A/N - This story takes place immediately after Dirge of Cerberus. It's slightly AU as I've tweaked some things to fit into the plot better. Nothing major, and nothing that clearly violates any facts. The events in this story could have happened and fit nicely into the canonical storyline. I was a bit disappointed with how Dirge ended, so I decided to indulge my headcanon.

Just a few notes:

- This is a WIP. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors or delays between chapters.

- No Shelke. I didn't really like her as a character and felt she'd be rather useless in this story.

- Canonical events may not occur exactly as they did in FFVII or in the same order (you'll see what I mean later).

- There's quite a bit of descriptive detail throughout involving blood, violence, torture, psychological trauma, and the like. May or may not include references to non-con. I haven't decided that yet.

- No pairings, although it may be read as Vin/Tifa or possibly Vin/Cloud.

Disclaimer - To put it simply, Square Enix owns the playground. I just love playing in it.

Also, shout-out to Switchback for inspiring me to finally begin writing this.

I: Found

Cloud lowered his arms, slowly regaining his vision. The night seemed even darker and deeper following the explosion, bright spots dancing across his sight as he desperately searched the sky for any sign of Vincent. His companions gasped in the immediate silence, broken only by the howling of the wind, bringing with it the faint odor of smoke and burning metal. An unpleasant tension descended over the party with the collective realization that Vincent may not had have survived his encounter with Omega. The minutes lengthened, a seed of dread beginning to sprout in Cloud's heart. Yuffie shifted some twenty yards in front of him.

"Vincent?"

The thinly disguised fear in her voice betrayed how they all felt. Cloud did not trust himself to speak; nor, it seemed, did anyone else. They waited with bated breath, until slowly, a green light illuminated the sky where Omega had last been seen, growing steadily brighter until Cloud had to force himself not to look away. And there, among the weapon's scattered remains floating like emerald snow was a much smaller crimson light plummeting toward the Planet like a falling star.

Cloud's legs were moving as if of their own design, stumbling over the terrain with his face still upturned. He heard Tifa shout something behind him but he did not hesitate, running as best he could through the destruction until he was near the spot where he believed Vincent had fallen.

He searched for what seemed like ages, terrified of what he might find yet even more afraid that his friend was dying somewhere nearby and he, half-blind in the darkness, would be too late. He felt surreal, his body numb to the cold, searching the area with growing desperation until he sank down onto a broken airship part, distraught and completely overwhelmed.

Vincent couldn't be dead. Cloud had always had the sense that the gunman was much stronger, more resilient than all of them. He had always been a reassuring presence, even back when they were chasing Sephiroth, despite his quiet and unaffected demeanor. To think that he had been killed, that he had disappeared forever…

Cloud rubbed a hand over his face, willing his mind to focus on the task before him. He would find Vincent even if it was only to bring his body back so the people who knew him could pay their respects. It was the least he could do. He would not leave empty-handed, if there was anything to find.

He was about to resume his search when, upon disturbing the bullet-riddled airship wing, he saw a glint above his shoulder from the corner of his eye. Looking closer, he inspected a twisted mass of wire and metal. There, dangling from the end, was Vincent's Cerberus pendant.

Cloud reached out to take it with a trembling hand. His mouth was suddenly very dry and there was a horrible sick feeling in his stomach. If Vincent's gun had been destroyed, Cloud knew there was very little chance of finding his body intact, and even less of finding him alive.

Pocketing the charm, he forced himself to stand up and take several deep breaths, scanning the immediate vicinity for anything else that would give him a clue. He was shaking badly as he stumbled forward, eyes on the ground, panic rolling over him in nauseating waves.

Down a slight gradient he went, kicking wreckage out of his way, until he came to a large piece of defunct machinery. Climbing on top of it, he surveyed the destruction around him with only the starlight to aid him. His exhausted gaze came to rest on a gold-tinted gleam that was somewhat isolated from the majority of the rubble. As his eyes adjusted, he could barely make out the shape of an arm and hand ending in a set of long, pointed talons.

Cloud's insides felt as if they had turned to ice. Even from this distance, there was no question the gauntlet belonged to Vincent. He climbed down from the machine, the reality of the situation weighing on him heavily. He drew closer with quickened steps, and a shallow depression gradually came into view. In the center was Vincent's body, completely still and broken looking, face down in the dirt.

Cloud sprinted the rest of the distance, steeling himself for the worst.

Gaia…please…

He dropped to his knees in the dust next to his companion, breathing raggedly. Terror clenched at his heart like an iron fist as he grasped his friend's shoulder and turned him over onto his back.

Vincent did not open his eyes or respond in any way. He was more pallid than Cloud had ever seen him. Dark blood stained the front of his shirt and mantle as well as the dirt where he'd lain. Despite his distress, Cloud was amazed he had found him in one piece.

"Vincent," he choked, pulling the man into his arms.

Vincent did not respond. He tried again, more desperately.

"Vincent?"

Cloud couldn't keep his composure any longer. Breaking down, he wept into the gunman's tangled hair, rocking him back and forth. Then, collecting himself enough to regain his wits, he pressed his ear to Vincent's blood soaked chest, and to his astonishment, heard the faintest of heartbeats there.

Cloud buried his face in Vincent's hair again, this time in relief. He did not know how much time he had, but he could not believe that his companion had survived the fall.

Acting quickly, he dug in his pocket for a Cure Materia. It would do little to help – Vincent's injuries were far too grievous – but he held it to his chest all the same. For Cloud had nothing else to slow the bleeding and he knew the gunman's life hung precariously in the balance.

He cast around in hopes that something nearby could be used as a bandage, but the wreckage that surrounded them was composed of little more than wiring and metal scraps. What he didn't expect to find was Cerberus close to Vincent's side, half buried in the dirt. Cloud carefully unearthed it, marveling how it, too, had remained intact. He must not have dropped it until he hit the ground.

It was then that Cloud heard the Shera approaching overhead. Gathering Vincent in his arms, he lifted him as gently as possible. He was very light, lighter than Cloud expected him to be.

The airship landed not far from them where there was less debris. The door flung open as Cloud neared with his precious burden, and Cid came down to help him.

"Reeve says there're no medics onboard. The WRO sustained heavy losses but he's called for as many as they can spare. Until then, we'll have to make do with – " Cid broke off upon seeing Vincent's condition in the dim light from the bridge. "Aw, shit! Damn Shinra! Damn those bastards to hell! Follow me to my cabin – we ain't got time to lose!"

~*O*~

Cid led him down the narrow passageway to the captain's cabin. Fortunately, it was quite close by, double the size of the guest and crew cabins, which provided plenty of space and an ensuite bathroom. Cloud guessed the decision to treat Vincent here had been previously arranged. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw Tifa piling every healing item in their possession on the table in the corner. She took one look at Vincent and covered her mouth with her hands, tears welling rapidly in her eyes, shining brightly in the lamplight.

"My gods…Vincent…"

Cid turned the bedding down and Cloud lowered his companion as gently as he could onto the mattress. In the soft glow of the room, he could see that Vincent's condition was even more critical than what he had been able to discern in the dark. The gunman's complexion had acquired a grey tint and was as white as the sheet on which he lay. His lips had paled as well, blue-tinged around the edges. His chest, which was thoroughly saturated with his own blood, rose and fell rapidly with shallow breaths.

The pilot muttered something about a first aid kit and dashed out of the room. Without wasting any more time, Cloud reached forward and began undoing the clasps on Vincent's cape.

"Tif – help me undress him. Quick."

He tried to keep his voice calm, but his hands were trembling and slipped on the buckles as he worked them, the leather sticky and wet. Recovering from her initial shock, Tifa pushed the crimson fabric out of the way as it was loosened, opening the buttons of the shirt he wore underneath.

Tifa gasped aloud and Cloud had to swallow his nausea when Vincent's torso was finally exposed. The gunman's entire front, from his collarbone to his stomach, was caked with blood. It took Cloud a moment to find the source of the hemorrhage; a gaping hole, too large to be a stab wound, in the center of his chest. The perimeter was crusted over with partially-dried blood, more of the dark fluid oozing steadily from the site of the injury. Tifa immediately handed him a thick, sterile cloth from their limited stack of supplies, and he pressed it firmly to the wound, applying as much pressure as he dared. He could feel broken bones beneath his hands.

He looked quickly at Tifa. "See if he has any other injuries."

Tifa carefully removed Vincent's bandana and examined his head for any damage. "He's so cold…" her voice was slightly more high-pitched than usual and wavered as she spoke, feeling along the side of the gunman's neck. "And his pulse is weak and thready…do you think he – "

She abruptly fell silent and slid the glove off of Vincent's right hand, then gently pushed the shirt fabric over his shoulder, guiding his arm out of the material. Cloud knew what she had been about to say. They were both thinking the same thing, but neither was willing to entertain the thought.

"Cloud – "

Her tone made him look up. She had removed the golden gauntlet and was staring at Vincent's other arm, eyes wide with shock. Cloud followed her line of vision and felt a chill run up his spine.

The muscles were weak and wasted beneath a web of silvery scars, the long fingers resting at an awkward angle, only half-extended due to a visibly decreased range of motion, as if crippled by some terrible injury. Despite the troubled sensation curling in the pit of his stomach, Cloud allowed his eyes to linger, simultaneously curious and horrified, unable to look away.

When he finally forced himself to avert his gaze, he nodded toward the gauntlet Tifa still held in her hands.

"Leave that on."

Tifa remained silent as she carefully slid the mutilated arm back into its metal-plated glove. Cloud couldn't shake his feeling of unease, but it wasn't for their sake he chose to keep the limb covered. He had never seen Vincent without his gauntlet; now he knew why. He didn't fault the gunman at all for wanting that part of him to remain hidden, and he would have bet all of his gil that Vincent had never wanted any of them to see it.

~*O*~

Cid returned with the first aid kit shortly thereafter, but it contained little that would help Vincent's plight.

"Three medics are on their way. Reeve sent Yuffie and Barret to escort 'em."

Cloud didn't move from his position, still trying to stem the flow from Vincent's chest. His hands were growing damp from the red stains that were blossoming on the cloth beneath them.

"Did he say how long it would take them? Vincent needs advanced care. Urgently."

"No, but they're aware that the situation is dire." Cid looked at Tifa. "What d'ya have in the way of healing items?"

"Five Hi-Potions, a couple of Ethers, and a Remedy," Tifa recited the short list, looking over their wounded companion sadly. "I'm afraid he's going to need a lot more than that…"

"No Cure Materia?"

"I used the last of it right after I found him," Cloud replied.

"Damn! Think we oughta try givin' him a Hi-Potion?"

"I don't know if we should risk that…" Tifa said anxiously. "And I don't even know if it would help. He's been unconscious this whole time, how would we get him to take it? We could try to manipulate his reflexes to make him drink it but his injury is so severe. I don't think we should move him…"

It was then that Cloud noticed Vincent's chest had stopped moving.

"He's not breathing," he said, feeling as if a stone had dropped into his stomach. "He's not breathing. Tifa – "

Cid acted quickly. Reaching into the first aid kit, he procured a clear silicone device shaped like a shallow cup.

"Here," he said, handing it to Tifa. "Fit this over his mouth and breathe into that little spout there at the top."

Tifa did as she was instructed without delay. Pinching Vincent's nose, she exhaled into the valve.

"Come on, Vince, breathe," Cid urged when his chest did not rise, giving his shoulder a shake. "You can do it. Stay with us, Vince."

Tifa continued administering rescue breaths – once, twice, three times – and suddenly Cloud felt Vincent's chest expand. Tifa took the mask away and put her ear to the gunman's lips, listening.

With a great, shuddering gasp, Vincent inhaled under his own power. He stirred and then, for the first time since Cloud had found him, opened his eyes.

Tifa smiled down at him, palming his cheek. Cloud could see that she was crying.

"Gods, Vincent, don't scare us like that…" she whispered.

Vincent gazed up at her. He seemed extremely confused and disoriented, his sanguine eyes blinking slowly as they roamed her face. He made a quiet noise like he wanted to say something and then groaned, a deep rumble in his chest that Cloud felt in his hands. A spasm of pain flitted across his usually impassive features. For a moment it appeared his tenuous grasp on awareness was failing him as he struggled to focus his vision with what looked like an enormous effort. Then he lifted his bare hand, uncertain, and threaded his fingers through Tifa's hair.

"Lu…crecia…?" he managed, his voice barely audible. Then his arm fell to his side and his eyes fluttered closed as consciousness left him again.

A/N - If you like this so far, please comment. I'm not the type to beg for reviews, but I have a very difficult time being motivated to continue stories once I've started them. Knowing people are interested is an enormous help.

Thanks for reading!