Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Ice Redux ❯ Chapter 37: Hidden Truths ( Chapter 37 )

--This is a demon speaking.--

 

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Hidden Truths

 

He found Cloud standing on the bridge of the airship, looking out solemnly at the scenery passing by below him. He stood behind Cloud silently, observing the uncharacteristic behavior of their leader and briefly wondering where the swordsman was going to go like all the others, but then, Vincent pushed the thoughts aside as none of his business. Their friendship had been rocky at best, and he didn't feel it was his place to ask.

 

When Cloud didn't acknowledge him, the ex-Turk took it upon himself and cleared his throat.

 

The blond turned around slowly, an eyebrow raised. “Yes?”

 

“I was hoping that you would allow me to borrow Racer,” Vincent said as politely as he could muster.

 

Cloud was very proud of his golden chocobo, having raised her diligently himself. However, Vincent knew that he would need to go several places and required the chocobo's abilities.

 

Mako blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you coming back?” Cloud asked, a note of curiosity to his voice.

 

Vincent sighed, feeling one of his eyebrows twitch. Did Cloud actually think that little of him?

 

“Even if I don't, Racer will be returned.”

 

Cloud nodded slowly, though the note of suspicion remained. “Fine. But I'd better get her back.”

 

“Don't worry, Strife. I am well aware of the meaning of responsibility.” Vincent headed for the exit, but before he could get a chance to hurry out the door, Cloud's voice stopped him.

 

“Vincent, don't forget what will be waiting while you're gone.”

 

He whirled on his heels, a note of confusion on his face, even as he glared at Cloud. Vincent snorted inelegantly and headed off the bridge. Was it possible that Cloud was more perceptive than they gave him credit?

 

The thought was vaguely frightening. Perhaps the confusion and stupidity was just an act, after all.

 

Vincent went directly to the chocobo barracks, his steps swift as he considered. He knew that in ten minutes or so they would be landing at Nibelheim, so he quickly saddled Racer and prepared her for the landing. He had some research he had to take care of, and the ShinRa mansion was the place to do it.

 

Before he could make a decision on anything, he had to know. What exactly Hojo had done to him; what exactly had happened in moments when he wasn't unconscious?

 

Whether or not any of it was reversible.

 

He wanted to know the reasons behind the experiments, and why he had the claw? He wanted his questions answered before he could even consider allowing Cid to tell him what he knew the pilot had wanted to say.

 

In his heart, Vincent knew he returned the sentiment. Somehow, along the way, Cid had inched his way past his barriers into a permanent place inside the Vincent's heart. However, he refused to allow himself to hope for a future without understanding whether or not he could even have one.

 

- - -

 

A dark-haired man paced the floor of the hidden lab in the basement of the ShinRa mansion. He was murmuring soundlessly as he read over documents and books, quickly scanning over words and committing them to memory. He had found many case files on himself written by Hojo.

 

It was his second day in the basement searching for information. The previous night had been spent tossing and turning on a dusty, old mattress in one of the upstairs rooms.

 

The mad scientist had a habit of writing down everything he did in detail, sometimes with an air of sadistic glee. It seemed he was proud of every experiment he had ever conducted. The ex-Turk had learned about it all.

 

Mako injections. Jenova shots. Countless surgeries. Scalpels and saws and syringes, more than he could even remember. The insertion of the demons, testing of his healing capabilities, the replacing of the claw on his dominant arm.

 

Hojo seemed particularly proud of those.

 

Even more disturbing and nauseating was that Hojo documented every single time he had taken liberties with the captive in his care, conscious or not. He took great pleasure in detailing every scream, every curse, every injury left behind. It was disgusting, and Vincent found himself paling with every word until he crumpled the journal into a ball and threw it into a pile on the floor.

 

Of course, it was quickly consumed by a ball of fire. There were some things that no one else ever needed to know.

 

However, he had not found any indication that the experiments could be reversed. The mako accounted for his superior strength and the Jenova for his quick healing; he could only assume that the demons accounted for his night vision, longevity, and other abilities. He knew from examples, such as the new Turks and SOLDIERs, that the mako would forever remain in his body. Jenova, he wasn't too sure about, and neither was Hojo. The length of the effects of the Jenova cells was undetermined at the time of the research. Unless he could find a way to remove the demons, he would have them forever, too.

 

Most everything that had been done to him was experimental and the first time Hojo had ever tested it on a human being. The thought alone made him tremble with fury. Still, Vincent continued to search through the paperwork, hoping to find more information on the Four Demons of the Apocalypse.

 

It was then that he found it. His eyes scanned over the page quickly, taking in each and every word with the heavy weight of guilt settling in his chest.

 

He could hardly believe it.

 

Vincent breathed heavily, hand shaking unintentionally as he looked over the document yet again.

 

Test Subject Recommendation.

 

It was signed by Lucrecia; he would recognize that handwriting anywhere. He skimmed the details, eyes moving rapidly over the water-stained and old piece of paper, remarkably preserved in the dusty basement.

 

Test Subject Recommendation:

 

After careful consideration of both the residents of Nibelheim and those given to us by President ShinRa, I have deemed that there are few worthy of taking part in our attempt to better understand the Jenova cells and the use of mako.

 

In particular, Raven and Vincent of the Turks, as well as the son of the innkeeper, Caleb, are the only three fit for surviving such an endeavor.

 

I would recommend either Turk, however, knowing that it would be harder to cover up the death of the child. Additionally…

 

Vincent crushed the piece of paper in his hand, crimson eyes burning with an inner anger.

 

Lucrecia… she… she had told Hojo to experiment on him. That was what he gathered from the form. His mind spun from the discovery. He couldn't understand why she would do such a thing.

 

How much, how much of what she had said to him had been a lie? How much of what Hojo had claimed was truth?

 

Everything he had ever believed, none of it could be confirmed as truth or falsehood. He could literally feel his world spin around him as the source of his guilt and pain and love all seemed to center on one person, one that he hadn't yet killed.

 

--He he! Didn't know that little tidbit, did you?-- Galian Beast sneered.

 

--We tried to warn you.-- Chaos shrugged. --We told you that Hojo might be lying, but no, you're the big Turk. You don't need our information.--

 

“How the hell did you know?” Vincent growled.

 

Galian shrugged, a move that Vincent could see within his mind with little difficulty. He had become remarkably adept at being in tune with his infestations.

 

--Anyone without a heart filled with love could have seen it. Don't you even wonder what happened to your partner?--

 

“Raven.” Vincent blanched visibly.

 

It was true, even thirty years ago most Turks didn't go anywhere without their assigned partner. Why hadn't he even worried about Raven?

 

The man had been the closest thing to a friend, to a family he had while he worked for ShinRa. He should have been one of the first people on Vincent's mind when he woke up.

 

He vigorously dug through the documents again, looking for anything referring to his partner. He hoped that somehow the man had found enough sense to get away from ShinRa mansion when all the chaos started. Yet, deep in his heart, Vincent recalled Raven's loyalty and stubbornness, and it sent a treble of fear through him.

 

Somehow, he didn't think that Raven had escaped.

 

--Are you certain you want to look?-- Chaos laughed. --You might not like what you see.--

 

Vincent snarled, “Shut up!”

 

The two demons continued to snicker but didn't speak anymore. They were counting on the fact that the ex-Turk would be horrified by what he discovered.

 

And then, he found it. Buried among lab notes on the experiments conducted on him, as well as notes on both Cloud and Zack, Vincent came across a stack of carefully bound sheaves of parchment. The hastily scrawled and obviously irritated words filled him with a cold anger that had his body shaking with hatred.

 

Raven, the partner that he had forgotten about, the dark-eyed man with brown hair, who was an expert in sharp shooting. Raven had been his partner ever since he had joined the Turks.

 

It seemed that Raven hadn't believed Hojo's explanations of his disappearance, so the scientist had taken matters into his own hands. Raven had quickly become yet another experiment. Hojo had even nicknamed this particular project, dubbed it “Lost Number” because it had failed him.

 

It was unworthy of anything better.

 

Vincent crunched the paper in his grasp, images of the notes with Lucrecia's signature flashing through his mind once more. She was as much to blame as Hojo; he knew that much for certain. The documents did not lie.

 

“How much,” he roared to no one in particular.

 

`How much of my past is a LIE!'

 

The last was screamed inside his mind as he threw the crumpled paper at an old test tube, sending it clattering to the floor. It shattered, the contents long dried.

 

--Most likely all of it.-- Galian sniffed with an air of nonchalance.

 

--You know how to find the answers, do you not?-- Chaos inserted. --Now that Hojo is dead, you know exactly who to ask?--

 

Vincent's eyes burned with a fierce fury. “Lucrecia,” he growled, body trembling with barely restrained anger.

 

He knew where she was, where she was hiding. The cave behind the waterfall, where she desperately clung to a life she was too proud and fearful to be rid of. It would be a simple task to seek her out. He could confront her about everything.

 

And this time, she wouldn't be permitted to lie, not with the evidence right in front her.

 

- - -

 

After spending the night in the ShinRa mansion, finding himself too weary to ride a chocobo across two continents and an ocean, Vincent mounted Racer and made his way to the cave behind the waterfall.

 

The entire journey, he couldn't help the cold rage that built within him. He might not know the entire truth, but he did know that he had been deceived. He had been put through unspeakable tortures, nightmares for three decades, all for a woman he had thought needed to be saved.

 

He deserved some fucking answers.

 

Around mid-afternoon, he found himself at the entrance to the cavern, and Vincent tied up Racer and holstered his Supershot ST, a gift from Yuffie after she had found it in the Ancient Forest. He steeled himself for the confrontation he knew was coming and entered the cool, darkness of the cave.

 

After a minute of walking through the blinding darkness, he came out into the cavern proper. As his eyes adjusted to the luminescent light, he realized with only a faint hint of anger that it was as empty as he had left it before.

 

Vincent cursed aloud and turned to leave when something caught his attention.

 

There on the platform, where Lucrecia had once stood, were two items. One was a three-barreled shotgun that looked even more powerful than his current weapon, and the other was a small chain with an interesting pendant on the end. Shaped like Cerberus, the three-headed dog, it was made of silver and glinted like it had just been polished. It seemed to be an attachment for the weapon.

 

Looking the hilt of the gun as he inspected it, he noticed the name inscribed on the hilt in a scrawling script.

 

Death Penalty.

 

And judging by the weight and strength of it, the shotgun was the most powerful weapon he had found or bought so far. Had Lucrecia left the two items knowing that he would return at some time?

 

He frowned. Not that it would endear him to her any.

 

He holstered the Death Penalty and flipped the small attachment to it in his hand. The metal gleamed strangely in the odd luminescence of the cavern, and he only briefly wondered exactly what it was. He whirled on his heels then, and in a swirl of crimson cloak, he headed towards the exit, still furious that he hadn't gotten to confront Lucrecia.

 

Perhaps she had sensed his fury and had hidden. It wouldn't surprise him since her deeds had only pointed to cowardice.

 

Vincent had nearly made it to the door when the voice floated out of the darkness behind him.

 

“You came, after all.”

 

The voice was unmistakable.

 

He whirled around, finding her in the same spot he had seen her the time before.

 

“Lucia…” he breathed, for a moment forgetting what he had come to say. The mere sight of her had caused his heart to leap in his chest, but only until he shook his head violently, remembering why he had come.

 

“You used me!” he declared loudly, storming towards her with his human hand clenched at his side.

 

She winced visibly, brown eyes darkening with sadness. “I realize my mistake,” Lucrecia responded softly, managing to sound contrite. “Hojo was using me--”

 

“Sound familiar?” Vincent interrupted. He held up the crumpled piece of paper that he had found the day earlier. “Test subject recommendation?” he accused, his tone sharp and bitter.

 

Lucrecia sighed, recoiling from the obvious evidence of her deeds. “Yes. In the beginning, that is all you were to me. Even after we shared all those moments, there was a reason behind it all.”

 

The gunman's eyes narrowed in anger, though inside he was feeling like someone had torn his heart out. Her admittance was like being told she had killed herself with his own gun.

 

She shook her head frantically. “But you don't understand,” Lucrecia wailed. “I loved Hojo. I would have done anything for him. We needed someone of Turk strength to experiment for military applications. Raven and you were perfect, and the President--”

 

“What about the President?” he growled, body drawn taut with tension.

 

“He gave you to us. He said all the other Turks refused to kill you because you were their favorite, their Commander [1]. Somehow, you had gotten on his bad side.” Lucrecia shook her head, hands coming up in front of her, desperately trying to hold herself together. “I didn't even ask why.”

 

Vincent felt cold all over. ShinRa was to blame for his pain as well. Not just one manipulative woman, not just one crazed scientist, but the whole damn company.

 

Lucrecia's quiet sobs drew his attention from his musings. “I began to love you, Vincent. When I found out I was pregnant, there was a part of me that hoped the baby was yours.” She sniffled, rubbing fiercely at her eyes, although the tears did not cease.

 

“But I fought that down because I was convinced… I was convinced the Jenova cells and mako could help out everyone. What was one sacrifice for the lives of many? And Hojo knew you wouldn't submit to the testing.” Her hands began to wring together as her red-rimmed eyes darted around nervously.

 

He wondered why he couldn't even find any pity inside of him.

 

“It was my job to weaken you--”

 

Vincent snarled, “What about Raven? You fuck him, too? Scream out his name as you--”

 

“No!” Lucrecia shook her head violently. “We weren't even going to use him at first, but then, he was nosy when you disappeared. We had no choice.” She swallowed thickly. “I couldn't let anything happen to the research.”

 

“I know. I found the notes,” Vincent snapped.

 

His hand clenched and then unclenched at his side, longing to wrap around her throat and just squeeze, and Vincent turned to leave before he did something he wouldn't regret; he had heard enough.

 

After all, Lucrecia wouldn't lie to him about something that would make him despise her. He deemed her words the truth since they coincided with the research. And Hojo would rather stab out his own eyes than falsify his notes.

 

Nevertheless, Vincent didn't get far before felt a hand on his arm, a desperate plea for him to remain.

 

“Please, stay here with me,” she begged, her voice fraught with despair. “I can't stand to be alone. I began to realize my mistakes when I heard the tortured cries of Sephiroth, my child who I never even got to hold. But I couldn't help him; I couldn't do anything to save him or you. I tried to end it, but with the damn Jenova in me…” She paused, the tears still falling. “I ran. I ran when I couldn't die.”

 

He didn't look at her, revulsion slowly replacing the fury in his heart. “Leaving your child in the arms of a madman, how incredibly brave of you,” he said snarkily.

 

She stiffened, her fingers curling around his bicep tightly. “It may not have been courageous of me, but I knew of nothing else to do. That is why I brought you the Death Penalty and the Cerberus chain. They will help you; I gathered that from the research. The chain is supposed to counteract the demons or something…” She shook her head as if trying to recall. “Please. Just stay.”

 

“No.” He shook her off with a violent motion and stepped towards the exit, his movements jerky and uneven.

 

“Please,” she agonized. “I love you!”

 

Vincent turned once to glance at her, eyes looking over at the woman he had once loved more than life itself. A woman he had wanted to save. who didn't even need his sacrifice in the first place.

 

“I don't believe you even know the meaning of the word, Lucia. You left your own son, your only child, to be tortured and experimented on.” Vincent shook his head. “Goodbye, Lucrecia.”

 

Without another word, Vincent left his one-time beloved and never looked back. Her sobs followed him, but he had already sealed his heart to her cries. Vincent walked to where Racer was waiting patiently, and she warbled pleasantly at him as he climbed into the saddle. He just sat there, however, realizing he had no idea where to go.

 

Inside, his emotions were a violent whirl of disorder, and he was at a loss for what to do. There was still that part of him that wanted to return to the cave and hold her, whisper words of love again and make her happy. He couldn't help the tender feelings that he still held.

 

Regardless, he knew, he knew that they would be forever tainted by what she had done. They could never be happy together, not now… not ever again.

 

It was then that his thoughts centered on who he was before AVALANCHE, before Hojo, before the Turks, when he was still Uesugi Vincent. He wondered if those he had always considered his parents still lived, if perhaps he had siblings.

 

Vincent felt a sudden urge to find out and knew where he had to go. Back to Junon, to see if the Uesugi's still lived there.

 

After all, he was technically only fifty-seven years old. By all accounts, they shouldn't have died of old age yet. Perhaps other reasons but not old age.

 

His mother would have just turned seventy-seven, and his father would be around eighty. In a world where people could live to be well over a hundred, Bugenhagen a different case altogether, surely they would still be alive. Of course, that is unless something untoward had happened to them.

 

He only balked for a few moments, remembering what had happened at their last parting: his mother's tear-stained face, his father's saddened resignation. When he had been faced with the truth of his birth, he had turned his back on them. Vincent deeply regretted that now, and he could only hope that they could forgive his immature and childish tantrum.

 

His mind made up, Vincent grabbed Racer's reins and headed Junon. After he and his family had moved out of their home in Wutai all those years ago, his parents had settled in Junon. Racial discrimination wasn't as big an issue there as it was in the pure-blooded views of the Wutaiians at the time, and he supposed that he owed much of the new attitude in Wutai to Yuffie's parents.

 

Still, he really couldn't blame them. There had been a war going on.

 

It was just nearing sunset when Vincent made it to Junon, and the gunman realized that he had a little over twenty-four hours to return to the airship, if indeed he was going to do so. He took Racer to one of the stables on the edge of town and then headed for the residential section of the military city.

 

His parents had lived on one of the lower levels, just above those that led to the Junon Harbor. Here, there was a small community of houses similar to those in the suburbs of Wutai where they had once resided. Of course, almost everyone in the neighborhood had originally lived on the island nation, leaving it for reasons much similar to his family's.

 

Walking along the nearly deserted streets, the former Turk couldn't help but peek into the windows of the houses. He saw many families sitting together, simply enjoying one another's company in their last days, and Vincent felt a pang of longing in his chest, realizing that he missed his family very much.

 

It seemed he was always making mistakes when it concerned those he loved.

 

Finally, he found himself standing outside the two-storey home that had once been his. It was quaint and small, much like those nearby, but they hadn't really needed anything bigger. They could afford more, but his father had preferred the ease of having a comfortable home rather than one large and overtly extravagant.

 

Vincent frowned at the overgrown nature of the yard and the general unkemptness. Wrapping his cloak around him more firmly, covering his gauntlet, he walked up to the front door and knocked loudly.

 

There was no immediate answer, so he tried again, listening intently at the same moment. He could hear nothing from the inside. He moved over to peek into the windows, but it was completely dark; he couldn't see anything.

 

Maybe they had moved out?

 

“Are you looking for the Uesugi's?” a kind female voice asked from behind him.

 

Vincent whirled around to find a grey-haired lady smoking a pipe as she stood on the porch of the house next door.

 

The ex-Turk nodded slowly. “Yes. Do you know where they have gone?”

 

The elderly woman sighed, her eyes darkening with a hint of sadness. “The lady passed nearly seven years ago with the husband following her about three years later. He didn't want to live without her.”

 

Inside, Vincent wilted.

 

It had been a vague hope at best, but a part of him had wanted to see them again. Rumors of his disappearance must have reached them, despite their estrangement. They would have been worried, and now, he could never make amends. It was far too late.

 

The older woman peered at Vincent closely. “Why don't you come inside, and I will tell you more about it?”

 

Vincent was surprised at the woman's friendliness. After all, he didn't exactly look inviting. Still, he nodded in response. “Yes, thank you.”

The older woman waved him off as she waited for Vincent to come over, opening the door to her house. It creaked only slightly.

 

“The Uesugi's were very kind to me. I'm Pinako.”

 

“I am… uh…”

 

He hesitated, racking his brain for an answer when he realized he couldn't very use his true name. She might recognize it, and he certainly didn't look his age. It would cause undue questions. He settled for the first name that popped in his head.

 

“Eh… Kisaragi… Tseng Kisaragi,” he finished, trying to sound more certain than he felt and belatedly wondering where all his skills of subterfuge and deception had gone.

 

As realization about his response struck, Vincent silently berated himself for using Yuffie's last name, though it had been the best he could come up with on short notice. Still, why he had linked it with the Turk Commander's name he would never know. It was probably due to the fact that he more closely resembled Tseng than anyone else, except perhaps Yuffie herself, and he was not going there.

 

Pinako raised an eyebrow. “For a minute there, I didn't think you knew who you were.” Her tone was amused and a bit curious, as if she had already picked up on his note of hesitance.

 

Vincent couldn't help the slight blush that broke out over his face. “Sometimes, even I wonder.”

 

The old lady smirked as she puffed on her pipe and led him to the family room. She gestured that he sit on the couch as she went into the kitchen. Within moments, she emerged with two cups of steaming tea, and she sat in a chair and regarded him thoughtfully, waiting for him to begin the conversation.

 

“Why does no one live there now?”

 

Pinako exhaled slowly. “When Kaien… Mr. Uesugi died, the house was left to his son, Vincent. But no one ever found out what had happened to him. Rumor was that he had died.” She shrugged. “No one knew for sure.”

 

He mused on this. “They never had any other children?”

 

She shook her head, sipping at her cup of tea. “No. They tried, but Mrs. Uesugi found out that she was unable to not long after Vincent left.”

 

Guilt clenched in his chest. He would have been their only child, and yet, he had treated them so terribly.

 

“How unfortunate,” Vincent commented quietly, staring down at the orange-scented tea in his lap. It remained untouched.

 

Pinako studied him for a second. “You could almost be his son.”

 

He blinked. “Mr. Uesugi's?”

 

She shook her head. “No, Vincent's. You look an awful lot like him, but your eyes, they are a most peculiar color. I could never forget that particular shade of black hair everyone in the Uesugi family had. Even Rukia, Mrs. Uesugi, who wasn't completely Wutaiian.”

 

He smiled briefly, memories of his adoptive kin filling his mind. Of course, no one outside the family had known that he was only their nephew.

 

“You were good friends with them, then?”

 

“Yes, Kaien in particular. He and my husband played cards here, in this very house, every Thursday for almost fifty years.” Pinako sipped her tea. “And you, how did you know the Uesugi's?”

 

Vincent reeled and tried to rack his brain, once again wondering where his Turk skills had gone. “I-- my father was Vincent's partner as a Turk.”

 

She looked at him shrewdly, as if not believing what he said, before shrugging. “It was nice of you to come and see them. Do you happen to know what happened to Vincent?”

 

“Only the early parts,” Vincent answered unexpectedly, feeling the strange urge to bare his soul. “He met a woman, fell in love, and then…” His gaze lowered again. “No one knows what happened to him after that. It's assumed that Vincent Valentine died a long time ago.”

 

In a way, it was true. The way he was, the man he was before Hojo had tainted him, he would never be that person again. He was still Vincent, but he would never be Vincent the Turk or Uesugi Vincent again. He had come to accept that.

 

He could feel her eyes boring into the top of his head, however, and decided now was the time to make a hasty exit.

 

“I thank you for your time,” Vincent inserted, rising to his feet. “I appreciate your help and the tea as well.” He set the untouched cup down on the table.

 

She smiled up at him. “Anytime.” Pinako stood from her chair and escorted him to the door, her hands tucked behind her back. “It's so rare that I get a visitor now that my granddaughter lives in Rocket Town.”

 

He tipped his head once more in thanks before stepping off of the porch. Vincent intended to leave Junon, picking up Racer along the way. From there, he would then decide what to do next, whether he would return to the Highwind or something else.

 

He turned and gave her a brief wave with his human hand.

 

“Come back and see me again, Mr. Uesugi!” Pinako called out. “Maybe I can tell you about your grandparents next time. I really think you would have liked them.”

 

Vincent froze for an instant. He shook his head and continued on his path.

 

Perhaps she was sharper than he thought.

 

- - -

 

When darkness fell, Vincent found himself outside, camped under the stars. For some reason, being in the city and in an inn didn't appeal to him. He was feeling restless and knew that to be within the walls of a room would make him feel trapped. Instead, he had opted to camp in the wilderness with only Racer to keep him company.

 

There was much he had on his mind, not that it was any different from usual.

 

Vincent knew he had to return to the Highwind tomorrow, if indeed that was what he was going to do. He had researched his past as he had intended and had discovered most of the truth.

 

According to Hojo, there was no way to reverse the effects of what he had done. Which meant begged the question: did Vincent want to remain in his state?

 

He frowned in thought.

 

Honestly, he didn't feel guilty anymore. That consuming feeling, which had pressed in on his heart until he felt he couldn't breathe, was fading. Lucrecia had brought it upon herself. She was delusional, even before he had fallen for her, and she had been using him in the worst way possible.

 

If anything, he should loathe her very being.

 

Still, something inside of himself prevented that feeling from rising. It was too hard to make the caring emotions fade, not when sparkling eyes still haunted his memories and feminine laughter echoed against a star-lit sky. Much like the one he stared at now.

 

Vincent cared just enough that he couldn't despise her, but he didn't pity her either.

 

In consideration, he realized that he couldn't blame the entire event on himself any longer. He had been led astray, and while he would have been smarter to abide by his Turk rules from the beginning, his only fault was trusting another human. He was a Turk, true, and he should have noticed what was going on. He should not have been blinded by love, but everyone made mistakes.

 

He was to blame only in part for his condition.

 

It was strange. Once the thought had entered his brain, it was hard to make it leave. The essence of blame flitted away when faced with the utter and terrible truth. It was… freeing, for lack of a better word.

 

He was beginning to feel different, unlike he had since he had woken. The huge burden of his culpability, the feelings of failure and his own worthlessness, was fading but not entirely. One truth still hovered on the edge of his conscious, one life he had not managed to save.

 

One person who did not deserve his fate.

 

Sephiroth.

 

With all the research that he had conducted, Vincent could not produce any results as to the General's true parents. He had expected Hojo to gloat over it everywhere. Or at least, to find the results of a paternity test.

 

Instead, there was nothing.

 

Copious notes on Jenova applications, mako injections, Sephiroth's birth itself, but nothing on the General's father.

 

And Vincent couldn't even tell by looking at the man. He looked so much like Lucrecia in the face, possessing her straight nose and full lips, having her chin and the shape of her almond eyes. Sephiroth's other features were too ambiguous, and as loathe as Vincent was to admit it, he and Hojo bore too close a physical resemblance to be able to truly tell one way or the other.

 

And there it was, that lingering feeling of guilt that made him frown and furrow his brow. Sephiroth might not have been his son, but much of what had happened was not the boy's fault. He had been neglected, experimented on, ignored, abused. Sephiroth had been completely unloved.

 

It was no wonder the man had turned into a raving lunatic.

 

Vincent had nearly succumbed to the madness himself when faced with the truth of what Hojo had done to him, and he was an adult, a former Turk with training to resist capture and torture. He shuddered to think what the same treatment would do to a child.

 

Further, Lucrecia hadn't even tried to protect her son. Like the hideous coward she was, she had left him in Hojo's care as she fled. Could Vincent do the same and leave Sephiroth to his fate? Or would he take a hand in the end of the world and fight for the boy as he should have done all those years ago?

 

Would Sephiroth have been saved if Vincent had not failed then?

 

The question was haunting.

 

Perhaps if someone had saved him all those years ago, they wouldn't have had to fight him today. Sephiroth might have grown up to be a normal man; he might have learned to love. The world would have been a happier place if Vincent had managed to save the child.

 

It was another shame, blight on his soul, equally strong as the one he felt for Lucrecia. However, this time, he felt he could do something about it. It wasn't too late. Well, perhaps too late for Sephiroth's sanity and the chance at a normal life.

 

Still, it wasn't too late to save his soul, to save him from himself.

 

Maybe, in some small way, Vincent could provide the boy a measure of peace. He deserved that bit of kindness from someone who actually cared about his wellbeing.

 

A wind stirred, ruffling his hair, and Vincent opened his eyes, appreciating the still solitude of his location. It was the perfect place to think, and since he was lying on his back, his eyes instantly turned to the darkened sky above him. Meteor was a constant and threatening red presence off to the side, but more importantly, he could see the crescent shape of the moon opposite of it.

 

It was strange. One represented destruction, the other a vague hope and a dream. Yet, they shared the same sky.

 

It wasn't his dream by any means, but the sight of the moon brought to mind his lover, Cid. And that thought brought a smile to his face, one that was tainted a bit by his melancholy. Highwind was a man Vincent thought he could find himself happy with. There was something about the arrogant, uncouth and occasionally sweet and sensitive Cid that made the ex-Turk warm inside. Cid made him finally feel at peace. He felt with the blond that he could be himself and that in the pilot's blue gaze there was something to hope for.

 

Now that everyone he had ever loved from his past was either dead or gone, he might be able to move on into the future.

 

--If you even have a future,-- a voice rumbled on the edge of his mind accompanied by a mocking snort.

 

He recognized the demon immediately since Chaos never could resist an opportunity to needle him. The beast took great delight in sending him the most vicious and bloodthirsty images.

 

Crimson eyes narrowed as Vincent jerked to a sitting position. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He seethed, hand unconsciously curling into a fist at his side.

 

--Sephiroth is strong,-- Galian Beast growled, joining the conversation. --You think you can actually beat him?--

 

A sardonic chuckle flitted on the corner of his brain, bringing along with it the terrible scent of fresh-spilled blood. --And it's not long before I am able to emerge. I might kill you.-- Chaos' mocking voice only incensed him further.

The gunman pursed his lips. “I will never call for you.”

 

Chaos was not amused. --I do not need to wait for your summons. I will come on my own, and you will see what it means to be a demon, rather than this pathetic human existence you cling to so strongly.--

 

Inwardly, Vincent knew that Chaos was right. As more and more time went by, his link to his final and most powerful demon grew stronger. It was becoming more difficult to block out Chaos' attempts to break free, as evidenced by what had happened after seeing Lucrecia the first time.

 

And the final demon was desperate to be free.

 

“I would die before I let you free,” Vincent snarled in return.

 

--You won't have the opportunity,-- Galian Beast taunted, high-pitched voice enough to make his skin crawl.

 

Chaos' deep rumbling tone slithered across his brain. --The first thing I plan to do is lop off that foolish human's head. Just to see the look on your face when his blood is on your hands. I can guarantee that there will be no further restraint from you.--

 

Vincent's face went livid, managing to both pale and send a flush of red anger at the same time. He ultimately wished that he had something in front of him to shoot.

 

“I will not let you lay a hand on him.”

 

--You couldn't stop him.-- Galian smirked. --And you know it.--

 

“Silence!” the gunman ordered.

 

They chuckled, dark laughter of menace and glee, before falling silent, considering their part in taunting him done for the night. Both demons were very well aware that their words would remain, however, constantly ringing through Vincent's mind.

 

The option to just turn around and leave the world to its business was no longer available to him, if he was even going to consider it in the first place. He couldn't turn his back on Sephiroth, and he couldn't turn his back on Cid and the others. They had all grudgingly become ensnared in his heart.

 

And if Chaos emerged, he knew the first deaths on the demon's hands would be his friends. It would please the beast to no end to be the one to take their lives.

 

Perhaps Cloud could defeat Chaos. Nanaki most likely. But the others?

 

It might as well be their death warrant.

 

He owed it to Sephiroth to be the one to end it. As someone who had failed to protect the boy, it was his duty to do so. The former General was owed that final courtesy, to lose his life at the hands of someone who actually cared about his fate and his soul.

 

He had to be there to protect Cid as well. He knew the pilot loved him, could see it shining in sky blue eyes. In his heart, he knew he returned the sentiment, and he refused to let another person die because of his inability to protect them. He was not going to make that mistake again. He would defend Cid with his life, if need be. As it were, he might as well have been living on borrowed time.

 

Chaos was growing stronger, and he didn't know if he could stop the demon in the rapidly approaching future.

 

The world was teetering on a brink, and it was up to AVALANCHE to stop it. It was up to Vincent to save Sephiroth, and he was determined to protect his lover.

 

After all, Aeris' sacrifice had been returned to them. Someone had to take her place.

 

 

* * *

 

[1] Going with fan speculation on my part. I don't really know who was the Turk Commander before Veld, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't Vincent. I didn't find this out until after the fic had been written, and I'm not changing it.