A/N: Vincent. What else can I say? That wallpaper everyone has must've come from somewhere.

Part VII: My Bloody Valentine

This is the face that stones you cold

This is the moment that needs to breathe

These are the claws that scratch these wounds

This is the pain that never leaves

This is the tongue that whips you down

This is the burden of every man

These are the screams that pierce your skin

This is the voice of silence no more

This is the test of flesh and soul

This is the trap that smells so good

This is the flood that drains these eyes

These are the looks that chill to the bone

These are the fears that swing over head

These are the weights that hold you down

This is the end that will never end

This is the voice of silence no more

~ Metallica, "Some Kind of Monster"

It is cold on the roof of the mansion. The wind whips around me, tossing hair and cloak fitfully, as though Typhoon cannot quite decide in which direction to run. The sky crackles with purple lightning, an unusual colour even for these tainted mountains. Meteor has more of an effect on this Planet than I care for.

I do not need time to find reasons. I need time... away from them. Away from the people whom I have come to care for. I must disentangle myself from them, because I cannot concentrate on battle when I have too many emotions operating at once. Anger, pain, fear... these I can combine and harness on a battlefield. But emotions such as love... I cannot cultivate any advantage from these with the demons I harbour in my soul.

So I have come here, to this place of lonelines and despair at the foot of a deadly mountain. Why? Because it is the closest place I have ever had to a home. Thirty years... that is the longest time I have ever spent in a place. The basement... the coffin... these are resting places. Places that, distasteful as they are, I will return to. This life is not mine, only the twisted animation of my body with the Planet's stolen lifeblood and the consciousness of the demons.

My reasons... I never truly thought about them. My initial reasoning was a burning desire for revenge against Hojo, the man who stole my life. I curl my knees up to my chest and rest my chin upon them. Now, perhaps, I am uncertain of my reasons to continue fighting.

Then again... since I met her, I have been living for Lucrecia. I lied to her... about her son... I lied. Perhaps I go to make that lie truth.

And also...

Hm.

It is difficult to think this, even to myself. After all the hope that AVALANCHE has shown, after all the deeds that they have completed together, it is difficult to be realistic in a situation such as this. I do not think we can win.

That may be why I am returning to the Highwind tomorrow. I cannot survive against Sephiroth. Perhaps it is the Turk in me, wanting to go down fighting. I think not. I believe that out of any reward the Planet could offer, should I ever be deserving of one... an end. I would appreciate an end to this parody of life, to the mocking voices of the demons.

Yes, I hear them. I hear you, night terrors... and I do not care. Tomorrow will be the end of all of this. Perhaps that is why I find the wind so comforting, the lightning so bright tonight.

A means to an end...