Veld sucked in a breath, on his feet in an instant. "Elfé!"

The door opened before he could get to his gun, which was just as well because he might have shot if he had it, and Vincent never would have let him forget it.

Judging from his unamused look, he wasn't likely to let him forget this either. "I leave you alone for an hour…"

"Fucking hell, Valentine!" Veld blurted, staring at him. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough." He shrugged, nudging Elfé with the toe of his boot. Veld had the brief, inane thought that at least he's not wearing those goddamn sabatons. "She takes after you."

"Now, sure," Veld said.

"I wonder how much of that was subconscious modeling," Vincent mused, which was just… too painful to contemplate. At his silence, Vincent seemed to figure that out and moved on. "So, where are we going?"

"…what?" Veld blinked at him. "What'd you even do to them?"

"Sleepel. Thank Benji." Vincent smiled faintly, a telltale twinkle to red eyes as he bent over them. "But it will only last so long, and shorter on her, I imagine."

Veld rubbed his face and tried to think past the inconvenient swell of emotion. "…back to headquarters, I suppose. Did you see any other AVALANCHE operatives?"

"None," Vincent said. "I think she truly meant to meet you one on one."

"But Shears trusted me about as much as you trust her," Veld finished.

"Mm." Well, that wasn't denial. Vincent examined them thoughtfully, then looked back to Veld once more. "How soon are we moving them?"

"I said nothing about moving them," Veld said. "I'm not kidnapping my daughter."

"I suppose we could kidnap you," Vincent said. "See if she gets worried and goes looking. It's good motivation."

"No one is getting kidnapped!" Veld said.

"You can't really be intending to let her go," Vincent said, looking at him.

Veld's lips pursed. "…she's had enough done to her without her consent."

"Even if it means saving her life?" Vincent asked gently.

"Do you think I like the idea?" Veld glared at him, shaking his head. "Of course I don't want her to die. That's the stupidest - it's not about ME, alright? It's about her. If she wants to live and die on her own terms… I can't change that."

"So you're letting them go," he said.

"I'll sit with them until they wake but… yeah, I'm letting them go," Veld agreed. "I'll give them my number. But I can't make her accept my help. I just… I can't force it on her, Vin."

Vincent nodded. "Alright. I'll support your decision."

"You think I'm making a mistake," he said.

Vincent shrugged. "I think you're going to be miserable, and you are far more my priority than she is. It's an easy call for me to make; she matters to me because she's your daughter, no more no less. In that context, the solution is clear. For you… she's a priority in her own right that you're putting above yourself. It's a very different situation."

Veld smiled tightly. "I suppose it is."

Vincent nodded, and gestured at him to take a seat, coming to perch beside him.

Veld settled, sighing quietly. He smiled when Vincent hooked their fingers together, just a couple in a loose hold, but a reassurance all the same.

They sat in silence for a while, time ticking by unnoticed, before Elfé roused. It was clear by a hitch in her breathing, but she was too well trained to respond any more obviously than that.

"You're safe," Veld said quietly.

Her eyes slit open, blinking twice before looking to track his voice.

"Vincent got a little carried away when he saw Shears pointing a gun at me," Veld said mildly, ignoring Vincent's irreverent, unrepentant little half smile hidden in his collar but dancing in his eyes. "Seems we were both followed."

"I see," she murmured, sitting up and looking around. "…we're… still here?"

"I was hardly going to move you somewhere without you knowing," Veld said.

She gave him an odd look, but didn't comment on it. "What did he do?"

"Sleepel," Vincent said.

"…through a closed door?"

"Status magic doesn't tend to care about physical barriers," he said. "It affects you differently."

"I see," she murmured, frowning. "So you've just been sitting with us."

"It seemed like a bad idea to leave you to wake up alone and confused about what had happened," Veld said. "Besides… I had something to give you, before I left."

She looked unimpressed, but that was something of a default expression. She still accepted the slip of paper with his number on it, startling when she realized what it was.

Veld offered no explanation and she asked no questions. "Guess we'll leave you two be, then."

"I guess so," she agreed softly.

Veld was silent a moment as he rose, watching her. "…take care of yourself, Elfé."

"I'll be fine," she said automatically. "That's not what you should be worried about."

"You're my daughter," he said softly. "Whether you acknowledge that or not. I'll always worry. I'll always care."

"We'll see how much you care next time we meet on the opposite sides again," she said.

He smiled thinly, inclining his head. "I suppose we will."

"Let's go," Vincent said, resting his good hand on his shoulder.

Veld glanced at him briefly, but nodded. There was nothing left to be gained here today.

They left, and Veld tried desperately to tell himself that he wasn't abandoning her. Elfé was a grown woman who had made her choice, and he had to respect that. Even if the choice was ultimately that she'd literally rather die than accept his help.

Vincent walked at his side, close enough that their arms brushed slightly now and then, expression unreadable at a glance but with something dark burning in his eyes as you really looked at him.

He was the first one to break the silence, deep voice gentle. "We should go home."

"I've got work to do," Veld said.

"You're compromised," Vincent pointed out quietly, staring him down when he was given a sharp look for daring to put it into words. "Would you like me to go into detail?"

"Don't you dare," Veld hissed, and he immediately regretted the emotional response when Vincent's brows rose. "Fine. I'll take a little time off."

Vincent didn't gloat. He just nodded and squeezed his shoulder without comment, which was somehow worse. Not patronizing, never patronizing, but so damn gentle it ached. He didn't know what to do with that kind of gentle anymore.

He'd been the rock for so long. Taking over after Vincent was killed, after Alex, after Dominic and Victor left and Anya was in Junon and there were a lot of long nights trying to figure out how the hell he was going to salvage the legacy he'd been left with while balancing a young family. He'd just barely started pulling the Turks together when the bombing had happened, and damned if those kids weren't the only reason he'd clawed himself out of the depths of depression that had threatened.

He had a solid team now, bigger than the one they'd started with, but they were still kids. His kids, not even going into his efforts to help guide Reeve and Rufus and how spectacularly his inattention had backfired. He was left scraping things together again, now, living by SOLDIER's grace, but they were just kids too. He had to be the rock. He'd always been the rock, ever since Vincent had left on that damned mission to Nibelheim and -

"Veld."

And Vincent was back, mako-eyed and scarred in ways no one truly human could have survived, but still Vincent.

For the first time since the bombing, his eyes burned and his throat ached and for a moment he was genuinely afraid he might cry.

Vincent made a soft sound and pulled him close. "I'm taking you home."

Veld made a soft sound of agreement, wrapping his arms around Vincent's waist and dropping his head on his shoulder.

The world slipped away in a rush of wind and jumble of sound, and he just held on tighter until things settled and they were finally back in his apartment.

If his eyes were wet, Vincent was kind enough not to draw attention when he leaned back to look at him properly.

Thank you, for everything, was trapped behind all the pain and guilt, so what came out was a flip, "you're a goddamn security menace, Valentine."

Somehow, he had a feeling Vincent knew what he'd meant anyway, though he laughed all the same and let it go. "Come on, you need coffee."

"Gods yes," he breathed. What he wanted was a stiff drink, but he knew better. For now, it would be enough to wire himself up a bit, get some get-up-and-go back in the tank. He had things to do and people to deal with. The revolution wasn't going to run itself.