A/N: So this is actually an idea I've had floating around my head for a few years, but only put it down on paper last night when I couldn't sleep. The writing is not flawless; I just want to see if anyone would be interested in seeing more, and I picked the two hardest characters to write. 'Cos I'm stupid like that. Anyway, if you are intrigued and want some more, please let me know in a review and I will get working on a new chapter.

Chapter 1

Despite the thousands of rushing, chaotic thoughts that swarmed his mind like aggravated bees, locked inside his skull, and the fact that it felt like every drop of blood in his body was bubbling under his skin, Sephiroth paused when he glanced at the next object he had sought to destroy. It was not the first coffin he had come across; the others he had simply sliced apart with masamune, like wire through cheese. This one, however, was partially open; he had unintentionally knocked it with his foot as he had stormed by. He had expected to see a decomposed body, a skeleton, but what stopped him was the unusual thing he found instead.

From what he could see, a deathly pale man in red lay still, but to Sephiroth's astonishment, was still breathing. The heavy panting that the exertion of rage had caused, slowed as curiosity got the better of him. Were it not for the mystery surrounding the slumbering man, Sephiroth would have killed him in his sleep without remorse.

But he did not. Somehow, he disobeyed the voice that attacked his mind, and leaned down to push the coffin's lid off. He had dropped his sword to the ground. It was unexplainable. He was fascinated. He needed to know who this man was. The rotted lid fell to the floor with a bang. The man's eyes flicked open. They glowed red.

Sephiroth had never come across someone so…odd. Had the man not been visibly breathing, one would believe, without a doubt, he was dead. His flawless skin was ghostly white, contrasting with the shock of black, messy hair that fell to his shoulders. The garb he wore matched the crimson colour of his eyes. Within a split second, he had Sephiroth at a disadvantage with the words that left his mouth. 'You… Are you… Sephiroth?'

The man sprung up into a seated position, causing Sephiroth to take an unsteady step back. If the man could go any paler, he had. Sephiroth frown in confusion, but found himself nodding in reply against his better judgement. After a brief moment of silence, he spoke. 'Who are you? How do know my name?'

The man slowly climbed out of he coffin, his own brows furrowed in a frown. 'You look just like her.'

His reply was unexpected and threw Sephiroth completely off guard. Then, he became angry. 'Look like who? Who are you?' He was getting annoyed at himself for not just doing the sensible thing and run the strange man through with his sword. But he intrigued him.

'Lucrecia. You look…just like her.' The name made Sephiroth freeze. He knew that name.

'Dr Crescent?'

'Yes, your mother.'

Sephiroth was rendered speechless momentarily. He saw red. 'Jenova is my mother. I'll ask you one more time. Who are you?'

Having enough, he picked up his sword. He tightened his grip on the hilt, his knuckles going white. He thought it would frighten the man, but he didn't so much as flinch.

'My name is Vincent.' Vincent paused and then sighed. 'I am so sorry for what they have done to you.'

Sephiroth was more than frustrated with himself for letting Vincent's words startle him. He clenched his jaw. The expression on the man's face, what wasn't hidden by the collar of his ragged cloak, was of incredible sadness.

'Why?'

'I could not stop them. I could not protect you. I failed you and your mother.'

A rage that felt unnatural filled his chest. 'My mother was Jenova.'

'But you know of Dr Crescent?'

'Of course. She was kind to me.'

'Because she was your mother.'

'You have no proof!'

Vincent looked to the floor after Sephiroth's furious outburst, then slowly looked back up to his face. 'No, I do not. But I can help you find answers. You have woken me up. I do not intend to fail you again.'

'How do you know of this? How do you know of me and my life?'

Vincent took several deep breaths. 'I was a Turk. Her bodyguard.'

Sephiroth sensed there was something else the man was not saying; his face and tone said it for him. But he was not particularly interested in this man's relationship with Dr Crescent. He wasn't sure why he was even interested in what Vincent was saying at all. As he listened, the voices and thoughts persisted, nagging at him to just kill Vincent and be done with it. He tried to mentally swat them away like flies.

'I do not expect you to believe this,' Vincent continued, looking back directly at him. 'I only hope that you will abandon your destructive thoughts and accompany me to see her.' Sephiroth opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off. 'You are easy to read at the moment. You practically radiate hurt, anger… fear.' Sephiroth flinched. 'I do not know you. I do not know the man you have become. But I know that you have suffered and I am partly to blame. I would hope that sharing your past and the truth with you will help you to forgive me in time.'

Sephiroth had dealt with many strange and difficult situations in his life, but nothing like this. He didn't know what to think. He couldn't think. He was thinking too much. He felt a headache beginning and rubbed his free hand against his forehead.

'If you would permit me to leave,' Vincent said slowly and carefully, as if he knew what Sephiroth had experienced in the hours previous, and was afraid to poke the bear. 'I will go to the nearest inn. I will wait there for a time. Come to me if you decide to take me up on my offer. I know not of your reasons to be here, but should you have the time, I know your mother would like to see you.'

Without another word, Vincent leaned into his resting place and withdrew a magnificent gun. Attaching it to the belt at his hip, he did not wait for Sephiroth's permission to leave, and walked past him out of the room. Once Sephiroth was left alone, the past few minutes hit him. Part of him desperately wanted to believe this man, but the voices… her voice, commanded him to think otherwise. It was beginning to feel like a game of tug of war was being played with his mind, and he wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.

This was not what he had expected when he had opened that coffin.