Vincent Comes Home

Yay, little bit three...


Vincent and Jeremiah saw it at the same time.

Vincent knew it immediately. He had spent days in that ship. He’d know it anywhere. From the brushed steel to that…painting on the side that Tifa had always thought was tacky but had never said anything about. He could practically feel the cold metallic taste in his mouth. The slick grease and oil from the engines and how mad Cid would get if there was a leak and someone tracked it all over the ship.

“Tha’s….the Highwind.”

Vincent looked at the man. Jeremiah seemed, for once, to be entirely focused on what was before him.

“Land next to it.”

Jeremiah seemed to ignore him and then distractedly tried to turn his face while keeping his eyes on the Highwind. “B-but…tha’s….tha’s the Highwind.”

Vincent nodded. “Yes.”

“Tha' means tha' Captain Cid Highwind…yeh know him? Is tha' really 'is airship?”

Zet scowled from the helm. “Of course he knows Cid Highwind, Jeremy! He’s Vincent Valentine!”

Jeremiah looked at her blankly. "Naw, I already asked 'im about George. 'E says 'e don' know 'im!"

She sighed and gave him an exasperated look. “No, no, Jeremy. You remember—evil Sephiroth. Meteor of Doom. Save the world. That Vincent Valentine. Remember?”

He looked back at Vincent with something akin to awe on his face. “Well. Well, I’ll be damned. Mus' 'ave been a nice ride.”

Vincent wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. “Sephiroth?”

“Naw, naw,” said Jeremiah, removing his glove and waving it around while he removed the other. “Ridin' in th' Highwind. Everyone knows tha' airship.”

“Well, it is famous,” Zet said, a little exasperated.

“But 'fore that even,” said the captain, now waving both gloves. “We all knew Cid was gonna be the best. 'E was going in to space! Him an' his ship—be damned. Everyone knew them.” The captain held his gloves over his heart. “I wonder what he’s doin’ in Midgar. He shoul' be in Rocket Town.”

Vincent, who was having similar thoughts, blinked them away. “Just land the ship, come meet him if you like.” And he stalked away.

Jeremiah watched him, awe etched out across his rough face, then a delighted grin brightened him. He turned to Zet. “Put us down nex' to th' Highwind, lovey! We’re gonna meet Captain Cid! Tell the crew to look smart! Clean the oil off the floor! Scrub the windows! Wash your hair! Change your clothes! Look like a crew, dammit! Git the cushions from the—“

Zet was shaking her head, rolling her eyes. She set down next to the Highwind cast out orders to the crew while her captain ran back to his quarters to change his socks. Then she went out and stood next to Vincent. He noticed her, but said nothing, waiting for the doors to open.

When they did—it was like stepping into the past.

His broad boots thumped down on the wasted dirt, raising a cloud of dust as Zet followed behind him. A thin layer of frost scraped the ground, casting diamonds and glitters over the otherwise miserable land. And there was Cid, stomping out to see who had landed next to the Highwind. He watched the airship shudder to a still.

Then he saw Vincent.

At the same time, a woman came out of the house behind him. Cid’s rough face lapsed into a grin.

“I’ll be damned! Shit, look who it is!” He jogged towards them, hair blowing everywhere. He snapped a cigarette out of his mouth and threw it to the ground. Then he grabbed Vincent roughly by his whole arm. He shook it gruffly. “Be fucked, Vincent! Son of a bitch! How are ya?”

His rough, scrubby look hadn’t changed at all. His clothes were still simple and covered in oil and grease. There were a few more lines on his face and a nasty looking burn on his temple but other than that he was the same old Cid.

He glanced away from Vincent and took in the Northwater. “This yours? Damn, Vincent. That was quick. Missed command after all that time in your coffin? Trade it in for that, eh?”

Suddenly, Captain Jeremiah came blundering up, slamming into Zet and throwing her forward. She got up, ungracefully, tossing a few choice words under her breath. She grabbed her Captain and yanked him forward. He came up with a big grin on his face. “Hi!”

Cid looked at him. He pointed at him and then looked at Vincent.

Vincent glanced over. “This is Captain Jeremiah of the Northwater. He agreed to take me to Midgar. He seems to know you.”

“No shit?” said Cid, taking out another cigarette and lighting it. He talked around it to Jeremiah. “Cid Highwind. And this—“ and Cid was turning around, grabbing someone and pulling him or her forward, “is Tifa Lockhart.”

Jeremiah froze when he looked at Tifa until she stuck out her hand to shake his. Even then he blinked, looking disoriented until Zet elbowed him in the ribs.

Vincent also froze when he saw Tifa. She was still youthful, beautiful as ever. The scars and scrapes from past battles and magic laced up her arms, giving her the rough look and skin of a fighter. She was past wearing that little shirt and skirt. Now her clothing seemed more appropriate. Longer. Covered more. She looked the part of a mature young woman instead of the nearly grown girl he had known.

But then Tifa was eagerly looking at Vincent, throwing herself at him. Startled, he caught her in his arms as she hugged him.

“Oh, Vincent, we’ve missed you! No one knew where you were, so we couldn’t contact you! So much has happened since…since we all separated! But not even Yuffie could find you! Cloud was just saying to me yesterday how nice it would be if we could see you again! I can hardly wait for him to get home now!” She had latched herself onto Vincent’s arm and turned to Cid. “When do you think he’ll be back?”

Cid shrugged. “Shit if I know. Boy’s got a cell phone. Call ‘im.”

“He’s out on delivery.”

“Fuck that. Vincent’s here. You tell Spike to get 'is ass back here!"

Tifa rolled her eyes at Cid. “Come on, Vincent. Come inside. You guys can come too,” she said to Zet. Then she was practically dragging Vincent to the house and inside. Without asking any questions, she grabbed a cell phone and—Vincent assumed—called Cloud.

The man in red stood in the living room and looked about. There were a few photos on a mantle above a stone fireplace.

The Highwind, in one.

Cid, Cloud, Barret, Marlene, and Tifa.

One of Tifa and Cloud standing side-by-side in fancy clothes.

And then one of Tifa and Cid, who was lighting a cigarette and Tifa appeared to be laughing at him.

Tifa was coming out of the other room. She was smiling as she approached him. It faded into something sadder when she glimpsed the photographs. “We tried to find you….but…no one knew where you were. We wanted you to be here, Vincent. We've missed you.”

Vincent looked down, affirming this. He had been gone. There was no blame in her voice but something about her sincerity made him feel guilty all the same.

He looked back up at the pictures. “You and Cloud then…?”

Tifa shook her head, seeming to know his question before he himself had finished forming it, as though she'd heard it often. “No. He seemed all right, at first. Like he was gonna be fine but not anymore. I think he’s too damaged to be with me.”

“Where is Cloud then?”

“He lives with us. Or well…at first it was Cloud and me. Then Cid moved in. The space program was dropped, you know? I don't think they'll ever get it off the ground again, if you'll excuse the pun. So Cid is here—he helps us with deliveries. The really big ones, obviously. The delivery business was Cloud’s idea.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “He’s been kind of weird since it ended. After Aeris died and Sephiroth was gone…he just…” she grasped for words to describe it. “He’s just been kind of weird. It’s hard to describe. I mean, before he was a loner and never did well with people. Now he just seems to live in his own world. I can’t bring him out of it. I think he feels lost.”

Vincent nodded at this information. It didn’t surprise him. Death would do that to you eventually. So would brutality and constant suffering and fighting. And God knew Cloud had seen plenty of that.

“Well, anyway,” Tifa said, quietly, at the dark turn of conversation. “He’ll be glad to see you. Would you like something to eat or drink?”

Vincent nodded.

This was different from the bars, the empty forests, the dark places. These people wanted him here. No one hid from him. Instead they offered him hospitality and warmth.

And then Tifa was offering him some chocolate chip cookies (!) and a mug of milk. He puzzled at the milk, he hadn’t imagined Tifa the Bartender giving him milk but he did not complain. He remembered meeting Cid the first time, after all, and how adamant the man was about hospitality being appreciated. No doubt Tifa had probably become the same way. She was the only person in the world (still alive) that could probably remove his claw with her bare hands. He did not feel up to testing whether or not she would.

She gave him a sly glance as he devoured the cookies, a little grin on her face.

Vincent paused and looked back. He gave a questioning sound.

Her grin widened. “Do you still like chocolate?”

He blinked at her. He hadn’t realized that they had actually noticed his liking for chocolate. Embarrassed slightly, as if loving chocolate was weird, he grumbled and gave a shrug, indicating that yes, indeed, he did.

She snickered at him.

The door opened and Cid entered, Zet and Jeremiah following. Northwater’s Captain was excited. He scurried up to Vincent. “Lookit this, Vincent! I tol’ ya Captain Cid was the best! He’s allowed m'crew to ship with 'is crew for the time we’re 'ere! Actually, he really only 'as a skeleton crew since he moved in with the lady there. Oh, goodness!” He slapped his hand to his forehead. “I didn’t introduce you! Good Go'! 'ave you met? Vincent, this is Cid Highwind. Mister Captain Cid Highwind, this is Vincent Valentine.”

Zet closed her eyes and sighed.

Cid stared at the man—somewhere between bewildered and amused.

Vincent heaved himself to his feet, awkwardly letting go of his mug of milk and his last cookie, and formally shook Cid’s hand as if, this indeed, was there first meeting.

“Goddamn. Watch that fucking claw, Dracula.” Cid grinned at him. “You poke me again an' I’ll 'ave to kill ya.”

“I invite you to try.”

Cid lifted his eyebrows, a grin stretched lazily across his scrubby face. “Would ya now?" He rubbed his chin. "Bullshit.”

“Yes. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of Tifa.”

Cid gave a hearty laugh and slapped Vincent’s shoulder. “God damn it’s good to see you. Maybe we’ll have a good old-fashioned duel while you’re here. For old times sake. I bet I could take you.”

Vincent couldn’t help but give a small smile. “We shall see. I still have a few tricks.”

“I s’pose you do. But all I gotta do is go get a virgin from Midgar and hold her in front of you.”

"Good luck," Tifa snorted.

Vincent scowled at him. He was used to that joke of course. Because technically he should have been dead and all and he had been sleeping in coffin for thirty years and he hadn’t aged while he was in it but that joke in particular was very old. And, in Vincent’s opinion, not very funny. He suddenly considered Tifa's pun about never getting the space program off the ground kind of amusing.

And then the door opened again.

“I’m back,” came a husky voice from the next room. There was a clunk, like something heavy had been plopped down. “I’m sorry I didn’t get your message, Tifa. There’s some strange airship outside,” the voice called further. “Does Cid know?”

Tifa could hardly contain her excitement. “Yeah, he does. Come and look what it brought us!”

Physically, Cloud didn’t seem to have changed at all. He still stood tall with the natural grace of a fighter. The gait of an excellent swordsman. He was obviously still keeping up his skills. His hair was the same, wild all over. It was his eyes that had changed. Vincent remembered them. The Mako-infected, blue-green pieces of flint. They had been hard before. Now, they were just tired-looking, as if whatever chore Cloud had performed had been exhausting. They were red-rimmed: Cloud looked sick. The ever-solemn mask looking more pronounced than ever. He was almost haggard.

But when he saw Vincent, his eyes changed ever-so-slightly. They widened and there was an old glimmer in them. “Vincent,” was all he said and just stood and stared at him.

Tifa smiled and nudged him. “Remember how you were telling me just the other day how nice it would be to see Vincent again? To see everyone again?”

Cloud nodded, almost absently. But then a real smile came on his face and he was walking up to him. He clasped arms with Vincent and stepped back. “Where did you come from?”

"Well, I thin' that's a bit technical to get into in fron' of company," Cid said valiently, gesturing to Jeremiah and Zet. Tifa snorted with laughter, covering her mouth with her hand.

Vincent looked around at them all, choosing to ignore the bait that Cid dangled in front of him. “The north. East from Icicle Inn. I decided I would come to see all of you if possible. Jeremiah brought me on his airship, the Northwater.”

“This is Nozetta. She’s my First. She likes to be called Zet.” Jeremiah looked at the ceiling. “Don’t suppose you have any tea, d’ya?”

Cid instantly swiveled his head around like an owl. “Of course we do. We have excellent tea. Let me get you some.”

Tifa snorted again, clamping the hand tighter over her mouth. An exhausted, tiny smile came over Cloud's face. Jeremiah noticed nothing, simply followed Cid into the kitchen. Vincent smiled. Zet looked at each of them. “What?”

Tifa grinned. “Long story, maybe if you guys end up staying for a few days I’ll tell you. I mean,” she said, turning to Vincent, “that surely, you’ll be staying for a while? But your pilot and his co-pilot are welcome to stay. There’s plenty of space in the Highwind for both crews.”

“Yes,” Cloud said, nodding with that firm edge to his chin that Vincent remembered. “You must stay with us. We’ll get ahold of Barret. And Nanaki….”

“And Yuffie and Cait Sith, Cloud,” said Tifa, smiling despite herself.

Cloud smiled, a little uncertain but then chuckled. “Yeah.” He looked out the window.

And then he was gone. Cloud suddenly disconnected from them. He was staring off into space, in his own little universe.

Tifa sighed, her smile falling. “Don’t forget your sword, Cloud. You left it in the living room.”

Cloud turned, seemingly on autopilot, retrieved what turned out to be his weaponry and materia and headed off to a staircase going to a second floor.

Tifa looked at Vincent, both apologetic and sad and led him and Zet into the dining room. “That’s what I mean. He’ll be with us for a little bit and then suddenly, he’ll be gone. Like the lights have gone out and he’s content in the dark.”

Suddenly Cid was popping his head around the corner, pointing a spoon at Tifa. “Hey, call Yuffie—tell her t'get over here.”

Tifa glared at him. “You may be captain of a ship but I own this house. No direct orders from you.”

Cid seemed not to know what to do with that for a moment. Then he grinned. “Damn woman. You could at least throw a ‘Captain’ there at the end. Make me feel better.”

“Preserve your pride?”

“Damn right,” Cid laughed with a firm nod. Then he was gone back into the kitchen.

Tifa grinned, shaking her head to herself but, nevertheless, picked up the phone and dialed a number.

“Hello? Goddammit, Reno! Get off!” Came the shout that even Cid heard, popping his head back around the corner.

“Reno,” Vincent hissed. He felt his entire body tense.

Cid caught his attention with a wave and an eye roll, shaking Vincent’s concern away.

“Yuffie?” Tifa asked, uncertain whether to be concerned or to smile.

“Yay, one second. Dammit! I’m warning you!”

“Does she need help?” Vincent asked. His claw twitched.

Tifa didn’t answer; evidently Yuffie must have come back. Tifa jumped into the story of Vincent’s arrival and demanded she come back to Midgar.

Tifa disconnected. “She’s coming.”

“What is Reno doing with her?”

Tifa sat down. “Oh, don’t worry about Reno. He and the Turks do their own things now. Reno has evidently taken to following Yuffie around.”

Cid came back then, Jeremiah tailing him with a steaming cup for himself and one for Zet. The captain sprawled into a chair and gestured for his fellow captain to do the same. “Dunno why,” he grumbled. “Little bitch’ll steal ‘im blind.”

Tifa laughed. “I don’t think Reno knows what he’s getting himself into.”

“Where are the other Turks?” Vincent found it hard to imagine Rude, Elena and Reno settling down. Having been a Turk himself once, he obviously knew the training and how hard it was to let it go.

Cid stretched. “Well, we dunno. Tseng lived, if you’ll believe that. Reno told us. Other than that, we haven’t heard shit from them. Turks disbanded after Sephiroth was gone. Hell, at least, tha’s what that cocky little shit told Yuffie.”

Tifa put a hand to the side of her mouth and said, quite audibly, with a laugh in her voice, “Cid doesn’t like Reno.”

“Damn right I don’t. He’s a cocky, womanizing, son-of-a-bitch.”

“Awww, worried about Yuffie?”

Cid glared at her. “Hell no. She can take care of herself. I don’ give a shit.”

Tifa grinned. “I think he hates Reno because Reno reminds him of himself when he was younger.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Cid growled, yanking out another cigarette. “I was never a womanizer.”

“But you were cocky and a son-of-a-bitch?”

Cid stopped fumbling with his pack of smokes and glared at her.

Tifa reached over the table and scratched Cid under the chin. He jerked away from her, genuinely startled, dropping his cigarettes and smacking his teacup with his elbow, spilling scalding liquid all over his pants. He yelped and threw the cup on the table. He gave Vincent a very long-suffering look. “See what I put up with?”

Tifa laughed at him. Vincent couldn’t help it now. He smiled a full smile.

Cid growled again. “Yeah, yeah—go ahead an' laugh. I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go change my clothes if tha’s okay with you.”

Jeremiah watched Cid leave. “Is he angry with you?”

“Oh, no,” said Tifa, waving her hand and smiling. “Cid’s always been bad-tempered. He’s fun to live with.”

“He must be nice to have around.”

Tifa, Vincent and Jeremiah all turned to look at Zet, who had said nothing this entire time. She backed off, scowling and said, “Just because he’s such a good mechanic and all. Sure the guy can fix just about anything.” Zet looked away, still scowling, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, that hasn’t changed at all. Anytime something happens, he’s gotta tinker and tweak and hit things with hammers and blow stuff up before he’s satisfied.”

“A true pilot!” Jeremiah said enthusiastically, eyes shining with all-things-airship-devotion and slapping the table with his hand. Zet rolled her eyes, smiling.

“So,” said Tifa, leaning forward on her hands, “tell me about yourselves. You’re Jeremiah, right? And you’re…”

“Zet,” said Zet, turning back to them.

By the time Cid had returned, Jeremiah was plowing through the story of how he had gained the Northwater. It appeared as though he had won it in a card game, although Vincent severely doubted this. The man probably didn’t know what color shoes he wore, let alone be a card shark. But, he supposed, you never knew. When others looked at him, they did not think chocoholic, yet, he was….

Cloud came downstairs some time later. He had showered and changed his clothes. He still looked exhausted.

“Yuffie is on her way, Cloud,” Tifa told him. He looked at her and then away towards the window, nodding, ever distracted.

“She’s bringing Reno with her.”

Cloud really did look over this time but he said nothing. He just stared at Tifa for a moment or two and then turned away, frowning.

Suddenly, Jeremiah was leaping up. “How about I make you all some supper? We could have—“

Zet straightened very noticably, suddenly clinking her teacup down on the table.

“Oh no. That’s all right,” Tifa cut in quickly. Perhaps taking Zet's behavior to indicate that the man would burn the house down. “I wouldn’t let a guest cook in my house.”

Cid, who was cleaning his fingernails with a small knife, whispered, “Shit, I’d’a let ‘im.”

But it seemed that only Vincent heard him.

“I’ll heat up some stew. We've got some left over. Cloud? Cid? I don’t suppose either of you would like to help me?”

“Well, when ya say it like that, Tif……,” Cid trailed off, grinning at his fingernails.

Cloud seemed to just hear her. He stood up. “I’ll help you, Tifa.”

She smiled for him. “Thank you, Cloud.”

“Suck up,” Cid mouthed to himself, grinning. “Don’t get too crazy in there,” he said aloud.

Tifa rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Cid!”

Cid chuckled and folded his knife away. He looked at the table at large. “I suppose we mus' do all our own entertainin' around here.” He grinned.

“Actually,” said Zet, standing up so suddenly she bumped the table. “We should really see how the crew is doing. Make sure everyone is situated. Right, Captain?”

Jeremiah seemed pleased by her using his title in front of Cid but he was hesitant to leave. “Surely they’ll be fine on their own? We were just 'avin' fun…”

Zet smiled in an exasperated sort of way. “Jeremy. Captain Highwind and Mister Valentine—“

“What’s with all this formal shit? Cid is fine. I’m sure Vincent would rather be called Vincent.”

Zet’s eyes moved around a bit and then came back up. “Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Sorry. Anyway, uh, we should give them a chance to catch up without being over their shoulders.”

“Catch up?” asked Jeremiah, looking puzzled. “Didn’t they jus' meet?”

Vincent heard Cid choke back a snort of amusement.

Zet sighed. She grabbed Jeremiah by the arm and hauled him out of the room. As soon as they were out of the house Cid burst into laughter. He threw his head back and roared with it, slapping the table and looking at his friend. “You gotta be kiddin’ me? What’s up with them? You found yerself a weird friend. That guy is a space cadet.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Where did you find them?”

“A town called North Valley. East of Icicle Inn. Captain Jeremiah was the only one around with an airship.”

“An' the girl?”

“He says she’s his First. I think she’s the real brain behind the operation. But he is a very good pilot. Not as good as you, of course,” Vincent allowed and Cid mimed looking flattered. “But he is very good.”

“He jus' doesn’t seem to grasp any fuckin' other things.”

Vincent shrugged. “They were there. I wanted to be here.”

Cid held up a hand. “I didn’t mean to say you’d made a bad choice. I like 'em both. He’s hilarious. She seems nervous for someone who 'andles everything besides the actual flying. She always that way?”

Vincent had to pause. “No. Around me she was quite distant and very serious. With her crew she is encouraging and firm. Perhaps she was intimidated by your fame and her captain’s seeming lack of notice of it?”

“Aw, I’d feel bad if she were embarrassed for the poor guy. He’s not that bad.” Cid stretched again, popping his elbow. “Fuckin' ow,” he muttered, shaking it. “Do wish people would get over us, though. Not to sound full of shit but it’s really obnoxious when I can’t walk into Midgar without bein' stared at. I’gets old. I hate bein' known everywhere. Although,” he said, smashing a cigarette into the ashtray on the table. “Mus’ be worse for you. We get decent business because everyone and their mother knows who we are. But you’ve always been a loner.”


Not true. Not true.

Vincent loosened his tie and gave a wolfish grin to the six others at the table.

“Oh shit, look at ‘im,” said Lia, nodding at Vincent and moving her cigarette to the other side of her mouth. “He’s loosening his tie. Time for Mister Valentine to get down to business.”

“That’s damn right,” Vincent said, smirking. He reached over the table and plucked the cigarette right from Lia’s mouth and stuck it in his own. He lifted his cards and gave them all a predatory look.

Lia laughed. “Bastard,” she said, pulling out another smoke.

“Nah, he can take your smokes, but he can’t hold his drinks. His mother would have to do that for him.”

“Fuck you, Tarshil. What if your fiancé heard you talk like that?” Vincent leaned on his elbow and pointed his finger severely at the man, laughing.

Tarshil straightened himself up and put on a face like a monkey. “Eddie Tarshil, you better not talk like that! When we have kids you’ll be a poor excuse of a father! Rah! Rah! Rah! On and on, you know.”

“Good God,” said Vincent, lifting an eyebrow and throwing down a card. “That woman wants kids?”

Tarshil looked glum about that. “Dunno why she does. I’m a Turk. Fuck, I’ll never be there. But she thinks it’s real noble what we do and all—“ And here the table shared a disbelieving laugh. The Turks did the dirty work. There was nothing noble about it. “—so she wants any kids we have to be Turks too. But no bad language, she says. She says, Well, little Reno or Rianna won’t be talking like that when I have them! I won’t tolerate it!. As if you can control it. Hell, terrible language is practically a pre-requisite to be being a Turk. That and porn.”

They roared with laughter again. Well, except for Bloody Luke. He never laughed.

Another Turk, a man named Klaus, took a shot of whiskey and rubbed his hand through messy dark hair. Suddenly, he was pointing a toothpick at Vincent. “Hey, Valentine. Isn’t today your birthday? October thirteenth, right?”

Vincent laughed, taking a swig of his drink, tasting the sweet vermouth, burbon whiskey and bitters, and almost shyly, looked at his cards, still grinning. “Yeah, so what?”

“Aww,” laughed another woman who was sitting next to him, Corrie. “How owd are yew todaw Vwincent?”

He chuckled, laying his cards on the table face-down and pulling Lia’s cigarette from his mouth, he said, as if this were most serious, “I am twenty-three today.”

“Awww,” Corrie cooed. “And you is so cute for a twenny-twee yeaw owd.” She grabbed his face and kissed him.

Vincent could taste the Scotch and Drambuie on her lips. When she pulled away, everyone was laughing again. And then had come the drunken, laughing presentation of Happy Birthday to Vincent…

He threw the cherry in his drink at Tarshil, who'd taken it upon himself to get on the table.

No. He hadn’t always been a loner.


But instead of saying it, of course, Vincent asked something else. “What is it like, living here with her and Cloud?”

Cid gave him a puzzled look, as if he had not expected that. He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “They’re a coupla damn kids,” he said gruffly, crossing his arms. “Naw, Tifa’s got her heart in the right place. She’s devoted to Spike. Dunno why she…well...I can see why, I guess…but…well, shit…Cloud may…”

“Cloud may never recover.”

Cid shifted and scratched his cheek uncomfortably. “No. He may not. An' if he doesn’t she’s gonna be left old and alone.”

“Like you.”

“You can talk,” Cid shot back. “An' I’m not that old. An' I’m not alone.”

“You were until you came here.”

Cid sat up suddenly and gave Vincent a rather icy look, cigarette clenched in his teeth. “What the hell you gettin’ at, exactly?”

Vincent looked away. He didn’t really know. There was Cid, all hunched over, tense, his eyes were showing the rolling anger underneath the surface. Why was he pestering him like this? He was supposed to be catching up. Not pointing out the uncomfortable. He hadn't been like this since his Turk days.

Vincent met his gaze. “I don’t know. I apologize.”

“Yeah, well,” Cid said, uneasy. “Sometimes we talk shit about each other, right? You’re just not used to being around people. Being around us. Cuz…we…fuck…” and Cid waved the thought away, unable to express what he meant.

That they knew him. Sure, Vincent was mysterious but he was a loyal and noble friend. His dark exterior intimidated others…but not his friends. They knew him. Or, at least, knew him better than anyone else in this time did. And so, Vincent didn’t have to explain things. He didn’t have to relive it all each time he looked at them. They knew what he was and they accepted it.

“But anyway,” Cid said, quietly, leaning back in his chair and rocking on the back legs. “We all git ‘long pretty well. Tifa can be a damn flirt sometimes. Have to remind myself that I’m a good ten years ahead of her.” He grinned wolfishly. “Oh, don’t look so weirded out, Vinnie. It’s nothin’ like that. She just gets lonely, I think. And bored. She quit with the bar and she’s always worrying about Cloud. Damn boy can’t focus for more than three seconds without his mind takin' a fucking vacation. Tifa just has…” And here Cid glared around, as if what he was saying were embarrassing. “She’s just real…” he waved his hands uselessly. “….real….”

“Affectionate,” finished Vincent, feeling rather uncomfortable himself.

“Thank you,” said Cid, throwing a hand in the air. “Yeah. That. She’s a warm girl. Cloud doesn’t deserve her lookin’ out for ‘im like she does. Unless he’s gonna pull his head out of ‘is ass. And there’s nothin’ I can do about it.”

“Why not?”

Cid gave him a look that clearly told Vincent that Cid thought he was being a moron. “What do you expect me to do? Cuddle ‘er?”

“Ah. You are afraid she would feel odd about it?”

“Fuck that, I’d feel weird. She’d probably break my jaw. I’ve always been a bachelor.”

“What happened to Shera?”

Cid shifted uneasily and scratched his stubbly chin. He glared at the table. “When I came back, things were all right. But then the space program was entirely shot down. Fuck, no one wanted anything to do with the government or space or anything. Not yet. She treated me differently after I got back. But hell, so did everyone else. I was hopin’ she wouldn’t. Lots o’ stupid fucking tension and dumb ass arguments. She wanted to take care of me and that’s not f'me.”

“She wanted you to feel something that wasn’t there?”

Cid paused and looked at Vincent, then he looked back at the table. “Shit if I know.”

“So you came here?” prompted Vincent, seeing that the turn of conversation was closing Cid off.

He nodded. “Yep, brought the ship. Gave the house an' shit over the Shera. Just let ‘er have it. I came here to live with Tifa and Cloud. Help out with their business.”

Further conversation was stalled by Tifa entering with a large pot. “Hey, soup’s on. Go get your friends, Vincent. Will their crew eat on the ship? I don’t have enough for two crews. Just for us. Cid’s crew usually eats on the ship so I wasn’t thinking about it.”

Cid, looking happy to be doing something, jumped up to take the pot from Tifa and helped her clear off the table. Vincent stood. “I will go inquire.”

Cloud followed him. Suddenly walking side by side out the door, Vincent glanced at him. Cloud looked over. “How have you been, Vincent?”

“Alone, for the most part,” he murmured. There was no point in lying to Cloud.

“You missed us, then?”

Vincent smiled to himself. That was true, wasn’t it? He could say whatever he wanted…but he had missed them. “Yes, Cloud. I realized that I did.”

Cloud nodded and said nothing else. Vincent glanced at him just once more before they reached the Highwind. The boy seemed strangely focused. But focused on what?

But then Vincent heard noises. Shouts, shrieks, a scream and something else. He met Cloud’s eyes.

They took off at a dead run.


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