Vincent Comes Home

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Next bit.


When they were approaching the house, Cid slowed the Vespa in a slide but did so in a manner that they did not flip over or fall. (Cid, after all, took great pride in being able to handle most any form of transportation perfectly.) Cid jumped off the bike, leaving Zet and the Vespa behind and bolted into the house.

Zet scrambled for the handlebars to steady the Vespa and climbed off. Members of the Highwind and Northwater were standing outside. Zet put the kickstand down and went to them. “What’s going on?”

A man gave her a sad sort of look. “Strife has these….shit, well, hell—what the hell are they?”

“Spasms?” offered one.

“Fits,” said another.

“Allergic reactions,” scoffed a third, who was promptly whapped over the head by his fellow.

The first man, a member of Cid’s crew named O’Malley, shrugged. “Well, hell, whatever they are—boy goes nuts when he has ‘em. He’ll pass out—but then he goes fuckin’ crazy. Only Cid and Tifa can handle ‘im. Kid hasn’t had one in so long, figured it’d be fine for today.” He looked back at the house; a scream erupted from one of the top-floor windows. “Guess we were wrong. We sent a couple guys up there to help Tifa, few of your guys went up too—but it won’t matter. They end up leavin’ in the end.”

“Why?”

“Because of the boy. These fits…’e loses ‘imself. He’s liable to kill one of ‘em.”

“So a group of four or five guys can go up there and get tossed—but Cid and Tifa won’t be?”

“Hey,” said O’Malley, smiling and opening his arms. “Think of who you’re dealing with. They beat Sephiroth, remember? Miss Lockhart used to handle him on her own but it’s hard—even for a martial artist like herself. Having the Captain around really helps her out. ‘Course, she’d break both my legs if she thought I was callin’ her weak. And don’t get me wrong—she’s defin’t’ly not. But the boy isn’t weak either. He’s damn strong.”

Zet nodded thoughtfully. She went back to the bike and pushed it back to the shed then started back towards the Northwater.

There was another yell. Zet paused before re-entering, chewing the inside of her cheek, she looked back at the windows. A few men emerged from the house—one sporting a bloody nose.

“Cap’n’s up there now. They’ll take care o’ him,” the bloodied man said, casually wiping goo from his face. Someone gave him a napkin.

“All righ’, all righ’,” said a woman from Northwater, named Kada. “Let’s get back on the ships. We’ve all go’ work t’do. And the Captains’ll be fumin’ if they come back and find us all out ‘ere gawkin’.”

A few murmurs and nods and the crews were heading back. Zet hopped off the ramp to let her fellow crewmembers onboard, still staring upwards.

There was a gruff shout…

Zet narrowed her eyes, glaring at the ground. What did she give a shit for? Well. She didn’t. Of course she didn’t. She was just curious was all. What was going on up there? What happened to that guy? Captain Jeremiah will want to know the full extent of what’s going on, of course. So…so she should take a look or something. At least so she could report. She didn’t care about Cloud, Captain Cid, or Tifa. None of ‘em. She had no reason to. Especially Cid. He had suggested she be demoted after all. (Forcing away the thought, of course, that she had soundly deserved it and had even requested it.) So, with this rational, she pulled her head up high and went into the house.

The bottom floor was empty and somehow…desolate.

She heard a thump from upstairs. Another yell. Zet swallowed, a wave of unease suddenly shifting over her. She cautiously put her hand on the railing and as silently as she could manage, put her feet on the steps. Up she crept, holding her breath, listening to the sounds of the struggle upstairs.

She made it to the landing. She walked slowly, quietly down the hall, creeping on the wood until she came to the open door. She put herself as much out of sight as possible and looked in. Her mouth came open a tiny bit and her shoulders slumped from their tension.

Cid’s goggles had been torn off and were lying in two pieces on the floor. His jacket was ripped and blood was making a slow trail down the side of his face. He swept it out of his left eye with his shoulder, succeeding only in smearing it across his temple. He was on his knees, behind Cloud on the bed. He had one arm laced around Cloud’s, restraining him, his other arm was occupied with Cloud’s throat, forcing his head back.

Which was considerable effort. Cloud was fighting Cid and Tifa monstrously. He could not speak anymore because of Cid’s arm at his throat but his eyes were wide, angry, and half-crazed. There was sweat beaded all over him. One of his eyes was blackened. He strained taunt, trim muscle against Cid’s brute strength and Tifa’s wiry frame. His breathing was a short, frantic pant. Zet was unsure if Cloud was really seeing anything at all—or, perhaps, just the ghosts that haunted him.

“Okay, Tifa—you got ‘is legs? Good. Do it.”

Tifa was practically sitting on Cloud’s lap. Her hair was mussed and there was a bruise purpling the side of her face. A trunk and its contents were smashed open on the floor. Cloud’s sword was buried in the wall.

Tifa sat up, her weight keeping Cloud from kicking at her. She pulled open a smallish, green bottle and poured a sour-looking green liquid into a spoon. She crouched over him, no doubt the extra weight straining on Cid, but he held firm. She attempted to force his mouth open with her fingers. He bit her.

“Goddammit!” And Tifa struck him, hard, across the face.

Zet blinked, but, as she barely knew Tifa, couldn’t find herself to be very surprised. But Cid was. And so was Cloud. They both stared at her, mouths slack. Tifa took the opportunity to force the liquid down his throat.

Cloud choked, struggling again. “Tifa!”

Cid pulled back, keeping Cloud from speaking, while he stared at the martial artist.

A moment later and Cloud went slack, slumping in Cid’s arms. The pilot dropped him on the bed and pushed himself from it. He stared at Tifa. She swallowed hard and glanced up. Looking horrified with herself she stood, uselessly, for a moment. Then, with a wordless cry, she threw the bottle of liquid away and fled the room. She either didn’t see Zet or ignored her. Zet guessed the latter.

But instead of following, Zet looked back in the room.

Cid was staring down at Cloud, looking uneasy and angry. He grabbed the younger man and threw him higher up upon the bed. Cid tore the sword from the wall, swore at the splinters of wood that came with it, and tossed it down. He went to the smashed chest and looked towards the door. He did a double take when he saw her. Then he looked down, straightened up and glared at her.

“You gonna help me or are you gonna fuckin’ stand there?”

Zet swallowed and walked into the room. Cid’s angry, anxious presence filled the walls with a hopeless feeling. Zet bent and helped him pick up the pieces of the trunk and the photographs and blankets it had held. Wordlessly, she put the blankets by the door and the photographs on the set of drawers, while Cid deposited the trunk into a pile to get rid of later.

Zet turned and found him glaring at her. She pulled herself up and straightened. She swallowed. The silence was loud.

“What were you doin’ out there?”

Zet’s mouth went dry. “I was…,” she took a breath to steady herself. “I was—“

“Eavesdropping?” he finished curtly.

“No,” she snapped, glaring back at him now, while her stomach considered mutiny. “I was…wondering what was going on…”

“Ah. Are you satisfied then? You feel better now?” He gestured around the room. “This satisfy your curiosity, girl?”

Stung by that, she said, “I was just wondering what was going on. It’s not like I’m going to exploit him.”

“You expect me to believe that you give a shit?”

She glared to the side and tried to calm down. Then she met his heated stare. “Why are you so pissed at me? I didn't make him that way.”

He blinked, opened his mouth to retort…but nothing came out. Looking angrier than ever, he growled, “Get out. Just get out.”

“Fine,” she muttered and she turned on her heel and left the room. She heard the door slam behind her.

When she arrived downstairs, a red-haired man, a tiny brunette and a tall man in black slacks were in the living room with Tifa. All three of them looked up when she entered the room.

She blinked when Vincent turned about—she hadn’t recognized him in those clothes.

“Where’s the Captain?” asked Reno casually, opting to not show his discomfort in the situation.

“Upstairs,” she muttered.

She could feel that she wasn’t needed here, nor wanted. She knew little of them. It was none of her business.

“Did, uh…did Jeremiah come back?”

“He’s on the Northwater,” murmured Vincent.

It was said with finality. That was her dismissal. Choosing not to look at any of them, Zet went outside.

Tifa sat with her face in her hands, completely ignoring her friends. She’d hit Cloud. She’d struck him, hard—taking out her frustration on him. On something he couldn’t even control. It was bad enough that every time this happened they had to give him that medicine. It didn’t do anything except calm him down and knock him out. They had been to doctors in Midgar and no one seemed able to do anything for him. And then, after a time, Cloud refused to go any longer. His frustration and pride getting the better of him and refusing to let himself be humiliated and a source of worry for Tifa and, later, Cid.

Which, of course, only increased their worry for him.

But things had seemed better. He hadn’t had such a fit in months. What brought these on?

The rest of them had been with Cloud through the whole journey and now they were dealing with the trauma. They had healed or were healing. Cloud seemed to have not even started. They had all done everything together…so….what had happened?

Tifa blinked. Well. No. Of course they hadn’t done everything together. At the very end, only Cloud had been the one to kill Sephiroth. The final one-on-one that the others could only hear but barely see. It had been a terrifying moment for them.

Maybe something happened in the Crater…

Tifa latched onto this. Something there? Of course there was something there! There must be something there! Something had happened in the Crater! If they could…go back to the Crater they could fix this! Of course! The Crater!

Yes...the Crater, something seemed to whisper in her.

Tifa whipped her head up and jumped to her feet. “We need to go!”

Vincent furrowed his eyebrows. “Tifa—“

“We need to go! If we can get to the Crater we can fix this! We can do it!” And with that, she took off for the stairs.

Yuffie cocked an eyebrow. “What was that about? What the hell is she talking about?”

Reno slumped into an armchair. “She feels guilty maybe? That she can’t help Cloud.” He paused. “Well, what does she expect, the guy’s a nutcase.”

“He is not a nutcase,” Vincent snapped, more forcefully than he intended.

“Oh,” said Reno, a look of great surprise on his face. “Than what is he? Perfectly normal, huh? Just got a headache, I suppose, right?”

“Shut up, Reno,” Yuffie growled, clenching her fists.

Reno glared off to the side. “Fine, whatever. Live in denial if you want to.” He stood. “M’going outside.”

Vincent and Yuffie looked at each other.

“Why does she wanna go to the Crater? Seems like that’d be the last place she’d want to go,” Yuffie puzzled aloud, looking up the staircase.

Vincent shrugged, staring up the stairs into a part of Tifa’s life that he knew nothing about. It was hard to believe that just this morning, he had gone up those stairs thinking about how odd he felt in yellow and now going up those stairs would be like entering the realm of a young, dead man.


Cid clenched his shorn goggles by the lenses, sitting in the hallway outside Cloud’s door, and tried to get a hold of himself. This couldn’t go on much longer. Tifa was at her wit’s end. He’d never expected her to hit the boy. That came completely out of left-field. Tifa would never hit Cloud. Yet…she had. And looked horrified with herself at doing so.

“Fuck. Why today…?” He rubbed his temples, sighing and took out a cigarette. He was about to light it when Tifa ran around up the stairs. He looked up at her arrival, his expression quickly turning bewildered as she threw herself down next to him and grabbed his shoulders.

“We have to go the Crater!”

He stared at her. “What?”

“Something must have happened in the Crater with Sephiroth when Cloud fought him alone! If we go there, we can find out what happened!” She gazed imploringly at him, begging silently.

“Tifa,” Cid started slowly. “There’s nothing to be—“

“Please, Cid! Please? We don’t have to go alone. We can take everyone. I’ll call Barret and Nanaki and even Cait Sith if we can find him!”

“Tifa, we won’t be able to get Cait Sith in any reasonable amount of time—“

“Then Nanaki and Barret will come!”

“I don’t have a large enough crew to man the Highwind for any sort of adventure, Tifa!”

“Then ask Captain Jeremiah to fly with us! The man worships you, I’m sure he’d be thrilled to be included!”

Cid took a deep breath. He got on his knees and, looking down at Tifa, put his hands on her shoulders. “Tifa, I understand you’re upset but—“

“Would you listen?! Please!” She slapped his hands away. “We have to do this! Please, Cid!”

Cid sat back a bit and crossed his arms. “What will you do if I refuse?”

Her eyes glittered with rage. “Then I’ll ask Jeremiah to take us. Just me and Cloud. And I’ll find out myself.”

Cid scowled. “Somehow, I knew you’d say that.” He snorted. “Fine. Fine. Go into Midgar and get some supplies, take Manigan with you. I’ll round up the crew.”

“Thank you, Cid,” she said, breathlessly and took off for the stairs. He heard her calling to Yuffie and Vincent to help her and then there was silence.

Cid sat back on the floor. He closed his eyes for a moment. All right. Fine. The decision was made. Fine. Beautiful. Fucking fine.

He got up, thumped down the stairs and went outside.

Manigan, an officer on the Highwind, stood with Vincent and helped him prepare Cloud’s motorcycle. Once finished, Vincent climbed on and started it, cutting a dashing figure in his suit jacket, thick, leather boots and black hair. Tifa climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Cid smiled, a little sadly, at how Vincent’s face changed from composed to surprised. He looked down at the arms around him and then immediately stilled himself.

Cid had to admire that about the man. Vincent was a guy who, it didn’t matter what the fuck happened, he’d be there. Steady as a fucking rock. Constant, like the planets. He accepted the things that happened in his life—may be surprised for a few minutes—but he’d compose himself and go on. Made him seem cold sometimes but Cid thought the man was damn lucky, either way.

Yuffie sprinted past him and grabbed the trashed up, yellow Vespa. She started it and scooted around beside Vincent. “Didn’t know you could ride a motorcycle, Vincent. It’s a good look for you.”

Vincent shrugged awkwardly. “Came with Turk training.”

“Was that a joke, Vincent?!” Yuffie laughed. She gestured to Manigan. “You comin’ or not?”

Manigan looked very much as if he wished he were not. “Are you driving?”

“Yeah,” she snapped. “Don’t worry, I’ve swiped these things before. They’re easy to run. Come on. Get on.”

He hesitated, squared his shoudlers and climbed on. They sped away.


Cid started to turn towards the Highwind and found Reno right in his face. “What th’ fuck you want?”

Reno scowled.

Cid cocked an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

Reno glared at him. “Yuffie got mad at me for calling Cloud a nutcase.”

Cid shrugged, pushing Reno away without actually touching him, and continued walking so Reno had to walk with him. “Boy is a fucking nutcase and she knows it.”

Reno’s mouth fell open. “Well how come you can fucking say it and I can’t?”

Cid snorted. “Only we can call him a nutcase, Reno. No one else is allowed.”

Reno followed him onto the Highwind. “Is this like that supposed brother-sister bullshit? Where, you hate your siblings most of the time but only you’re allowed to make fun of them and if anyone else does you kick their ass?”

Cid grimaced. “Somethin’ like that.” Cid paused before entering the engine room. Reno watched him take a deep breath.

Reno smiled, a little smug. He’d never thought of Captain Cid as having to prepare himself before he gave out orders. But he kept quiet.

Cid opened his eyes, turned a quick glare at him and said, “You need somethin’ to do? Or you content to follow me?”

“’Til the end of my days.”

Cid scowled and threw the door open. Instantly, men and woman came to attention. “I need this ship ready to in thirty minutes,” he roared. “I’ll be asking Captain Jeremiah to join us! We’re going on a trip!”

O’Malley stepped forward. “Where to, Cap’n?”

“The Crater.”

And just as instantly, several faces blanched and paled. Stiffly held shoulders slackened, eyes went wide but O’Malley, to his credit, did not even flinch. “Yes, sir!” He turned on his heel and started roaring orders.

Cid slammed the door and started away. Reno followed him. Cid grimaced. “Can you go do somethin’?”

Reno smirked. “Don’t want me to see you ask Jeremiah for help?”

Stung, Cid spun around. “Fuck you, boy. Get outta my sight. Go do somethin’ useful—if that’s even possible for you.”

Cackling, Reno sauntered away. Cid stomped off the Highwind and went to the Northwater. He knew the layout of his own ship like the back of his hand, using that, he guessed where the bridge would be.

When he arrived there, after taking a wrong turn and backtracking, he found Jeremiah and Zet speaking quietly together, looking out into the wasteland.

They saw his reflection in the window and turned as one to look at him.

“I need to talk to you.” He directed this at Jeremiah. Zet set her chin and sat up straighter. Jeremiah sat up too, looking tired and sad for some reason. Cid ignored this. He looked at Zet. “I suppose you’re going to stay?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Cid went to them, but stayed standing. “I need your help.” And he laid out the story and their need to get to the Crater.

“S’yew need our crew?” said Jeremiah, absently picking at his shirtsleeve, glancing up and down at Cid occasionally.

Cid crossed his arms and nodded. He didn’t look at Zet, who he was sure was glaring at him. Doesn’t matter…damn girl…

Jeremiah looked at Zet, Cid followed the gaze. Zet looked back at Jeremiah. Her expression softened as he looked imploringly for her opinion. She looked to the side. “If you want to go, you know I’ll back you, Captain.”

Jeremiah was solemn. “Yeh sa’ th’boy. I’m inter’sted in yer thoughts.”

Zet kept her gaze intently focused on Jeremiah, determined not to look at Captain Cid. “S’not my decision to make, Captain. The boy needs help, yeah. But it’s your crew. Not mine.”

Jeremiah broke their eye contact and stood up. He put his hand out to Cid. “I’d b’honored to help, Captain.”

Outwardly, Cid nodded, never changing his expression and shook hands with Jeremiah. Inwardly, he sighed with relief. That girl could have influenced him to not go. Little btich.

“I ‘ssume we’ll b’reportin’ to yew then?” Jeremiah asked, looking at Cid thoughtfully.

Zet tensed up, ready to fight that.

“No. There’s no need. Your crew will be under my command, as it’s my ship. But there’s no reason either of you should report to me.”

Jeremiah nodded at that, looked away and then back. “Then I’ll sen’ ‘em o’er. When d’we leave?”

“Half-hour, forty-five minutes. Depends when Tifa and the others get back.”

He nodded absently. “Zet, go with Cap’n Cid an’ see abou’ ‘rrangements for our crew on th’ Highwind. I’ll order ours over t’help prep th’ ship.”

Cid just barely caught the end of the puzzled look Zet gave Jeremiah, but then she stood up and looked at Cid to lead away.

He turned away from her gruffly and walked off. She followed, eventually coming in step beside him. There was silence for a moment.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Zet looked at Cid. “What d’you mean?”

Cid scowled. “Doesn’t seem ‘is usual self.”

And, for some reason, Zet smiled. “He’s all right. He just gets depressed sometimes.”

Cid felt puzzlement battling for superiority over aloofness. “Why’s that? He seems like a pretty laid back guy.”

Zet snickered. “He’s in love. It depresses him.”

Cid stopped cold in the hallway. He looked at her. “What?”

“Not with anyone here,” Zet put in quickly. “With someone back in the north. Lady named Elmyra, she moved there from Midgar a couple years ago. I keep telling him to just tell her, but he won’t. He gets really edgy with that sort of stuff. It’s sad, but it’s funny. Because I thought that at that point in your life, shit like that didn’t matter anymore.”

Cid snorted and started to walk again. Dumb kid… And immediately stopped himself from thinking that. She was young. What the hell did she know? “How old is Jeremiah?”

“He’s…fifty-two, I think.”

Cid looked at her but kept walking. “Really? Damn. He make me feel young.”

Zet smiled.

They reached the Highwind and Captain Cid returned, roaring orders and swearing a lot. The Northwater’s crew came to join them in the next few minutes. Within a half-hour, the roar of Cloud’s motorcycle told them Vincent and Tifa had returned.

"Barret's on his way!" someone called.

They were nearly ready to leave.