Journey

/

Stepping back aboard the Highwind with his team in one piece (more or less) and with their mission accomplished (more or less) felt like moving into another time; a time when they weren't all caked in blood, mud and rain, scratched and injured, sore and battered. She welcomed Cid with warmth and shelter, and he could almost feel her affection towards him for his earlier protective actions. He trailed his fingertips along a wall, thanking whatever name of fortune that had looked down on her through the recent pandemonium.

The rain continued to lash at the airship as Cid guided Yuffie down on a spare cot in the infirmary. Berto, Morrey, Jurdun (who miraculously escaped anything worse than a few scrapes) and Red were already there. Thomas had his hands full attending to them. His medic assistant, a young man called Terrell, was a first-aider in training, but was proving a proficient helper.

"I hate Shinra," Yuffie moaned as she slowly leaned back onto the pillow. Mud splattered her arms and legs, staining her clothes, and one half of her face was red with blood. The gauze on her temple was as dirty as the rest of her clothes. Cid knew he didn't look any better.

"You owe me a new scarf, yer know?" He told her, mockingly stern.

Her nose crinkled in scorn. "After all this and you want a scarf?"

He was about to retort back but the words faltered before he could utter them. Cloud had bought him that scarf, but Cid didn't want to lower morale any more by mentioning their former leader. Instead he said, "Yeah, and I'll hold yer to it." And he left the infirmary before Thomas could prevent him.

As the door slid shut behind him, the lights dimmed noticeably above his head before flashing back on. He sensed power was in the process of being diverted somewhere. After this fiasco, their main priority was to get engines back online so they could disappear from Shinra's detection again. Cid wouldn't relax until they had; he still wanted to know how they had found the Highwind in the first place.

Cait Sith came bounding down the corridor he was currently walking along. "Cid! You did it! Oh, it's good to see you're…" he noticed Cid's wild appearance. "… in once piece. My gods, what have you been through?"

Cid shook his head, feeling a sting at the base of his neck. Fuck, stitches are torn AGAIN. "Yer wouldn't believe it. Now tell me how the hell Shinra managed to find us?"

Cait fell in step as the pilot strode along. "I believe they sent out scouting parties around the area. Heidegger probably figured we wouldn't be far, not a huge assumption considering the damage the Highwind took."

"Well that leaves us with another problem, now," Cid griped, running a mucky hand through his equally mucky hair. "We've gotta get power to the engines ASAP."

"Okay, but shouldn't you get those injuries seen to first?"

If he hadn't drawn Cid's attention to them he might have continued to walk about unaware his entire body was in agony. His abdomen pulsed painfully where the lifeboat panel had fallen on him, his head throbbed like a bitch and there were so many stinging pains on his arms the entire appendages felt like they were being flayed. Damn cat.

"No time," Cid dismissed the suggestion without another thought. He would clean them up himself when he received an update on the ship's status. "The rest of the team's in the infirmary if yer wanna talk to them. I dunno where Vincent disappeared to, though…"

The gunman had been quiet in the lifeboat back to the Highwind, and as soon as they'd docked he had swept away into the depths of the ship. Cid's brain was stuck in a loop on his recent discovery. His mind was rolling in so much crap of the day's events that he hadn't actually allowed himself to dwell any further past: Vincent = monster. His processing ability was numb; he couldn't dwell on anything but his airship.

Cait disappeared to see how Red and Yuffie were doing as Cid found Holoski outside the engine room, sifting through cables and conduits behind a covering panel. He was surprised to see Cid.

"Captain, shouldn't you be in the infirmary?" Holoski asked, getting to his feet respectfully, taking in Cid's grubby appearance.

"I'm not goin' anywhere until we get my ship movin', now gimme an update."

What he learned, as he struggled to focus his attention on Holoski's words, was that as soon as Cid had taken his rescue team out, the stand-in captain had decided to prioritize the ship's engines in the hopes they could get the Highwind moving and assist in the rescue. Unfortunately, even with everyone working on it, they simply didn't have enough time. But, they had made significant progress, and Holoski estimated a full engine revival by 1500 hours – in approximately three hours. Finally, some good news.

"We can cut that time in half now I'm back," Cid announced, turning to the engine room.

"Sir, you really should get checked out first, or at least –"

"Zip it, Holoski. I can't afford to waste time when Shinra could be sendin' out more fuckin' tanks to bomb us with." He stumbled over his own foot, boots clunking loudly. "Don't say a word," he said darkly. He could feel Holoski's eyes burning with concern into his back.

"But, Sir, it's not necessary. We have the entire crew working on it. There's nothing for you to actually help with." Holoski approached a step closer. "We've got it covered, Captain," he added. "Trust us to get the engines back online."

Cid felt the tension in his shoulders expand a moment before his crewman's words finally sank in. He was being too stubborn to see that they were on top of their problem already. They didn't need him pushing them out the way, and in his state he would probably be a liability.

Finally, the pilot nodded. "Yer right. Yer've got it covered. I'll be… somewhere, in the meantime." He strode away directionless, on exhausted legs, leaving Holoski to continue his work. He trusted his crew, it was just difficult for him to step away when he had such a take-charge attitude. The thought of working on the Highwind again would have helped him forget about everything, everything but the matter at hand. He didn't want to stop and let his thoughts catch up. He didn't want to think about… the last thing that had happened.

His legs had unknowingly taken him through the corridors of the sleeping quarters. It was quiet and dark, with only small wall lights for illumination. Cid didn't know why he was wandering along this deck, perhaps because no one else would be around and his subconscious was seeking solitude to prepare for some healing. Or because on the quarters deck there was a set of visual panels along one wall that displayed a digital scenery, to compensate for the lack of windows and sunlight. Shera had suggested it after mentioning how dismal it was without. Or maybe his legs were taking him to his Captain's quarters; only, that was further around and in the opposite direction.

He was jarred from his numb oblivion when something caught his eye. Vincent was stood before the scenery panels, his dark cape fluttering eerily in a non-existent breeze. He looked from the display to the pilot's approach, his passive mask revealing nothing.

Cid stopped, blinking dumbly in the dim lighting. It was wrong that he immediately thought monster when he saw Vincent, it was so wrong. But it had been clawing at his thoughts since he had walked out of those trees with him. He vaguely remembered cracking a joke about the beers, but it had been a coping mechanism, a forced jest more for himself than the ex-Turk. After that his brain had plummeted into the realm of pending darkness, where all of Cid's troubling thoughts were pushed. This one such thought began circling the edges of his mind, bringing with it flashes of a monster's face. It occurred to him that his legs had brought him here deliberately; somehow knowing Vincent's location.

"How're yer doin'?" Cid eventually broke their silence, though his voice was croaky and weak to his ears..

Vincent's eyes looked away, back at the panels. The light from the landscape scenery basked him in a stark glow, and it struck Cid as tragically ironic how one man can be so beautifully handsome, and transform into something so monstrous. "Does it change your view of me, now?" He asked.

It took a moment for his words to sink in before Cid understood. He opened his mouth wanting to say no, he didn't think any different of Vincent. But the words wouldn't leave him. Because they weren't true.

Vincent's gaze had drifted, listening to the silence that gave him his answer. He closed those ruby eyes and dipped his face further behind his cape collar. "I understand. I'm sorry you had to see th –"

"Yeah," Cid interrupted, his brow knitting together to express something even he wasn't sure of. "Yeah it does change my view on yer. But probably not how you think." Vincent opened his eyes and turned them to Cid. "I know yer know that I know what happened to yer…" He paused. "Kinda. And I always wondered how a man could get up every day and carry on after goin' through that. I don't think I'd have survived yer ordeal, I'd have gone insane. And that flat out impressed me. But to see what else that bastard did to yer – somethin' I don't even know how the fuck is possible – I'm just… I'm at a loss for words," He caught Vincent's gaze and held it, approaching closer. "After seein' yer pick up a two ton armored vehicle, I was floored by yer physical strength, but I knew where it had come from. And then, when I saw yer transformed into whatever it was yer did, and when I realized what horrors yer really did go through at the hands of that – that fucker, I started to wonder just where the hell that power had come from. I wondered how yer still walkin' and talkin', how yer've coped with the biggest fuckin' mental baggage I've ever known of." He let his words settle for a second before continuing. "I think I know which of yer strengths is really the strongest…" He placed a palm on Vincent's shoulder, feeling the warmth through the cape. "I can't even begin to understand the sheer amount."

Vincent was silent for a long time. His eyes never wandered from Cid's, but many things swirled through their depths. Finally he said, "My strength, my motivation, comes from the darkness of revenge. My heart is black and tainted, thriving from the drive to carry out my one last deed." He hesitated. "I know that, when I have accomplished this, that resolution will die, and so will I."

Something painful spiked inside Cid's chest. "No. No, yer find another reason to carry on. Yer don't just drop dead."

Something incredibly raw passed through those crimson eyes, even though nothing on the man's face altered. "I have nothing left to live for but isolation and atonement," Vincent said, his deep voice quiet. "My life was stolen from me, there will be nothing to tie me to this world once I am done with Hojo." Vincent turned from Cid's hand. "I'm sorry if that is not what you wanted to hear."

Cid forcefully spun Vincent back around, grasping both his arms. "Yer just gonna give up a second chance like that?" He demanded, feeling very angry towards the man. "Gonna lay down and die? Yer don't strike me as a quitter, Valentine." Vincent seemed a little surprised by Cid's outburst. "Like it or not, yer have got things to live for after yer blow a hole in Hojo's brain: Friends. I dunno what that definition meant to yer thirty years ago, but now it means yer've got people who care about yer, people who aren't gonna letcha walk away and give up." He let go of Vincent's arms. "I sure as hell ain't!"

"As friends, it would be kinder to let me go," Vincent told him, emotionless. "As a friend, I ask that you honor my decision."

Cid shook his head stubbornly, his neck stinging painfully. "I can't do that."

Something angry flashed in Vincent's red eyes. "Tell me, what would you do to a lame racing chocobo, suffering a broken leg that can never be healed, no longer able to perform its purpose?"

"Yer not a fuckin' chocobo!" Cid cried.

"You would put it out of its misery," Vincent answered for him. "domestic animals that have lost their purpose are redundant. I may look, talk and walk like one, but I am no longer human. You should not save your human sentiments for me."

Cid punched him. He swung back his fist and punched him. He was surprised how easy it was. Obviously he expected to get slaughtered for it, but he balled his fists and glared at the gunman, expecting him to disappear inside a sphere of dark energy and for that monster to lunge out. But he didn't, he merely raised his eyes to Cid's with nothing more than irritation narrowing his eyes. Cid pointed his finger at him aggressively.

"You are not redundant. And you are a fuckin' human bein'!" He lowered his hand and ran it through his grimy hair. "Shit, Vince, why would yer say that? Do yer honestly think no one's gonna mourn yer, that no one will be fuckin' sad when yer gone? Because I fuckin' will!"

Vincent's eyes lost their irritation and something else swam into place. He looked surprised, as though this was news to him, and that made Cid feel a stab of sadness.

"This team is the closest thing I have to a family," Cid continued, his voice loud with dissipating anger. "That means you too. And I don't ever wanna hear yer talk about yerself like that again." He threw up his palms. "How do yer know yer can die?"

That was when it saw it, a flash in Vincent's eyes, a quick glimpse that opened his soul to Cid for a split second. A flash of genuine fear. Cid's words died in his throat as Vincent hastily recovered his mask and looked away. He was afraid of not dying… He was afraid that he couldn't die. Cid's mind whirled, beginning to understand… Vincent hoped that he would die when his deed was done. He really hoped that when his vengeance was completed, his motivation would simply end and he would too. It was almost naïve to think that, but Cid seriously couldn't rule it out; stranger things had happened. The human soul was capable of dying on its own, leaving the body to wither away eventually, was it really so absurd to assume that Vincent could die when he had completed his final task? That his body could cease to function the minute his soul did? Was Vincent so powerful he could will away his life? That thought scared Cid; it really worried him to think of losing Vincent.

He stepped closer once again and clasped the man's left shoulder, earning him that crimson gaze. "Vince, can yer honestly tell me that, when the time comes and Hojo is dead, yer won't have found somethin' else worth livin' for? Can yer really know that?"

Those deep ruby eyes turned to him again, studying him while he mentally debated his answer. "No, I… I cannot know that. Anything is possible, I won't deny that. But I will not nurture false hope." He paused, unsure on his next words. "You are very different to me, Cid… you are wired to fight on even if there's no hope in sight, and you cannot understand that all I want is an end. I am… suffering. My savior is my end, and it is part of what keeps me going."

Cid released his arm and stared. He wanted to argue more, he wanted to shout, but exhaustion had sneakily crept into his limbs and dropped its weight on him, dampening his anger and his energy. Instead of a loud come back, all he said, simply, was, "then I hope we never find Hojo."

Vincent's eyebrows furrowed in a rare display of sadness, taken aback by Cid's words. It made the pilot's heart ache all over again to see. What he wouldn't give to see a smile there instead.

Footsteps broke their strained silence, the sound of boots clunking on the plating drew louder. Jurdun appeared from the dimness, catching view of Cid.

"Captain, Thomas sent me to find –" His eyes caught sight of Vincent and he ceased his approach. "Um, to – to find you. He wants to treat your injuries." He hesitated, gaze flickering between them both but unable to draw away from Vincent. "Is everything alright?"

Cid felt a stab of anger at him, but then quashed it understandingly. Jurdun hadn't seen Vincent's actual transformation, but he had seen the monster, and he had heard Yuffie. It was probably a frightening experience for anyone, so he couldn't be blamed for his uneasiness.

"Everythin's fine," Cid told him. "Tell Thomas I've only got a few cuts and bruises. I'll take care of 'em."

Jurdun's eyes switched to him. "He thought you might say that, so he'll send Omar to drag you back if you're not in the infirmary in twenty minutes."

"I will tend to his wounds," Vincent spoke up, leveling his eyes at the crewman. "I will make sure they are treated."

Jurdun eyed the gunman with a nervous gaze before deciding that he would accept that. He nodded. "I'll tell Thomas…" He paused awkwardly for a second before turning and disappearing back down the corridor. His boots echoed until they could no longer be heard.

Cid turned to Vincent. "I said I'd see to 'em."

"I know you did."

"… Not gonna let me, are yer?"

"No."

Cid sighed and ran his hand absently through the hair at the nape of his neck, forgetting his ripped stitches. He hissed in pain. "Fine. My quarters are this way, there's a medkit kit there." He had no energy to refuse, and he felt obligated for the simple fact that Cid had been arguing with him no more than two minutes ago. Their arguments always seemed to end rather abruptly.

He led Vincent to his cabin quarters, punched in the lock code and shut it after they were inside. It was pitch black until he turned on the lights. He used to spend a lot of time in here, but during his command over the last three days he hadn't managed to see it much. He fetched the kit from the small ensuit and dropped it on the edge of the messy bed. Vincent hovered near the door as he watched. Cid stripped his sopping top layers and ran the water in the small shower cubicle.

"Lemme take a quick shower," he said. "You can use it after." He looked across and noticed Vincent's impeccable appearance. The mud and blood were gone, and to Cid's further surprise, the bullet tears in his leather and cape had been mended. Completely mended. "Or not… how the hell did yer fix yer clothes?"

Vincent looked down at his shoulder, fingers playing over the material. "An effect of my… transformation, I believe."

While Cid was in the shower a minute later, watching the dirty water cascade from his aching body, Cid wondered why Vincent hadn't noticed his own repaired clothing, and he realized that Vincent was discovering himself just like Cid was. The man had been woken from a long slumber barely a couple of months ago; there were things he hadn't discovered about himself yet. Did that mean there was more inside that body? Could there be more? How strange and alien he must feel in his own skin. Cid couldn't imagine.

He didn't hang about in the shower, opting for a quick scrub to remove all the dirt and wash his hair. He usually liked to enjoy it, but he was so sore it was anything but relaxing. He toweled off, pulled on a clean pair of undies and pants that he'd taken in with him, and emerged from the ensuit to find Vincent sat on the edge of the bed with contents of the medikit on the comforter. When he looked at him, Cid felt the heat from the shower return. At least, he thought it was because of the shower.

"You're bruised," Vincent observed, his eyes fixed on Cid's abdomen.

Looking down, he was surprised he hadn't even noticed it in the shower. A large, purple bruise had formed across his left hip, across his taut navel to his bellybutton, ugly in color and painful just to look at. He returned his gaze to find Vincent's eyes lingering, but they quickly darted up to his face, emotions hidden.

"No ribs broken, just bruised," Cid stated, pressing a hand to the back of his neck, where the pain throbbed the most. "Yer gonna have to replace those stitches yer did for me," he said, walking across the cabin to drop heavily beside Vincent on the bed, already feeling warm blood under his palm. "Thomas already redid 'em after the whole fiasco with the Shinra. I'd be surprised if there's enough skin left to tie back together." They were really going to have to procure another cure materia.

Strangely, as he turned his back to Vincent and the man began disinfecting the wound, Cid felt his body slowly relaxing, despite the pain. He wondered if it was because he was finally sat down, taking the weight from his feet after being on them for most of the day. His muscles tightened somewhat when the sharp stabbing of the needle began, but after a few minutes of careful sewing, Vincent tied off the last suture and Cid's body loosened once again. Before he could turn around, Vincent started dabbing at the top of his shoulder, and only then did Cid feel the faint throbbing from the wound there. Seemed he had more than he was aware of.

Silence had fallen between them, and Cid found it sinking heavily on his ears, although strangely it wasn't uncomfortable. The quiet sound of working was actually soothing, but Cid could also hear his own heart beating loudly in his ears, hard thumps from the recent hot shower. He listened as it eventually slowed to a languid rhythm, while Vincent dabbed at numerous cuts and scrapes along his back, gently moving across his skin with care. Droplets of water fell from his hair down his spine, stinging a few untreated scrapes. Cid felt pleasantly exhausted, closing his tired eyes as he sat still. On the back of his eyelids he saw the image of Vincent's monster.

"Galian," he realized aloud, remembering when Hojo had spoken. Vincent's hand froze. "Is that what yer other form is called?"

The gunman was silent for a long time, his barriers snapping up almost audibly. After a few moments his hand moved again over Cid's shoulder blade. "I believe so, yes…"

Strange answer, but then nothing about Vincent was normal. "Can yer control it? When yer transform?"

He knew he'd crossed a sensitive line when Vincent's hand disappeared from his back and the gunman said nothing. Cid looked over his shoulder, ignoring the tugging pain. Vincent's eyes were lowered.

"You are allowed to tell me to shut the fuck up, yer know?" Cid told him.

Those ruby eyes lifted. "I am… unused to talking about it," he said.

"Do yer want to?"

At this question Vincent looked straight at him, a glimmer of indecision played across his face. His lips parted but he couldn't seem to work out an answer. It was almost as though he wanted to say something, but his words would conflict with himself. It occurred to Cid that, usually, victims of tragedy and torture would go through a long healing process with someone qualified to counsel them. Vincent had gone through something that should have legitimately left him as an unresponsive shell in a mental ward, and he'd had no one to talk to about it. Avalanche couldn't be blamed, they were going through their own shit and Cid knew from past mentions that they had been wary of him. Vincent had kept everything hidden deep from day one of his awakening, and now Cid was beginning to question him about it.

Instead of answering, Vincent looked down at Cid's lacerated arms and took one carefully in his left hand, using his right to dab disinfectant over one of the many open cuts. He was silent.

Cid watched his face as he worked, hoping those eyes would flicker back up to his, but after a minute it was clear Vincent wasn't going to initiate any interaction. He studied his features, watching the way his eyelashes moved minutely as his eyes did, noticing how absolutely flawless his face really was. There was not a single blemish or freckle on his skin. He wondered if it felt as soft as it looked.

Before he was fully aware of it, Vincent was looking at him. His ruby eyes were penetrating but expertly masked of emotion, unnerving. Cid gave an invisible start, and tilted his head inquisitively.

"What?"

"You're staring at me," Vincent replied, his voice smooth and deep in the newly disturbed silence.

"I'm not allowed?" Cid asked defensively.

Vincent paused, perhaps not expecting that. His lips parted as he decided his response. "You are curious about the monster."

Cid blinked. "There's that." The man looked questioningly at him, awaiting elaboration. "Everythin' about yer is curious," he added, offering a small quirky grin.

The gunman's gaze trailed away, causing Cid's heart to sink. Had he put his foot in his mouth? Vincent stripped off a band aid and applied it to a stinging wound on the pilot's forearm. "Have you heard the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'?"

Cid huffed quietly, amused. "That a polite way of tellin' me to shut my mouth or else? 'Cause 'shut up, Cid' would work just as well. But don't worry, I ain't the pryin' type. I wouldn't usually be curious at all, but yer just so…" He really did shut his mouth before he could continue.

Vincent looked at him again, his own brand of curiosity burning in his eyes. "I had not meant it like that."

Cid watched back. "What did yer mean, then?"

The gunman held his gaze a second more before turning them to the band aid he had been smoothing with a thumb. He stopped and let go of Cid's arm. "Only that, even I don't know the full extent of what… Hojo did to me. I would not want you to get hurt…"

Understanding dawned slowly. Vincent had such a round-about way of answering questions, never really explaining. But Cid had subconsciously been putting himself in Vincent's shoes, and if not for that, he wouldn't have grasped the man's explanation: In a vague way, Vincent was telling Cid he didn't know how dangerous he was. Both men had developed a strange friendship, and with that sort of proximity came a risk that Vincent couldn't foresee.

"It's pointless tellin' me that," Cid offered a tired, lopsided grin. "I'm stubborn, remember? There're very few people on this planet that I hold in high regard. But those I do, I would give my life for 'em. And I wouldn't ever give up on 'em. I can easily see you as one of 'em."

This clearly surprised Vincent. His eyes darted between Cid's as his eyebrows pinched faintly. He couldn't unravel this strange being that was Cid Highwind. "After you witnessed my transformation, after you saw me for the human I am not, you would give your life for a monster?" He questioned, an air of cynicism lining his words.

Cid's grin faded. He did not want to argue this again. "Yes," he said firmly. "You may not see the worth y' are, but I can, and don't yer ever tell me otherwise."

Vincent's eyes were hard, but something uncertain swirled behind. He closed them briefly, gathering his argument or whatever crap he was going to spill next. When he opened them, the hard edges had softened. "Are you afraid of me?" He asked quietly.

The question stalled Cid's readying retort, aborting the argument he was going to lash out. Instead, he genuinely considered the man's question. Finally, he said, "…Not anymore."

The connotation of his answer left Vincent staring at him thoughtfully. Yes, Cid greatly admired Vincent, he was literally in awe of the man. But he'd be lying if he said there had not been a single ounce of fear towards him. Vincent was a man from fictional horror stories, a being who shouldn't really exist. Men turning into beasts was, as far as the current era knew, a taboo fantasy. To see such evidence was reality-altering; a slap in the face with a side order of chills. Only a fool wouldn't be afraid of something so inexplicable. That is, until they understand it better.

Cid was beginning to think the silence would stretch forever until Vincent finally blinked, and instead of a verbal response, he reached forward with a cotton ball between his fingers and dabbed at the skin just above the pilot's left eyebrow. The sting of the disinfectant revealed the unknown laceration there, but Cid's attention was completely on the man looking back.

When he was finished, Vincent drew back his hand slowly. "I should let you sleep," he said softly. He gathered the used medical items and rose from the bed, taking with him the warmth Cid had been feeling.

"You should sleep, too," he told the gunman, watching him. "Yer look as tired as I feel, as much as yer've been tryin' to hide it. Yer body's gone through a lot more than mine has today. There's an empty cabin at the end of the next corridor. Use that."

Vincent paused briefly before dropping the used items in the small trashcan and setting the medkit on the nearby dresser top. "I will." He said. At the door, he then added, "sleep well, Cid." And left.

Cid listened to the sounds of his boots on the metal plating fade, the sound lending evidence to his suspicion that Vincent was as exhausted as he. Once they had disappeared, he kicked his way under his comforter and gingerly set his head back in the welcoming plushness of the pillow. He battled with many thoughts all seeking prominence, but before any one of them could push their way to the front his body had shut down, seeking the much needed rest he had been denying it. He remembered only that Vincent had been on the forefront of his mind that night.

/

He managed to watch the sunrise the following morning, from a different beach many miles away from the lagoon. Holoski had managed to engage engines and had moved the Highwind sometime last night. Having conked out in the middle of the previous day, Cid had slept through it completely. As a consequence he had woken early. The storm had completely disappeared, but there were plenty of clouds hanging about, threatening more rain across what looked like the entire west coast. Nonetheless, that meant more canvas for the rising sun to cast a marvelous pallet of dawn colors upon. When he had seen enough, Cid returned inside from the outer deck.

He ached like hell. His whole body urged him that movement was ill advised, and walking brought throbbing pain with every footstep. His neck hurt like crazy yet again, and he wondered if there was any way for them to obtain a cure, because very soon he and his team would be breaking into Shinra to rescue Tifa and Barret, and he just knew those stitches wouldn't last. Was it sick delight that he half hoped they wouldn't, just so Vincent could sew him back up again? During these increasingly occurring moments between them, Cid managed to gleam a little bit more insight into that strange and tragic man, and he would be lying if he told himself he didn't want to learn more.

After finding his second in command and receiving an update, Cid's next stop was the infirmary to check on his injured crew. The infirmary door SWOOSHED open and he stepped inside to find all but Thomas asleep. Well, it was still very early.

"Captain," the medic acknowledged in a hushed whispered, looking pleased that Cid had returned. "How are you feeling? Did your teammate patch you up?" He didn't wait for an answer before he was checking Cid out, turning his face and scrutinizing Vincent's work. "Yes, nicely done. Then what do I owe this visit?"

Cid cast his eyes around his sleeping crew. "How are they?" He asked quietly.

"No one was seriously harmed. Morrey will be out of commissions for several days, and Berto won't be doing anything too strenuous with that broken arm, but that's the worst of it. Luckily. Your two friends just need plenty of rest. How's that red-eyed companion of yours? I, uh… heard some pretty strange things yesterday."

Cid looked back at Thomas. "Vincent saved our asses from Shinra. If not for him my pitiful rescue attempt would have failed."

Yuffie stirred. "Cid?" She mumbled, pushing back her sheet and blinking herself awake. Her skin had been washed and her dirty clothes had been replaced with mint green scrubs. A fresh bandage had been taped over her eyebrow. She rubbed her eyes before turning them towards the two men. "What's going on?"

Cid moved towards her cot. "Everythin's fine, just checkin' that you guys're still alive in here."

She huffed, pushing herself onto her elbows. "Gee, thanks. Did we move last night? Are we safe again?"

"Yeah, we're back under the radar," he assured her.

She looked around the infirmary. "Where's Vincent? Is he alright?"

"Yeah, he disappeared last night, seemed fine."

Yuffie set a long, observing look gaze on Cid. "…You took it pretty well," she remarked softly, quietly, watching his face. "We, uh… we all kinda freaked out when we first saw…" Her eyes drifted. "So did he."

Cid narrowed his eyes. "He did?"

She looked back up. "Yeah. We'd not long woken him up. He almost left the group, he didn't even know what he was capable of. Aerith was the one who managed to convince him back… She saw through the monster straight away… was kind to him even when we were edgy towards him... " Yuffie's eyes stared a moment longer. "Did he scare you too?"

She probably knew the answer, she saw Cid rush at Vincent, most likely with an expression of horror on his face. But Cid had been the only one to run after him when he bolted. If he hadn't, would he have never returned? Left the team as he had tried to before? The very thought brought a cold sensation to Cid's stomach.

"How many times had he transformed before?" Cid asked, his voice a low whisper, aware Thomas was working on the other side of the room.

"Twice," Yuffie replied, fingering a loose thread on her sheet. "The second time he was seriously injured in a monster fight. We figured he loses control when he gets hurt badly enough."

Makes sense, Cid thought, realizing Vincent must have been severely injured in the lifeboat crash. "He's still him when he's it, isn't he?"

Yuffie shrugged, a faint frown between her brow. "I think so, he's never turned on us. He protected me last night. I don't think he would have done if he wasn't him." She glanced over to check everyone was still out of earshot. "That transformation you saw yesterday, that isn't the only one," she added, watching him closely. "The second time he transformed he looked different, like… like a mutated humanoid. I didn't get a clear look, but it was even scarier."

Cid stared at her, trying to visualize it. "Poor bastard," he breathed. "I can't even imagine what Hojo must have done to twist his body to do that…" It shouldn't be possible.

"I… I get the feeling there's more," Yuffie continued, her eyes shifting away. "Like there's something… else inside him."

Cid wanted to say, you too, huh? But he didn't. He let his eyes wander as he absorbed what Yuffie had told him, but his mind continued to recycle the cold thought of Vincent leaving the team. He wouldn't do that now, would he?

Promising that he'd be back later, Cid left the infirmary intending to return to the Highwind repairs. He passed a few crewmen but he barely registered their greetings. His mind was rolling in echoes of Yuffie's conversation and the memory of yesterday's hectic events. He suddenly wondered if that explosion no one could explain was actually Vincent's doing; or, more precisely, his monster form's doing.

Again, moving was a painful experience and his body tried pleading him to relax, lay down, sleep, die, but he ignored it like he'd programmed himself to do. It was easy, especially with last night's recollection playing through his head. He had been exhausted, and many things were merely vague blurs; but the one clear imagery he remembered was that of Vincent reaching to his eyebrow, gently cleaning the wound there. Cid brushed two fingers over the small scar, recalling how vivid those crimson eyes had been. They had been soft but focused, and now Cid had the benefit of a rested mind, he realized they had been relieved and – if he wasn't mistaken – grateful. Cid would bet his cigarettes that it was due to his acceptance of Vincent's monster.

Had he not sneezed at that moment and wrenched himself from his pool of thoughts, he wouldn't have detected the hushed tones of several voices emanating from the galley. Cid entered to find much of his crew gathered. They looked up a little too quickly as he approached, guilty flickers in their eyes.

"What's goin' on?" Cid asked, suspecting something was wrong with the Highwind's repairs.

None of them seemed to want to speak first, but Terrell finally broke the edgy silence.

"We were, uh… just talking, Captain," he said hesitantly. "We're just a little… concerned –"

"Afraid," someone mumbled.

" – About your, uh, companion, or, er, teammate," Terrell continued, looking more and more uncomfortable as he spoke. "We just – I guess we – we're just a little freaked out and were just – "

"Captain, is it true your red-eyed friend transformed into a monster?" One of the newer crewmen asked.

Cid frowned hard. "This is about Vincent?" Some of them shifted guiltily, avoiding his direct gaze. He planted his hands on his hips and glared. "Out with it." He ordered.

"We're just a little wary," a woman said regretfully, Cid couldn't remember her name. "We were worried he might… transform onboard. We couldn't concentrate on work…"

Cid felt anger building inside his chest. "You lot listen to me. Vincent might be different, but he is not a monster. He saved everyone yesterday, including you guys and my airship, and I won't have anyone treat him wrongly. Understand?"

They nodded meekly and after Cid dismissed them they filed out of the galley, keen to evade his glower. He turned to find Omar behind his worktop, watching on with a pensive expression.

"You can't really blame them," he said softly.

Cid pressed his lips together disapprovingly. He wondered why their fear of Vincent bothered him so much. Perhaps it wasn't so much that they were afraid of him, and more so the way they banded together to whisper about it.

"Cid," Omar's serious tone drew the pilot's attention. "Is he a danger to anyone?"

Eyeing his old friend, Cid considered his answer. He couldn't honestly say, 100%, whether Vincent could lose control and hurt someone, because there were still many things Cid didn't know about the man. But he did know he trusted Vincent; a trust that would take anyone else much longer to earn. The fact that he could admit this, after knowing the gunman for a short amount of time, was a startling revelation to Cid. And he couldn't even explain it clearly.

Finally, Cid answered. "Not to anyone onboard this ship, no."

Omar watched him a second more before nodding in acceptance. He said nothing more.

/