A/N: Hey! First fic on here and I must admit, I'm a bit excited. I won't bore you with the details, so without further ado, here you go.

Disclaimer: I (no matter how much I would like to) do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of the characters within

Oh, to be happy. What was the price, he would think. A completely unfair question, as the answer changed constantly. Sometimes death. Sometimes just to have another there. Others, simply watching a sunset. Happiness. A concept almost ever out of Vincent Valentine's reach.

Right now, happiness meant atoning for his sins. It meant being forgiven by the only woman he'd ever loved. Lucrecia. How he longed to hear her voice again. Just the softness of it, the smooth, gentle aura she had. Anything that pertained to the woman, he would gladly treasure. Even if…

Even if that meant saving her son. Throwing away the human race. Could he really do that? Honestly? Sacrifice the entire planet to keep one person safe. The child of the woman he loved. How long had it been? How long ago had Cloud come in and interrupted his atonement? How long had that gleam of hope shining down upon him lasted?

When did he give up again?

Oh, yes. He had given up on trying to atone, to repent. He knew it couldn't happen, that there was no hope left. Self-sacrifice seemed the only way out at this point. A penance. Anything to keep his mind off of that woman. He couldn't bear to think about her anymore. Too late and to his sorrow had he learned that she wasn't coming back. That she was gone, and it was his fault. He had the ability to stop it, he knew. Yet he didn't. Why? He cared more about her happiness. Believing he'd done bad, when, in reality, he had done nothing wrong.

Sephiroth.

Sephiroth seemed to be his only way to atone. The man was dead, however. They had killed him in the Northern Crater. That man wasn't Lucrecia's son. His eyes, herald to insanity, a glimmer of the man he once was. That small glimmer, gone within an instant of him seeing it. Anger, hatred, insanity, pain all filling the empty space.

Truly no way to repent now. Hojo was dead. Partial redemption was granted, but that's all it was. Partial. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself until Lucrecia herself would forgive him. Alas, she too was gone with the wind. Atonement was, as always, ever out of his reach.

Ending it all for good… what would it do? If he continued to live, would there be change? Highly unlikely.

All this while in the coffin. He always stayed in the coffin when he had spare time. It gave him time to think things over, think about how to solve this seemingly never ending predicament.

"Hiding again?" a low voice inquired.

The voice sounded familiar. Almost as if he's known it all his life. But he just couldn't place it. He wouldn't open the coffin to see who it was, and would merely reside there until the man decided to identify himself.

"So what if I am? Don't you have something better to do?" came the muffled reply.

The air seemed to lighten, almost as if the man were smiling or trying not to laugh. He was amused by the reply, was he? There was nothing of particular splendor about the comment, just as he had said it. People didn't go to the basement to see him. They had better things to do. This man was no exception.

"Unless you would wish the destruction of the planet, then no, I do not," the man answered.

Vincent's eyes narrowed at the man's response. Wish the destruction of the…? Could it be that he was still alive? No. No, impossible, he thought. Vincent watched him die years ago. There was no way he could be alive now.

"Who are you?" the red clad man question, though he likely already knew the answer. Sephiroth's rebirth. It had come around yet again. Cloud wasn't here to defeat him this time. Death Penalty was far out of his reach, residing behind a few books on the book shelf. The gun didn't operate on safety, so, to avoid getting shot by his own gun, he would place it there, out of plain sight.

The man smiled, though, it was more with insanity than anything. "Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten?" The reply came off sarcastic, almost cruel, in the sense of the word.

"Forgotten?"

"Indeed."

What a vague answer. Merely a time consumer, a trick, to keep him here and talking for whatever reason. Was there some sort of trap imminent? Something the man could not detect, even with his heightened senses from having Chaos inside him? Another reason to carry out his plans, the demon deserved to be free, not trapped, ever enduring the man's sorrowful thoughts. He could hear the thing, at times, but preferred to ignore it when the demon would wish to speak. Nothing it could say would be of any use, or so he thought.

"Why are you here?" Vincent asked, wanting to steer away from the subject of his forgetfulness. Surely he couldn't have forgotten anything. He had a nearly perfect memory. He remembered the ill deeds, or so he liked to call them, he'd done. He couldn't forget. Any word from Sephiroth's mouth, he would have surely memorized. The man was hardly ignorable, not from his appearance, but because the way his voice resonated in any room in an almost ominous way.

The air of the room was almost comical. Sephiroth had an ever-growing smirk on his face, and Vincent could feel it. That thought made the man uncomfortable. He thought this meeting was a joke? Vincent had things he needed to atone for and Sephiroth was toying with him?

You seem surprised, the demon inside of him had spoken. Such an odd thing, Chaos. Of all times to try to converse, he chose when Sephiroth was in the manor, the same room no less. It was so very uncommon that he had no idea how to respond. He had, too, sounded amused. Did they find humor in the ex-Turk's confusion?

"I believe I have already answered that question," the silver-haired man replied, sarcasm seeping its way into his voice.

Nothing ever went the way he wanted it to, did it?

To worsen the situation, Sephiroth pried the lid off of the coffin, Vincent squinting from the light. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in there, not that it mattered. Time didn't matter anymore. He had as much time as he wanted. All the time one could ask for.

Yet, no matter how long he lived, he would never be able to be redeemed.

He tried to avoid the Mako gaze, not wanting to give the man the pleasure of seeing his anger. Yes, he was angry. He was angry because he had to atone, yet here he was, speaking to the very person he felt the most sorry for. It was his fault the man existed. If he had never existed, he wouldn't have become twisted. And the world would have been spared of misery.

Yet, could he really believe that?

The man bore a striking resemblance to Lucrecia. More than he would care to admit. Such beauty must have been a great asset to the SOLDIER program, in his time there. Captivating the enemy by appearance. Surely he knew of this. Surely the man took advantage of it as much as he could. As now. Staring at him, making him feel almost uncomfortable. He wouldn't look back, no. He would feel all the guilt in the world if he had now. A crude reminder that he had failed Lucrecia.

"You're the only one, you know," Sephiroth said, suddenly serious.

Only one? That could mean many things.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," the other man said, unsure.

"I mean," Sephiroth stated, his seriousness unnerving, "You're the only one left alive from that battle long ago. You don't truly remember how long ago, was it?"

Everyone else… was dead? No, no it can't be. The last time he saw them, they were all healthy, hardly close to death. Just how long was he in that coffin? It was sad. Watching those around him die as his clock stood still. Someone would have to kill him. The only people he would even consider friends were now gone. What was left for him? He could, of course, protect Sephiroth. Naturally. The swordsman could surely take care of himself, and would be disgusted at the mere thought of having someone protect him.

"The… only one… left?" Vincent said slowly. No, surely not. This was all just to squander time. It was a farce. Surely…

Just how long had it been since he had last seen Cloud or Tifa? How long ago had they died? Why… hadn't he known? Not just Cloud or Tifa, of course… but the others as well. How long was he really in his coffin this time?

"But of course. People die, Vincent. They can't all live forever like you or I," Sephiroth said, the serious voice carrying, with a twinge of some other mysterious emotion. He wouldn't put his finger on it, but was it… concern? It sounded dangerously close to that. Why would Sephiroth care if Vincent was in pain? If he was hurt?

If he was ready to die?

Then the rest of the sentence sunk in.

You or I?

He… he could live forever?

Impossible.

"How long ago did they die, if you know?" It felt so odd, getting answers from Sephiroth. Before anything that was going on in this room, he would even have talked to him. He would hardly call what they were doing conversation.

"I have no idea."

Great. His friends were dead and he had no idea how or when they died. Simply perfect.

Why did this have to happen? People dying? What good did it do? People become a part of memories, die, and are all but forgotten in the afterlife. What afterlife? What resided after death that was so imperative to die for? Death. The ultimate sacrifice. It was indeed. A penance. The best redemption one could find. Of utmost priority to some. It made the man wonder… did people die after they have fulfilled their purpose? If so… then why did children die? Small children, naught but a few days old… dying. It wasn't possible to complete one's purpose in a few short days, one wouldn't even have time to live.

A voice cut into his thoughts, dragging him out as one dragged another out of the water.

"Why are you here?"

It was Sephiroth. Looking for answers, now that he had deduced that Vincent had his fill.

Vincent looked into those Mako eyes for the first time after that was said, exchanging what was running through his mind before the man interrupted him.

Suicide.

The ultimate atonement.

For what better way to atone than to make it easy not only for himself, but those around him?

Sephiroth's face was like stone, before he ascertained the meaning of the look. His eyes widened ever so slightly, to where it was barely visible, given their distance. He was, more or less, sitting on the edge of the coffin, arms crossed over his chest, the lid of the coffin on the ground. Eyes widened, then closing, face inclining, then turning away from the man lying in the coffin.

The actions troubled Vincent. What was going on with him? The sudden loss of composure, the widening of the eyes, the turning. It all meant something, he knew. The meaning, however, eluded him.

"Is there no other way?" The silver-haired man asked, tilting his head to where he could see the red clad man through the curtain of silver.

Moving onto his elbows, he looked at Sephiroth, eyebrows knitted, hair almost as long as the ex-General's now. Just how long had he been in that coffin?

Taken aback, Vincent replied, "Of course there's another way, but I think it's too late for that path."

Too ask for it.

Asking for redemption.

Ask for it from Lucrecia? Far too late for that now.

He could always ask Sephiroth for forgiveness.

What troubled him now, however, was why he was telling Sephiroth this.

Sephiroth had changed. He could tell. He was no longer the almost sadist he once was, but also not quite sane either. Somewhere in the middle. Something that made him feel like he could trust Sephiroth. Something that made him feel like Sephiroth was a friend.

Friend.

Sephiroth, a friend? Perhaps. Sephiroth was all he had now, despite their pasts.

As if in understanding, Sephiroth gave a sad nod. Why sad? The man barely knew him! Then again, even seeing others one doesn't know in distress can make others sad. Perhaps that was what was happening.

Seeing Sephiroth sad like this, it killed him. Truly. He could only come to one conclusion. The child of Lucrecia, sad. It was as if he was seeing her sad, but not quite. Seeing her sad hadn't affected him like this. Seeing him sad made him feel as if he was dying already.

Vincent had moved again, to sit cross-legged. To look at Sephiroth more thoroughly, to try to catch any emotions in his body language. None. Whatsoever. He bowed his head, letting the black hair fall in front of

"Forgive me," Vincent said, almost inaudibly, even surprising himself.

Sephiroth snapped his head to look at Vincent, his face momentarily filled with hurt, and was covered with stone, as if he didn't want the red clad man to see him in such a state.

"For what? You've done nothing wrong, Vincent, I'm sure," the man said, clearly quite bemused.

Vincent made a small noise, something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"You have no idea."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to hear what you thought of it, and if I should continue it. Hmm...