Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Dreams ❯ The Balance ( Chapter 72 )

Chapter 72: The Balance

 

Understandably, it was a tense moment.

 

Standing on the top of a rather large mountain that overlooked the destruction of an island, most of them battered and bruised, even grief-stricken... yet, they were waiting for Kami to speak. The god of it all, as it were. The deity whose word was law. Some were pensive, some were nervous... some were already contrite and others...

 

“What the hell are you doing?” The sudden shouted demand surprised everyone within audible range, immortal and mortal alike. They jumped in surprise, hearts pulsing a shocked rhythm in their chests.

 

Kami's brown eyes darkened as he eyed his deities. “You're meant to be guardians!” he continued in that same tone. “I go take a small one-hundred year vacation for the first time since the beginning and look what happens!” He gestured vaguely to everything around him before rolling his eyes and rubbing his forehead, a move that Sephiroth recognized all too well.

 

“What am I going to do with you?” he finished in an exasperated tone, shaking his head.

 

Reno edged closer to Asclepius. “Are you sure this is Kami?” he asked in a loud whisper, trying to somewhat hide behind the petite female just in case it turned out to be true. No point in pissing off the god of all gods, after all.

 

Kami's gaze instantly flitted his direction as he twirled his free hand in the air. “Wanna test it, kid?” A small crackle of energy sparked from the tip of his finger, flaring a blue flame.

 

The Turk shook his head and slid further behind his anima, despite the fact that he was a head taller than her. “No, thanks,” he responded, suddenly feeling very nervous.

 

The deity was smug. “That's what I thought.” He turned his attention back to the other gods, causing a few to shrink back in slight fear. “What a fine mess you've made of things!”

 

Erebus blinked, somewhat confused. “Us?” he repeated, mind rapidly trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. “But my lord--”

 

Kami waved a hand through the air, immediately dismissing him. “Yes, I know. It was Balaam. He started it, blah, blah, blah. The lot of you are worse than mortal teenagers.” He rolled his eyes, his lips pulling into an amused smirk. “Nevertheless, if you hadn't insisted on rules that I never gave you... many lives would have been saved.”

 

Archer couldn't help but gape a bit, surprised by Kami's frankness and lack of formality. For the god of gods, he was a shock. Amethyst eyes flickered to his anima, finding that she was properly chagrined and even flushing in embarrassment. She vaguely resembled a child who was receiving a scolding, guilt plain in her expression. He just couldn't fathom it.

 

Kami, however, was blithely continuing, even going so far as to wave his finger at them. “I never said anything about staying out of mortal business like that.” He paused, putting a hand to his chin as he considered. “Perhaps the only ones not at fault here are those that did break the rules. Lot of good that did them since they are gone.”

 

A gasp came from the crowd of immortals before Erebus moved aside, revealing a somewhat limping Baal. “Then... you cannot restore them?” he questioned, knowing that the return of Isis would relieve much sorrow.

 

He shook his head. “It is impossible. Even I cannot restore an immortal life to its original existence. The power would be there... perhaps even the same appearance, but the mind that you love, the personality that you know, that can never be repeated or renewed. The laws of life are different for mortal and immortal.” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “That is why I made it so difficult to actually slay a demi-deity.”

 

Gilgamesh lowered his gaze. “I knew it was too much to hope for,” he commented, more to himself than the others but Kami heard him nonetheless.

 

“I regret the loss of all my children,” Kami responded softly. “Yet, Isis made her choice and perhaps it was the only way. I cannot say for not even I know the undetermined future.” He paused, his eyes trailing away from them for a moment and looking somewhat lost before he brightened and changed his train of thought. “Anyways, here's what I'm going to do. My plan backfired so I'm stripping everyone of his or her powers”

 

A collective gasp echoed around the mountaintop, none of the demi-deities expecting that punishment. They were the faithful, the ones that had not turned with Balaam, who stayed true to their ideals. Why were they being punished as well? It seemed so unfair.

 

Kami quickly held up a hand, silencing the inevitable questions. “Wait, I'm not finished.” His gaze darted around, taking stock of those present once more. “Those that chose to fight and protect the planet, even those that broke the rules to do so, will remain guardians and keep their powers, though they must continue to support the materia. Those that tried to destroy everything will be stripped completely and placed only in the materia. Those that were neutral, well.... I shall tell them myself.”

 

A somewhat malicious look crossed briefly into Kami's plain features before he smirked and turned towards Reno and Nanaki. He gestured towards them, beckoning with his fingers. “Give them here.”

 

He received two sets of blank looks in return. “The black materia, please,” he expounded, a bit of irritation seeping into his tone. Honestly, did he have to explain everything?

 

The two males dipped their hands into their pockets, simultaneously reaching out and handing over the swirling, greyish orbs. Kami plucked them from their hands and raked his gaze over the smoky interior.

 

“My dear boys, you have become troublesome,” he commented with a shake of his head. With that, he handed the two over to Vincent, who accepted them somewhat reluctantly. “There. Now you have three. Keep them safe and watch over them, use their abilities in battle if you must. The materia will hold them sway much like a summon.”

 

Vincent appeared suitably perplexed, again an understandable reaction. “Then I don't...” he trailed off, unwilling to repeat the request that had been asked of him earlier, as if by saying it aloud would make it all too true.

 

The deity waved a hand of dismissal. “Of course not. Why would I deliberately ask you to do something so terrible when it didn't even work so well the first time? There is no need. After all, these idiots are the ones who misunderstood my words.” He jerked a thumb towards the other immortal beings standing behind him. Gilgamesh was barely hiding his annoyance while Asclepius was smiling. The others remained chastened.

 

“I never said anything about keeping the balance,” Kami continued, throwing the words over his shoulder to them.

 

There was a moment of silence before a tentative voice came from the crowd of mortals. “Then... there is no balance between good and evil?” Tseng asked with a slight frown.

 

Kami chuckled. “Haven't you learned anything, yo?” He placed one hand on his hip as he gestured towards his immortal children. “There is no such thing as good and evil... only power and those too weak to refuse it.”

 

Asclepious bounced forward when she heard him speaking those words, his very statement something that she had always believed in herself. Not to mention she was excited to meet Kami, whom had never officially met before. “That's what I thought,” the bubbly demi-deity chimed in, frowning slightly. “I didn't want to see Vincent go through all that trouble again but the others wouldn't listen.

 

Hands ruffled her soft green hair affectionately as Kami smiled, the expression lighting up his surprisingly youthful facade. “I know, Asclepius. The elder generation always ignores the younger, eh?”

 

She beamed up at him, instantly proud of herself and preening under the attention. Kami turned from her and raised his eyes to the rest of the immortals. “You are guardians alone now,” he explained. “I trust that you will defend this planet and its occupants well.”

 

There was a low murmur of understanding. Yet, there was one goddess who could not remain silent. “Does this mean... we cannot speak to our animus' any longer?” Tiamat asked quietly, furrowing her brow.

 

Kami sighed. “The bonds will remain for they lay in deeper magic then I care to remove but much of the communication will fall silent.” He knew that they would not be pleased to hear this, but in his wisdom, felt it would be best. Perhaps the mortals did not need these great powers to aid them. Certainly so far it seemed they had managed to do nothing but cause more harm.

 

“Then... we are going to be forgotten again?” Asclepius' gaze fell, sadness creeping into her garnet-shaded eyes. “But... I just got to know Ichigo... and I wanted to meet the babies when they were born.” She pouted, lower lip sticking out cutely. Her sorrow was infectious.

 

“And I have yet to teach Tseng suitable methods for handling his powers,” Orthrus added, squaring his jaw.

 

With just one look, Kami could see similar arguments in the eyes of the others. The bonds this time around were truly strong, perhaps the strongest he had seen since the beginning of the anima designations. Yet, that didn't mean it was so easy either.

 

He quickly held up a hand, cutting off any further protests. “I understand,” he responded softly. “Believe me, I do. You will still be able to converse as I said, but your only physical form will be through the materia.”

 

Suzaku sighed, shaking her head, beads clacking noisily in her hair. “It does not seem right, for us to be punished for the mistakes that Balaam chose to make.”

 

“It is not a punishment,” Kami assured her. He realized that it may have seemed one but given time, they would all understand. “I simply believe that we should entrust Gaia to the mortals. Within time, even the power of the materia will fade. I want that for them. I want to believe in their desires to grow and prosper.”

 

The phoenix looked properly chagrined but Kami took a deep breath and looked past her, his gaze finally setting on the mortals. He had nothing left to discuss with his children, any further grievances they would bring up at a later time. But he was limited in how long he could spend in visible form and he still wanted to speak with the heroes. And what a motley crew they were: a random assortment of murderers, thieves, terrorists and such, yet, somehow all heroes in the end.

 

His lips curled into a smile. Perhaps his wife had had the right idea all along. “You did well, guardians of Gaia. I apologize for the trouble my children have given you.”

 

Vincent frowned, thoroughly confused. “Your children?” he repeated. “But... aren't we all?”

 

Kami waved him off. “Well, yes, in a way. But you were my wife's idea, truthfully.” He jerked a thumb towards the demi-deities. “This bothersome lot was mine.”

 

“Wife?” Reno parroted, blinking in puzzlement. He was beginning to lose grasp of this conversation.

 

Brown eyes rolled. “Don't you know anything?” he demanded with an air of exasperation. “Holy cripes, what are they teaching these children in school?” He sighed and shook his head.

 

Then a tentative voice rose out of the crowd of mortals, almost hesitant. “Guardians? You mean... were destined to fight this?” It had been Tseng.

 

Kami raised a brow. “Destiny?” he repeated, sounding bemused. “Who said anything about that?” He chuckled lightly, wagging a finger of disapproval at the Wutaiian. “Don't go putting words into my mouth, boy. You chose your path.”

 

Tseng blinked. “Then fate has nothing to do with it? I'm to believe that my entire life is one string of coincidences and... bad luck?”

 

“Something like that,” the supreme deity responded. When the others gave him an equally blank stare, Kami pursed his lips, realizing that he was going to have to give further explanation. “You see, there's this thing about destiny and free will. You can't have both. Either you have a path, or you're given a choice. So I chose free will.”

 

Sephiroth frowned, this concept foreign to him, especially since he had been raised to lead others. Letting them choose for themselves was not in the job description. “Even if it means they make the wrong decision? But then... what is the purpose of rules? Doesn't that interfere with free will?”

 

“Not if it infringes upon the rights of others to make their choice,” Kami countered reasonably. When met with several more blank stares, he continued by adding in an example, “By forcing a war that would have benefited only himself, Balaam broke the most basic, cardinal rule. It's kind of like... killing someone destroys their right to live. Understand?”

 

Reno furrowed his brow. “So then... Balaam was evil right?”

 

“It's not that simple,” Kami explained as a light wind began to stir, bringing with it an unseasonable cold chill. “Balaam chose his path and though it may not have been good, it was the right one for him. He's the only one who can determine that. Just like each one of you have to resolve it for yourself. I can't and won't tell you what to do. Balaam never even realized that he was already free.”

 

Sephiroth shook his head, no more clear than before. “I do not think I understand.”

 

“Few do.” Kami's smile was sad, betraying his true emotions. For once, he looked every inch of his eternal years. “It is a rather difficult concept and why many languish in sadness.” He took a step back to the surprise of many, snapping his fingers. Every deity suddenly disappeared, only to reappear behind him, looking startled. They hadn't expected it.

 

“The battle is over,” he continued, “and with the destruction of the Highwind, you are all a bit out of a ride. So I will give you one.”

 

Archer blinked, feeling as if he had suddenly been thrown from a roller coaster with the sudden change in Kami's demeanor. “That's it?”

 

The supreme deity nodded. “Yes. I really can't see anything that I haven't covered.” He put a hand to his chin and tilted his head as he considered it.

 

Reno jerked to his feet. “What about Reeve, yo?” he demanded hotly. “What are you going to do about him?”

 

Kami suddenly ah'ed in understanding. “Ah, yes. I had nearly forgotten about that.” He crossed his arms behind his back and leaned forward. “You wouldn't want to spoil the ending, now would you?” he asked, his tone bordering on playful. A smile quirked at his lips.

 

The Turk was not amused in the slightest. Aquamarine eyes narrowed. “You're just playing games with me.” One hand clenched into a fists, remembering the surge of emotion that he had felt when he had assumed the same from Seiryu.

 

“Boy, you're just a bit too high strung for your age.” Kami shook his head. “Calm down. I never said he wasn't going to be all right, did I?”

 

“Nor did you say he was,” Tseng countered logically.

 

The supreme deity smiled. “No, I didn't, did I?” His eyes twinkled as if hiding some great secret. “The future isn't for you to know but to find out. It's not set in stone or written in some book. It's an empty page waiting to be filled and you are the only ones who hold the ink.” He laughed loudly, the sound somehow managing to put all those who listened at ease. “So that's my thought of the day. Keep it close!”

 

His words echoed around the top of the mountain and before anyone could even blink or comment, he snapped his fingers. Every mortal disappeared in front of their eyes. With that, Kami turned around and looked sternly at those remaining. His children were expectant and hesitant both as they returned his gaze.

 

“Let us return to Elysium then,” he explained. “I have much explaining to do as well as dealing with the traitors. There is a lot of work to be done.”

 

- - - - - - -

 

Electricity tingled in the air nearly palpable. The air shimmered, throbbed and pulsed, even seemed to break in half before spitting out an array of passengers onto the grassy earth. Sephiroth and his crew promptly collapsed to the ground, falling to their hands and knees as they were overcome with fatigue. A few even coughed, still unused to the immortal method of travel.

 

Sephiroth groaned, his head feeling as if it would split in two as he raised his gaze and looked around. Despite the weariness, it appeared that every one of his team had been fully healed. They were tattered and worn, but nevertheless alive. They had come through unscathed this time around.

 

The former General slowly rose to his feet, turning on one heel to find that they had arrived at Fort Condor and it was still standing. It didn't even look to be the site of a battle, which sent a surge of relief flooding through him. Around him, the rest of his crew slowly rose to their feet, some registering surprise.

 

“Reeve,” Reno murmured under his breath, thinking back to Kami's vague answers. “Maybe…” he trailed off as he darted forward, wondering if perhaps something had happened in his absence.

 

Sephiroth watched him go, feeling incredibly tired. The battle was over and done with; he should have felt victorious. Instead, he was overcome with a heavy weariness and the desire to fall into bed and sleep for centuries. He didn't want celebration, he didn't even want to be bothered. He just wanted to curl up and never emerge into the light of day. He felt tainted somehow, and only belatedly realized that it was the lingering truth in his mind that gave him that feeling.

 

No wonder he had forgotten much of his past. His mind must have subconsciously blocked it. He never would have guessed that he held so much pain, or that his hatred for Hojo could grow any deeper. But it had. And now he could barely look at the others, much less want to see a mirror. He didn't want to see the man he was now, knowing how tainted he had been in the past.

 

He didn't want to see how fractured he had become.

 

“Reno is right,” Vincent murmured, distracting Sephiroth from his grim musings. “The battle was not long but perhaps there has been some change.” As he spoke, he was unclipping his bronze claw from his hand, removing the weapon. He was reminded, in that moment, of the three materia Valentine now held in his pocket. They would be formidable as limit breaks in the future.

 

All eyes turned to Sephiroth and he waved dismissively. “The battle is done,” he ordered quietly, his tone obviously weary. “You've no more requirement to listen to me.”

 

If they even did in the first place, he thought to himself. Even as he did so, he missed the strange emotion that flickered shortly over Tseng's face from his words, an odd musing flash.

 

The former General left them behind then, not caring to issue any further orders. He was concerned for Zack and now that the war was over, he knew he would not be leaving his best friend's side. There was nothing left for him to do. Sephiroth stepped forward without another word and disappeared into the darkened doorway of Fort Condor, missing the brief exchange of glances behind him.

 

“Sephiroth does not seem like his normal self,” Archer commented in a worried tone.

 

Beside him, Tseng did not respond, his silver eyes watching Sephiroth's exit. The former general truly looked haggard, dark circles, which had only grown deeper in the past few days, ringing his eyes and his shoulders slumped with weariness. Lines of stress were working their way into his usually youthful face, aging him by several years.

 

Archer turned his head towards the Turk commander. “Neither do you for that matter,” he added in a gentler voice.

 

Tseng shook his head. “Persephone's attacks are of a more cruel nature, mental rather than physical,” he explained, recalling his own brush with her vicious fingers. “I wasn't able to stop her.”

 

“Nanaki!” The joyful cry interrupted their depressing conversation, causing both men to look up in surprise. Yuffie was bounding out of the cavern entrance from Fort Condor, looking as if she had never been injured in a battle.

 

The smile on her face was infectious as she threw herself at the demi-human, nearly tumbling him to the ground. A light flush spread across his cheeks as he hugged her back, unused to such outward displays. She said something else in that excited tone, but from the distance, neither male could make it out. Nor Nanaki's murmured response.

 

“You blame yourself?” Archer asked, returning to their original line of speech. Amethyst eyes watched the Wutaiian perceptively. Although they weren't as close as Reeve was to Tseng, Archer would like to think they were friends and his concern was genuine.

 

Beside him, Tseng drew to a halt, a frown curling his lips downwards. Archer ceased walking as well, waiting to hear the Wutaiian's response. Tseng stared at the rocky ground in contemplation, one hand curled around the hilt of the one sword he had managed to save. The other was lost forever in the destruction of the island.

 

The engineer took a step forward. “Tseng?” Archer repeated, somewhat confused as to the Turk's behavior. His hand reached out with the intention of grasping Tseng's shoulder but it was shaken off just as quickly.

 

Tseng shook his head, pushing past him. “It does not matter whether I do or not,” he responded shortly, sounding distinctly troubled. “This war is over. We should celebrate,” he finished, hardly noticing as Archer watched his exit with concern. The Wutaiian disappeared into the darkness of Fort Condor, passing quickly by both Nanaki and Yuffie in his haste.

 

The engineer frowned, an uneasy feeling settling in his belly. Yes, it had been a victory, but painfully bought. He was left standing on his own, watching as despair and regret flitted in the eyes of his companions. His friends felt pain, but there was little he could do for them. Not for Reno or for Tseng, or Aeris, who lost a husband, or Elena. His consolations were nothing but empty comfort to them. He had the feeling that this would be one triumph that would not be celebrated.

 

He sighed, wishing wholeheartedly that he could speak to Tiamat. But since Kami had sent them away, he hadn't heard anything from the Myst Goddess. And the usual place in the back of his mind where he could always feel her presence was conspicuously absent. It left him feeling uncomfortably alone.

 

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Archer trailed along after the others, hunching his shoulders against a brief, bitterly cold wind. No one was waiting for him to return and he took small comfort in the fact that no one he truly loved was lying injured in a hospital bed. He worried for Reeve, but wouldn't disturb Reno for the moment. And he doubted Cid desired his presence either. It left him with little other options.

 

Pausing directly before he entered the dark maw to Fort Condor, Archer half-turned and looked back towards where the island had once been located. Dark grey clouds were slowly clearing, turning the sky back to its usual azure hue. A smile quirked at the corner of his lips, though it was slow in coming.

 

It looked as if it was going to be a beautiful day.

 

- - - - -

 

Vincent passed through the nearly silent hallways of Fort Condor, half noticing that the element of fright and urgency had disappeared. No one ran through the halls carrying desperate missives and supplies weren't being raced from one corner to the other. It was as if the entire world had known in an instant that the battle was won and the planet was saved.

 

His boots clomped hollowly in the empty corridor and around him; yet, he could still scent the bitter odor of spilled blood and ash from the battle. It was nauseating but Vincent refused to bathe until he had assured Cid of his health. He didn't want the pilot to lose himself again.

 

On his way to the infirmary, however, his nose twitched at a familiar scent. Cigarettes, and Cid's brand for that matter. Vincent paused in the middle of the hallway, swiveling his head towards a door to his left, barely cracked open. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he peered in through the small slit, a slight sigh of exasperation slipping through his lips before he could stop it.

 

Shaking his head, he pushed open the door and slipped into the small waiting room, closing it shut behind him. “Should you even be up?” he questioned as his eyes found the blond pilot across the room. He was sitting on a window seat, the pane pushed open, with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

 

“And smoking?” Vincent asked, eyeing him critically. Cid's arm was still in a sling, and he had found his clothes somewhere, though he hadn't bothered to pull on anymore than his blue jeans. The lack of clothing revealed just how much weight he had lost, sharp lines amid skin that wasn't as tanned as it used to be.

 

Cid calmly flicked ash out the window, a slightly cool breeze wafting in through the open panes. “You just came back from savin' the world and that's the best you can say to me?” he asked with a snort, observing his lover from the corner of his eye. He took another drag of the nicotine.

 

Grey eyes rolled as Vincent crossed the floor of the room. “You're so stubborn,” he commented with some amusement.

 

He stepped forward and slid one arm around Cid's waist, placing his chin on the pilot's shoulder and staring out the window with him. Thanks to the seat, the pilot was at the perfect level, despite the gunman's greater height. Not that there was much to see.

 

“Besides, we didn't really do anything. In the end, it was the demi-deities who defeated Balaam,” Vincent added, taking comfort from his lover's warmth. This sort of affection was unusual for him, but it was also something he knew Cid needed from time to time.

 

“Figures.” Cid fell silent for a moment, his body gradually relaxing into Vincent's hold. He had been worried, the ex-Turk could tell that at a glance. Every muscle in his body had been rigid, and the lines on his forehead had deepened him, aging Cid even further. “I see you didn't do anything stupid.”

 

Vincent lifted his hand, gently tracing Cid's still bandaged shoulder. “If you want to yell at someone for being an idiot, you should talk to Archer,” he murmured.

 

The blond raised a brow as he stubbed out his cigarette, shifting on the seat so that he could face his lover. “What?”

 

Grey eyes slipped past him, looking out the window where the sun was starting to peek through the grey clouds of the dissipating storm. “Between he and Reno, I can't be certain who was more reckless in battle.”

 

The pilot let loose a low string of curses. “That idiot,” he muttered, gaze shifting to the side in contemplation. Despite everything that happened, he and Archer were still friends and he didn't want to see him die.

 

It was Vincent's turn to lift a brow. He shifted into the window seat, leaning his back against the wall. “Should I be jealous?” he asked, with some amusement.

 

Cid spluttered. “Don't be ridiculous. Archer's Archer. And he's a stubborn ass that refuses to die so don't go thinking stupid things.”

 

Vincent couldn't help but laugh. Predictably, Cid's words made little sense to him. Not to mention he felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from him. He wouldn't have to bear the spirits of the demons, which meant he could live as he had intended to, free from their influence and their gripping immortality.

 

“Don't worry, chief. I wasn't,” he replied, before falling musingly silent. Cid muttered something under his breath that the gunman couldn't quite catch before he grabbed Vincent's hand, helping to remove the golden claw. It clattered to the floor noisily, causing the ex-Turk to unconsciously wince. Inwardly, he vowed that it would be the last time he ever used the damn thing.

 

A moment of silence passed between them, Cid unconsciously letting his fingers slide over the bared skin of his lover's hand. “Whatever happened with Balaam?” he tentatively asked, dreading the answer. “I mean, didn't Erebus say--”

 

Vincent shook his head, a hint of a smile curling at his lips. “Believe it or not, we were visited by Kami-sama himself.” His hand slipped into his pocket, pulling out the three grey orbs, which still pulsed with power. “Balaam is dead but the others are here and it is where they will stay.”

 

Blue eyes regarded him with much relief. Without thinking, he reached forward and grabbed Vincent by the cloak, dragging his lover in for a kiss. The gunman didn't protest in the slightest, moaning slightly as Cid's tongue dipped into his mouth and traced along his lips. His hand slipped up of its own accord, latching onto Cid's side and drawing him closer even as the pilot leaned forward, pressing their bodies together despite the awkward position.

 

It had been so long, it seemed, since they had found the time to be intimate. Between the battles and the healing and the grief, Vincent could hardly remember a time when there wasn't any. He could feel his blood stirring at the originally brief kiss that continued to linger, growing stronger with each passing second. Their tongues dueled, lips moving hungrily together as Cid pressed Vincent up against the wall of the window seat.

 

Tanned hands attempted to tangle in short blond strands as Cid's hand shifted to the window seat for balance, blood racing through his veins. A small noise of need escaped from Vincent's throat, his fingers curling tighter around Cid's bare side. As if that sound were the trigger, the pilot suddenly ended the kiss, leaving him slightly breathless.

 

“When were you going to tell me about the Highwind?” he asked with a hint of censure, staring directly into lust-glazed stone orbs.

 

Vincent winced. “You knew?” He hadn't intended not to say anything but it had slipped his mind the moment he had found his lover. He had expected Cid to be furious, especially since he didn't get to take revenge.

 

Cid gestured vaguely towards the inner workings of Fort Condor. “The crew randomly appeared here not longer after you guys left. Scared the shit out of a bunch of people, too.” He chuckled at that. “Anyways, they told me.”

 

The gunman sighed, fingers gradually relaxing from their intense grip. “I'm sorry, Cid. There was nothing we could do to save her.”

 

He was waved off dismissively, something teasing tugging at the corner of Cid's lips. “Ah, she was outdated anyways. I got somethin' better up here anyways.” He sat back and tapped his temple with a finger, eyes gleaming mischievously. “Especially now that you're here.”

 

His heart warmed despite himself. “Cid…” But before he could say anything further, Cid suddenly jumped up from the window seat, surprising him with his actions.

 

“Well, that's it,” the blond declared, running a hand over his head and resituating his ever present flight goggles. Despite the fact he was shirtless and shoeless, he still managed to wear the damn things. “Time to go.”

 

Vincent blinked in confusion, reeling from the sudden topic change. “Go?” he repeated, feeling a bit left out of the loop.

 

His lover grinned as if he had some big secret. “Yeah. On our vacation.” He jerked a thumb towards the door. “We'll sneak out before they try to drag us to a party or somethin'.”

 

“But how will we get there?” Vincent asked, yelping slightly as his hand was grabbed and he was suddenly pulled from his seat. “You're still wounded,” he added.

 

Cid shook his head, completely dismissing his worries. “Leave all that to me,” he boasted, gesturing to himself with his injured arm.

 

Stumbling slightly from the quick pace, Vincent tried to keep up as Cid dragged him from the room and down the hall. Luckily, no one had yet to notice their almost desperate flight. “You don't even have any shoes, Cid!” he commented with some amusement. “And what about Cloud? I'm sure they want to give him a funeral.”

 

Suddenly, the blond ground to a halt, causing Vincent to nearly crash into him. He whirled to face his lover. “You want to stay?” the pilot demanded a little more sharp then he had intended. “Don't want to go on a vacation with me?”

 

Vincent released an annoyed noise. “That's not what I said, Cid.” He stared at the other man with some exasperation, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips. “Besides, it's a date.”

 

Predictably, Cid blustered. “I'm too fuckin' old fer dates!” he argued back shortly.

 

He grabbed Vincent by the cloak and jerked him close for another kiss, though this one managed to stay as short as he had intended. Just as Vincent began to melt against him, he broke off. “We'll toast Cloud a shot or something. He'll like that more.”

 

“Cid…”

 

The pilot shook his head, abruptly spinning on his heels and grabbing Vincent's hand again. “No time for talking!” he declared, starting down the hall once more and dragging his hapless lover along for the ride. “Let's go before that ninja brat finds us.”

 

Despite the fact that he was being dragged, even passing by a few people who were staring, Vincent couldn't help but smile. The look on Cid's face was like stepping into a memory. This was the man he had fallen in love with, a hopeless dreamer and forever spontaneous. It was like losing his heart all over again.

 

He thought nothing more of the metal claw that remained behind them, glittering golden in the light of the window's sun.

 

- - - - - -

 

He felt as if he could lay down and sleep forever, never rising from his bed again. Except that he knew he couldn't so he kept moving. Now that the battle was done, Sephiroth knew exactly where he was going to return. No one else needed him and therefore it was back to Zack's side. He was determined not to leave until his best friend woke up again, unable to shake the heavy feeling of guilt that had settled in his belly.

 

He wished wholeheartedly that the other man were conscious. All of the conflicting and warring feelings inside of him, every flickering memory brought to life within his mind and reminding him of his shameful past were slowly driving him mad. He could feel it, the subtle press of something that wasn't himself. It was as if Jenova was back, whispering in his mind.

 

Sephiroth hadn't wanted to remember his past, honestly. It was something he would have been glad to keep buried, especially since he preferred the undetermined future. But now it had come back to haunt him, making him feel as if he had been tainted by a permanent stain. Again, the strange and sudden urge to scour his skin in boiling water until it peeled away struck him, though he knew it wouldn't ever wash that feeling away.

 

Just the recollection of that… that man… A shiver attacked Sephiroth's mind and he promptly put a latch down on that thought. He couldn't bear to bring it any further than a passing glance. It made his stomach physically ill.

 

It wasn't until then that he realized just how much he depended on Zack. When they had met, Sephiroth was a disturbing mix of apathy and timidity, throwing in a bit of cold impassivity that simply pushed all others away from him. He didn't know how to react around others outside of the lines set by military rules. And he felt distinctly uncomfortable in the presence of the cadets who were supposed to be his age. He was alone most of the time. Until Zack basically thrust himself into his life.

 

Of all that he had endured at this kamiforsaken academy, mealtime in the lunchroom was the worst. It was pure torture to someone like Sephiroth, who preferred to sit alone rather than among the crowds. Not to mention the moment that he stepped inside, it was as if all eyes turned in his direction, watching every move that he made. It was disconcerting.

 

Sephiroth had only just been promoted, though he was on the fast track to becoming General. He was ShinRa's golden child, their shining star. They expected everything from him. And he had little choice but to give it to them. He was twenty-two years old and every last moment of his life belonged to ShinRa.

 

It was something he had learned to accept, along with the perpetual loneliness.

 

The soon-to-be General quickly got his food, ignoring the stiff politeness of the serving soldiers and sat down at a table. Conversation swelled and rose around him, laughter joining in the other noise that only proved he was alone and the others were not. He pretended he didn't notice, however, and began to eat his food, slowly scooping the nameless glop into his mouth without even tasting it.

 

He kept his eyes carefully trained on the metal plate. His instructor's had warned him that the look in his eyes tended to scare the others. That they had an eerie gleam to him. Since then, unless he was intentionally intimating the cadets, he tried not to look at anyone.

 

There was a clatter as a plate dropped onto the empty table at his side. “Can you believe they're serving us this glop?” A voice demanded as legs quickly followed, slinging themselves into the seat as someone plopped down beside him. “How do they expect us to get strong?”

 

Sephiroth looked over to find Zack Loire, a relatively new recruit who was rising quickly in the ranks. He was smiling at him like he knew him, crystalline blue eyes unquestionably bright and cheerful. Mako green eyes blinked in surprise, finding that there was not a trace of fear or pity in Zack's gaze. Only complete openness and… kindness.

 

Zack continued, “Guess it's better than nothing, huh?” he asked, picking up his fork and digging the plastic ware into the uninteresting glop spattered onto his plate. Despite its gooey appearance, the food turned out to be as hard as a rock and dedicatedly ignored Zack's attempts at consuming it.

 

The silver-haired male could only stare at the other boy and his strange behavior. All interest in his food vanished until Zack elbowed him. “You like it?” he asked, referring to the meal slop.

 

Sephiroth shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the question. “It is nutritionally balanced and relatively inexpensive to serve,” he responded carefully. He had been taught, after all, that ShinRa was infallible and to never speak against the company. Having been promised he would never return to that man's lab in Nibelheim if he obeyed, Sephiroth was determined to follow the rules.

 

Crystalline blue eyes watched him for a moment as if trying to decide whether he was lying before Zack burst into laughter. Somehow, it didn't sound like he was being derisive. “But do you like it?” he pressed, ignoring the attention he had gathered with his loud chuckling.

 

The older male blinked and looked down at the food. He had never really considered taste before, more or less eating because he was supposed to provide sustenance for his body. “I do not suppose I do,” he finally answered honestly. He had been told to eat the food and so he did. That had been all there was to it.

 

Zack chuckled again, his grin somehow setting the uneasy boy at ease. He plopped his plastic ware down onto his plate and stuck out a hand. “Zack Loire, new recruit here with ShinRa.”

 

He stared at the offered hand for a moment before finally accepting it, surprised at the strength of the lithe boy's grip. “Sephiroth,” he responded simply.

 

“I think everyone knows that,” Zack teased, nudging the other man with his shoulder. “You're kind of famous.”

 

Sephiroth didn't respond, returning his attention to his unappetizing food. He had never thought about it before, but he really did not like the glop. Zack remained at his side, leaving Sephiroth to wonder why the boy was trying so hard to be nice to him. He didn't want to be pitied. Besides, Hojo had warned him against companions. They would only make him weak and that was a mistake Sephiroth could not afford.

 

“So when do you have maneuvers again, Seph?”

 

The soon-to-be General furrowed his brow. “What?” he repeated, not so much misunderstanding the question but unable to comprehend why Zack should want to know.

 

“Maneuvers,” Zack repeated around a mouthful of meat mush . “You know, training in the field.”

 

Despite elaborating, it still perplexed Sephiroth. “Why would you want to know that?” he asked, all interest in his food completely forgotten. Not that he had been hungry to begin with.

 

Zack grinned as he chomped through the biscuit on his plate, a task since it was hard as rock. He reached across the table and appropriated Sephiroth's as well. “Cause we're friends now,” he responded in a matter-of-fact tone.

 

They were foreign concepts to Sephiroth. Friendship and friends were not part and parcel to the training regime for ShinRa's best. “Friends,” he repeated quietly, still able to feel the eyes staring at him.

 

“Yep!” Zack chugged down the rest of his soda in a few big gulps before rising to his feet. He tossed the pilfered biscuit up and down in his hand. “Come on. Let's get some extra training.”

 

Mako green eyes looked up in surprise, certainly not expecting Zack to continue speaking to him. Nor did the eyes that seemed to follow their every movement bother the vibrant man. Flickering his gaze between his unappetizing meal and the spiky-haired boy, Sephiroth finally rose to his feet.

 

“Very well.”

 

Zack smiled, nudging him with a fist as they stepped towards the door. “You think you can show me that move you did against Instructor Niosk? You kicked his ass.”

 

“Unintentionally, I assure you,” Sephiroth responded, wincing slightly as he remembered that particular incident. He had accidentally used his full strength against his hand-to-hand teacher and put the man in a coma.

 

The other boy shrugged, still tossing the rock-hard biscuit up and down in his grasp. “Either way, it looked awesome.” He thumped a fist against his chest. “Angeal said I could wield the Buster Sword.”

 

Sephiroth raised a brow. “Outside of the Masamune, it is the most difficult to master.”

 

Beside him, Zack grinned cheekily, his eyes practically sparkling. “I know.”

 

In the corridor, Sephiroth couldn't help but smile lightly to himself. From that moment on, Zack had been a constant in his life. He hadn't intentionally tried to hide from the younger boy, but hadn't exactly sought him out either. Nonetheless, Zack had pushed and pressed until he became Sephiroth's best friend, his only friend truthfully. He was the only one who seemed to understand exactly what it was he needed to say and didn't seem bothered by any of Sephiroth's… quirks. If quirk was the word he was looking for.

 

Since that day, Sephiroth hadn't been alone. There was always Zack, and then later, Cloud to an extent and Aeris from time to time. He didn't know what to do now, with the loneliness and the silence. Zack had ruined that for him, making him a person who desired companionship. He couldn't return to that cold apathy.

 

“… There had to be hundreds of them, all ready to kill…”

 

Sephiroth paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. Now he was going crazy. He could have sworn he heard Zack's voice.

 

“--Next thing I know, Seph sneezes and wham! There goes the whole army!” Laughter followed, loud and very familiar.

 

Green-grey eyes blinked. He had not imagined that. A small treble of elation began to build then, beating rapidly in his heart and Sephiroth put on a burst of speed, nearly knocking over an orderly carrying in someone's lunch. He shoved through the doors to the infirmary, sending them careening wildly against the walls. His eyes rapidly scanned the room, which was mostly vacated except for the barely visible forms behind the curtains on the far end.

 

His gaze quickly fell on Zack's bed, surrounded by a flock of heart-struck nurses who were avidly listened to his very awake, very alive best friend who was again telling the tale of the infamous sneeze. Everything in Sephiroth's body froze in that moment, a great tumultuous cascade of emotion spontaneously exploding inside of him.

 

“Zack!” he exclaimed before he could stop himself, the joy in his voice evident. “You're awake!”

 

And there it was, that familiar cheeky grin that he always associated with his best friend. “Course I am, Seph,” Zack responded. “I couldn't leave you alone here.”

 

Zack understood all too well. Sephiroth sagged against the door, relief flooding through him. He didn't even have any words to say, his usual acumen failing him. He simply closed his eyes and tried not to cry, hating to appear weak in front of the gazes that were watching him. The nurses had even fallen silent, watching the interaction with hearts in their eyes as Zack slid from the bed.

 

“What am I gonna do with you?” the former SOLDIER teased evenly, stepping lightly across the room. “I'm gone for a few minutes and you fall to pieces on everyone,” he added in a low murmur before pulling his best friend into a tight embrace.

 

Despite the eyes on them, Sephiroth could only cling back in return, the reprieve from the pain in his heart feeling as if a weight had lifted. He winced, however, at Zack's words. “You knew?” he rasped slightly, in a desperate attempt to keep himself from crying. The loneliness that had consumed him had lasted for far too long. He had been dangling from the edge and any moment, had feared he would drop into a madness from which he could not escape.

 

“Elena told me,” Zack responded, sounding equally strained. “I'm sorry I wasn't there.” He squeezed the older man a bit tighter before ending the hug, swaying slightly on his feet. After having lain in the bed for that time, his body was still recovering.

 

Gray-green eyes widened. “You shouldn't be out of bed!” he declared, sounding like a mother hen. “You should be resting.” He placed his hands on Zack's shoulders and directed him towards the bed.

 

The former SOLDIER laughed, causing Sephiroth to redden slightly. “Seph, I'm all right!” he declared, though he acquiesced. It was rather cute the way his friend was fussing over him. “I'm not even injured,” he added as he gestured towards his barely dressed body, climbing into the bed again. The nurses, seeing that all was well, scattered to their duties. “I can't mess up perfection, after all.”

 

Sephiroth flushed deeper as he lowered himself down into the seat he had occupied every waking moment prior. “You're incorrigible,” he muttered, though inwardly he was pleased to see that Zack was well enough that he was back to his usual joking self.

 

“Yeah, but you wouldn't have me any other way,” Zack answered back smugly. He sat back on the bed, folding his arms behind his head and not looking the least bit injured. He was still slightly pale however, reminding Sephiroth of all that had happened.

 

The former General shook his head at Zack's behavior before looking down at his hands, idly fiddling with his fingers. “Zack, what happened?”

 

Instantly, his best friend sobered. “Honestly, Seph, it's hard to explain.” He paused, face darkening a little. “I felt it when Cloud died. The entire planet had cried out in sorrow and it was as if my heart had been wrenched from my chest. I lost consciousness for a while.” He shrugged thoughtfully. “The planet had a lot to say.”

 

Sephiroth's gaze shifted to the window, looking at the drawn shades and pretending to peer through the small gaps in the shutters. It was easier than facing the turmoil inside of him. “He shouldn't have died,” he commented quietly.

 

Crystalline eyes watched him for a moment before Zack spoke. “Seph.”

 

There was no response however and a feeling of concern flooded the former SOLDIER. He tried again. “Sephiroth,” Zack repeated, using his best friend's full name as he reached out and grabbed the other man's shoulder, squeezing gently.

 

Sephiroth blinked and looked at him, something strange swirling in his eyes. That uncertainty did not fade in the slightest and Zack sighed, shaking his head. “Looks like I can't leave you alone for even a second,” he commented with much regret. “You can't blame yourself for Cloud's choices.”

 

“Maybe not. But I can blame myself for mine,” he countered before quickly changing the subject, not wanting Zack to try and convince him otherwise. He peered around. “Why isn't Elena with you?”

 

Zack's eyes narrowed, a little perturbed by Sephiroth's dismissal; yet, he answered anyways. “She's with Aeris. Turns out Tifa attacked while you guys were gone.”

 

“What?” Sephiroth was startled. And he had thought nothing dangerous had happened while they were gone.

 

“She tried to kill Aeris but Shera stopped her,” Zack replied, sitting back against the headboard. One hand brushed dark spikes out of his pale face, still seeming vaguely tired.

 

Sephiroth raised a disbelieving brow. “Shera?” he repeated.

 

The former SOLDIER nodded as he began to relate the tale that Elena had already told to him, worry filling his heart to the core. Sephiroth listened to him, but he wasn't really there, mostly nodded in pretense. Something had happened to him that he wasn't telling Zack, something other than what the others had divulged.

 

There was a note of fear in his voice; a note of desperate terror and Zack was determined to find out exactly why. After all, it was his responsibility as the best friend. He had made the promise to himself that he would always watch over Sephiroth.

 

And Zack always kept his promises.

 

- - - - -

 

The quiet whirr of the machines was a counterpart to the gentle beep of the monitor, filtering through the darkness of the infirmary. The curtained off area was lit by only a few dim screens, illuminating three exhaustively unconscious faces. Earlier in the day, two of the sleeping forms had been watching the third without pause, hoping beyond hope that he would awaken as Kami-sama had hinted. But their hopes had been for naught, and both Reno and Reis had fallen asleep when their bodies could no longer keep them awake.

 

Propped up in chairs on either side of the bed, they continued their vigil. Reis had one of her brother's hands grasped between her own while Reno had one hand clasped onto Reeve's, his head falling exhaustively onto the bed with his other arm draped across his husband's legs. Archer had come by once to check on them, but decided against disturbing them, choosing instead to drape a blanket over Reis before leaving all else alone.

 

It was approaching midnight when something stirred. Reeve's head faintly twitched before his eyes slowly slid open, revealing amber orbs. He blinked before turning his head to the side in confusion, unsure of where he was. The last he remembered was a battle, surrounded by smoke and the smell of blood. He felt warmth and weight draped across his body and to his left, he caught the familiar sight of his sister's face but looking down, he found a familiar crown of bright red hair.

 

Reno looked haggard, as if he hadn't slept in days. His clothes were wrinkled and spattered with mud and blood in some places, and there were dark circles heavily ringing his eyes. His youthful features were more lined than when Reeve last saw him, as if he had suddenly aged within a short period of time. His fingers were dangling loosely in his husband's hold.

 

Though Reeve couldn't remember what happened, he had the feeling that he had worried his lover. With a light sigh, he lifted his hand from Reno's fingers and laid it gently on the Turk's head, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. His body was aching with a lingering agony, his head pulsing with the remnants of a headache. He felt like he had been strung through a wringer despite the fact he knew he had to have been sleeping for a long time.

 

Suddenly, there was a faint tingle of magic to the air. Reeve lifted his gaze to a darkened corner, watching as a body stepped out of the shadows with little subtlety. He recognized the individual in a second. It was Seiryu, his other.

 

“I am sorry,” the deity whispered, his voice just loud enough to carry to Reeve's ears and pierce the hum of the machines.

 

Reeve frowned, furrowing his brow. “Why?” he responded hoarsely, voice raspy as the heavy feeling in his chest suddenly became prominent.

 

Emerald eyes flickered to the still sleeping form of Reno. Either the Turk was completely exhausted or magic was involved. “For the pain I have caused him. And you as well,” the dragon explained.

 

His answer did not ease Reeve's confusion in the slightest. Before he could even ask however, Seiryu continued, “You have been unconscious through it all, my anima; therefore, you do not know. The war has ended, but not without its sacrifices. I'll let your beloved explain the rest. Suffice to say, you will not be seeing me again.”

 

Reeve's mouth dropped in surprise. “What?”

 

The dragon was sober. “It is Kami's decision and I must obey,” Seiryu replied softly. He stepped forward, closer to the bed where Reeve could see him better. “Our kind has brought yours much anguish and that I regret.”

 

“I never blamed you,” Reeve said with a shake of his head. He could probably guess what Reno had done, knowing his husband so well. “Reno is… emotional. He was only--”

 

Seiryu's eyes softened. “I understand his frustration. He had every right to be as angry as he was… and still is most likely.” He sighed softly and shook his head, reaching out a hand and brushing his fingers across Reeve's forehead.

 

The President jolted as a strange shock flitted across his body, a warm flush spreading along with it. The heavy weariness gradually began to fade, leaving him feeling a lot better than he had. Reeve blinked in surprise as Seiryu withdrew his touch.

 

“There may still be some weariness but you are lucky you awoke period. You're heart is strong, Reeve,” Seiryu murmured quietly. His eyes flickered to Reno once more before returning to his animus. “You'll likely need that strength. Again, I regret our mistakes and the pain that we have caused you.” Something glistened in emerald eyes before the dragon took a step backwards and promptly disappeared, back to Elysium presumably.

 

Amber eyes were sorrowful as he laid back in the bed, watching the empty space. He internally searched his mind, looking for that small tingle at the base of the skull that had always signified his attachment to Seiryu. A surge of disappointment spread through his body when he no longer felt it. For some reason, it just didn't seem right and he felt as if he was missing something terribly important.

 

Just then, Reno stirred and Reeve's attention was diverted. The Turk twitched before his eyes fluttered open, his empty fingers grasping at the covers. A look of worry crossed over his face as he shot straight up, head swiveling towards his husband.

 

Aquamarine eyes met amber and for an instant, it was as if time stopped. Reno's heart skipped several beats in his chest and he wondered if he would ever breathe again. “Reeve,” he whispered on an exhale, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

 

The President managed a weary, brief nod before Reno was throwing himself at the older male, wrapping his arms around Reeve's neck and pressing their lips together in a desperate kiss. Before he could stop them, a few warm tears trickled down his cheeks as relief spread through his body.

 

Reeve's free arm came up and wrapped around his younger husband, holding him tightly to his chest. He couldn't remember what happened, but judging from Reno's reaction, it had not been pretty. He could feel the Turk shaking against him, body wracked with thinly restrained sobs of release. Their kiss ended as Reno pressed their foreheads together, eyes clenched shut.

 

“Reno--”

 

“I thought you were dead,” came the muffled response, interrupting him before he could even finish. Reno pulled back as his fingers moved to Reeve's head, gripping it almost desperately. “I thought you were going to die,” he repeated, his voice sounding even more strained this time.

 

Their eyes met and somehow, Reeve knew it was his fault. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, shamed by the tears shimmering in his husband's gaze.

 

Reno's thumbs rubbed against his face. “What would I do?” he demanded harshly, his voice hoarse in the silence. “What was I supposed to do if you left me? Why didn't you just listen, dammit?” He sucked in a ragged breath. “Why didn't you--”

 

“I'm sorry,” Reeve murmured again, cutting off whatever else Reno was going to say. “I'm sorry.” He had no explanations anymore. What he had wanted to do then, what he had obviously failed to do, seemed pointless in the face of his husband's pain.

 

The Turk had nothing more to say, his eyes sliding closed in an attempt to control his emotions. Instead, he pressed their lips together once more, inputting all of his panic, relief, and swirling emotions that had been attacking him. He had the fear that if he let go Reeve would disappear on him. The President understood all too well and slowly returned the kiss, sliding their tongues together. The motion was brief but invoking all of their true feelings.

 

“Never again,” Reno muttered, determination burning in his eyes. “Don't you do that to me ever again.”

 

“I'm sor--”

 

The Turk shook his head. “I don't want an apology. Just tell me you won't.”

 

Chastened, the executive lowered his gaze. “I can't tell the future, Reno.” His hand tightened against the younger male's back, pressing him closer. “But I won't willingly do that again.”

 

Reno sighed. “You're such an idiot,” he muttered under his breath. But he didn't let go. It was an impossibility he didn't want to consider, having to live on past Reeve. In his line of work, he had always expected to be the one to leave first. Reno had always thought that his husband was stronger than him whereas Reno would collapse and turn absolutely reckless.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Reeve admitted honestly.

 

“I've told him that myself but he never listened to me,” a female voice added in, surprising the two men in a moment.

 

They tilted their heads, surprised to find that Reis was watching them with amusement twinkling in her eyes, as well as much relief on her face. “Welcome back, nii-san,” she continued, squeezing Reeve's hand in hers. “We missed you.”

 

“Reis,” the President rasped. “I'm sorry to have worried you.”

 

She smiled lightly. “I knew you were coming back but we almost lost Reno for a second there.” Her face sobered as the Turk coughed lightly and looked away, trying to pretend he hadn't heard her words. “That was a stupid thing to do, Reeve.”

 

He sighed. “I know.”

 

Her fingers tightened around his once more. “As long as you know that,” she responded, rising to her feet. She patted Reno on the shoulder. “I'm going to go let the others know you're awake, those that aren't sleeping anyways, and maybe find you some food.” She winked as she stepped around the bed, heading for the curtain. “I know you two want to be alone.”

 

Reeve shook his head. “You're impossible,” he responded as Reno shot her a cheeky grin, though it was significantly less jaunty than usual.

 

“Of course.” She waved her fingers. “Be back later, Reeve,” Reis finished as she stepped out from the curtains. Her quiet footsteps quickly faded.

 

In her absence, Reno climbed into bed beside his husband, linking their hands together. Nothing further was said, but nothing else really needed to be spoken either. He was content to simply know that Reeve was well and alive. That was all that mattered to him. And he was certain that the other felt the same way.

 

- - - - -