Author's Note: Visiting Venice means having the blues, at least for me. So, I recently visited Venice and this is what happens when I try to write a one-shot while I'm there...-
I'd like to thank my wonderful beta, Yoshimara, for all that she's done.

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable to the Final Fantasy VII series and its associated parts belongs to Square Enix and affiliated companies.

The first time, I saw him sitting on top of the Campanile, his red cloak billowing in the wind, and his long raven-black hair caught the last jets of the sunset. Our eyes met and then, after a slight hesitation, he leapt away so lightly he seemed to be weightless.

Blinking a few times I was sure then, that I imagined him. I ran out of water, I lost my track of time again, I had visions of gorgeous men sitting on roof-tops, it was an exhausting day apparently.

At home, when I told my cousin of my vision, she laughed and said: "You probably saw Casanova's ghost fallen in love with you, and now he will haunt you through Venice the rest of your days."

Not a pleasant idea, if you ask me. I don't mind some good-looking guys but an old eerie fossil following me through the whole city? Thank you, but no thank you.

When I'm visiting Venice I like to get up before dawn, sitting on a rocking landing stage, welcoming the first rays of the sun that warms my face while it is still cool and calm. But sometimes I have to run through the almost sleeping city, jump over little bridges even balancing on little boats and balustrades chasing doves.

My cousin says my alter ego takes over then. But whatever I did in the early morning, after having seen him on top of the campanile, I had the feeling I'd see a red cloak flickering every so often wherever I went.

One day I started my day sitting on a landing stage again, but soon enough the place was overcrowded and I took my backpack, after my visions-day with two bottles of water, and went to find a bar to have some coffee.

I strolled through the somewhat remoter areas, when I heard the faint sound of music. It was some kind of a flute, a recorder as I know now, but for me it was the perfect allegro for Venice. I had to find the source, so I tried to isolate it by running in circles, every now and then stopping and listening.

Eventually I only had to walk through a dark coveredalley when a feeling of being watched sent shivers down my spine. Turning around I saw nothing, but a slight movement in the dark. I thought of Casanova's ghost and my taunting cousin and I went on, slightly faster than before.

In a courtyard I found a small CD-shop that played pieces of music over loudspeakers, so it would be found by the customers. Restraining myself, I bought only two CDs with flute music, one of which that I heard before.

Then I had to run a bit around before I found my cousin's house again, finally there I spent the rest of the day listening to the music and dreaming of Casanova's ghost, not telling my cousin this time.

The next day I took my music player with me, so I could listen to the music all the time. I decided to do something for my education and visited the Correr Museum. For lunch-break I bought myself a slice of mushroom pizza, and looked for a shady monument to rest.

Just as I leaned against the cool stone and drank some water, somebody sat beside me. In the corner of my eye I saw a black leather-clad leg and thought how somebody could wear black leathers, when it's 30 degree Celsius or more. Curiously I looked up and my heart stood still.

It was him, Casanova's ghost.

He looked at me with dark red eyes, a red headband taming his black hair and asked with a deep calm voice, "May I have some water please?"

When I tried to answer, I noticed I'd forgotten to breathe, so I inhaled deeply before I stammered "Yes, of-of course, I-I have another b-bottle, wait a moment."

I rummaged in my backpack but he said:"That's not necessary I'd like to take yours if you don't mind."

I slowly handed him my bottle and he, locking red burning eyes with mine, took the bottle slowly, raised it and pressed his lips against the bottle rim and when he drank it felt as if his lips were touching mine.

I raised my fingers at my lips and he smiled at me knowingly. I closed my eyes; I couldn't believe what I just felt. When I opened them again he was gone. The open water bottle stood beside me, the cap still in my hand.

I quite clearly have sunstroke. I need to lie down in a dark cool room, with a cool drink and maybe some aspirin.

I packed my things as fast as I could and started almost to run home when I thought, ...sunstroke.... go slowly, breath deeply and don't forget to drink.. dammit....

When I finally reached home I went to my room, locked the door, shut the blinds and laid down. Then I got up again, took my backpack and put the bottle on my nightstand. I stared at it and I could almost feel his lips again. eventually I must have fallen asleep for several hours, as it was already dark outside when my cousin knocked at my door.

"You're alright in there? Do you want something to eat?"

"No thank you, I'm well, I only want to sleep!"

I was hungry and I was thirsty but I hadn't the slightest desire to see anyone. So I took the other bottle, my left-over slice of pizza and climbed out of the window on top of the roof not the first time since I was here. My cousin has a very lively family in which it seldom gets really quiet.

But sometimes I needed peace and quiet, so this was the best way to get them without being rude. Apart from that, it was an easy task, because I could jump on a nearby roofed terrace and from there I could use an espalier to enter the roof-top effortlessly.

When I sat on the still sun warmed tiles I drank in the view. There is no other view so spectacular and awesome in my opinion than to see Venice from above. I cold hear distant laughing, the ringing of glass due to somebody sorting bottles of some kind, even somebody singing an aria, clichéd but ...Peace, quiet...

"On the roof-top again?" I nearly jumped of the roof, when I heard the dark voice right in my left ear.

You will not leave just like that again!

"Don't you dare to go away without speaking to me again!" I shouted.

"But I spoke to you the last time." Right.

"But not enough." not enough, how stupid can one be...

He smiled an unbelievably sad smile and I swayed as he quickly captured my hand so I would not slip. When I felt his cool hand on mine it suddenly hit me with a jolt.

I knew his name!

"Vincent?" He smiled.

"I knew it when I saw you at St. Mark's Square and when I saw you jumping over bridges, balancing on balustrades, chasing the doves and ... your black hair, your striking purple eyes , there was a reason she sent me here... to meet you."

"But how do you know me... and how do I know you? I mean, I don't know you, but in the same time I do..." Holy crap I'm babbling... "Do you know my name too?"

"Your name is Zack."

"My name is not..."

"I know here your name is not Zack, but in my world it is...was Zack."

He was right, somehow my name was Zack. I had to sit down.

How can my name be Zack? Last time I checked I was female and my name was...I'm going insane.

"Do you have a picture—when I'm not—a girl—woman?"

"Yeah," and after a moment, he produced a crumpled picture from his cloak-pocket.

Suddenly I looked in my own eyes.

"Wild hair...", and than the memory hit me unprepared "Soldier uniform hmm?"

"Yes."

And I saw myself fighting on a cliff...too many enemies...too many bullets hit me and I finally.. I died on that damned cliff, but I could not....I had to protect ...Cloud.

"How's Cloud?"

"You remember Cloud?"

I nodded.

"I love him, I—always wanted to be there for him. 'Cause he's my little brother, I mean—sort of. I wanted to protect him. Did I?"

"He rescued the whole planet, defeated the enemy almost single handed, all in your name and as your legacy. So one could say yes, kind of."

"Oh, I see. He did? Fuck! Little brother's grown up then. But how is he?"

"He lost someone too, and he misses him. Sometimes we meet at a church—and—we talk, you know."

"Shit."

For quite a long time he simply sat next to me and at some point my head leant at his shoulder.

"May I explain it as far as I understand this?"

I felt a little dazed and could only wave approvingly.

"At my world I slept for a very long time and while I was sleeping I met you in my dreams and we became friends. It took some time, but eventually we fell in love. I had a life in my dreams. When I finally wakened I learned although you actually had been a real person who not only existed in my dreams, but in the real world too, you were dead by now. Zack was dead by now. Can you imagine....I slept and you—Zack, my love, died. It was like you died twice.

"We had to fight this war, we had losses, but eventually as you know we were victorious. During the war my mind was diverted, but after the war, I felt lost. I used to visit the old church. I often sat there and thought of the life I had in my dreams or of that that I could have had in real life. Sometimes I even had the feeling of you sitting beside me, holding my hand. I don't know what came over me, but a few days ago I put my hand in the little pool inside the church, next I found myself on top of this Campanile, seeing you staring at me."

"Wow."

"Wow?"

"Sorry, sounds not very coherent, does it? Maybe there is a connection of some kind between our worlds, or our realities or whatever it is."

"Maybe it's the Lifestream."

"The Lifestream?"

"On my planet everything comes from and goes back to the Lifestream. But I can feel no Lifestream here."

"Maybe we have a different kind of Lifestream and one can't feel it here." Shouldn't I be in that Lifestream then? I mean I'm dead after all...Am I not?

Suddenly an idea occurred to me "Do you still have your hand in that pool?"

"I think so."

"And when you pull it out, you're gone?"

"Most likely."

I pondered about that for a while.

"It's not right, isn't it? I live, we can talk, we can touch each other but I'm not really him, not like it should be or like you want me." I looked into his eyes and I knew I was right.

He reached out and wrapped his arm around me nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck and breathed deeply.

"I can feel your silken hair; I can see into your beautiful eyes, I can even smell you for the first time in my life. I should be grateful."

We sat on that roof till dawn. Not speaking a word any more, just savouring the very moment.

Then I suddenly realised I...we love him! But why? I never really met him, not on his world and not on mine—until now. I dreamt of him. In our dreams we were together, on his world and on mine.

"We love you, me and him."

"I'm glad to hear that..."

"I want you to have something that reminds you of me," and he took his red headband and gave it to me. I wrapped the still warm cloth around my right wrist and it felt as if a part of him would meld with me.

"Do you want something in return?"

He pointed at my left braid, which I used to tame my hair at least a bit. I nodded approvingly and he cut it with his knife, secured the open end with a leather band and then wrapped it around his left wrist.

I knew what would come next.

"Please, don't pull your hand out while I'm still here. Simply go away so that I can at least have the illusion that it's not final. Oh and say hello to Cloud, will you?"

We were facing each other on that roof-top, his forehead rested to mine for several minutes and then he turned and went away silently.

And then I heard this damned song..

...When I had you there,

but then I let you go,

and now its only fair,

that I should let you know,

what you should know

I cant live,

If living is without you,

I cant live,

I cant give anymore,

I cant live

If living is without you,

I cant give,

I cant give anymore.....

I had died a third time.

I left my music with my cousin, I couldn't bear to hear it anymore and I will never ever return to Venice again.

I lost what I never sought and I will never find it again, at least not here. Maybe someday on another planet, or another reality or another time line or whatsoever he can be with him, or I can be with him, or we can be together or they can be together?

I don't know.

What I do know is how he feels where ever he is now, because it's the same as I feel, I think. My heart is aching, but, despite all this, I wouldn't want to miss a day. I—he—we will find him. And we will be together when I'm Zack again.

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AN :Some people asked about the music: Michala Petri, Albinoni 8 Concertos
Michala Petri, Vivaldi 6 Concertos and Nilsson, 'Without you' (not Mariah Carey!)