Executioner Epilogue: A Time of Grace


This ain't no place for the weary kind
This ain't no place to lose your mind
This ain't no place to fall behind
Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try—Ryan Bingham, The Weary Kind


"Long way from Costa. Or Mideel." Rude shouted over the blowing ice and snow.

Vincent just nodded, stepping out of the air transport. "It's not so bad, just cold and dark." Cloud looked up at him as if to ask if he'd lost his marbles for real this time but he just shrugged.

He was used to it. It was an extended mission for the Turks and for the first time, the WRO was sending their own representatives. He'd wanted the assignment badly, and hadn't been sure that Reeve would send him, given the executive's concerns over his mental health. And so, he wasn't in the mood to hear grousing from anyone else.

Cloud hadn't had to come. He was there as a family member and, to Vincent's way of thinking, could suck it the hell up.

He hoisted his rucksack and turned to look at a blackened tree, half buried twisted by the wind, by the side of a pond. Rude snorted. "How about that, babe? Waterfront property."

He smiled under the layers of scarves and mufflers and squeezed the platinum band—Rude's grandmother's—heavy and unfamiliar still, on his right ring finger. It too lay buried, a secret for now; it had been their little backup plan in case Reeve hadn't given in. There would be hell to pay, of course, after their hijacking of Reno and Cloud's wedding, and he wondered how it would all work out.

It would. He knew. "Well, which one of our cabins you want to stay in?"He shouted back. They had each been assigned one, one from the Turks and one from the WRO. And typical of government bureaucracy, neither could be canceled.

"The one closest to the pond. I like waterfront views."


Rude was right. It was a long way from Costa del Sol, to the end of the World.

He dropped down into the cave, a shallow indentation near the North Crater, as soundlessly and gracefully as a cat. Its occupant squeaked in shock. "Vinnie! You scared the shit out of me!"

"So much for the much vaunted observational skills of the ninja," he teased, and unwound his scarf, dropping his pack beside him. "Anything riveting to report to your relief?"

"No. I don't even know why we're here."

"Oh no, neither do I. It's not like ShinRa has ever done anything untoward at the Crater before, that the WRO might want a little advance notice this time."

"And why are you up here?" Yuffie asked in a wheedling tone, the one that Vincent suspected was illegal by several anti-torture treaties planet-wide. "Keeping an eye on the Turks? Or one Turk in particular?"

Vincent just shook his head. That was Yuffie for you, like a freight train. Even though you saw her coming a mile away, there was just no stopping her. He gave her an indulgent kiss on the top of the head, or hat, to be more exact. "One in particular. And it's not such an unpleasant job, either. Better than watching an empty crater." Well, he hoped it was empty, anyway.

She hugged him and managed to get dressed for the outside weather, a complex process, without concussing herself. "Here's your book and papers. Um, see you topside in six?" She handed him the origami book they all shared on their endless, boring shifts inside the cave, and a stack of square papers, and shimmied up the ladder, leaving Vincent with the quiet, and his thoughts. He stripped down to a coat and light leather gloves and opened the book.

Then he made a fish, and a bird. He made a box, which reminded him of gifts, so he pulled out the battery operated salt lamp that Rude had given him. It gave off natural spectrum light which was supposed to be good for depression; too much artificial light was bad, Rude had read, and ever since then he'd bought all kinds of gadgets, especially for the trip north, that gave off natural light. Vincent liked them, but especially this little lamp, that smelled like an oncoming storm and looked like firelight.

He put down the book and settled into the deep winter silence. The last few months had torn a near catastrophic hole in the new, fragile life he had built for himself after Deepground. It had been less than three years since Rude had dragged him, near catatonic, out of a hospital room, broken as a baby bird fallen from its nest. He had never even taken a driver's test; ShinRa had simply handed him a license and Veld had more or less taught him the operation of a car. He had never rented an apartment; ShinRa had just given him a place to live. He had never even bought his own clothing as an adult; it was either a uniform, or a crimson cloak over the black armor chosen by his demons.

The world had been a terrifying place for a new human.

Rude had let him drive on a road trip to Costa and upon his return to Kalm, he had his first real license at the age of sixty one. He proudly took Cloud on a spin around an abandoned parking lot to celebrate. After finding out the staggering amount of paperwork involved in renting an apartment, he had just bought the damned thing so he would never have to do it again. He still couldn't dress himself for shit, and if it involved more than leather, denim, boots, and a shirt, he just asked Tifa to do it for him.

Then it all crashed in on him and he had to start it over again. And people wondered why he had wanted to come up here, rather than be parted from Rude. No, he wasn't weak and clingy, he had just lost enough for one lifetime.

A noise at the cave entrance drew his attention, and he put his hand to Cerberus. But the creak of leather and the smell of cigarettes put him at ease. Somewhere, under countless layers of winter clothing, was Cid Highwind. Maybe. "What are you doing up here so early? You weren't due until afternoon." But he accepted a hug from the shapeless lump of coats and scarves anyway, happy to see his friend.

"Checkin' on you. You seem to need it. What the hells is that?"

"A salt lamp. Rude bought it for me, it's supposed to be good for depression. You delivered it, you should know."

"Hmph. I just deliver boxes, I don't ask what's in 'em. Stayin' home mighta been good too."

"With most of my friends up here? I doubt it."

"Still determined to stay?"

"Cid, it's not horrible up here, it's just winter. Winter is perfectly natural; in fact, it's quite beautiful if you take it on its own terms. I went running yesterday."

"In this? Ya are daft."

"Oh, that's news. And they make special running gear for polar temperatures. That's what was in the rest of the boxes you delivered."

"Who woulda thunk there was such a thing? Not folks with enough sense to stay in outta the cold, that's for sure."

Vincent just smiled. It was an old argument between the friends, and one that they never tired of having. "Do you want to use my cabin? You can confuse the hell out of Yuffie, who seems to think I'm sleeping in it."

"Sounds good, and better than the barracks." Cid's assignment as pilot didn't give him permanent housing at the base. "Besides, wanna give you newlyweds your privacy."

Shit. He had never been able to slip a damned thing past Cid, but how...

His friend was grinning, like he'd won the Midgar lottery. "Lucky guess but I see I hit it in one. I know you two like to vacation in them little huts and all, but two days is a mighty short trip all the way to Mideel, 'specially when you're already in Costa. And I know the monks do little quickie weddings for folks that don't have time to wait on a license and all and in the name of, whatchacallit," the pilot waved his hand, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke in the low lamplight, "religious tolerance, the government's gotta recognize it and wait on the license later. Then, I kinda wondered why you already had your shit packed, when you didn't outright know if Reeve was gonna assign ya or not. Seemed a little optimistic, if you ask me. Knowin' you like I do."

Yes, that was the problem, Cid knew his every quirk, a little too well. He could give Reno a run for his money on profiling; it was damned irritating, truth be told. Vincent put his head down his knees. "It may not go over well, I'm afraid. We didn't mean to exclude anyone."

"Was it what you wanted?"

Vincent thought back to the tiny stone church, to the peace and quiet of the place in the early mist of morning.

"Yes."

"They'll adjust then. You been through enough on other peoples' agendas. 'Bout time you had something you could own. Need to start thinkin' about how you're gonna hide that ring you keep fiddlin' with under your glove tho, come summer."

He stopped fidgeting with the ring, caught. "Cid? If I buy you beer, will you be quiet?"

"Guessin' we could arrange something."

"I adore you."

"Yeah, I am one charming bastard. See you when you're done with this shit?"

Vincent returned his grin and Cid ran back up the makeshift ladder like a rabbit, off to deliver gifts and cheer to the rest of the Crater Base camp like some profane and foul mouthed Papa Noel.


The end of his shift came six hours, twelve origami animals, and countless chapters on his electronic reader, another gift from Rude, later. There wasn't much to do, down in the cave, but drink coffee and read and find any mental outlet one could. The Turks were stationed on the other side of the crater, doing much the same. Occasionally he spoke to Rude via radio, though they tried to keep channels clear for actual business.

Still, it was nice to hear each others' voices. The assignment gave them that much at least. He fiddled a bit more with his ring; Cid was right, it wouldn't be a secret much longer, not with Little Miss Espionage around. He dressed for the outside weather and headed for the common room.

The Crater Base common room served multiple duty as a gaming room, restaurant, bar, and general hangout for the men and women stationed there. He arrived and stripped down to normal clothing to find that Cid had arrived only moments before him for the promised beer. They wouldn't get drunk, of course; thinning the blood in the polar regions was a fatal mistake, but a few drinks wouldn't hurt. "A toasty one for my friend Cid, Jak, if you please." The bartender opened a sliding door and pulled two beers out of the snow where they were kept relatively warm from the below-freezing air. "Is the Turk second shift over yet?"

"Nope. Radioed to say they would be about seven, the relief was late getting out. Reno was most...colorful in his opinion of the schedule change. I've got some stew hot for 'em in the kitchen." Vincent made introductions; Jak had returned for another tour and was once a airplane mechanic before he hurt his back. Soon his theory that Cid was a worse gossip than Reno was proven beyond any doubt, and he leaned his chin in on his fist, relaxing into his second beer and the warm personal company.

Cloud appeared at his elbow, taking him by surprise. "You doing okay?"

"Surprisingly, yes. You?"

"Yeah, I thought it would be harder than it is. I almost went nuts up here the first time, Reno and I fought constantly." He sipped his beer and laughed at the memory. "We finally figured out how to have sex with some of our clothes on."

"That does soothe a lot of friction." He smiled again. Then, "Stop it, Cloud."

"Stop what?"

"That look. I really am fine."

"Vin, I'm sorry if I'm skeptical but it was only a month ago you shot your own rapist in the chest at point blank range. That would rattle most people."

Cloud had a point, and was the only person that would get away with making it. Checking to make sure Cid's nosiness was otherwise engaged, he replied. "Do you know what he said when I showed up at his house? 'You're alive.' That struck me as odd, for some reason. If I drugged and raped a restrained mental patient on a weekly basis for months on end, I think, I don't know what I'd say. Really. But I poured myself a glass of his top shelf and asked him why he did it, and he said because right and wrong are politically determined, and he paid people very well to see that what he did was right at the time. And then I shot him. I was so shocked, I think, because even Hojo realized he was evil, he just didn't care, but this man...he treated it like he was just getting a requisition signed.

"I realize I was vastly off my rocker at the time, and may still be, and maybe this trip was ill advised, and maybe it is illusory but I do feel fine."

"You feel better since you remember? We went insane in different ways, I guess." Cloud looked distant, as if remembering his own parting with reality after losing Zack.

"Yes, oddly. Horrified, but better." Before he could go into any more detail, the noise of the Turk patrol distracted them along with Reno's elaborate cursing and something about the location of his frozen balls. Cid walked to the end of the bar to continue his conversation with Jak, but not before giving Vincent a pat on the back and a significant glance, and Rude sat down with his stew. It was a hearty concoction of tomatoes and meat and vegetables. A bowl of seasoned rice and an icy bottle of beer rounded out the meal.

Vincent noted with some amusement that people gave them the same wide berth for privacy they did other couples in the base crew. "So, how was your day?"

"Bit longer than yours, but just as boring. Watched ice melt and listened to Reno bitch. Do you want some stew?"

"I ate earlier, just before you came in. I could use another beer, though." Rude got up to get them both a refill, and Vincent found himself looking forward to the evening, very much.


They held hands on the way back to the cabin as a matter of practicality more than sentiment—it helped keep balance in the gale force winds of the Northern Continent—and Vincent shook the snow out of his hair in the mudroom, envying not for the first time the simplicity of baldness. All Rude had to do was pull off a hat and hang it up to dry.

Life was so unfair.

Gloves and coveralls were next and before long the two of them wore the thick fleece pajamas that had become a uniform of sorts in the thickly insulated cabins of the base. Rude padded into the kitchen to heat some mulled wine while Vincent dove under the warm covers of the bed. "Damn glad the day is over. Here's your wine." He took a large sip of his own and gave a hedonistic moan.

Almost as he said it, Vincent grabbed the lube out of a small toiletry kit and put it in bed with them, in some hope of bringing it close to body temperature. Or, at least above freezing. Rude saw him and gave a little smirk.

"I missed you today," he said by way of explanation. He turned on is little salt lamp and left it as the only illumination in their insulated cabin. "I hate all the time I wasted."

"Not wasted. You needed to heal."

"I didn't need to be an idiot." Vincent privately thought that Rude was being generous but decided not to argue the point.

"Shhhhh." Rude raised up over him. "None of that. Somebody hurt you. Can't put all that back together all at once."

And Rude held him for a while, there in the lamp's soft glow. It had been a hard, awkward time in Costa, him more afraid of being afraid, than anything; of panicking at the wrong moment and ruining everything after being gone for so long. And afraid of telling Rude the truth of his fear.

But Rude had seen through him and had only touched him, and kissed him, and quieted his attempts to go too fast, too soon and when he had beat his own fists on the bed in frustration, he had only cradled him in comfort and then let him weep out his anger.

And when he was all cried out, only then had he made love to him with a slow sweetness that even now, in the low light, made him so hard he ached. "I want you," Vincent whispered up into the soft light.

"Yeah." Rude stripped off the rest of their clothing. "Warm enough now."

"We have to get out of the bed sometime, you know."

"Details." Rude claimed his mouth, hard, then, leaving no room for memories or fear, warm hand trailing up his leg and hip before fastening on his shaft and rubbing almost too gently to bring satisfaction.

"More," Vincent gasped when he could find the strength to break away. He found purchase to rub himself against Rude's hardness and it brought a groan from the larger man. "Want you inside me." And he did, he wanted that burning ache of entry that made his breath hitch, the way Rude grasped his hips and thrust into him. The way Rude claimed him before...

Before. He wanted it again. For all the rebuilding they had done in Costa, he needed it here, without gentleness, without room for the past. Rude only nodded, and prepared both of them, pushing his fingers inside until Vincent growled in need and arched his back. "Ohhhhhhhh, that's good."

"You always did like that."

Like? He was breaking a sweat, pleasure coming out of him in helpless little moans now. Rude's hands were perfect, warm and just callused enough to make him want more without being uncomfortable. He bit his lip in an attempt to keep from begging; he did have some standards.

Or maybe not. "Rude!"

"Yes."

He entered him in one long, hard stroke that made Vincent's eyes water but all he did was gasp a little. Rude paused, and placed his hand on his side in question but only got a nod in response, and kept rocking into him. The ache faded into mindless pleasure. Rude lifted his thigh and drove into him deeper, and faster. Vincent arched his back, bringing his hardness into contact with Rude's stomach with each thrust; the friction felt heavenly and he groaned in warning.

Rude slipped his hand between them, closing around him and stroking, the ache inside him growing harder and harder until it exploded and he came, hard, crying out against the warm wet pressure of Rude's mouth. A grunt, and a shuddering thrust later, and Rude was trembling above him, holding him close.

"I..."

"I know."

"Yeah."

"You know what's gonna suck?" Rude found the wipes, one more thing they had learned to keep in bed with them, under the electric blanket. Cold wipes after sex were one hell of a mood killer.

"Hmmm?" Vincent drowsed.

"When we get back, and have to hold it down to keep from scaring the neighbors."

"Hadn't thought of that. I say we scream our heads off, let them sell if they don't like it."

Rude grinned and handed him back his pajamas, and they curled into each other for a warm night's sleep.


He was back in Costa del Sol.

Thirty years before, there had been a carnival on the end of the Point. He couldn't remember the name of it now, but it had dissolved into neglect and No Trespassing signs long since. He hopped the fence with a preternatural grace and walked through the eerie quiet, past shooting galleries and gondola wheels, listening to the wind squeak in the rusted gate of a tilt-a-whirl.

He found himself in a hall of mirrors, but something was wrong. The reflection staring back at him was too thin, too young, the hair chopped in an unflattering bob out of fashion three decades before. He turned to leave, but in the next mirror was Hojo, with a needle. The caress against his neck was cold, that of a corpse.

His own screams of terror woke him.

But the hand at his back now wasn't cold, it was alive and a little rough and another arm went around his waist in comfort. He breathed in the old fashioned scent of bay rum shaving soap and the laundry detergent from the comforter, and the ion smell from the lamp. He opened his eyes and saw the near darkness of the cabin, not the bleached out light of his nightmare, and drew a shaky breath.

"Do you need to get up?" Translation, was he going to be sick? Rude knew the dance well.

"No." No, but a dream of the labs would have produced a slightly different answer. "No but some tea would be nice." Rude got up to brew some, and was back in a few minutes, during which Vincent had time to reassemble his dignity and put on pajamas that weren't soaked through with cold sweat. "Thank you."

"You're getting like Cid with that tea. Can you talk about it? The dream?"

"He cornered me in the old Point Carnival."

"Fucked up."

"Carnivals are creepy anyway, Rude. I'm scared to death of funhouses."

"Seriously? I never knew that about you."

He leaned into Rude's warmth, soaking in it like the sun, and nodded. "And clowns." Rude looked at him skeptically over his own teacup. "No, really. I am completely freaked if I can't see someone's face."

"But my sunglasses never bothered you."

"You are the most transparent person I have ever met. You hid nothing behind glasses." They smiled at each other in the lamplight and finished their tea, and Vincent went back to sleep, all dreams banished to the dark wind outside the door.


Rude had ordered extra lamps the minuted he found out that Vincent liked them, and they had arrived only the previous evening via express delivery , filling the cabin with an amber light. Vincent sat drinking more tea in his favorite chair. Rude turned on the overhead kitchen florescent just long enough to dress, and then back off again, knowing it annoyed the man at the window and not wanting to leave it on any longer than necessary. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, really, it's just dark, Rude. I've always done fine in the Ancient Forest, and it's dark there too. You were right, it's the lighting here that had me on edge, these little lamps are magic." Sitting in the middle of them, he looked as though he was in the center of a votive, or a precious jewel box. "I'll be going out at sunrise to see Cid off and if the weather cooperates, Cloud and I may go ice skating while it's daylight. It's actually quite nice here." He had the whole day off from patrol, but that meant more time on the computer and catching up on reports while Rude was on guard duty. Eventually he would have to make his way over to the common room, the only place hardwired for computer networking, to report to Reeve and answer other emails. He wasn't looking forward to it, the lighting and noise intrusive on his acute senses, which were even more sensitive after days in the dark of the cave and quiet of the cabin.

Until then, though, he would content himself with drowsing, and tea, and the certain organic pace his days had taken on. Somehow, this frozen wasteland had begun to heal him more than his weeks in Costa. Maybe because, in spite of how much he groused about it, it was good to know how much his friends and his lover cared about him, when all his adult life he had believed he was nothing, a monster.

Maybe, because in this place, there was nothing else to do.

Rude paused behind him on his way out the door. "Why do you stare out that window, babe? It's nothing but wind."

"No, there's a tree, by the pond."

"A dead tree."

He smiled. "Pessimist."

"Vin, it was dead when we got here. It'll be be dead when we leave."

"It's winter. Winter holds life deep within it, Rude. It has to, for things to survive." Vincent knew only too well what he had held, protected through countless winters, in a coffin above the earth, through Hojo's torture, through his own despair. He leaned forward and pressed his fingers to the frigid pane. "Fifty gil says it's alive. It will be spring when we leave, we should know."

It was an old game amongst the Crater Base crews; there was little to do up here but gamble and it hadn't taken them long to join in. "You're on."

Spring. It seemed so far away, up here, but he knew the truth of it, knew it in Rude as well. He knew spring would come and had, in fact, already come for the rest of the planet. Here at the North Crater, however, the planet still waited, holding her life, her secrets, much like Vincent had for so long, deep within an icy core.

But neither could wait forever.


"You're windburned." It was weeks later, but spring still seemed a stranger to this frozen land. Rude and Reno returned to the common room and stripped off their work gear, down to civilian clothing. Vincent's shift had ended early that morning; it had been a long dark night down in the cave with only his lover's gifts to keep him company. It didn't matter; solitude was an old and comfortable friend by now.

"We had a battle today. Cloud and I against the rookie spouses. We won. Expert marksmanship and all."

"Snowballs, I assume." He brushed a pink streak on his lover's face in emphasis. "One got through."

"I took the rest down. Cloud built the fort."

"You are...never mind. We were bored out of our skulls all day watching the damned Crater and all our families were out playing snow fort. How comforting."

"Cocoa? There's schnapps." Cloud and Reno were already firmly in each others' laps.

"Wonder what it tastes like on you."

"Jak? Go cup?"

Some hours later, both of them sticky and smelling of peppermint, they held each other in the cocoon of their collected blankets and soft amber light. "We have to get up and pack."

"In a minute." Rude didn't seem too intent on moving.

"We might need another helicopter for all the stuff you bought me."

"You liked opening presents."

"I know, but we were up here almost two months. That's a lot of presents, Rude." He yawned and stretched.

"Didn't mind, it made you happy."

Vincent leaned up and licked at a gummy spot of minty goodness on Rude's shoulder and grinned as he heard the man's breath hitch. "Let's pack later."


It didn't take an entire copter to pack up Vincent's gifts, but it did take a rather large box. The extreme weather running gear alone was massive. He had no idea when he would wear it again, but he would never leave it behind. The ShinRa-issued heavy winter clothing would be returned, and happily so; if he never saw it again it would be a day too soon.

Loving winter had its limits, after all. It would be good to see the sun again, when they touched down in Coste del Sol.

His lamps went in last, and delicately packed. Vincent had spent most of the morning helping Cloud and Reno assemble their own belongings, as they left everything to the last minute. It was no surprise. The freight copter took off and absurdly, Vincent wished the salt lamps had flown with him, and not with the freight. Silly, as Rude would be riding next to him in the passenger transport. He turned the platinum band on his finger again. The lamps were more of a bond than the jewelry, but no one knew that and he didn't know how to tell anyone so he remained silent. It was all right; the secret made him warm inside.

"Fifty gil." Rude's voice was quiet as they walked by the pond.

"What?"

"I owe you fifty gil. Look." He did, as he climbed into the transport behind Rude and his friends.

A pale green bud broke out of the withered husk of the tree; the brave sign of a late and chilly spring.