Chapter 1

Tachimodoru O Jinsei...

Life is an ephemeral state,

Full of holes, and tears and tears

And yet death is the one they hate,

Though solitude the cross he bears.

You cry so softly for lost souls,

In form, a mystery applied.

Child, both at once, and yet, so cold,

Love, I am always by your side.

kindness lost, and truth mislaid,

Desert, alone until we met.

Yet life and death in you are made,

And still we parted in regret.

I sacrifice my life's despair,

I come to find my heart, my soul,

You mustn't fall for me, my friend,

Unless you can let go.

Roles are mistaken, or forgot

I go to find my love, my mate

And if I lead you on, blame not

The one who cannot truly hate.

//~*~ The Cruelty of Innocence ~*~//

//By me, Again!// //If you can understand it... //

They had been riding since daybreak, without rest or speech, since neither customarily felt the need for conversation. Indeed, Cloud appeared more than content simply to admire the forest scenery, his golden Chocobo floating gracefully amongst the brittle spring flowers. She barely disturbed a blade of grass as he rode ahead on a lingering, meandering, southeasterly course through the valley taken, most likely, to avoid any more quaint little pastoral towns. Vincent followed at a comfortable distance on his Black, Ukime, and though the mood remained solemn since they had passed Lucrecia's falls, it no longer wrenched at his heart to think of the place where she had withdrawn from the pain and guilt they shared. That which he had unfairly made his own, with her spirit, and in time unchained. She, as so many others, had returned to the stream of life. He told himself for the thousandth time; it was due in no small part to Lucrecia that the world was now so beautiful.

His mind, despite the abundance of other stimuli to explore, wandered occasionally towards Cloud's earlier statement. In spite of the fact that it seemed he would not receive further enlightenment until the younger man was ready to explain and Cloud did not seem in the mood for debate. But it gnawed, in modest supplication, not to be ignored. For now, there was no choice but to forget. He sighed and gave in to the rhythm of his bird's hypnotic gait.

The sun was glorious in its midday freedom as it melted the frost around them and sent cold water to drip randomly from tree branches. Glittering in the silver sky it constructed a world in crystal, jewelled with cut-glass rainbows.

It was such a striking change to be away from the dead's dark ancestral home, to be in the peace and chaos of life once more. He almost missed the roar of rushing water and did not even notice that his companion had stopped and dismounted where the trail turned alongside Tears River, staring far into the distance.

"I wonder, if anyone would recognise us anymore..."

It was a wistful statement, directed to no one in particular and lost to the clamour of a thaw-swollen river. The swordsman crouched suddenly, dipping a hand into the icy water. Yet, his focus remained far away in the distant skyline. Trails from airplanes crossed the sparse patches of blue like old scars, the sky, so pale.

How long had he been hidden in Nibelheim, waiting for the call... for the planet's affirmation. Hoping to finally be given the one small boon he'd requested.

However, understanding intrinsically that the planet regarded time rather differently than it's little immigrant caretakers, it could take awhile to complete his request. He could wait; it had been a century since the arrangement was made. A century, alone, misunderstood in the company of well-meaning strangers.

Vincent stood beside him, unable to descry what had caused the delay in their journey. He cast his enhanced gaze along the horizon, wincing at the brightness as it cut into his retinas. It was no use; he could see nothing in the light. He settled for a more indirect, but less painful approach. "Cloud, is something wrong?"

"No, nothing, don't worry about it... I was just trying to spot the observatory," Cloud replied quietly, "and perhaps I should be asking the same of you." He admonished, turning to catch Vincent shading his oversensitive eyes. The dark man shook his head and simply pulled his red silk bandanna further down.

"It's too bright even with this little snow, perhaps we should rest awhile. At least until noon has passed." He suggested, earning a surprised look from his fair friend. "We aren't all as young as we were." The handsome apparent twenty-something added with a smirk, revealing, to something other than prey for the first time in ages, a wicked set of fangs.

"All right," Cloud agreed, taking the scabbard from around his shoulder and laying it against a young weeping willow whose branches comfortingly stroked the passing flood. "We'll stay here for a bit, until your eyes are rested, okay sempai?"

Vincent gave him a withering stare as an impish grin crossed the smaller man's flawless features. He had half a mind to teach the kid a lesson in respecting one's elders, but found he just couldn't be bothered. Stretching out on his cape beside the riverbank, instead he allowed the weak sunshine to dry out his clothes. He was feeling better than he had in decades, which he put down to the fact there was some small purpose to existence. For a while, at least.

Whatever it is, I can only hope to help. His thoughts repeated themselves ad nauseum. They had become a white noise of denial, cutting off any thoughts of what he might be helping with. You would do anything for him. So why ask... perhaps, perhaps he might be able to do something, if he just asked. It might not have crossed the swordsman's mind that he did not already understand. He told me to question myself... he's hiding something, should I tell him I do not mind. But he might mind, he'd been silently following his old friend without a single word of dissent. He'd not even attempted to discern their eventual destination. If even Cloud had any idea...

He gave me this chance for retribution, please, don't let me spoil it.

Cloud was crouching beside the river, staring into the deep, fast current. It looked like it might be a difficult crossing, at least, if they wanted to stay dry. Scooping a handful of water to his lips, he drank just enough to forget about his empty stomach, and decided, after noting his companion's newfound lethargy, to go back for the canteens.

"What do you think the chances are of having brought something to eat?" Vincent inquired absently, as Cloud wandered past. Grabbing the canteens and a handful of Sylkis greens from Vincent's pack, he shrugged eloquently and headed back to the water. The birds, restlessly pawing at the muddy, stony bank crowed their mutual feelings of delight at his return, fondly nuzzling his shoulders as they ate.

"Gimme a minute, and I'll get us some dinner." He replied, filling the first canteen. The water was clear and sweet, as it always had been around Nibelheim. But now, since the Mako powered reactors had disappeared altogether, water was no longer the only thing in rivers. "Unless you can deal with greens, or feel the urge to go hunting, that is." He added, noting the lazy wave he received in reply. "I thought as much."

Throwing the containers back onto the bank, he started to strip off, heedless of the low temperature. His sleeveless trenchcoat was folded neatly, then he removed his belt and daggers, and his boots. Vincent rolled over to watch, constantly astonished at Cloud's strange behaviour. He felt a little more uncomfortable when the boy peeled off his black tee-shirt to reveal his twin scars, front and back, on alabaster skin. Strangely, in relation to his strength, the boy had a slim, elegant figure, like that of a dancer. He must have been freezing.

Not much later, Cloud, almost entirely naked, though he never removed those bandages, was up to his waist in the raging torrent, wading easily as if there was no current at all. In one hand was raised a slender black dagger, his bright eyes intently following something below the surface. Strands of near-white hair trailed on the water, melted with it.

Crawling further toward the edge of the river, even Vincent could see streaks of silver flashing beneath the surface. He watched the young mercenary vanish beneath the water, without a spash, ripples closing over his descent and smoothing over to become deceptively calm. The water was deep and very dark, certainly were it anyone else out there he would dismiss them for a goner. Panic nevertheless raised it's head more than once as he waited, a minute stretched itself to fill an hour, two... But still, Cloud's Chocobo, Tenshi, seemed totally unmoved by this development with her rider. Vincent knew enough to trust the mercenary, so he was calm when the small dazzling figure finally emerged. He did so in a shower of golden spray, never once attempting to impress but suceeding despite himself, trailing droplets like diamonds.

He still had the blade clutched tightly in one hand and a large fish of some sort, (Vincent, even with his Wutaian heritage, would hardly describe himself as a piscine connoisseur,) in the other. Vincent, more relieved than he thought he would be, given his acceptance that he was not here to witness a suicide, merely elected to search for some firewood.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In time, he found himself sitting beside a rather impressive pile of damp twigs. Absently slicing a metal talon through the bark of a larger branch, he sighed in angry frustration, regretting their total lack of materia. His mood was not helped by the sight of the rather underdressed water sprite sitting cross-legged before him, wearing nothing but black jeans and long golden hair. Smears of blood ran across his face as he carefully, solemnly gutted their prize.

Why does this disturb me? Vincent's silent question begged an answer, he was hungry, he hadn't fed in days. Feeding was not the depth of his uncertainty, there was little enough blood to give him pause. It felt more like an omen, echoes of the future where the blood might be thicker, or of their own. Illogical that he should be frightened of a little blood, he'd seen Cloud painted crimson and black, wading through carcasses of monsters and humans alike. It was a nightmare that still reflected in eyes that predated Eden.

Blood, was that all it ever amounted to? He almost regretted foregoing the hunt. The sight of even that small amount made his claw twitch, dripping into the snow, spreading in a sweet crimson stain across the pure white...

"Um, Vincent. Are you feeling okay?"

The light voice snapped him out of his deep bloodlust, though his moment of weakness left him feeling rather embarrassed. Tearing his eyes away from the vision, he snatched at a branch, throwing it at the swordsman; who plucked it out of the air choosing to ignore the uncharacteristically bitter mood his friend had cast it in. Staring at it incredulously, as if wondering what could possibly be disturbing about a twig, he dropped it back onto the pile.

"Everything is wet." Vincent explained further, trying not to look across at Cloud, whose attention was now drawn away from the messy task. Silently, he waved a small, bloody hand in the direction of the wood, which burst into red light, flames licking eagerly at the offering. Then he returned to preparing their meal.

"Now it isn't."

Pushing a wet lock of hair from his face, he only succeeded in smearing gunge through it instead. " Though I could do with drying off as well. Maaa, I'm gonna smell of fish forever."

"Oh, good." Vincent replied dryly, gazing through the fire. "Between your magic and your stink, how will the monsters ever resist." He picked up his rifle, running his gloved, human hand along the oiled wood. He doubted that Cloud would be worried about a silly little thing like monsters, but didn't want to risk getting caught out. He found his gaze wandering back to the warrior, and caught a worried smile. Standing in one motion, he moved around toward him, closing his senses to the sickly smell of ichor.

"I just wondered, how are we supposed to cook it?" Cloud frowned; dropping the dagger as Vincent sat beside him, a slightly comical look on his usually refined face. Crimson eyes closed to slits as he sniffed, gagging. "Perhaps, you should let me finish?" Suggested the dark ex-Turk, turning to find something in their small pile of equipment. "You should get that mess off your hands, and your face is covered in blood."

Already the gore had begun to dry on his skin, and he had to admit, he did not smell at all pleasant. So he ran back to the river, hoping that it would be the last soaking for a while.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When he returned, the fishy odour had all but dissipated, and was replaced by herbs and what could have been wild onions. Vincent was a much better cook than he, even though Tifa had striven to educate him in the culinary arts, his repertoire began at dragon and ended with anything chocolate related. He was yet to attempt chocolate coated dragon ribs.

But Tifa had died, just like the rest. It was his fault, always his fault. She'd been caught up in the next war, the stupid war between Wutai and Junon, barely thirty years old, and so very beautiful. He sighed, feeling the soft strands of hair fall around his waist as he paused. He'd known that one day he would have to let go, that he would outlive her, but it had still come as a shock. Another part of his humanity torn away, and returned to the planet. He could touch, feel, her spirit for a while afterwards, sometimes. But now she was gone forever, her soul in the Promised Land he was forbidden.

There wasn't supposed to be any more war... that's what she'd believed anyway. After all the pain they went through to save the world, That was supposed to be the end. Happily ever after, and the princess married her prince.

Her eternal, undeserving prince, her monster. The words mocked his memories, and now, he never bothered to ask where they originated. It was Nobody, there in the sunshine.

Beauty and the Beast. He laughed, a mirthless yawp to no one but himself. It did not even matter in the scheme of things, she was dead, and he was serving whatever sentence the world had found fit to place on his misused frozen childhood.

It never works out like fairy tales, does it.

People went straight back to squabbling over petty scraps of land. Cloud, Ex-Soldier, mercenary, and other things besides, had fought battles before. He had not been as naïve as his wife, and still, he could do nothing to save her.

He kicked a stone across the icy path, to slide toward the willow where it fell between gnarled roots. That tree was far older than he, and still, it waited silently beside it's watery lover. Dryad and Nymph, barely able to touch.

And never meant for one another, though the dryad has life and knows devotion, for a while. It was a fragile web of excuses and lies, but he had loved her, although his love was undeserving of a reply.

And the Nymph doesn't truly love it's admirer. It always strains toward the sea, like to like.

A stream toward the sea... So insignificant. Do I deserve something so huge?

As Commander of Soldier, he could slaughter battalions with a whisper. He could have stopped the war, if he'd been willing to sacrifice the men that should never have been his to command. Yet he had been totally unable to stop one little girl from running away from her mother and Kisaragi-Hime. Running because she was scared, because daddy wasn't there to stop the Junon army from picking an easy target in Yuffie's recovering city.

He hadn't known... He hadn't even thought, how many times had he failed now? Would he fail in this as well, as he did the first time, and even the last. He'd never told a soul of the truth, and no one knew... Would they hate him for this?

No, there would never be an end to death, he was a part of it, and he of all people knew it was necessary sometimes. But war, and silly human quarrels had destroyed his hope. If it weren't for one small light at the end of his bloody tunnel, his own Promised Land... he would still be hiding away from the world that hadn't changed even through all the stupid fighting. He had seen to that, and had, from his actions been labelled a monster by most and a saviour by the rest. He hadn't cared, because by then, he had nothing to gain from their opinions.

So many dead... They, at least, deserve the truth.

Repetition of fate had left him hanging on to Aerith's promise, for although he was far closer to the planet than any of the visiting Cetra, she held the better bargaining position in the lifestream.

And if he dropped his guard for a moment, he could hear the ceaseless birth wail of the planet rise toward crescendo.

It is time, I can feel it through everything. I can hear him again, he answered, the voice he heard was faint and left a brittle thread around his thoughts. It was lost, alone, hungry.

The planet is angry. The thread tightened, silver white and accusatory. Choices, always choices, he had to choose quickly between the ocean and the sky.

The planet understands, it doesn't want to be alone any more. It loosened, trailing away in a slither of silk to be softened in mist green. Attempting to match the colour of his dreams, but never so bright. The aspect was not the same and the link much more feint, smaller, and alien to the first voice. The Others, the ones who cared for his planet while his own race dissolved or were diluted.

Aerith, It hurts, and it is so cold.

Vincent saw the swordsman stop some distance away, and thought little of it as he skewered another piece of fish and held it in the fire. It was getting late in the afternoon already, thanks in no small part to Cloud's little cookery adventure. He'd managed to salvage the larger part of the admittedly expert dissected carcass, and with the aid of a few herbs it was very nearly palatable.

"Do you think Ukime could make Cosmo Canyon by sunset?" Inquired the returning boy as he sat across from the unlikely chef, taking a bite from one of the pieces. Vincent looked up from the fire, seeing that it was an almost impossible task to burn anything so wet.

"I think she could, why?"

"I don't want to spend too long in the desert." Cloud answered, "Especially not at night. It gets too cold."

Vincent studied the boy speculatively, "You went swimming in that river, and if I might suggest you get dressed..."

"Not cold in that way, Vincent-sama..." Cloud shivered, and the look he gave Vincent froze the dark man for a second as the world re-adjusted itself around it's axis. He shook his head to dispel the strange feeling and raised his scarlet eyes, searching for the blue.

"What are we doing Cloud? I asked you once before, and you told me to question myself... You know I would do anything you asked, but I don't even know what I'm supposed to do." A hint of desperation entered his voice, and no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind irritated concern, it had been there. But there was a kind of release with finally vocalising the thought that scared the others away.

"I want you to stay beside me, Vincent. That is all, stay with me until I reach my goal. It was once Zack's place to keep us from trouble, and now he is with them. I am alone."

Cloud sounded so much like a lost child, and as they ate, he became quieter again. "Nobody deserves to be alone forever. Even the last, has a chance don't you think?."

Vincent began packing away their equipment, putting away a little food for the rest of the journey while Cloud just sat and stared into the flames or the distance. He honestly wanted to help, to tell him he wasn't alone. But he had no place to do so, hadn't Lucrecia said the same thing? Aerith, Nanaki, even himself. There were greater meanings for that one word than just without company. He knew how it was to be broken and he had more than enough patience to see this through to its conclusion. It was Cloud's mood swings that were beginning to get to him, and the feeling he was going to regret it if he got too deep, just as happened to anyone that tried. As Cloud finally got ready to leave, Vincent caught the ending of an unnecessary apology, whispered into the breeze.

"Gomen, nengan no tou-san."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He glanced back once as he jammed his foot into the stirrup, hoisting his lean frame into Ukime's saddle. Cloud was already running Tenshi along the path, trying to spot an acceptable ford. He rode with no saddle or bridle, perching on the creature's back and whispering into her ears, sometimes tenderly petting the crown of golden feathers that resembled his own wild mane so closely. Vincent recalled an idea from an old fantasy book, which rose unbidden from his memory, that elves could ride in such a fashion. By all accounts, Cloud fit his part well. But his skill was more likely born of the same shy determination he applied through everything, and natural unwitting grace. If only he could figure out exactly what it was, ugh... He quickly forgot the idea, had he almost begun thinking like Hojo now? After all this time, it was not what he planned on doing. That foul, ...he wouldn't degrade the classification of `person' by placing it so readily upon him, monster fit so much more satisfactorily. That, monster, had poked and prodded them like laboratory mice. He had borne out his unthinking revenge upon them, without understanding a thing. No, Vincent would never bear to think like Hojo. But then, Hojo had no understanding of those he made his toys. His favourite little pets were soon discarded as failures if they didn't conform to the plan. He had been thrown away, left to the torture of his own guilt and the mercy of strangers. Hojo had taken love and duty, and made them sins in the name of Jenova.

Why, after so long was all this resurfacing? As far as he knew, Cloud's great task was nothing more than visiting Nanaki. But it wasn't, he'd said it was so important, and he still wouldn't tell him what it was.

The bags on his saddle rattled as he tried to catch up with the swordsman, looking toward the water and finding the whole idea of crossing impossible. Cloud's golden Chocobo would have no trouble with even the deep snow flood, but Ukime would not manage the steep bank on either side, and he didn't want to risk anything in their small inventory getting drenched. There had to be a bridge further down. Unless of course, the bridge was further up and they had missed it entirely. Vincent had not travelled this far south in a while, and Cloud, well who knew what Cloud got up to.

"There's probably a bridge close by." He said, his quiet suggestion causing the blond to startle and almost jump, Vincent might well have gained a good black eye were it not for his tenuous position. "Vincent! Don't do that!" He gasped, quickly regaining what small semblance of dignity he'd been left after his fishing trip. "That's what I was hoping on... Though there aren't any major roads through this whole forest, there's an old Shinra Military compound quite close to here. I'm sure there's a bridge there."

"Military? I thought Reeve tore down all the bases outside Midgar after the Junon war?" Vincent inquired, surprised that there would be any remnants of the Wutai war after so long. Cloud nodded, pointing west, to a thicker part of the forest. "Yeah, well this place isn't that big... but it's kinda out of the way. I was hoping we wouldn't have to go there."

"It looks close enough to reach within the hour."

Vincent believed for sure, it would be the case. Cloud stared along the path, shrugged, and agreed with a grin. "Half an hour, then, and I'll wait for you if you fall off!" He didn't bother to watch the river any more; instead, he leant over and suggested something even Vincent could not catch to Tenshi. He raised himself to a kneeling position and crowed, alerting Ukime of the plan before even Vincent had a chance for realisation.

Happily the chocobos took off running, kicking up the gravel behind them as their riders hunched between the great birds' flightless wings.