A/N: There's no way I know what plans SE may have for Roche in the future. (Yeah, I know—no, duh!) So please keep in mind that as of the writing of this fic, Cloud's only previous run-in with Roche was when they fought in the remake part 1. Only the SE gods know if they meet again and what happens. Otherwise, I am trying to keep this fic in line with the compilation and remake. (At least according to my interpretation of events before the end of DoC) :D

And I know most have tuned into this fic because you're fans of VinTi. I definitely am, too! I just want you to hear (read) thanks from me for sticking through my snail's pace for this story. There were quite a few obstacles I saw that would prevent them from being a successful couple. So, I'm working through solving those and probably making it longer than needed. This fic represents my first huge multi-chapter undertaking, and it's showing me the hows of writing and organizing a novel-sized story (at least according to what works for me). I'm learning many lessons the hard way! So—a huge thank you for putting up with my slow burn.

We have only a few more chapters before we start to see the obstacles chipped away—at least between the two of them. Don't worry, their time is coming soon (? ish ?). (Har—I'm such a devil.)

Chapter 25

Old Memory

Reeve punched the doctor's address into the GPS, feeling thankful he'd had the forethought to order an SUV loaded onto the airship's cargo hold before their departure to Rocket Town. He loved to drive. Loved the way it allowed him to think through any complications weighing on his mind.

Head north for two miles. Then, merge on to Business Road 49 North.

"Why would he think I know this SOLDIER?"

Vincent brooded in the passenger seat, offering no response to the question, which suited Reeve well. He only needed an ear, someone to listen and let him vent the frustration out of his system.

After a moment, Vincent grunted anyway, perhaps taking Reeve's pause as seeking a reply.

The flight from Wutai had been uncomfortable, to say the least. Tifa struggled to keep the peace, mouthing an apology when Cloud confronted Reeve in the lounge shortly after boarding the aircraft.

Reeve had searched his old memory for a Third Class named Roche. A face never materialized. His only interactions with the Seconds or Thirds would've been when they were ordered to provide security detail. Any other times they may have crossed paths were limited to merely passing each other in the corridors.

Take Exit 4. Then, turn left onto Barrow Road.

"Cloud knew I wasn't part of that division," Reeve fumed, mock hitting the steering wheel in anger. "They would have known each other, but I confess—I was only acquainted with the SOLDIER Firsts and a few Seconds. Most of my interactions with the Thirds didn't warrant an introduction."

Tifa had been the one to calm Cloud, reminding him that he knew every SOLDIER at the WRO since he worked with them frequently. She finally convinced him to relax, though Cloud insisted on knowing Reeve's intentions when they returned to Edge, angrily bolting to his private cabin when he didn't like the answer.

"We're not in the business of arresting former SOLDIERs for doing their jobs." Reeve continued, glancing again at the GPS for his next turn.

Turn right in 500 feet.

Punishing former SOLDIERs working in their capacity as ShinRa employees before Meteor was not an issue the WRO was willing to entertain. The entire company was culpable for many things—Reeve couldn't reasonably blame individuals who were doing their jobs as accepted by most in society at the time. The former SOLDIER had only acted on orders to deal with the threat from a designated terrorist group to the city's security.

Turn right in 50 feet. Then, your destination will be on the right.

"It's a wonder Cloud befriended any of them," Reeve chuckled.

"He never fought his friends," Vincent replied. "Even if he doesn't admit it, sometimes it's hard for Cloud to see past enemies as anything different now."

Your destination is on the right.

"Well, that's true. But, enough of that. Looks like we're here, Vincent," Reeve said, pulling into the driveway. The house was charming but small, reminding him of his grandparent's home in Kalm many years ago.

Vincent wordlessly followed Reeve to the door at a distance, taking in the sparsely populated neighborhood with suspicion.

"Let's hope we're not interrupting his breakfast," Reeve commented as he pressed the doorbell. "We are a little early."

Minutes dragged by as they waited, hearing the occasional grunt and labored footsteps within the house. Reeve raised his hand to press the doorbell again when the door slowly started to open.

"Can I help you?" An old and withered man with a kind face stood on the other side of a screen door, squinting as he looked from Vincent to Reeve with wary interest.

"Uh, yes. Hello, Dr. Berry? My name is Reeve Tuesti. I am the Commissioner of the World Regenesis Organization. We spoke on the phone a few days ago—if you recall, sir?"

"Yes, yes. Of course, Mr. Tuesti," he replied with a tremulous voice and hobbled backward with effort. "Please, come in."

Dr. Berry motioned for them to follow with a shaking hand. His feet shuffled slowly as he showed them into his home. "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse the mess. My grandson comes by once a week to help me clean, and that's not for two days."

The comfortable sitting room held all the trappings and evidence of middle-class life, family photos, and souvenirs cluttering the tables, shelves, and walls. Vincent seemed out of place and claimed the highbacked chair closest to the door, ready to flee at any moment. Reeve hoped the man wasn't about to get skittish.

"Dr. Berry, you must remember my colleague—Vincent Valentine," Reeve said as he lowered himself on the couch.

Berry eased himself into a rocking chair opposite the couch and examined Vincent. He concentrated, squinting his eyes again as he grabbed for his glasses. His eyes slowly widened the longer he stared, and his mouth opened and closed; no words formed.

Finally, Berry let out a startled gasp. "So—you?" He suddenly appeared out of breath, chest heaving as he leaned back and clutched at the buttons of his shirt.

Reeve stood and placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder, worried over the man's gasping. "Dr. Berry? Are you alright?"

Still clutching his chest, Berry nodded, mouth trembling. Reeve drew back to his seat cautiously and hoped he wouldn't need to call for an ambulance.

"Yes," the old doctor managed in a weak voice. He seemed to catch his breath, slowing the rise and fall of his chest as he stared at Vincent in disbelief. "Yes, I just—needed a moment. Forgive me."

Berry removed his glasses and wiped the lenses with his shirttail. He set them back upon his nose and blinked slowly, taking Vincent in from head to toe. "So, it was true—they did it."

Vincent held his silence but grimaced before turning his shoulders away, hiding his face beneath his cowl. Reeve thought he noticed his friend shudder slightly—but Vincent rose abruptly and quickly excused himself, letting the door slam behind his retreating form.

"I—uh, I apologize," the doctor said, a little saddened. "It's just—the rumors are true."

"Yes, excuse me. I'm just going to check on him. I'll return in a moment."

Vincent was hunched over on the porch, leaning against the post when Reeve found him. "Everything all right?"

Vincent nodded, hiding something in his hand that he quickly concealed within the cape. "It's fine—a little shocking for me too. He's—so much older now."

A sheen of sweat appeared over his brow, something Reeve had never witnessed on the man, even in the toughest of battles. Reeve suspected Vincent was lying and was indeed not fine.

Before Reeve could inquire again, Vincent passed him and opened the door. "Let's get this over with."

They re-entered the house and found the doctor carrying a tray of whiskey and glasses into the sitting room. Berry pointed to the couch and chairs with an elbow. "Come, gentlemen. It's a little early. But—I think we could all use a good drink about now."

Reeve accepted a glass and handed one to Vincent. It was early, but Reeve sensed the shock between the other two men so keenly his nerves were on edge, too. For Berry, seeing the former Turk must propel him back to his shared responsibility in ShinRa's immoral turning point.

But for Vincent—seeing the doctor so aged was a reminder of just how much life had left him behind. So, Reeve jumped right in and told the doctor the reason for their visit, cutting off any chance for Berry to make his friend any more uncomfortable.

"And while our current team of scientists is going through the old research, they're finding some information gaps," Reeve explained as the doctor intently listened, cutting curious glances at Vincent involuntarily.

"I'm not surprised," Berry replied. "Hojo was very particular about what was published, and he didn't want any of Hollander's research to remain after that team left Nibelheim."

"Yes, we have the least amount of information on the first two births," Reeve said. "Dr. Berry—we were hoping that you might return with us and help in our current research. Our scientists—our patients, could really use firsthand knowledge about those initial successful pregnancies. As Professor Rayleigh mentioned to me, there's only so much that can be conveyed in an archive. What it lacks is instinct and the kindness that helped the mothers survive. The research we collected doesn't reveal much about their treatment, only the children that were born."

Berry stared down at his whiskey glass; a sad smile played upon his lips. Reeve recognized the guilt, having seen it many times over the years since ShinRa's destruction.

"I know we didn't know each other well, Mr. Valentine," Berry began, his voice tremoring with age and a past he could not change. "I worked with your father; you know when I first joined the company."

Vincent's head raised slightly, and Reeve wondered if he would ever say anything back to the doctor. His friend only listened, that stillness conveying the heavy contemplation whirring in his head.

"Maybe I should've warned you, though I'm not sure it would've mattered." Berry poured himself another drink and looked between them as he continued, "I guess it's not much consolation now, but a good many of us didn't agree with the direction of the research. It's one thing when participants volunteer—but the children—"

He shook his head and took another drink, the glass unsteady in his hand as he went on, "The children had no say. I asked for a transfer when Hojo said his wife offered herself, as well. There was never an official record of the disagreements, but many of us protested—Gast included. Even when little Genesis was born and appeared healthy, but—his mother didn't survive. She was—such a lovely, sweet girl.

"It was when Faramis disappeared that I finally knew it was time to resign completely from the company. I set up here with my wife. Our kids were already grown and having their own. We ran a family practice together—just the two of us." Berry wiped at his eyes as a tear escaped. "None of it seems fair. I lived my life. And—I'm sorry what they did to you, my boy. You and my son—were close in age; he was a little younger, in college at the time. Had I known what they would do to you, I would've intervened. Had your father still been alive—well, I think that would've made a difference."

Reeve cleared his throat, feeling Vincent's pain and ruminating like it radiated heat.

"Mr. Tuesti, I think many of us made irredeemable mistakes back then. My silence doesn't absolve me," Berry said as he set his glass on the table. "I'll be 87 years old in a few weeks—but I'd be glad to join your organization for as long as I'm able."

"Ah, thank you, Doctor. Your help will mean so much to our patients. There was something additional we wanted to ask of you. You're not the last doctor on our list we're trying to track down. Did you happen to keep in contact with Dr. Curie or Professor Brukho?"

"Brukho was a crazy son-of-a-bitch. Gast ordered his research terminated!"

"Yes, we're very much aware of that, Doctor. We're trying to find where he might've gone. Or perhaps where he might be from?"

"Hmph. If you ask me, he came from hell—like Hojo!" Berry's kind face twisted in anger. "I don't recommend using his expertise, Mr. Tuesti!"

"I assure you our interest in him is not to offer employment. He operated a secret lab and continued Hojo's monstrous endeavors. We want to capture him."

"Well, that makes more sense. I don't remember if he ever told me where he hailed from or lived outside ShinRa dorms. But sometimes, he would go with the younger group when they took ski trips. There were ranges nearby that they'd spend their weekends visiting."

"Well, that's certainly something to investigate," Reeve said. "And Madeline Curie?"

Berry rose slowly and lumbered to his writing desk. The doctor pulled out an address book and offered it with a trembling hand. Reeve mentally calculated the renovation they would have to do to an apartment that would suit his needs.

"You'll find Madeline's number and address in here," Berry said. "My wife was a good friend to her, and we visited a couple of times. It's been a few years since I spoke to her last, but I'm sure you'll still find her there."

On the way back, Vincent surprised Reeve when he brought up another needling topic. "I've scheduled the mission tomorrow night with the Turks," he said suddenly, just before they'd arrived back at Cid's house.

"Oh?" Reeve tried not to sound too surprised. The Turks were now circumventing him, forcing his reliance on Vincent to relay their activities. They'd asked Vincent to leave the WRO out of their little extraction mission, but fate intervened when the politician's daughter died. "We hadn't yet agreed on a day. Why the rush? And with so few on your team?"

"Looking over the data, it would be more successful with fewer people," Vincent replied. "Godo needs to realize they're gone when it's over, not before."

"I can see the advantage of that," Reeve said, scratching his beard. "Are you sure you're taking enough precaution? Just you and two more? Seems like you might need more help."

"It'll be enough," Vincent answered, and Reeve suspected his reluctance to invite the others wasn't entirely due to the data—but more personal.

But Reeve admitted that perhaps the others were a liability in one way or another for this type of rescue mission. They weren't trying to destroy or dismantle anything—like with ShinRa in the past. They needed to handle the situation with Wutai delicately.

Cid and Yuffie couldn't participate if they wanted. Barret wasn't subtle; he's not known to sneak around, which this mission would require. And Tifa—well, he assumed that was a sore subject and thought it better to leave it alone.

"Still," Reeve replied as they pulled into Cid's driveway. "Cloud would be a big help on this."

Vincent said nothing, only slid out of the truck and disappeared inside the house.

The food did nothing to help the strained atmosphere, not that Cloud cared or would admit it might've been his fault. He was here to check out Cid's new airship and wait out the invite to travel to Wutai. He knew it was coming. Reeve wouldn't leave someone behind if he had a chance at a rescue, especially Kunsel.

They'd all sat around Cid as he made his announcement, the introduction of a new prototype. He'd hoped to have it finished by the time they arrived for Shera's party, but there were a few interior details to be worked out. He beamed when he gave them a tour, proudly showing that he'd built in a private cabin for everyone on this model—including a training room. He made everyone promise to return for the naming and launch, which was still a few months away. But there was a heaviness in the air not alleviated by the congratulations and excitement.

When they'd returned to the kitchen, the tension was stifling. Cloud hadn't spoken to Vincent other than a half-hearted greeting. And small talk grated until Cid yelled, "Gimme a fucking beer and let's play some darts, godsdammit!"

It was enough to break the ice—for everyone else, at least. Cloud quickly disappeared to the back deck for fresh air, an excuse to avoid talking to anyone. There he remained, sipping on a beer and thinking about Shalua and her theories—about Tifa and if he should try to fix what he'd done. She was miserable—and sad in a way she hadn't been for months, maybe years.

He kicked at the railing when the door opened behind him, music and voices filtered out from the kitchen. Reeve and Cid stepped onto the deck, the former holding an extra beer in his hand.

"Why the fuck are you out here in the dark, blondie?"

Cloud didn't answer as he accepted the beer from Reeve. Cid only scowled, his short temper irritating as much as Cloud knew his attitude annoyed the pilot.

Reeve cleared his throat, never one for uncomfortable situations. "I suppose you've heard, Cloud, that Kunsel is still in Wutai."

Cloud nodded, head downturned as he anticipated Reeve's next words, knowing the man would ask for Cloud's assistance to bring their friend home. Reeve almost seemed reluctant to go on but continued as though expecting Cloud to lash out, nervously clasping his hands in front of his belt. "Vincent and the Turks are going in tomorrow night. I know he hasn't asked you, but I'd hoped you would consider tagging along."

"Anyone else going?" Cloud had assumed the WRO would launch their own mission, not leave it up to ShinRa.

"Vincent believes a small force would be more efficient. We'd rather Godo remain ignorant of the extraction until it's done."

"I'll help," Cloud replied, and Reeve seemed to sigh in relief. "Leaving it up to the Turks is asking for trouble. Why're they going, anyway?"

"They have an operative that needs rescue, as well. That's part of the reason this particular mission needs to be handled delicately."

Cloud scoffed. Leave it to ShinRa to need help cleaning up their mess. Things would never change. When Cloud didn't respond, Reeve continued, "Great! I'll talk to Vincent and—"

"Don't bother," Cloud nearly growled. "I'll handle it." Cloud quickly walked away to find Vincent. He didn't need Reeve to fight his battles for him. Cloud could swallow his frustration with the former Turk long enough to do what was necessary for a friend in need. After that, they could go back to anger.

Reeve watched nervously as Cloud talked to the man sitting in the shadows. Their conversation wasn't long and, thankfully, did not result in bloodshed.

"What the hell is going on with the two a' them?" Cid asked.

"Oh, disagreements about—" Reeve wasn't sure how to go on. He wasn't one to spread gossip.

"Well, whatever it is, I hope they figure it out," Cid replied at Reeve's pause, not caring to wait until he figured out what he would say. "The damn hostility is fucking killing the party!"

Reeve agreed. He hoped this mission would be enough to mend the damaged relationship between the two men.