A/N: I'm having a bit of trouble wrangling the rest of the fic, so in interest of keeping regular posting I'm going to go to posting once a week (on Saturdays) until I get enough buffer up to maintain posting twice a week again. Thanks for your understanding.

Anyone who said Turks didn't have limit breaks had never seen a Turk pushed to the limit. Everyone had the potential for limit breaks; most people just weren't trained to access them like SOLDIERs were. Usually, all it showed up as was things like sudden bursts of strength, or inhuman reflexes - someone lifting a car off a loved one, or darting out in traffic to save a child, not a full limit, just a boost.

Veld, who had been running on adrenaline for days and was wound tighter than a ten day clock, hit his limit like a freight train. Magic flowed through him like a burst dam and everything sharpened and slowed, like time itself was grinding to a halt for everyone but him. The air felt thick and staticky, the moment before a lightning strike.

And then lightning struck, with a deafening crash and blinding light and a wave of heat that took his breath away.

His sight cleared before the ringing in his ears stopped, taking in the blown out wall, Ravens tossed like ragdolls out into the hallway, unmoving. Stunned and shaky, he stared a moment until he heard a low groan.

Vincent.

Immediately dismissing them from his mind, he hit his knees, staring in horror at the rapidly darkening gash across the back of Vincent's mantle. "Oh god… Vincent…"

"I called medical," Anya said quietly, coming over.

Veld nodded numbly, hurrying to get his jacket off. "Help me with this damn thing, we need compression. Even enhanced can bleed out."

"Here," Anya said. "Don't, it's not as absorbent as what he's wearing. Just bunch it up."

Veld nodded again, at a loss for words as he applied pressure, watching the crimson fabric darkening under his hands and wishing he could do something. "ETA?"

"Any minute, they were waiting," she said.

"Nnh?" Vincent stirred under him. "Wha?"

Veld took a deep, shuddery breath. "You absolute idiot."

"You're welcome," he muttered muzzily, attempting to push himself upright.

"No, you stay down until medical gets here," Veld insisted.

Vincent went tense. "…you're not taking me to medical."

"Like fuck am I not taking you to medical, your back is split open," Veld snapped.

"It'll heal," Vincent insisted, managing to get himself upright despite the pressure Veld had been putting on his back.

"Yes, it will. With medical attention," Veld said.

"I am not going to sit through 'medical attention'," Vincent said flatly. "I will heal on my own. One more scar hardly matters at this point."

"You do not get to get grievously wounded defending me and then further risk your life because you don't like the idea of going to medical," Veld said, narrowing his eyes. "You think I don't get it? I didn't have half the time you did and I have to have someone sit with me when I'm in the hospital for myself. I get it. But -"

"I will walk out right now, Faraman," Vincent said flatly. "Don't push."

Veld's mouth snapped shut. If Vincent left and didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. And Veld was too shaky to even try to follow. He swallowed hard. "Vincent, please."

"Have someone use a Restore," Vincent said. "But don't ask me to do that, Veld."

Before he could say anything, the medical team burst in. Veld barely had time to lunge forward and grab Vincent's wrist, waving them back. "Okay. Okay. We'll find another way, don't go." Don't leave me Vincent, please.

"Director?" David had treated more than enough combatants to read a room, and clearly recognized someone on the knife's edge of losing a fight or flight battle.

"See to Anya. I'll see if I can't raise Richards," Veld said. He'd seen him work offensive magic like a charm; surely he could do curative. You didn't make it to First Class without having to patch yourself up on the go.

"The SOLDIER?" Vincent gave him a curious look, clearly trying to ignore the medical personnel and just as clearly hyper aware.

"Yeah, the one who was out here." He snapped his fingers, making Vincent look at him. "Eyes on me. You're okay. They're not coming here."

"…you should be checked over, after that limit," Vincent said.

"I just need a pint of juice and a good meal, I'll be fine," Veld said. "Just an energy low, I wasn't injured."

Vincent nodded slightly, clearly relieved. "Okay… that's good."

"If you ever do that again, we are having words," Veld informed him.

"That wasn't my intention," Vincent said. "But I have no regrets."

"I will give you regrets," Veld said.

"You could never make me regret saving you," Vincent said.

Veld made a small, frustrated sound, hand slipping down to grip Vincent's tightly. "I just got you back."

Vincent sighed, squeezing his hand back. "I'm not going anywhere, Veld. Look at me. I'm sitting up talking to you after a wound that had you panicking."

"Still is," Veld informed him; he was a master at suppressed panic, at this point. "You're letting Richards look at it."

"I will let him look," Vincent said.

Veld nodded, patting himself down for his phone. It was one thing to say it, but it did no good without calling the man in the first place.

Fortunately, whatever had gone down on his end, he was in a position to answer the call, and did, and was even on his way back to base. Veld saved the updating for when he'd arrive, still too rattled to properly focus. Had to be the limit break making him bleary; he'd heard of people knocking out cold their first few times.

Once Anya had been looked over, she dismissed the small medical team and came to stand by the other two. "You're a mess."

"Thank you for that astute observation, Shiv, I hadn't noticed," Vincent drawled.

She snorted softly, amused. "Both of you, but you did take it more literally."

"Yes, well, I have a reputation to keep, don't I?" Vincent said.

"Resident drama queen?" Veld arched a brow, smirking when he was given a rather flat look. It was good to see him animated. Helped him pretend that he hadn't just been seriously wounded and was just… casually bleeding all over the place because he couldn't stand the thought of medical attention.

"The calvary has arrived!" Richards came jogging to a halt, nose wrinkling at the potent mix of ozone and blood that was doubtlessly all the worse to enhanced senses. "Looks like you fellas had some fun without me."

"You're welcome to take the next round," Veld said.

"Might just," he said. "So, just Valentine?"

"He's the only injured," Veld said.

"He'll need some juice or something, he hit a fairly significant limit," Vincent said, eyeing the SOLDIER as he came over.

"That's your work?" The First did a double take to the sizable hole in the wall and the dead Ravens, looking back with more than a little surprise and respect. "Well damn, Director. Didn't know you had it in you."

"I'm full of surprises," Veld said dryly. "The healing?"

"Right, on it." He nodded, coming over and pausing a little ways from Vincent with a frown. "…ideally I could see what I was doing."

"I'm not stripping," Vincent informed him.

"Yeah, didn't think so. But it was worth a shot." He sighed, shaking his arms out. "Well, I learned from the best. If I couldn't do this through clothes, Rhapsodos would rise from the grave just to give me a piece of his mind. Just have someone give it a good look when you clean it, alright?"

Vincent nodded, and Veld made a mental note to hold him to it. Then the healing started, green light gleaming from the materia embedded in Richard's mythril bangle, and a faint glow peeking through the slash in Vincent's mantle.

Vincent shifted uncomfortably, wrinkling his nose at the pins-and-needles sensation of rapidly knitting flesh.

"That's not as bad as I expected," Richards murmured. "Given all that blood. You heal fast."

Vincent hummed in agreement, stretching and twisting a little, trying to alleviate the discomfort. It was better than the pain, at least, and the maddening itch from it happening naturally. Well, as 'natural' as one could call enhanced healing. "Thank you."

"Sure thing." He nodded. "You should be good to go. But I'd advise a pretty iron-heavy meal. And carbs. Lots of carbs. You need calories. Wilt some spinach in a big thing of pasta, maybe have a steak on the side. Or liver, if you can stomach it. Liver's better than steak, but it's not for everyone… clams would be great, too, and you can get them easy around here."

"We'll arrange for something," Veld said. "How did it go with AVALANCHE?"

"We took out quite a few of their operatives before they broke ranks and ran," he said. "We didn't pursue. No sign of their leaders."

"That's fine. I'll update you on our next move once I've heard from all the teams," Veld said.

"No offense, Director, but tank up first," Richards said. "You're looking pretty pale, and a limit like that would take it out of anyone."

"We'll see that he's taken care of," Anya said.

"Alright. Then I'll gather the SOLDIER reports and turn in what I've got as soon as I'm done." Richards looked between them. "Anything else?"

"No, we can take it from here," Veld said. "Thanks."

"Anytime." He gave a casual salute and headed back out, stopping to nudge each of the Raven's with his boot, likely to appease his own instincts to make sure the enemy was truly down before leaving the battlefield.

Veld couldn't blame him, but he had bigger concerns for the moment.

"Why don't you two head to the executive suite, and I'll see about having some replacement clothes sent your way?" Anya said, eyeing Vincent.

Vincent snorted, but inclined his head slightly; he had to admit, his outfit was trashed. "Very well."

"And I'll bring food," she added. "Do you need assistance?"

"I've got it," Vincent said. He got up slowly, testing, but was steady on his feet. He offered Veld a hand with a small smile.

There were precious few people Veld's pride would have allowed him to lean on, even as badly as he needed the help. With Vincent, he didn't hesitate.

Vincent got him on his feet, slipping an arm around him when he wavered. "Easy. Do you need a minute?"

"No, I've got this," Veld insisted. "Just take it slow."

Vincent nodded. "I assume the suite was moved during the renovations?"

"Yeah, but it's not far." Veld gestured ahead. "Come on. I'll show you."