-we did.” Cloud confirmed, voice thick, and he swallowed the lump in his throat as these words were washing over him, like a dream that could easily turn into a cruel nightmare. But the darkness around them was still too heavy, drifting off Vincent and licking across the edges of Cloud’s skin as if to mark, to claim, heavy with possession and steady in its twisted comfort. The claws across his neck were too real, the warmth too true, and Cloud had never felt more awake and aware in his life. This was real, and Cloud reached to clutch at both of Vincent’s forearms, seeking to cling to something.

“So I need to give my words to you. I need you to know it, clearly, and not just…by the influence and the meddling of the Void and Havens’ darkness.” Vincent went on, one hand falling back to his hip to draw him closer. “Cloud, I am in love with you.”

Cloud wanted to return the words, wanted to give them so perfectly as Vincent did now. Anything akin to ‘ditto’ would be absolute shit right now, but the words were failing him. His eyes were burning, his skin was tingling, and his heart was about to burst out of his chest. Suddenly, he felt a fire in his veins, but this one was far beyond that of the trials. This fire was welcome, even if it was dangerous. It was comforting, even if it might burn. And that burning in his veins brought him to move.

He threw himself at Vincent again, but this time, with better precision and control. A hand on the others shoulder, and he was tugging himself towards his lap, leg working around Vincent’s hip. Cloud felt a deep satisfaction and a deepening of the fire within him as Vincent’s touch soon followed, guiding and lifting him until he was straddled in the other mans lap and held in his arms. The motion almost knocked Vincent back, but with a beat of the wings that had previously been wrapping them up, he steadied. Then Cloud felt something wind around his backside and his hip, glancing down to take note of what he had yet to discover--a prehensile tail.

He just grinned softly as suddenly, his lips crashed firmly into Vincent’s, causing the other man to let out a satisfying grunt of surprise. Cloud didn’t have words, but he was clear with his actions. From the firm, careful start of the movements of his lips against Vincent’s that rapidly welcomed the hungry push and pull they began in their dance, to the touch to the mans hair and up around his horns,  with his other hand fall back around Vincent’s side to reach over his back. He felt over the raised spines once more and trailed to the base of Vincent’s wing, noting the groan and the way he felt fangs threaten invitingly against his own lower lip.

He wasn’t exactly…looking to coax such heated reactions as he was currently pulling from Vincent, but he certainly didn’t mind them in the slightest, even as it made him feel a bit dizzy. Not as he thumbed over the horn and caressed over the mans hair. As he sought one of his hands again, caressing his unnatural fingers, pressing the claws across his skin, then gripping the hand in his own, he was making his own love clear in every place he touched and kissed to claim in his own way.

In baring themselves, in speaking, in acting, the love spilled out. Perhaps it was twisted, to allow affection to welcome monstrosity within one another. But Cloud couldn’t give a damn. This was him, in ways he hadn’t known until now. And this was Vincent, in ways he hadn’t known and the other man hadn’t looked at for so long. They were wounded, twisted, scarred, and darkened. Marked in literal scars, of their horrid nature or the horrid fates pushed upon them. But it was them. Fuck whatever they were supposed to be before they were broken.

Fuck everything outside of this very moment and what they found here. Through the man's darkness and through his literal touch, Cloud could feel claw and teeth claiming him at his throat and shoulder, at his back and hip, and he gave his claim in return, with his lips, with his grasp, with his unnatural energy wrapping them up just the same as Vincent’s claiming darkness. He couldn’t give a damn how things were supposed to be.

Because even in the maw of Vincent’s darkness, at its mercy, and even as Cloud felt his tainted blood brimming with feral intent, he had never felt security and comfort like he did in this moment. He had never felt more seen, more real, more himself and more accepted than he did with the heavy energy surrounding them, and overwhelming desire driving their actions. If this moment, and what they shared was wrong; if the patience, the anger, the darkness, the understanding, the support and the fear of judgment all accepted, all at once, was monstrous?

Well, then Cloud was more than fine with being monsters together.