This was really not necessary. Oh well. It's done now. Enjoy.

Standing in the house owned by Cid Highwind, Vincent wondered why the name "Highwind" sounded familiar.

Cid walked in at the end of Shera's story, and his eyes immediately fell on the tall man trying to sink into the wall. He recognized him, but it was a distant memory, something perhaps from his childhood-

"Hey! You look real familiar, y'know?"

Vincent raised an eyebrow and pointed as his chest.

"Yeah, you. Heh. But it I guess y'can't be who I'm thinkin' y'are. He'd be old."

But still, those eyes…how many men had red eyes?

"I see you've moved on to larger models."

"Yeah, I- hey, it is you! What the hell? Y'gave me a ride in ShinRa chopper, huh? An' these," he said, tugging at the goggles on his head.

"You remember?"

"Hell yeah! Hadn't been in th'air since m'dad died. An' I mean, I was three when 'e died, but I remembered it then, flyin' with 'im. Remember it a little now, too. Never did thank ya fer that, huh? Heh, y'let me drive. That was fun. Hang on, though. Y'should be old. Why the hell d'ya still look the same 'cept fer the hair?"

"It's a long story," Vincent said, and the memory came back to him full-force.

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He holds out the ring for her inspection, nervous and eager for her acceptance. He's nervous, but there is no doubt in his mind that she will be nothing short of overjoyed.

When her face falls, he tells himself desperately that it is only shock. It gets harder to believe when she begins to cry. Tears of joy, he tells himself, but they don't look like happy tears.

He never fully convinced himself that all would be fine when the shock wore off, but he'd tried. Now, as she runs from him in tears, leaving him alone and calling her name, any illusion to that effect is shattered.

He falls to his knees, not crying yet but on the brink. Why? Not two days ago, lying on his wrapped in his arms, she'd told him how much she loved him. Why? He'd run out shortly after to find a ring. He'd hired someone to help him find the perfect one. It had been expensive, but he knew the expression on her face would be priceless, and being able to have her forever would cancel out any cost.

And now- Why?

He stood at the edge of the river, looking out and wondering how long it would take him to drown. There was a small cabin a few yards away; it seemed to be a vacation house, and out of use at that. He didn't care much either way. Nothing mattered anymore. He'd taken a chopper out of town to give himself time to think and wonder what went wrong and most of all -Why?-

He was surprised when a young boy of perhaps five ran across the lawn from the cabin.

"Hey, mister! What're you doin'?"

He turned to face the boy and met smiling blue eyes. "What?"

"Mama said t'find out what the hell you're doin'. So what're ya doin'?"

Do you tell a young boy that you're about to throw yourself into the river over a woman who doesn't want you? Of course not. Besides, this particular boy probably would have come back with a response too bold for a boy his age.

"I'm just looking at the water."

"Weirdo. Anyhow, we're rentin' this cabin, an' mama says you either better come in fer dinner or get off the damn property, 'cause y're freakin' 'er out."

Vincent wanted to decline, but he decided that maybe dinner with a kind family was exactly what he needed.

"Well? You comin' or what?"

He nodded and began to follow the boy to the cabin.

"Hey, mister?"

"Yes?"

"You one o' them Turks?"

"Yes." He was surprised the boy could tell, or that he even knew what the Turks…well, he probably had no idea what they were, but he could recognize them. Were the suits that obvious?

And why am I still wearing it? I'm not on duty.

"Oh. That's cool, I guess. You fly the choppers?"

"I can, but I prefer not to."

"What? Why the hell dontcha like flyin' 'em?"

"I'm not very good. Actually, flying at all makes me a bit nauseous."

"What!? What the hell is wrong with you? Never been in a chopper, but flyin's the best thing ever! My dad used to take me sometimes," he said, and then fell silent.

Not one to pry, Vincent accepted the quiet and walked on.

"Oh, I see you accepted the offer. Shouldn't stand around starin', y'know. It gets people worried. Gets them thinkin' maybe somethin' ain't right."

"I apologize."

The boy piped up again. "Hey mister?"

"Yes?"

"You talk funny."

Vincent smiled. "So do you."

"Hey! That ain't nice."

"Hm."

"Well, Mr. …Mr. …?"

"Ah. I'm sorry. Vincent, ma'am."

"Just Vincent?"

"Yes."

"A Turk?"

"Yes."

The question was beginning to make him uncomfortable. He did not understand why they would know, or why they would be interested. But…the smell of good home cooking outweighed his concerns.

"Well, y're welcome here, that's fer sure. I hope y'like meatballs an' spaghetti?"

"Don't get too excited, though. They ain't done yet. The bisketti still hasta cook."

"Spaghetti, Cid, not bisketti. Why don't you show Vincent your model planes?"

"Yeah! Come on, mister!"

Vincent made a small "oof" noise as the boy grabbed his hand and began running down the hall. When the boy stopped, Vincent found himself looking at three shelves, each with at least two planes or airships or helicopters or, in one case, what seemed to be a motorcycle with wings. The flying bike was made from toothpicks.

"Y'like that one, huh? I made it all maself. Th'other ones came out of a kit."

"I thought you said you were renting the cabin."

"Yeah. But we been here a week an' it keeps rainin' an' shi- stuff. Mama says I shouldn't say that word. D'you say it?"

"Not usually."

"Oh. Well, whatever. But yeah, I made all these in a week. It's borin' here. You gonna come back?"

"Probably not. I need to get back to Nibelheim."

"Where's that?"

"Far away."

"Oh. Well shit, what're ya doin' all the way out here?"

"I needed some time away from the people there."

"Oh. Yeah, I get that. That's why we're here. Mama says we have nosy neighbors. Hey."

"Yes?"

"Y'know what happened t'ma dad?"

"No."

"Oh. I thought y'might. Mama says the Turks helped 'im out a lot."

"How can I know him if I don't know his name?"

"Oh. Right. Mike was 'is name."

"I don't know anyone named Mike. I'm sorry."

"S'okay. Prob'ly ain't yer fault. When ya leavin'?"

"Tomorrow."

"Oh." The boy's face fell. Vincent observed that he liked having someone new to talk to (and attempt to impress) and was sorry for the loss of a new "friend" so soon.

"Cid, right?"

"Yeah."

"Stay here for a moment, okay? I need to talk to your mother."

"Oh…kay. Y'do know somethin', dontcha? Ain't nice t'lie, y'know."

"I wasn't lying. It has nothing to do with your father. Stay here, all right?"

"Already said I would, dumbass. Heh, whoops. Sorry."

"It's okay." Vincent walked away from Cid, who now looked sullen and unreachable. The look did not suit him. If things went as planned, though, the smile would be back on his face soon enough.

"Ma'am?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, dear. Olivia."

The corners of Vincent's mouth twitched. "Just Olivia?"

She laughed. "Highwind. Anyway, what can I do for ya?"

"I was wondering if you would object to…I'm leaving tomorrow and I'll have to call in one of the ShinRa choppers to bring me back. I wonder if he would like a ride around the area before I go?"

"Oh, I'm sure he'd love that! You'll make a great father, and no doubt make some lucky young lady very happy."

"There's no one for me."

"What's that?"

"I"- he didn't want to talk about it. He'd come here to forget. But something about this woman made him want to tell her anyway. "I'm here because I proposed and she rejected me. I don't…I don't understand."

"Aw, honey, it makes perfect sense. She just ain't the one fer you. You'll find somebody. You think everybody spends a lifetime with the first one to catch their hearts? No way. Look at me. I got my high school sweetheart, and not twenty years later, he's dead and gone. Maybe it's better this way. Seems to me if she turned you away, she prob'ly ain't very nice. If she ain't gonna be nice to ya, you don't needa be with her. Am I right?"

Vincent looked down. Sure, it sounded good. It made sense. But she didn't know…she couldn't know. This was different, it was more than logic could explain, it was…

"Now, don't you go lookin' like that. Ain't no room fer sadness in this place, you got it?"

"Yes, ma'am." He tried to smile, but Olivia could tell he was just trying to please her.

"Oh, I know it's hard. I know you're not gonna get over it right away. But y'might as well try, right?"

"Hm. Thank you."

"Well, have a seat. It's just about ready. Cid!"

"Yeah?"

"Dinner."

"Okay!" Cid joined them in the kitchen and took the seat at the head of the table.

"Cid, honey, you should let the guest-"

"It's fine, Ms. Highwind."

"Olivia, honey. Don't you worry about formalities. Vincent, right?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to spend the night with us?"

"Ma'am?"

"It's a three-bedroom. The one across from Cid's is empty."

"Oh." Vincent blushed. For one slightly horrifying instant, he'd thought Olivia was propositioning him. "That would be nice, thank you."

"Eat up. You're too skinny."

"Yeah. Mama's cookin'll fatten y'up quick enough. She cooks good."

--

After dinner, Cid had taken Vincent's hand again and led him onto the deck. He'd never been much for kids, but this one was impossible to dislike. Vincent predicted that he'd be quite the ladies' man within a few years- he spoke boldly and with some degree of charisma though he was quite crude, and he stood up for whatever he thought was right. Vincent thought that would apply to defending the honor of whatever pigtailed girl his heart was set on having. Besides, he had blue eyes, and that seemed to be enough to draw in women for no apparent reason.

He was pointing out stars and naming constellations (showing off) for Vincent's benefit. When Vincent began creating his own constellations, Cid nearly died laughing.

"A cat holdin' a fish in 'is mouth? Where? Oh, I see it! Hey, that's pretty good!"

"And right there," Vincent said, lying on his back across the table on the deck and pointing to the sky, "there's you."

"Huh?"

"Don't you see it? A boy holding a model plane."

"Uh…no. Heh, that's pretty funny, though, thinkin' there'd be a constellation fer me. Maybe one day I'll be so famous they'll map one out, though. Or maybe I'll do it m'self. Think I can?"

"I don't see why not."

"Heh. Well, it's eight o' clock. I gotta go t'bed. See ya, Vincent."

"Goodnight, Captain Highwind."

"Huh? Don't be so goofy. Ain't a captain yet."

Vincent smiled and watched Cid run into the house. He decided he'd like to stay outside a bit longer. The air was cool, and something just felt right.

Olivia found him out there the next morning when she went to hang out the wash.

"Vincent? Oh dear, your back's gonna hurt somethin' awful when you get up."

"Hm? Oh! I fell asleep on the table? What time is it- ouch." Vincent winced as pain shot up his spine. "Those tables…are not designed to serve as beds."

"Well, of course not, honey. It's a table. Why should it be anything else?"

"There should be a warning," he insisted indignantly.

"Well, I'll be sure to write a letter for you. Now, if you want the you-know-what t'be here when he wakes up, you might wanna start makin' arrangements. It's almost nine, and he never sleeps past ten.

"Right. Thank you." Vincent pulled his phone from his pocket. Dead. "Of course. May I use the landline?"

"Sure thing, honey."

He went into the kitchen, where a phone hung on the wall. The cord only stretched a few feet, but he could stand outside if he tried hard enough. He thought that would be safest; he didn't want Cid to overhear the conversation.

He made the arrangements- the 'copter would be there in half an hour, and the pilot would take them around once or twice, then drop off Cid at the cabin.

The sound of the helicopter woke Cid. His first thought was Oh, boy, I get to see it up close! The second was Was he gonna leave without tellin' me?

He jumped out of bed, still in his pajamas, and charged out the room and down the hall, hoping to catch Vincent before he left. He almost ran smack into him.

"I was coming to wake you. Would you like a ride?"

"What? Oh, hell, yeah!"

"You should watch your mouth."

"Oh, right. Sorry. C'mon, let's go! Hurry up!"

Vincent laughed and followed Cid outside. The kid had already climbed into the whirligig and begun pestering the pilot before Vincent made it down the stairs.

"Hurry up, already! We're gonna leave withoutcha!"

He laughed again and joined the boy in the passenger compartment.

"We ready?" asked the pilot.

"Mama doesn't wanna come?"

"She says she doesn't like heights."

"Oh, right. Okay. Yeah, we're ready. Let's go!"

Vincent was worried sick the whole time. He was supposed to remain seated and not lean out the side…but the damned kid just wouldn't listen! Vincent ended up having to plop Cid on his lap and hold him there.

Cid was not thrilled. "I can't see nothin' from here! C'mon, Vince, put me down! I'll be good, I promise!"

Vincent snorted. That was an empty promise and they both knew it. Still, it seemed there was something else… "Stay here. I mean it. If you so much as scratch your nose, we're landing now and you'll have to walk back."

That was an empty promise as well, but it was a scary enough possibility to keep Cid in place.

Vincent made his way shakily to the cockpit. He leaned forward to talk into the pilot's ear.

"Can we pretend to let him fly it?"

"I'm not havin' nothin' t'do with that, Vince."

"Well, I'll do it, then. Are my goggles here?"

"Yeah. But you don't need 'em."

"I know. I'll buy new ones."

"What? Oh, you're really attached to this kid, aren't you? You really are strange."

"Land us, then, so he can fly?"

"Sure thing."

Cid's face paled as he noticed the chopper was losing height. Vincent returned to the seat where he'd left Cid, lifted him, and sat again with the kid in his lap.

"I promise I didn't move! I didn't even smack the 'skeeter that landed on me! Don't make me walk back! Please?"

"No one's walking anywhere."

"Then why-"

"You'll see."

Cid did not like waiting. When the current pilot landed and got out and Vincent took his place, he became even less relaxed.

"Thought you didn't like flyin'."

"I'm not flying. You are."

"Huh?"

"Come sit," he said, patting his knee.

Cid grinned widely. "You serious? Wow, the guys're gonna be so jealous! This is so cool!"

Cid flew the thing as a child drives a car- no idea what the controls do, but eager to press every button to find out. And, always, guided by the hand of a trusted adult.

Vincent decided during that flight that he never wanted children. Cid decided that he never wanted to do anything but this, ever.

When she saw her son "land" the bird, Olivia nearly cried. She could see that son was indeed like father, and that she would probably lose the other man in her life the way she lost the first one. She didn't have the heart to crush Cid's dream with horror stories about his father's death by airship accident, so she lied and pretended to know nothing. She wished she'd scared him off the damn things when she saw how thrilled he was to have just "flown."

"You're so cool! My dad woulda liked ya, I bet."

"Hm. Here, hold onto these, so you'll remember."

"Yeah, like I could forget. Oh, cool!" He put the goggles on his head, and they immediately fell to rest around his neck. "Hey, they don't fit."

Vincent took them and adjusted them, settling them over Cid's eyes. He zoomed to his mother, arms out in imitation of a plane.

"'Bye, Vince! See ya in a few years, when I'm the Captain o' the whole Air Force!"

Vincent laughed softly as Olivia embraced her sky-bound child, crying. He climbed back behind the control panel, glad to be able to move his legs freely. He picked up the pilot who'd flown to get him, but decided he'd like to fly back. It was freeing, something he'd never noticed before.

Life had meaning for him again- for about a week. After that week, he learned why Lucrecia had turned down his offer.

Three months later, it didn't matter if life held meaning or if it meant nothing; Vincent was dead.

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Vincent told Cid the story of how he'd died and come back. Cid listened intently, and let out a low whistle at the end.

Vincent was more concerned with the goggles Cid was wearing. "Did you say…those are the ones I gave you nearly thirty years ago?"

"Heh. Yeah. They broke a couple times, but I keep fixin' 'em. I dunno, they just meant somethin'."

"Hm."

Everyone else had left the room. They'd felt they were intruding on something incredibly private. They had been, in a way, but neither the pilot nor the gunman was even aware of the presence of outsiders to this memory.

"So y'been back out o' the coffin a few weeks?"

"Yes. The world is…quite different."

"Yeah, I guess so. Guess y'know I really am the Captain now."

"Yes. And I wonder…are you the ladies' man I thought you would be as well? The blue eyes get them every"- he got no farther; Cid had burst into laughter. "What's so funny?"

"I ain't exactly much of a ladies' anything, if ya know what I mean."

"Hm?"

"Oh, y'really don't? Yeah, I guess y'couldn't talk about this stuff thirty years ago. I uh, don't like women."

"I don't- oh. Oh. Well…I'm sure men are crazy for you, then." Vincent blushed. He really had no idea what he should have said, but he was 99.9% sure that was most certainly not it.

"What, are you nuts? Nobody knows."

"I thought you just said it was safe to talk about-"

"Yeah, y'ain't gonna get beat up for it, maybe, at least not around here, but y'certainly ain't gonna be respected."

"Mm. I see. Then…aren't you lonely?"

"You seem int'rested."

"I- it's not like…don't joke that way. You're still a child to me."

"Well, I guess I've done a lot o' shit y'wouldn't like t'think about a child doin', so y'better get rid o' that image. An', y'know, I wouldn't mind if y'were interested."

"That's terrible," Vincent muttered. "Not only am I almost twice your age –and I was once more than four times your age- but I'm dead. Don't…don't tease that way."

"Why? I'm open-minded. Y'gotta be sometimes."

Vincent felt a change of subject was past due. "Is there a constellation named for you yet?"

"Heh. Nope. But there will be one day. I almost got to go t'space, y'know."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Hey, Vince?"

"Hm?"

"I really never did thank ya fer the ride."

"Children are ungrateful. It's fine."

"Nah, it ain't. Mama fussed at me about it fer weeks."

"How is she?"

"Dead a couple years back."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"S'all right. Anyhow, she used t'tell me, when I was little, that y'should always say thank ya, an' throw in a hug an' kiss if y'were thankin' an adult. Will that work?"

"I would prefer you didn't-"

But Cid had already moved in. "Never coulda forgot you. Dunno why y'thought I woulda forgotten. Heh, y'really ain't bad lookin' fer a sixty-year-old dead guy."

"I'm not sixty yet. And I'm not…dead, exactly."

"What, changin' yer story? Heh. Well, here's me thankin' ya. Don't forget it." He planted a kiss on Vincent's cheek and whispered in his ear, "Thanks, Vince. Hope we c'n do it again sometime."

"At least now I wouldn't have to keep you in my lap," he said, and instantly regretted it.

"Well, if that bothers ya so much, you c'n sit in mine. Payback." Cid laughed and squeezed Vincent's shoulder before walking away, leaving the taller man in a state something like shock but slightly more pleasant.

He stopped and turned, looked at Vincent, and asked, "So hey, what were ya doin', just standin' there?"

Do you tell an egotistical, likely-to-be-smug-and-big-headed-about-the-information man that he probably saved your life?

Of course you don't.

"I told you. I was looking at the water."