Sanity
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Drop any preconcieved angst at the door. Now. And please review!!
Things are easier to notice for one who has experience looking. It takes one to know one, or so some say. The experienced can see things which would never occur to the novice, things they could never know to look for because they simply could not understand the importance.
Vincent had been a Turk for a reason. He had never put much faith in people, never believed in the pithy phrases they spouted.
"Takes one to know one." What drivel he had considered it.
Only now was he finally beginning to understand.
Long ago, before death and experimentation had changed him, Vincent Valentine had been sane. He had been like many others, unprepared and shocked when Hojo's insanity finally showed itself. It would have been impossible for him to see the slight cracks in the shell of Hojo's sanity, for his own sanity had none. Vincent simply wouldn't have known the signs to look for.
Time had changed that. He heard voices, perhaps those of the monsters dwelling within him.
But perhaps not.
He never knew which. Now he no longer cared. Maybe death had affected his mind, maybe the experiments had cracked the shell of his sanity. No one knew for sure.
But the fact remained that Vincent Valentine had been warped.
As others had before him, and at least one after him, Vincent's mind had latched on to the one person, the one thing most important to him. All else had been pushed aside, becoming trivial. Only Lucrecia Cresent, remained important. All him emotions were connected to her.
The hatred of Hojo was largely from his dealings with her, his guilt only for her, his despair only from her, and his attachment to Sephiroth only because of her. The world had value because she had loved it.
The others knew Vincent wasn't sane, but perhaps only Cloud knew the extent. The man had suffered much as he had, he was one of the experienced. And he understood the guilt, the knowledge that one's complete normality, one's complete sanity had led to the tragedy because one did not know what signs to look for. Did not know the vital importance of some of those insignificant signs.
One could not fight an enemy one does not know exists.
So Vincent mourned, and he considered. He wondered if Cloud had the same thoughts at night. He wondered if either of them wished they had been less sane back when it mattered. When they could have seen.
And he wondered what would have happened if at least one of them had.
The End.