((Author's Note: This story is set approximately thirty years before the events in the original game and my fic Irony of Fate.))

Alone.

If someone had asked Vincent Valentine to describe himself in one word, that would have been his answer. Sitting in the dark in an armchair facing the window, staring out over the bright lights of Midgar, he had never felt more insignificant in his twenty-six years of life.

On the outside, Vincent appeared to be a success. He had a good job, a nice apartment in which to live, he was young and in good health. But when one really looked, dared to peer beneath the surface… what did he truly have? He was a man with no family, few friends. And for the last two weeks the woman he had fallen in love with had suddenly begun to ignore him, pulling away as quickly as she had allowed him to get close.

Too close…

She was married, after all. But she had repeatedly told him how unhappy she was, how inattentive and cruel her husband could be… While her spouse had continually ignored her in favor of his work and other interests, she had turned to Vincent for companionship and comfort. It was inevitable, really. A sad, neglected woman and a lonely young man looking for his place in the world. Friendship and a shoulder to cry on had evolved into more. So much more… or so he thought.

He loved her with all his heart and soul, that was a fact. It had happened so quickly, so easily, that it had taken him completely by surprise. Even more unexpectedly, she admitted she felt the same way about him. He believed her, wanted to believe it so badly. He still did… even when, after many months of stealing every possible moment to be together, she had suddenly begun to avoid him. No explanation given. Out of nowhere, she could now hardly look at him when they were at work and she'd stopped calling and coming by at night. They hadn't had a fight. There had been no sign of anything wrong between them. No warning or time to prepare. Vincent simply couldn't understand it. The pain of her rejection was beyond anything he had ever felt.

Earlier that day, the reason why his lover had abandoned him had slapped him in the face as he watched her working side-by-side with her husband. They were laughing and joking together as if they were inseparable. She'd even reached out and brushed the hair back from his forehead, much the way she always did to Vincent during tender moments. He had almost turned and fled the room, sickened and wounded beyond words. So that was it, then. After everything they had been through, all the words of love that had passed between them, all of the hopes and fears they had shared from the depths of their souls… She had finally chosen. And he had lost.

What did he expect, anyway, he scolded himself. They were married, after all. They had their work in common, a long past together, similar interests. All Vincent was was a hired gun, a grunt, a lowly rented guard… It was something her husband immensely enjoyed reminding him of at every opportunity. He was an awkward, shy young man with a troubled past. He'd had no previous romantic experience and was unsure of what his future would hold. In her position, he wondered if he wouldn't have made the same decision… Clearly, Vincent simply could not offer her what she needed, or what she deserved. He would need to learn to live with that.

But how?

He felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest and repeatedly stomped on while he watched. Every day, he would see her, forcing him to think about what he could never have… Worse still, he had to witness her renewed relationship with that bastard. He wasn't sure if he could handle one more day of standing there, pretending nothing was wrong… pretending that he wasn't slowly dying inside. He hadn't even deserved an explanation, a goodbye. She had turned away from him, just like that, discarded him when he was no longer needed. What did that say about him? Had any of it ever been real?

Vincent hadn't eaten all day, but he found he had no appetite. He was exhausted from so many sleepless nights, where he awoke crying out her name, finding that he was alone in his bed and fighting the tears. Yet he knew as soon as he laid down to try to get some rest, all he would think about was her. His bed only served to remind him of the nights she had shared it with him, keeping him warm… nights that were now forever in the past.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair, exhaling sharply. He couldn't go on like this. Perhaps in the morning, he would attempt to meet with his boss and request a transfer, or even resign as a Turk. He wasn't sure he even wanted to remain in Midgar any longer, though he really had no place else to go.

As his mind began to race, considering the options and fighting to keep the pain from overwhelming him, a sudden knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. His eyes opened and he jumped a bit in surprise, glancing down at his watch with a frown. Why would someone be at his door at this hour? It was nearly ten at night. Maybe a coworker had ordered dinner and they'd gotten the apartment number wrong again…

Since he was still wearing his work uniform, not having had the energy to bother changing when he arrived home, Vincent stood and walked across the small apartment to the door. When he paused to look through the peephole, his aching heart nearly stopped in his chest. It seemed his evening of solitude and longing had just gotten quite a bit more complicated.