Wounded

Chapter Four:

The Final Breath

It's too late

You cannot save me, it's not possible

No matter what you do

I cannot live another moment

Life has been full of agony

And now is my eternal rest

Something I have desired for so long

But I cannot linger anymore

My soul is weak

My mind has given up

Finally my heart slows to a stop

I thank you for the time we were together

I treasure all of you

My dearest friends

Even if there is pain together

Be happy that I am finally gone

Now my peace is eternal

Never again will I see the sun

The sky, stars, they are all gone

There is one thing I've gained

And that is an eternal rest

Thank you for your kind words

Touches that have reached my broken soul

Forever will you be blessed

For your eternity

One confession I cannot speak

Words that cannot escape my lips

I love you, all of you

Thank you, my treasured friends

For the kindness that I can never repay

There was fear within his eyes as he looked at his friend's still form, a hand upon his pulse, he couldn't feel a thing, there was nothing there, the crimson-hued form was gone. Cloud realized that for several moments the other hadn't drawn breathe, there was so little time to save the other from death. Panic spread throughout Cloud as he rushed forward, he positioned himself to be on top of Vincent, his hands placed above the other's heart as he prepared to perform CPR upon the other, attempting to bring him back to life. He pushed down, once, twice, three times it came. And he took in a breath, parting the lips of the delicate man, breathing air into his form, once, twice. When there was no response once more his hands went to the heart, pressing once, twice, and again he breathed air, attempting to bring the man back to life. There was no doubt his efforts were the best as several more times he attempted to breathe air into the still form, tears streaking his cheeks as over and over again he pressed the heart, trying to get it to beat once more. His attempts continued to be futile, he tried to rouse the form from death, but he continued to fail. With each passing second it continued to become more and more apparent that Vincent was not going to make it. Yet he didn't stop, a faint hope within his heart that the other would make it, that he would soon open his eyes and gasp, air filling his lungs, alive.

It took ages for him to finally give up his efforts; he slowed the process, whimpers escaping from his throat. His vision blurred by several tears that escaped his azure eyes, realization came finally to him, Vincent Valentine was gone. He collapsed on top of the dead form, sobbing hysterically; begging Vincent to come back to life, begging for him to open his crimson eyes and say that everything was alright. It couldn't be this, this couldn't be what was happening, it was impossible, Vincent couldn't be dead, and he just couldn't! The comprehension of this situation was barely grazing the edges of his clouded mind, sadness was within his heart, a breaking of emotions that he could hear mentally, yet it was lost to the outside. There was no reason that this was supposed to happen, not this, not the death of a dear friend, he had already lost Aeris several years ago, and now Vincent had slipped away because of unknown figures that had damaged his flesh.

There was anger that rose up, a deep rage was roused from deep within his soul, a longing for revenge, to take vengeance upon the fools that had dared to strike and cause the delicate and fair man to bleed, for causing this pain, agony, despair that could not be measured or removed. How could he have been so careless, foolish to let the gunslinger suffer death in a pained state? It was his fault, there was no doubt within his mind, the deep caverns that echoed a phrase, one that cause his guilt and pain, something that tore him apart inside.

The sobs that were loud, long, and wet, they woke up a snoring and sleeping Cid, it took a moment for the nicotine addict to realize what was going on. In a rush he moved towards Cloud and the deceased Vincent Valentine, tears filling his sky-like eyes as he put his hands on the gunman's shoulders, shaking the carcass roughly, praying that somehow his movements would bring the dead one back to life. It was a useless effort, one that wasn't going to bring Vincent back, it didn't work, and a cherished friend was lost forever.

Tears filled the old pilot's eyes, as finally sobs tore from him, sorrowful sounds of sadness that was in another pattern than the other blonde's noises that displayed the deep pain that the two of them felt over this. Over the death of their dear friend Vincent Valentine, who they knew would never wake again. The two cried together, expressing their grief openly, unaware that several people around were still attempting to sleep, yet there was no heed paid to this. Why should it be bothered when someone that is cared for has died? Hours and hours were spent, showing their anguish with loud wails of misery, their friend was dead, and he was no more.

Two days had passed since that moment, since the time the man known as Vincent Valentine died; it was a peaceful death, one that had taken place while the man was within unconsciousness. Within a casket he laid, the ex-turk was peaceful for once within existence after the horrendous experiments that Hojo had preformed upon him several moons ago in a time that they did no exist as they were today.

Water streaks, tears streamed down the faces of those who grieved for the gunman, they knew that he was gone; laying within that casket that was his final resting place, within a coffin, so similar to the one they had found him sleeping in four years ago. Tifa tapped Cloud upon his shoulder; it is time to speak a few words in the memory of their good friend.

Stepping before them all, attempting to will the tears that fell to go away for a few moments, but they continued to flow down his pale cheeks, and he spoke to them all. "We didn't know Vincent; he was a mystery to all of us." His words started, tears still dropping to the ground, he lifted a gloved hand to attempt to cast away the sadness, but it still fell down, like pouring rain. "Yet, he was always by our sides in times of need, protecting and defending us all, he never asked for anything in return. He always left us behind for his personal missions, never asking for help, nor desiring it from us, but that was his way, he was our lone wolf. Vincent… Vincent loved a woman named Lucrecia before most of us even existed, continuing on and on he attempted to atone for his sins for the pain he had caused himself and her… We never really understood that love he held, just standing aside and letting him bear that terrible burden on his own, he would have it no other way.

"I wish… I wish we could have done more for him, he lived a long life, in a way, most of it was spent deep within nightmares of a long ago, he was tortured, a broken soul. We never understood that, and now we never will… All I can really say is that Vincent, we'll miss you. You've been our support, our backup, the man who has given us advice for so many years, we'll miss you. And Vincent… We love you. But, I hate to say it; this is the final goodbye… I'll miss you."

He couldn't speak anymore, turning away from the group, he shook his head, a hand over his eyes, trying to both stop the tears and hide the grief that was lodged deep within his soul. That was the second friend he had lost due to his own foolishness, his carelessness, he didn't take care of the gunman enough, he had done something wrong, something he ha done, something he hadn't done, that was what had cost the gunman's life. How could he have let such a dear friend, another one, return to the lifestream for his eternal rest… It was he who was at fault, his dearest friend was gone… Forever, Vincent Valentine was no more but memories of those who loved him.

Cid Highwind was the next one to say a few words, he took his place where Cloud had stood just a few moments ago, overlooking everyone, wiping tears from his old sky-blue eyes, he shook his head, trying to focus on what he wished to say about the dearly departed. "I'm sorry that we couldn't do more to save ya', Vince, I always considered ya' an odd fellow, always keepin' to yourself, sayin' some of the strangest things at times that barely made sense but somehow we all knew what ya' meant. You were a good friend; someone we could go up to and dump all of our problems on and you'd just sit there and listen, and then even give us some damn good advice that for some reason always worked even when the shit barely made any sense. Vince… I'm sorry… We all failed ya'."

The speeches went on until the very last one was given, all seven remaining AVALANCHE members, and two children, named Denzel and Marlene, stood around the grave as the coffin was finally lowered into the ground, Vincent soon after was buried, the lid closed, six feet under the ground with a tombstone marking his solemn gave, words were engraved upon it, flowers littered all around, to stand for all eternity.

To a man who died, and never had a chance to live.

That was all they could say, after all.

Vincent Valentine was gone.

Days passed the grieving members of AVALANCHE by, those days turned into weeks, and as weeks passed, they turned into months, months, of course months turned to years, years turned to decades, decades turned to centuries, centuries turned into millennia, and that stretched on for eternity. Yet, at this point, the longer events hadn't occurred as only a week or two had passed since the beloved gunman had passed away, a few of them attempting to save his dear life.

Each felt the same way as they sat there, they felt the same pain that had been present when Aeris had passed before their eyes, by the blade of Sephiroth. They knew that it was useless to wish for him to return to them, besides, it was impossible for the dead to come back to life, except that the only exception was Sephiroth himself. But that was irrelevant to them now, nothing was mattering, only the fact that they had failed another, a dear friend who would never be there around them anymore. The gunman's presence had been something that was both soothing, and disturbing, with a dash of mysteriousness to be included. He hadn't asked for anything from them, yet they had asked for so much from the gunman, yet he had never complained, or ever griped about what they wanted and asked from him. He was just that type of person, someone they trusted, but now, now he was gone from them, and there was nothing that could change the fact that the sniper was gone, forever.

Their grief was silent at this time, tears were not shed, and the emotions of sorrow expressed were calm and almost emotionless at this point, they didn't bother to say what they felt, or express such sorrow in any other way except for the fact that they were in pain. It was a deep pain, one that was both hidden and expressed, it was in plain sight, but cutting deep within the flesh of the soul, hiding itself within the deepest reaches of a person, it disappeared and made its home there, waiting for the time to strike and break its host, a parasite that could kill those of the faint-heart. It was not surprising when they all started to part ways, yet numb with what was heavily carried within each heart of this group, it would be a long time before they could heal, and thing might return back to normal, yet healing was still far off, especially in the two that had been there when he had passed, Cloud Strife, and Cid Highwind. The two of them were hit the hardest by the blow of their friend's death, no one had expected him to ever die, and yet one thing was remaining there, lingering dead in the back of their minds, what if he had been alive when they buried him…? If that was true, then they had murdered him by putting the man six feet under, but what was the most horrifying thing of all, was that that was right. They had buried the enigma gunman alive, he was within that coffin, in a comatose state, and he was barely breathing, but if he woke, ever, he would be dead, what irony it was… If only they knew.

But, unfortunately at that moment, he woke up. Vincent's eyes opened wide as he looked around in the darkness, he didn't know where he was, there was fear in his mind, a mind filled with three cackling demons who were perfectly aware of Valentine's situation, yet they offered no help to him, they just laughed and continued their little games of torturing the helpless gunman, the had nothing better to do, after all. The sniper's eyes darted around in the darkness, feeling the walls of wood around him he attempted to push on them to see if he could get free. But to no avail. He realized almost immediately that he was in a coffin, one extremely similar to that if the one he had been encased in during his thirty year sleep within the Shin-Ra Mansion. This was just like his nightmares, trapped alone within the confines of a box, but instead, this time he was underground. Why was he within this coffin, had he died and this is his endless eternity of death? Was it because of his sins that he had been cast here? There was confusion, but acceptance followed, he realized that there was no escape, that being buried alive was his final prison, ah, he was cast into his own private ell once more before he would return to the lifestream, at least he had somewhere to think before his last breath was taken, if that would ever come. There was surprising calm as he contemplated why he was here, perhaps they thought he was dead, and in their grief buried him, a nice funeral, a tombstone, and a eulogy to follow. A wry smile came to his lips at the thought of the last words the other would speak of him, in all, they would complain over his mysteriousness and how he always locked everything up inside, there would be tears, words of how they wished they knew him better, and probably a mention of his love for Lucrecia. It was funny, a little bit; his grave and dark humor was cutting in.

"So then, this is where I will die, how ironic." He commented aloud to himself, knowing that he must be insane to even think about starting a conversation with himself, but there was nothing better to do, his demons weren't the best at small-talk anyhow. They preferred to make long and boring speeches about either tormenting him, or poker, he preferred not to discuss either topic. But, before, with Chaos, there had been another topic he detested the most, 'which of Vincent's female companions is preferred'. That topic always caused him to frown, he didn't find any of them appealing, and Lucrecia was the only one for him…

Shaking that thought, he dwelled upon his life, of how it had began, and at this point, how it was ending. Thoughts OF his mother, who he had never met, yet, his father, Gilmore Valentine had talked of her often, with a sparkle of love in his eyes, and a faint smile on his lips as he spoke of how happy she had made him, and how lovely she had been during her life. Vincent had always blamed himself for his mother's death; it was because off his birth she had died in the first place… If he had not been conceived, his dear mother and father would've been happy… That guilt was even carried now, along with that for Lucrecia. He had forgiven himself for what pain had been caused, yet he still felt responsible for her loss of her son Sephiroth, he had been the one to help kill him, more than once he had been a factor in the process of helping Cloud reach his goal to remove Sephiroth from the Planet.

Pity, yes, it was a pity that these events had happened within his rather long life, or short, if you looked at it that his life had ended the day Hojo killed him, or if you looked at it as his life was ending now, but that was just on perspective of course.

"…The air's lessened… how much longer do I have?" He asked, curiosity at how many more breaths he had within the coffin before his final gasp of air would be drawn, and the sweet death would be taken. But he didn't wish to die without a poem to send him off; he felt a little poetic, even when death was knocking on his door. Closing his eyes, there was no difference between them being open or closed anyhow, it was just a little more entertaining to close them and think of what a thing he would spin before death claimed him.

At least the pain would end then.

His lips parted after a time, taking in a sharper breathe of air, at least asking the Planet one more thing, to let him finish what little dark-humored thing he had come up with on a whim:

"If I was ever a child

And the woman I loved a child

We would be happy together, within our world of naivety

But she and I are not children

Nor are we happy

But grownups, dwelling in separate misery

Still, the wheels of life still turn

And life begins anew

Each day brings back the memories

Of times with happier things

Yet those days are gone

Like each birdsong

And we're here till the very end

Pity, yes that it is

That we may suffer once more

And dwell within our lives

That seems not to exist at all

I complain one thing and only that

My last image is the darkness

And not the light I once held

The angel of my vision, Lucrecia

Is not in my eyes to behold."

There was a grin of mirth upon his features as he opened his hues to the 'ceiling' as it were, the air was tight, and his breath short…

And there was light, nothing more.