Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Dreams ❯ It's a Wonderful Life ( Chapter 56 )

A/N: I was a bit disappointed by the lack of reviews from the previous chapter but I do realize that with the holidays, people were busy celebrating, which I understand given the lateness of my updates, lol. So actually, I was happy it was even reviewed at all! Hopefully this chapter will incur a greater response. And don't worry, the battle action's coming soon! More than enough to satisfy any bloodthirsty readers out there.

 

Thanks to readers!!

 

(Anima Speaking)

`Internal Thought'

### Dream Sequence

 

Chapter 56: It's a Wonderful Life

 

Cid had been unnaturally quiet ever since their return from the Highwind Manor fiasco. It was unsettling, almost as if Vincent's broodiness had rubbed off on him. He had taken to sitting and staring out the window, face pinched into a frown as he seemingly stared at the beach and water, though the gunman knew that he was really seeing something else.

 

He hadn't spoken during their brief return to the airship to gather their things or while they had stopped at a food stand for sandwiches or when they had finally settled in, and it bothered Vincent immensely. Something was stewing inside Cid, and he wasn't talking about it, something from that day… and whatever was in the pilot's mind, he didn't know how to approach the situation. Inwardly, he cursed his own inexperience in all “relationship” matters.

 

He could handle a fling, a one-night stand, but actually being in a real relationship was something altogether new to him. He didn't quite know what to do with a broody, contemplative Cid, so for the moment, there was just silence between them. The pilot stared out the window, while Vincent busied himself doing non-important things: tidying up the room, unpacking their clothes, and the like as he pondered exactly what he should do. He was still determined to find out why his lover was acting so strangely, including the reason behind the fight, but he wasn't quite sure how to do so when Cid was acting so irrational. Vincent didn't want to start another argument.

 

He was contemplating taking a shower when finally the pilot decided to speak.

 

“There are very few people that know I come from blue blood,” he said quietly, some unnamable emotion thick in his voice. Vincent paused what he was doing, turning so that he could face Cid, although the blond had yet to turn from the window. “I didn't want anyone to think that I was merely relying on my name and money to succeed. I didn't want anything to do with my family in that regards, and there were few outside of Costa del Sol that knew anything of the Highwinds anyway. `Old blood'… that's what I think they call it.”

 

There was something in his tone, some tone that had Vincent frowning in thought. He recognized it from earlier, and the question that had arisen then now resurfaced. If Cid was feeling talkative, perhaps now was the perfect time to ask. He spoke quietly, however, slightly afraid to start another shouting match when he didn't yet understand the reason why.

 

“That was a lie, wasn't it?” he asked. “Even if you knew your father was alive, you would have still come because a small part of you still hoped for approval.” He knew that he had hit dead on when for a moment the pilot froze, his shoulders slumping visibly.

 

The blond slowly nodded, voice coming out partially hoarse and thick with emotion. “All I ever wanted was for him to smile at me and tell me that I was still his son, that he accepted me. But even on his death bed, the bastard couldn't say nothing but how I had shamed him and that he hoped by his death I would see the error of my ways.” He gave a sardonic and bitter smile. “He tried to blame me for his illness. He said that my dishonor had shamed him to death.”

 

Vincent was quiet for a moment, not failing to miss when Cid's hands slowly clenched or when he fought to rein in his emotions. He had yet to completely face the gunman and was trying to remain locked in his “broody” world. In a way, their positions had become entirely reversed, and Vincent realized that it was up to him to drag Cid from his melancholy, just like the man had always done for him.

 

He stood, contemplating before finally giving in to his instincts and going with the urge to comfort his lover. He moved to the window where Cid was still standing, wrapping his arms around the blond's waist as he laid his chin on the pilot's shoulder.

 

“Talk to me, Cid,” he said quietly. “Don't pull away.”

 

The pilot snorted inelegantly, making Vincent realize just how hypocritical his words had seemed. “About what?”

 

The gunman resisted the urge to sigh. “Tell me about your mother,” he suggested gently, honestly wanting to know. Cid had never really explained about her or his brother Reginald for that matter. And if Vincent's instincts were anything like he claimed, he had a feeling much stemmed from what he didn't know, especially when Cid momentarily tensed in his arms before sighing loudly.

 

“She died when I was little,” he stated almost flatly. “She and my brother… a car accident. We were… close.” Cid shifted his weight slightly, eyes now gazing at some non-existent item on the horizon.

 

Vincent remained quiet, somehow sensing that the pilot was not quite finished.

 

“She was the only one who ever believed in my dreams,” he added quietly.

 

“You still miss her.”

 

A hand came up, softly patting the ones that Vincent had locked around Cid's waist. “She wouldn't have rejected me,” the pilot explained. “I'm certain she would have accepted me. Mom was that sort of woman. Kind… always smiling. In a way, she held us all together. Dad was an entirely different person with her. After she died… I dunno. Things just changed.”

 

Vincent frowned slightly. “Changed?” he questioned.

 

“I was always sort of the odd ball out,” replied Cid. “Even from the beginning… but it didn't really matter then because I always had my mom. While my brothers chased after my father, determined to learn the Highwind family ways, I was more concerned with my dreams. I wanted to fly… see the stars. It irritated my father. He often complained about it and me, but mom would just smile and tell him to let me be. She was always the peacemaker, even when me and my brothers would start fighting; she was the first to separate us.”

 

The pilot fell silent for a moment, lost to his own contemplations and memories of the past. Vincent didn't speak, truthfully not knowing what to say and unwilling to dissuade Cid from speaking to him. He hoped that he could finally drag from him what was really going on.

 

“After the accident, dad was really depressed. He had lost both son and wife in that moment, and even though he still had me and Percy… well, the both of us knew that Reggie was his favorite, always had been.” Cid sighed as he continued. “Parents always say that they don't have favorites, but it's a fucking crock.”

 

Vincent merely listened, having no experience with that sort of thing before. He was, after all, an only child. He entangled his fingers around the hand that Cid had placed on his arms in a quiet gesture for him to continue.

 

“It was six months later when Cordelia began to make her move, bringing over `home-made' desserts and keeping dad company. I hated her even then, especially Frederick. He's only a couple years older than me, you know. And in dad's eyes, I'm certain he seemed like the better son.”

 

“I'm sure you don't mean that.”

 

Cid shook his head, almost violently. “You think that,” he replied resentfully. “But I haven't even gotten to the bitter truth yet.”

 

“Then tell me,” Vincent urged, a sinking feeling in his belly. He cursed his own intuition for what it was currently telling him. He almost didn't want to hear it, didn't want to know what else his lover had suffered.

 

The pilot sighed, his gaze falling to the floor. “I was thirteen when my father caught me kissing my best friend…” There was a pause, as Cid seemed to drift back into his memories, perhaps reliving that day. Vincent could feel it in the subtle tensing of the blond's form in his arms.

 

Finally, Cid shook his head. “Three years later, I left, determined to make it on my own. I just couldn't take it anymore. But like a dumbfuck, I kept returning, hoping that somewhere my father would just want his son back… like that stupid prodigal son story or something.”

 

“That doesn't make you an idiot,” Vincent commented quietly.

 

The pilot's entire body tensed as he pulled from the gunman's grasp, whirling around to face him, frustration and distress evident in his sky blue eyes. “It does make me an idiot!” he countered, face flushing with his anger. “That bastard beat me, every fucking day! `I'm going to beat the gay out of you, son!' For three years! My own father! He didn't love me!”

 

Although he had suspected it, hearing the truth didn't make it any easier for Vincent to accept. His breath caught in his throat after hearing what his lover had endured. And he was painfully certain that there was more to the tale, but by Kami, he didn't want to know. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he didn't want to hear how much Cid had been hurt in the past. He wanted to continue with his new strategy of living for the present and the future. Vincent had learned the hard way that there was nothing gained by dwelling on the past. It only brought pain and misery.

 

“And I'm beginning to think you don't love me either,” the pilot added in a soft voice. His gaze dropped back to the floor.

 

Grey eyes looked up, stunned as he searched Cid's face for… something he didn't know. Disbelief etched into his features.

 

“W… what?”

 

How? How could the blond say something like that? Had he not told him enough? What had he done to make Cid say that? And to compare him to that… that bastard, it left Vincent reeling in the wake of the softly spoken accusation.

 

“I dunno…. maybe it's selfish of me, but I'm tired of competing with a ghost. And I'm not even going to try. I don't want to fear each day that I'm going to lose the only thing that matters to me.” Cid raised his eyes and narrowed them on Vincent, allowing the gunman to see the swirling emotion within. “I want you… all of you no matter what form you're in.”

 

“That's a bit contradictory, Cid,” Vincent commented, furrowing his brow in confusion.

 

What exactly was the pilot asking of him? Was Cid trying to give him an ultimatum? Was that what the pilot was implying?

 

“To say that you want all of me but then say it doesn't matter what form I'm in… giving me an ultimatum like that. I don't even know what you want from me or what you're asking of me. It's not fair.”

 

Cid gritted his teeth. “It's not fair?” he questioned. “What's not fair is me, roaming Gaia for six goddamned months, looking for you! What's not fair is you taking off on your own, like you always do, to solve your problems and leaving me in the fucking dark! What's not fair is telling me that you love me when you don't even have your heart to give! That's what's fucking not fair!”

 

Vincent blinked, entirely confused. The situation seemed to have screeched to a halt, reversed, and took off in an entirely new direction far away from his comprehension.

 

“Cid--“

 

But he was cut off before he could even continue, the pilot well on his way to another loud proclamation.

 

“No! I'm not finished, Vincent!” The gunman winced at the use of his full name but didn't speak. “I don't know how you claim you don't know what I don't want when it's so fucking obvious! I want you… apart from her! Every time I think that I might find something, some way to have you to myself, it's always Lucrecia! The woman who abandoned both you and her own fucking son gets more of your heart! That's what's fucking not fair!” His hands clenched at his sides, anxious to hit a foe that was not present, to take out his rage on the one person he hated more than anyone… even more than Hojo.

 

Vincent was even more bewildered than before. He grabbed the pilot, spinning him around so that Cid was forced to look him in the eyes. He kept his grip on his lover's shoulders, trying to not squeeze too painfully.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded, slightly shaking the blond in his frustration. “Why are you acting like this?”

 

Cid tore free from his grasp, one hand batting angrily at the grip on his shoulders. “You wouldn't take me with you!” he accused. “You never did. You hide and you plot, but you never let me in! No matter what I do, you keep leaving me!”

 

“Why the hell would you even want to go with me?” demanded Vincent. “You don't know Lucrecia! You don't like Lucrecia! You would have ruined it for Sephiroth. He needed this chance to confront his mother. You would have made it about us when it had nothing to do with us! It's not about you!”

 

“Because you're my lover!” Cid cried in a raised voice, almost a bit possessively. “I wanted to be there with you when you confronted her. We both know how you react anytime you see that bitch!”

 

He could concede that much to Cid. Lucrecia did tend to make him both pissed off and upset at the same time, her very face causing him to lose some self-control. But still, Cid was making very little sense.

 

“You don't own me,” Vincent replied, rather exasperated. “You don't have to be around me every second of the day. Even if I'm not by your side, I'm still with you! It's not fair for you to ask… no, demand that of me!”

 

“You would do it for her,” implied the pilot.

 

The gunman threw up his hands in frustration. “Argh! I don't love her, you dumbass!” Vincent screamed. “I only went because I wanted to give Sephiroth a chance to hate her as much as I do. She used me! She encouraged that madman's sick plans, made me his personal fuck toy and his slave! They ruined me! You bastard, how could you even think that I would love someone like that? How?” His breath came out ragged as Cid literally recoiled from him, something he had never done before. At that, Vincent physically forced himself to take a deep breath, calming his ire and softening his tone.

 

A sigh escaped him. “I don't love her at all,” he said softly, raising his eyes to lock onto Cid's. “I love you and only you.”

 

The other man visibly wilted in the face of his calmness, though he didn't appear any more relieved by Vincent's words. “I… I don't believe you,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “If you loved me… why would you leave me?” His voice was so unbelievably small, almost childlike, and he very much imagined this must have been Cid when his mother died. His posture, his dropped gaze… it was all the proof that Vincent needed.

 

The pilot was afraid that he would again lose something precious, that he would be left all alone. And Vincent knew that feeling well, having only recently overcome it himself.

 

“Well, maybe I did it for you,” he responded gently before pausing, the words having come out wrong. “I did do it for you. So you would live, even if it was without me. I realized, somewhere along the way, that my desire to keep my own life had long been surpassed by my fear in you losing yours. Above all things, I wanted to protect you.”

 

“What would have been the point,” whispered Cid in response, gaze locked on the floor. “I could never believe you were gone, not even for a moment. I spent every day of the last six months going from city to city looking for you. I… I rarely slept, not wanting to waste the time because I knew, I /knew/ that unless I found you there was no point in living. Captain Highwind died in me, and every day, the rest of me died more, too. Little by little.” He raised his eyes. “I wanted you… even if it was only until the end of the world.” His eyes were watery with unshed tears, nearly on the brink of spilling over.

 

Vincent nearly choked on his own at the emotion behind the pilot's words. He reacted completely on instinct, reaching out and grabbing Cid, pulling the blond into his embrace. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. They were both trembling, but still, they clung to one another, both afraid of being alone and abandoned. Strange how in their differences, they were still so much alike.

 

“I'm sorry,” whispered the gunman. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

 

Cid shook his head, Vincent feeling the motion more than actually seeing it. “I should be apologizing,” he commented quietly. “For attacking you like that… all because of my damn insecurities.” He exhaled slowly. “I just didn't think I could do it. My mom died; my brother died. My father regretted my existence. Archer left, too; it was easy enough to believe that eventually you would do it as well.” A bitter and small laugh escaped his mouth. “Even Shera left, and I never thought that woman would ever get over her own guilt. In some ways, you and she are alike, Vince.”

 

“The fault is both of ours,” the ex-Turk admitted. “I should have explained better rather than the way I chose before.”

 

“Yeah.” A moment of silence fell before Cid momentarily tightened his hold on Vincent, a comforting squeeze. “We're still a mess, aren't we?”

 

The gunman chuckled lightly. “No one ever said that things would always end completely happily ever after. I'm sure there will be plenty more arguments to come. It's how we handle them that really matters.”

 

“Do you read advice columns or sumthin'?” questioned the blond after a second of digesting Vincent's words. The thought made him laugh quietly. The ex-Turk poring over the Dear Aunt Sue sections in the daily newspaper was an amusing idea.

 

Vincent shook his head. “That's the last time I try to say anything encouraging,” he muttered before stealing a glance out the window. It was still rather early in the night, but the gunman was feeling fatigued both mentally and physically; it would do them both some good to collapse into a bed.

 

“Let's get to bed, chief.”

 

Cid nodded in response, and several minutes later found them in a darkened room beneath cool sheets, bodies pressed together as they attempted to drift off into slumber. It was quiet and calm, the tense atmosphere completely gone, though both still felt the weight of their guilt. Perhaps it that prompted Vincent to speak. He couldn't be sure. Either way, he felt he wanted to share with Cid what had been given to him.

 

“My mother died when I was born,” he began softly, staring off into the darkness. He could hear Cid breathing behind him but knew that the pilot hadn't fallen asleep yet. “I was raised by her brother and his wife, but I didn't meet my birth father until I was twenty.”

 

There was a pause before the hand shifted around his waist. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

Vincent shrugged. “Because I wanted you to know… or maybe because I just wanted to tell someone. The last of the people who truly knew anything about me have died and… I don't want to be forgotten.”

 

“Forgotten?” Cid scoffed. “I doubt that will ever happen. But go on. Tell me. I want to know.”

The gunman nodded. “I grew up in Junon under the care of the Uesugi's… that's my mother's name. She was Reika… Reika Uesugi.”

 

“Wutaiian,” commented the pilot.

 

“Yes. You'll be interested to know that I knew Archer's mother… and Zack's adopted father as well. They were my childhood playmates. I knew the moment I saw those amethyst eyes that he was Beatrix's son. And I regret not having my memories when the Loire's were so kind as to take me in. Perhaps I reminded Lexas of my younger self when he saw me,” Vincent suggested before he shrugged. “I'll never really know.”

 

Cid chuckled. “That's some freaky shit, ya know? You knew my ex's mom, used to be best friends with her. Damn Hojo.”

 

“It was my father that got me into the Turks,” Vincent explained. “I happened to walk in on my adoptive parents having a conversation and found out everything. I left home - I was so immaturely angry then - and sought out my father. He was a scientist working for ShinRa then. I didn't know it… but Lucrecia was working for him, too. Grimoire Valentine.”

 

“What happened to him?”

 

“Died. Some freak lab experiment. I don't really know the details.”

 

There was a slight hesitation in his explanation that Cid didn't fail to catch, but he didn't comment on it either. After all, the blond didn't give full details into exactly what his father's idea of reformation was either. Some things were better left unsaid. Instead, the pilot remained silent, encouraging him to go on.

 

“To make a long story short, I decided to go into the Turks, and from there, I was given a partner, a man by the name of Raven. He was a nice guy, something one doesn't usually see in a Turk. A brilliant sharpshooter. I quickly rose through the ranks and soon became Commander, making Raven my second. I never returned home.”

 

Cid frowned in confusion. “I can understand why your family wouldn't be able to make a fuss, but why didn't Raven say anything when you disappeared? He was your partner, right?” The moment that the words left his lips, he could literally feel Vincent tense beside him, and an almost tangible aura of guilt began to settle around the dark-haired man.

 

“He did,” Vincent replied quietly. “And Hojo used him as well. Neither of us knew it, but we were sent to Nibelheim because the President was trying to be rid of us. I had angered him by refusing to carry out a mission completely. I didn't want to kill children for the sake of that man's greed (1). It was Lucrecia's job to see if Raven and I were fit for the experiments she and Hojo had designed. You weren't with us at the time… but to get the key to the basement where I had been sealed, Cloud and the others had to kill a monster that Hojo had nicknamed `Lost Number'. It was what remained of my former partner.”

 

Cid was stunned into silence. He hadn't heard this truth about her yet. No wonder Vincent had gotten so pissed. Lucrecia had never cared for him, and still, he had accused the man of wanting to go back to her. Guilt crashed into the blond with the force of a train, and he cursed himself for assuming so much when he had known so little. Yet, before he could say anything, whisper the apologies on the tip of his tongue, the gunman began speaking again.

 

“I guess I'm selfish, too,” he admitted. “Now, you see it isn't easy for me to say I love you either.”

 

Cid let out a breath of air, unconsciously tightening his hold on. “We're both just selfish bastards,” he agreed. He relaxed into the bed, finally able to sigh with relief at the dispersed tension between them. At that moment, he wanted nothing more for the war to be over. They could really use a vacation, just the two of them.

 

“Let's just get some sleep, ne?”

 

Vincent nodded nearly imperceptibly, exhaustion wearing down both their bodies. It wasn't long before they drifted off into slumber, content to hold one another through the night.

 

###

 

It came as no surprise to Vincent that he dreamed that night. Revealing his past, their argument, all of his true emotions laid completely bare. To be perfectly honest, he was expecting his sleep to be riddled with nightmares. However, only one came to him, slithering through the shadows and catching him entirely unaware.

 

He was in the lab once more, shackled down by his hands and feet to the table. The cold steel caused his skin to goosebump. Yet, it was strange; he was within his body, but he was also without. He could feel the heavy clamp of the restraints and each shiver that wracked through him, but he was also watching from above, seemingly seeing through the eyes of a third party.

 

And then suddenly, Hojo was there by his side, pushing up his spectacles with one finger as he palmed four strange objects with the other. All was silent, save for the steady marble-like clink of the four balls as they struck each other in a continuous rhythm. Vincent's own apprehension filtered through, and he felt it, even as his past self glared at the scientist with… gray… eyes…

 

Sickening dread filled him to the core. He remembered all at once what those objects were for. They were the sealing materia of the Apocalypse demons; he was certain of it. Vincent felt violently ill, sick to his stomach from the very thought.

 

Would he be forced to endure and watch the event once more?

 

It seemed that would be so when Hojo made himself comfortable in a stool at the shackled Turk's side, placing the materia on the hollow of Vincent's scarcely moving chest. He breathed so shallowly, every one like a hot fire from the day's previous tortures. He didn't even want to try and remember what they had been.

 

“Do you know what these are, Valentine?” questioned Hojo with a smirk. “No, of course, you wouldn't.” He shook his head, focusing his piercing, grey glare on his pet. “But lovely little things, aren't they?”

Vincent didn't respond, not even having the energy to flinch when Hojo traced a finger down the sensitive skin where the bronze metal met the true flesh of his arm.

 

The scientist chuckled darkly at some unvoiced thought that Vincent didn't want to know. “I found these wonderful specimens in the Lost Grounds, quite fortuitous I might add,” Hojo continued, not having expected his prey to answer him before. “The legendary four Apocalypse demons, believed only to be myth until now, locked in this materia… this black, tainted materia.” He cocked his head to the side, glasses gleaming eerily in the sterile light of the lab. “Perfect for you, don't you think?”

 

Again, the gunman was silent. He was too tired and weary, his soul strained from resisting. At that point, he was on the cusp, teetering on the edge of his insanity with no escape in sight.

 

Then, a flash of silver and a scalpel appeared from nowhere, glinting in the bright light of the laboratory. “I've always wanted to test human/materia interaction. I think I've found the perfect subject.” Hojo began to tap the blade of the scalpel along Vincent's body, cutting slices as he did so, as if selecting the most torturous place.

 

“Here? Or perhaps here?” he taunted with more cruel jabs.

 

Vincent attempted to suppress his rising fear but couldn't stop the gradual widening of his eyes. In the scientist's free hand, a syringe filled with a black-tainted green substance suddenly appeared.

 

“Or maybe here?” Hojo inquired in the same moment that he drove the tip of the scalpel into Vincent's flesh, digging down into his solar plexus. He twisted and turned the sharp object around, watching with morbid fascination as blood seeped from the wound.

 

He couldn't scream or breathe, his body arching up off the table. The pain was sharp and throbbing, mindlessly burning. He trembled violently as Hojo idly thumbed the materia one by one into the wound before depositing the contents of the syringe into it with a sickening bubbly gurgle. The mad scientist sat back and watched for a moment as Vincent's body went taut and still, arching off the table like a deranged human bridge.

 

Then came the pain, the flaming, screaming torture. His body twitched and writhed, pulling at his bonds. His head smacked against the table top from his movements, and he could hear them, the voices screeching and taunting. It wasn't even until his throat began to hurt did he even realize he was screaming.

 

“My own precious monster,” Hojo commented, his voice slithering in his fascination. “I shall have to thank Gast for his research on the Lost Grounds.”

 

Lost Grounds… Barrier Island… the words echoed in his mind already dimming with the fogginess of wakefulness. The Lost Grounds reverberated like Hojo's taunting and cold voice. The demons, demi-deities, had been found in the Lost Grounds.

 

And suddenly, Vincent understood.

# # #

 

He awoke from the dream with startling clarity, the shame from his own ignorance burning through him. How could he have forgotten their original home? It was the perfect place for Balaam to hide. No one knew the depths of Barrier Island. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

 

The dream, memory… whatever it was, reverberated within his mind.

 

Then, the arm around his waist tightened as a scruffy chin brushed across his bare shoulder. “You're shaking,” the sleepy, slightly rough voice said.

 

“A dream,” Vincent responded, wincing at the tremble in his tone. “Or more accurately, a nightmare.”

 

A gentle kiss was placed on his shoulders as he was pulled into an all-encompassing, warm, protective hold. Warm breath ghosted across the back of his neck.

 

“Tell me,” softly ordered the still sleepy voice.

 

Vincent shook his head. “It's the past… but I know where Balaam is now.”

 

“What? How?”

 

The gunman winced, accepting the comfort Cid offered as the nightmare replayed itself once more. “My memory. I remembered where Hojo got those bastards. He's at the Lost Grounds, Cid. I can't believe we didn't think of it before.”

 

He felt the vague stirrings of his animus within him. (He's the demi-god of Chaos, remember? It was quite simple for him to confuse your senses,) Erebus commented.

 

“I haven't forgotten,” Vincent mumbled aloud. The words of the demi-deity reminded him of something, however. He ignored the pilot's confused mutterings behind him and changed the subject.

 

“Cid,” he questioned. “What happened to me after I killed Sephiroth? Did another summon show up?”

 

The pilot paused for a moment. “Yeah. It was the weirdest fucking thing. Diablos showed up outta nowhere, argued with Chaos, fought `im and then the both of ya went into the Lifestream.” Cid fell quiet, his breath already beginning to even out slightly as he fought the pull of sleep.

 

`Diablos?' murmured Vincent within his mind.

 

The previously unnamed voice immediately responded, (Hai, though that is not my true name. Once you learn of it, I will be able to show form. Yet, now is not the time. Rest is of the most importance right now.)

 

Reluctantly, the gunman agreed. After shifting back into position closer to the already slumbering blond, he closed his eyes and attempted to be pulled into the lull of sleep. He was not disappointed

 

- - -

 

Vincent awoke only slightly groggy, a little perplexed about his location, but a quick glance around fixed that. He remembered that he and Cid were in Costa del Sol for his father's funeral. Yesterday had been hell on the both of them with Cid's rude and taunting family members and then their strange fight. They both needed a vacation, a true one, badly. However, with the threat of Balaam and his war looming, Vincent was well aware that there wasn't time for vacations.

 

He turned his head to the side, blinking away sleep when he came upon a most unusual and yet… arousing sight. Cid was freshly showered, nothing new there, but also razored as well. He wore a nicely tailored suit that clung to his frame, the color accentuating the bright blue in his eyes. All in all, he looked very fuckable, and Vincent could already feel the rest of his body agreeing with his mind.

 

He smiled. “I didn't know you owned a suit,” the gunman commented, voice still sleepy. He paused to consider, cocking his head to the side. “Or a razor for that matter.” Not that he minded the stubble, it was a feeling he had gotten used to and now recognized as something expected.

 

The pilot laughed, idly tugging at the tie around his neck, which was crooked, but that didn't matter. It looked better crooked on him.

 

“I don't,” he replied, shifting like he was really uncomfortable in his clothing. “This is Spike's. I'm just borrowing it. I'm a bit taller and broader than him.” He shrugged. “But thanks to the weight that I lost it fits just fine.”

 

Vincent pursed his lips in thought, feeling another quell of desire rising through him at the sight of the clean-shaven man. “How long until the funeral?” he asked, slowly sitting up in bed and swinging his legs over the side, already pondering naughty thoughts. It may have been the wrong time for good moods, but after their confessions of the night before, a little happiness wouldn't kill either of them.

 

The pilot shrugged and tugged at the knot on the tie again, probably only tightening it further. “About three hours… I just wanted to make sure it would fit.”

 

The gunman smiled and rose from the bed, feeling incredibly seductive. He had the look of a tiger stalking his prey as he moved close to the pilot.

 

“Plenty of time,” Vincent purred as he draped his body across Cid's back, effectively pinning the man with his arms and weight. He sucked gently on the side of Cid's neck, tongue ghosting over a familiarly sensitive region. The blond shivered beneath them although he also radiated confusion. The ex-Turk resisted the urge to chuckle; it was a bit of payback for the night before.

 

“Vince?” the pilot questioned.

 

He smirked bemusedly. “It's called make-up sex, Captain. Haven't you ever heard of it?” Vincent questioned teasingly. He rubbed a hand across the now smooth jaw. “The clean-cut look is a turn on,” he whispered, pressing his body completely against the other man, his erection poking the pilot directly in the ass.

 

Cid moaned against his will, unconsciously pushing back against the thrust at the same moment that a warm and wet tongue slid across the shell of his ear, melting him further. He could feel the tendrils of arousal already curling through him. With the recent events, they hadn't really had much time for intimacies. There were always the others around, and then, his recent… well, insanity was probably the best word for it.

 

He turned his head slightly, dislodging Vincent's lips from his ear so that they could kiss. He accepted the push of the gunman's tongue into his mouth with vigor, grabbing one of Vincent's hands with his, directing it to the front of his pants.

 

“It's about time,” he growled playfully into the ex-Turk's mouth as slim fingers rubbed across a swiftly growing erection. He pressed his hips back against Vincent's, enjoying the man's swift and lusty intake of breath before their lips crashed together once more.

 

Hands roamed across the pilot's body, swiftly unknotting his tie and flicking open the buttons on his white dress shirt, quickly undressing him. A hand slid beneath the pressed fabric, fingers tracing over the warm skin and muscles of the pilot's chest, a teasing caress that caused tingles to race up and down Cid's spine. Slowly, Vincent began to guide them towards the bed, never removing himself from his lover's back as the pilot walked forward, hands grasping at the belt and button to his pants.

 

It was awkward, but neither seemed to want to cease the endless plundering of each other's mouths, tongues dancing in and out in a strange waltz. Vincent paused long enough to remove Cid's shirt and jacket, tossing them unceremoniously to the floor and ignoring the pilot's protesting cries of “Hey, I just ironed that!”

 

Vincent resisted the urge to chuckle at the idea of Cid being domestic and actually ironing his clothes. Instead, he pressed his lips to the base of the man's neck as he pushed the pilot down onto the bed, draping himself over the taut warm flesh of Cid's back. His hair trailed teasingly across bared skin as wandering hands quickly divested the blond of both slacks and boxers in one smooth move. His knees on the edge of the bed were balanced precariously, and Vincent laid his weight on Cid's hip with one hand, trailing nips of teeth and tongue down Cid's spine in the same moment that he reached with his free hand to cup the pilot's scrotum. He rolled the flesh about within his fingers, enjoying the other man's movements beneath him.

 

“You in a hurry?” the pilot questioned huskily.

 

Vincent made an unintelligible sound in his throat. “You talk too much,” he muttered, nibbling on a fleshy cheek. “But you smell freshly showered, and so I'll forgive you.”

 

Cid snorted. “Damn vampire,” he mumbled under his breath, though he did bury his face in the covers of the bed and shifted his legs further apart, offering up his ass to the gunman and encouraging him to do more than just the teasing, playful touches.

 

The dark-haired man merely smirked, releasing the pilot's scrotum and wrapping his fingers around Cid's erection in the same moment that he ran his tongue along the blond's cleft. A strangled moan escaped Cid's mouth as he did so, causing a rush of arousal to spread through Vincent, adding to the already painful erection he was sporting. Gun-calloused fingers kneaded his lover's flesh as a warm, wet tongue glided over his puckered muscle, loosening the orifice for a much deeper penetration. Vincent traced his tongue over the ring, ensuring that he would not later hurt the pilot. He dipped the slick appendage through the tight muscle, stroking Cid's shaft in the same moment. A deep purr echoed through the room, a sound of pleasure coming directly from the pilot.

 

“Gods, Vince…” Cid muttered, barely able to form a coherent statement with the lust that raged through him. “You fuckin' tease.” He pushed back against the invading tongue, desiring something much deeper as arousal threaded through his body, igniting every nerve until he was flush.

 

“Didn't I just say that you talk too much?” the ex-Turk taunted with one last swipe of his tongue over the muscled ring. He pulled back and rubbed his hands over the pilot's hip and side, silently wondering if they had any lube.

 

There was a grunt of annoyance from Cid before suddenly, a bottle came flying at the dark-haired man, his superb and enhanced reflexes saving him from the head-bonking that was about to occur. He scowled good-naturedly, recognizing that act as a sort of payback when the pilot began to snicker quietly into the pillow.

 

“I think that this is the strangest make-up sex I've ever had,” the blond muttered into his pillow, even as he wiggled his ass towards the gunman, clearing trying to entice him.

 

Vincent shrugged, idly squirting the thankfully unscented oil onto his hand. “With us, would you really expect it to be any different?”

 

Cid snorted, peering over his shoulder with an amused blue eye. “Less talking, more touching.”

 

The gunman bit back a laugh as he ran an oil-slickened hand over his straining flesh in the same moment he slid two lubed fingers into Cid. The pilot moaned and pushed back onto the intrusions, silently begging for more. Vincent curled his fingers within, seeking his prostate and brushing over it teasingly before withdrawing.

 

“Turn over,” he commanded.

 

With a groan of restrained lust, the pilot did so, and rather quickly at that, pushing his body up further on the bed so that Vincent could crawl over him and between his legs. The gunman leaned forward to share a devouring kiss with the Captain as strongly muscled legs settled around his waist, a lubricated arousal pressed just against Cid's entrance.

 

As he claimed the blond with his mouth, he agonizingly slowly began to push himself inside, groaning in his throat as he was gripped by slick heat. He thrust in to the hilt but paused, not moving as he relished the feel of being within his lover. He pulled back from the kiss, dotting gentle nips on the Cid's bared chest and grazing over a nipple. Vincent sat back, still buried deep inside the blond, and trailed a teasing finger over the pilot's erection. Cid moaned.

 

“Move or somethin', dammit,” the pilot cursed, though his tone was affectionate.

 

Vincent chuckled lowly, placing both hands on the pilot's hips as he very slowly withdrew, almost to the very head of his arousal. He paused a moment, teasing Cid before plunging back inside in the same agonizingly slow rate, rubbing directly over the pilot's prostrate with each movement. It was frustrating and incredibly arousing, making it difficult for Vincent to hold back his lust, but he forced himself to do so anyways.

 

Watching the play of emotions across the pilot's face was well worth it. Spear-calloused hands clutched at the covers, struggling to grasp onto something as Cid's whole body flushed with sweat and arousal. He moved languidly beneath Vincent, their rhythms a perfect match.

 

Unable to resist his desire for some stimulation, Cid reached down, intent on stroking his own aching flesh. But before he could reach the goal, Vincent batted his hand away.

 

“Nope,” the ex-Turk denied with a slight smirk. “I'm in charge.” He stilled in his movements, no longer continuing with the infuriatingly slow and steady thrusts.

 

Cid blinked, centering lust-filled sky blue orbs on his lover. “What?”

 

What came next surprised the pilot. Vincent smiled devilishly. “You're the crying, upset uke, and I'm the consoling, dominating seme. We all have our parts to play, chief.”

 

The blond moaned. “I don't know what the hell got into you, being so playful Vince, but I'm dying here. You better move or something, dammit.”

 

“You look younger when you're not being surly and scruffy,” the gunman teased as he lazily rolled his hips, just enough for Cid to gasp, but not enough to really stimulate him.

 

A flush crept into the Captain's cheeks even as he angrily glared at his lover. “Are you saying that I'm old? Cause I don't wanna hear nothing from you.”

 

It was a testament to how far Vincent had come that that statement didn't even bother him. He merely chuckled as he leaned down, nipping a path of tongue and teeth up the center of Cid's chest until he reached to the hollow of his throat, running his lips over a sensitive spot.

 

A hand clutched at his shoulder as Cid bucked down onto the barely moving intrusion, desiring more than what Vincent was giving him. “I thought make-up sex was all hard and fast?” he questioned on the edge of a moan.

 

Vincent tsk'ed against his throat. “You're not being a very good uke,” he admonished. “You're supposed to be trembling and acting like this is the most frightening thing you have ever done.” He paused, moving his lips down to lave around a nipple. “And when I do this…” He pulled the nub between his teeth, tugging lightly and smiling when Cid arched his back satisfactorily. “…you're supposed to go all weak and boneless in my arms.” He rolled his hips again, unable to suppress his own shiver of pleasure.

 

“Weak and boneless, my ass,” the pilot scoffed. “Come on, Vince, this is torture.”

 

The gunman chuckled, running his tongue over a peaked nipple once more before slowly withdrawing and thrusting in again, setting a slow and maddening pace. Cid groaned as he tightened his legs around Vincent's waist, pulling the other man even closer to him. The ex-Turk purred deep in his throat, body already shaking with his denied release coupled with the heat and grip of Cid's body around him. He had taken too much time teasing the pilot and now faced his eminent completion.

 

He trailed his tongue up Cid's chest, nipping at an exposed throat before locking lips with the blond and tugging the lower lip between his teeth. The blond moaned and tangled a finger in his hair, as if refusing to let him go, his free hand content to glide over a no his back, tracing over scars. Vincent may have disliked them, but they didn't bother the pilot in the slightest. They were like marks of battle, proving that he had been tested and came out strong.

 

The gunman leaned his weight on one hand, changing the angle of his languid movements as he slipped his free hand between their bodies, wrapping fingers around Cid's sorely neglected cock. The pilot made a noise in his throat, unable to vocalize with Vincent's tongue in his mouth, not that he minded. He rubbed his own fingers through dark locks, encouraging Vincent to pick up the pace with both his massage and the upwards shift of his hips.

 

The ex-Turk took the hint well enough, recognizing his own impending release. He swept a thumb over the mushroomed head of Cid's arousal in the same moment that he increased his speed, thrusting into the pilot with more force than before. Cid arched his back into the movement, pushing their bodies closer together as they moved fluidly, their forms in synch as only familiar lovers are.

 

A steady and familiar rhythm rose between them until the strain of holding back became too much. The blond's hand tightened in its hold on the gunman's shoulder as he unconsciously gripped dark strands almost painfully. Vincent gasped and moaned as he buried his face in the crook of Cid's neck, his need for air superceding his desire to kiss the pilot. His tempo became unsteady, maddening, lust-filled thrusts as they both sought to reach the highest peak of pleasure.

 

Flames rushed through his body, curling and coiling in his belly as he mouthed the pilot's neck and lost himself to the satisfaction that only Cid could give him. He increased the rate of his movements on the blond's shaft, swiping a tongue over the shorter man's sensitive neck. Warm wetness coated his hand as the pilot moaned loudly, tensing beneath him with his back arched. At the feeling of the impossibly tight channel gripping him convulsively, Vincent lost his resolve to hold back and climaxed deep inside the willing blond. His body seemed to shake from the force of the orgasm as it was milked from him, Cid's fingers nearly yanking on his hair.

 

Vincent collapsed tiredly on top of him, wrapping his arms around Cid's chest as he rolled to the side. It was quiet for a moment as their hearts slowly came to a more sensible beat, breathing returning to normal levels. The other man had started to rub one spear-calloused finger over the gunman's back. It was peaceful, relaxing… almost relieving.

 

“I almost wish we could stay in bed all day,” the pilot commented softly.

 

Vincent frowned slightly, unconsciously tightening his hold on Cid. “You don't have to go,” he replied quietly. “You have nothing to prove to anyone.”

 

A hand briefly rubbed through his hair, almost an affectionate gesture. “I know. But he is still my father. I'd hate myself if I skipped his funeral.”

 

The gunman sighed. “I know.”

 

- - -

 

Despite the sunny way the day had started, it had become perfectly dreary and cold by the time the funeral rolled around. Cid and Vincent stayed away from the main procession, watching from a distance as the family and their friends gathered around the grave of Cidrick Highwind, the elder slowly lowered into the ground. A wind built up, threatening rain, but neither observer moved, Vincent refusing to release the grip he had on the blond's hand, not that it mattered if he did. The blond clutched him so tightly that he started to fear the loss of his circulation.

 

Only once did they see anyone look up to notice their presence. Percival had sneered, but Millicent, who was at his side, had elbowed him, the sorrow in her eyes evident even to Cid and Vincent from their distance. Reis had noticed them as well, offering up a sad smile before directing her attention to the rites. The holy man, a rarity in the current day and age, spoke clearly over the grave, his voice enough to carry even to the distant observers.

 

It wasn't long until one by one the Highwind family began to disperse, depositing their own personal flower contribution into the grave that was slowly filling with dirt. Only the holy man and Reis remained when Cid found the strength in his own feet to move forward, one hand clutching a small band of simple purple flowers that were almost crumpled in his grasp. Vincent remained steadfastly at his side, not commenting when the pilot stared silently into the grave of his father. The young lady waited off to the side for them to complete their mourning, a question reflected in her amber eyes.

 

Vincent noticed that most of the others had laid red roses or white carnations within. Cid was the only one who seemed to bring something different. As the purple petals flittered down, the hand clenched around Vincent's tightened before the pilot turned away, walking towards where Reis was quietly and calmly waiting for them.

 

“I can't believe I'm the only one that remembered,” Cid commented softly.

 

“Remembered, what?”

 

The blond sighed, head tilting back as he looked at the grey sky. “Dad was always fond of those flowers. He and mom shared that.”

 

Vincent smiled faintly. “You have a good heart, chief. They were unworthy of that.”

 

“I've been telling him that for years,” Reis commented, interjecting herself into their conversation. She stood there, mildly burying herself down into the black coat that she wore over her darkened slacks and shirt. Typical funeral attire.

 

Cid shook his head and changed the subject. “Your brother is worried about you and your parents. You need to get them to talk to him.”

 

The young lady sighed as the three of them started to leave the cemetery, attempting to ignore the sad rhythm of shovel striking dirt and the sound of it falling to the coffin lid.

 

“I know, but they are impossible sometimes. They won't accept that brother is in love and that isn't going to change. Why should gender matter?”

 

“Indeed,” commented Vincent. “It shouldn't matter at all.” He peered at the young doctor, wondering why she looked so familiar to him.

 

Reis nodded before turning her gaze on Cid. “But they are doing well? Reeve's happy I hope? Despite our parents' stubbornness.”

 

“Reeve?” questioned Vincent, startled. “You're Reeve's sister?” He looked at her closer. Dark hair, amber eyes… he marveled how he didn't realize it before. No wonder she seemed vaguely recognizable. Yet, she seemed so young. There must be a huge age gap between the two of them.

 

The young Tuesti smiled broadly as she stepped down the slightly worn path, her destination ultimately the residential area of Costa del Sol. “Yep. You know my brother? Then you probably know Reno, too. They were made for each other,” she added with an almost dreamy, fan-girlish sigh. “Our parents don't approve, for many reasons, though they are decidedly nicer about it than the Highwinds.”

 

“They are getting married,” commented Cid. “Has Reeve been able to tell you?”

 

Amber eyes widened in surprise before she grinned even further. “That rascal! Of course, he didn't! Trust Reeve to keep something so important from me.” She paused, pursing her lips in consideration. “Then again, judging by that brief attack by those demons the other day, I can guess that all is not well with the world. When's the wedding?”

 

“Tomorrow evening, oddly enough,” input Vincent.

 

“You should come with us, Reis. I know he'll be happy to see you,” added in the pilot. “Reeve's been acting strange lately and the last thing he needs is worry about his family on top of everything else. Damn Reno's got his hands full.”

 

Reis sighed. “That sounds like brother. He's always tried to take everything on his own shoulders.” She shrugged, tilting her head back to look up at the dreary sky though a smile broke out on her face. “Alright then,” she said cheerily. “That settles it. I'm coming to the wedding.”

 

- - -

 

(1) Explained in Episode 3 of Misunderstood if you want to know more.

 

 

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed and feel free to leave me a review! I love feedback!

 

Also, a few announcements. I will be posting a companion piece to the Shattered Series on my homesite only. It is a CD Track List of recommented listening along with characters and small pieces about them for each track. The link for my homesite is http://crya2evans.tripod.com. On that site you can also find a link to the forum where updates are always announced if you want to sign up for the announcement service there or even leave me your e-mail in a review and I will add you to the announcement mailing list. For those that are fans of my writing, I have original fiction that is slash, het and general if you are interested. The website is http://dracosdebauchery.tripod.com.