A/N: I had to change one detail in Chapter 1 to fit this chapter, because I'm dry for ideas, and I wanted to post this so it would make sense... I needed to write more about Vincent and what he had been doing before recieving the summons from Luciel.

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When Vincent had walked in Cloud's footsteps on his travels and faced with Hojo, he thought that all of his pain would at last become scoured by rage and the satisfaction of watching that damned excuse of a human being fall to his knees in defeat. And then consequently bleed out of the many holes Vincent had shot into his body. Retribution was sweet - painful memories of long nights, death, rape, abuse incomparable to anything else - all for you, Lucrecia... For you, Luciel...

Instead, as he had feared, vengeance was best served cold and he had waited years to get his revenge. So why, then, when it was all over and he walked away from the Midgar Cannon feeling absurdly empty and bereft, utterly stripped of everything he thought he had become. Even then, this feeling faded as AVALANCHE moved onto its next target - Sephiroth and hopefully his final redemption.

Lucrecia had asked him to look after Sephiroth, her only son. In that dark, decadent cavern behind the waterfall, her spirit, her ruined soul, had beseeched him to look after him. It was a promise he could not keep, like so many others. A promise that, in some way, shape or form, he would betray - not only would he find Sephiroth, but he would be forced to kill him. Let Lucrecia keep the memory of the child she never knew and raised. Vincent would destroy the reality and keep sacred her secret memories in her heart.

She could never know the horrible truth of it. He could never bring himself to tell her, nor return to desecrate the place where she had remained for so long with his monstrous presence.

By journey's end, he spared few words with his companions. On the Highwind, very few words were exchanged except only when absolutely necessary. He often sought solace on the deck outside, letting the cold wind whip his black hair from his face, let loose the cowl that covered his face, and stood with his arms outstretched as the air pulled around him. It was hard to stand upright with his cloak like a sail, trying to pull him off the ship, into oblivion. While he fought the force of wind, he thought about all he had seen, all he had been through. The emptiness in his soul still ached, and bled doubt and loneliness into the chasm and filled it. He was helpless to stop it.

He had nowhere else to go. He could not burden his companions with his presence, not when he had things to do. Old friends to see. Or rather, one friend in particular. But even as he stood outside of his apartment a month later, hidden in the dark as a phantom of shadow, only truly visible to keener eyes, he could not bring himself to the door, or to sneak in through an upstairs window via the fire escape. He just watched him move about on that floor, sometimes from the rooftop across the street, so he could see him. Vincent would lay down in the darkness amongst the smoke stacks and stare into the windows, watching as shadows moved and wondering which one might be Luciel.

During these long nights, he often fell asleep until his pains awoke him, wrought by the evils Hojo had bestowed upon his body. He then would leave just as the sunlight flirted at the horizon with pinks and scarlets and golds. His eyes loved the sight, regardless of how some light actually hurt his eyes.

Months passed without incident. He briefly ran a gun shop with Barret, who only put up with Vincent's idiosyncrasies when he was put in the back room, constructing the weapons. Even then, Vincent was uncharacteristically restless doing something he more or less enjoyed. Eventually he resigned from his position as expert gunsmith and let the wind carry him again.

He traveled to Kalm from Midgar. The journey took little more than a day if he took his time, shooting monsters and getting the bounty for them. When he arrived in Kalm, he met Cloud. The man had dark circles under his eyes, and immediately pulled him toward the Seventh Heaven II, a building remarkably not unlike the original bar except for the materials and the paint.

The pair sat together in the smoke free zone, due to Vincent's condition. Cloud ordered something hard while Vincent consigned to just a glass of water, and the new girl in a denim skirt and an off-white short sleeve button shirt brought them to them.

"I can't talk to Tifa about this," Cloud murmured softly as he drank. Vincent watched him, motionless other than his breathing, which sounded slightly ragged. "She has enough on her mind and... we're supposed to be together, you know?"

Vincent said nothing, but motioned for him to continue as he sipped his water.

Cloud ran his hands tiredly through his blonde hair. "It's about Aeris..."

"I see," Vincent replied softly. "You are still having trouble letting her go?"

"That's it, exactly," Cloud mumbled, covering his head with his arms. He shook his head back and forth. He was witholding something, although what Vincent couldn't say. But Cloud would not have come to him if he was not sure he would understand.

"I had a dream last night," Cloud said. "About Aeris... and how she... died. But it was different." He moistened his lips with his alcoholic drink again, the dark liquid disappearing between his lips. Vincent found himself fascinated by the haggard appearance of Cloud, and the way his fingers drummed restlessly. He looked everywhere but at Vincent's eyes. "She had black hair.. and she didn't look like Aeris at all... But it was exactly the same. The pain was the same, too."

"Perhaps it was someone you once knew," Vincent said softly. "And it stuck in your mind, even penetrated your deepest grief. I don't want to say that it could mean something when it wouldn't, and you would search fruitlessly for this girl who does not exist. Cloud, best that you forget it. You cannot lose sleep over her anymore."

He reached his human hand across the table and grasped at Cloud's, who strangely accepted his touch. The ex-SOLDIER gave him a weak smile. "Enough about me... thank you for listening to me. So what about you? Don't you have any old friends left? I'm sure someone is still around."

Vincent had grudgingly admitted that yes, perhaps there was one man who would be happy to see him, but wasn't it also agreeable that he would rather have nothing more to do with him? Vincent found the latter preferable, because the former was too painful. How could he hold him in his arms again, feel his touch and his heart beat almost in time with his own? After all that, how dare he, Vincent, walk back into his life and ask politely, 'May I please pick up where we left off? I'm sorry I cut it off but I was mistaken.'

Luciel had years to put aside the pain of Vincent's abandonment. No, Vincent would not tread past his threshold again to his detriment. Luciel would not recieve him kindly - Vincent had spent but days in his life, but knew him well enough that Luciel may sooner shot him through the eye than accept him warmly and with open, eager arms.

Cloud looked him straight in the eye and said, "You should see him right now. Before it's too late."

Vincent was jarred from his guilty reasoning and stood abrubtly, excusing himself and bidding Cloud a good day. Then he vanished from Seventh Heaven and wandered the dirty slums of Midgar the following evening with the waifs trying to tug at his cloak, trying to seduce him with their fair skin and nubile bodies to enjoy their flesh when all he wanted was to be left alone. He turned them down; he gave them gil for their troubles. He never went farther than the edge of the city, where the truly poverty-ridden places were. Cardboard boxes and crates were stacked together and fit to tip over if the slightest sharp breeze blew, while children played in stagnant waters. Vincent looked at them and without realizing it, stretched out his hand that had the currency, gil, in it... he passed it around to the adults. He told them where the best buys were for food. He gave them directions, and they were off.

He felt tears in his eyes. They all of them looked at him with fear but accepted his donations without question. They praised him as a saint - no one cared in this wretched world for them. The new president's relief efforts were not fast in coming, and many criticized his efforts although he assured them that he was doing the best he could.

Vincent was not interested in politics. He had other things on his mind.

After the alley battle with the gunmen, he recieved the letter from Luciel. What had been on his mind was not quite clear, because the demons inside of him were roused by his turmoil, and clawed inside of him to be free. He was thinking of Luciel and what he might do to visit him at last, before something happened that would force him to regret his avoidance.

Vincent thought of these things as he watched a man very like Cloud walk with the black-haired man. It was obviously not Cloud. But seeing him had reminded him of that moment when Cloud had taken his hand, and confided in him the strange dream. Vincent narrowed his eyes on the figure, and felt Luciel stir to get a better shot.

Where in the name of Perdition were the children?

Then he saw Luciel move forward, slipping down through the shadows with the black flashlight between his teeth, the light turned off. Vincent hissed slightly, gripped the gun in his hand tighter before beginning to follow him through the loose stones, any one of which would betray their presence.

Fortunately Luciel stopped and looked on. The two men were still playing the sentinels, apparently waiting for something as they stood in front of the door. Suddenly the doors opened again, and the silver-haired person emerged, limping heavily, and supported by two of the older children... neither one was was the dark-haired Saph from the photograph.

She was, Vincent noted, the girl who suddenly bolted from the group and scrambled over the rocks as fast as she could go. The dark-haired man pointed, and the Cloud look-alike dashed in pursuit, leaping effortlessly in front of her. She cursed him in every name she knew before he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back.

Luciel tensed, rocking forward on the balls of his feet, a visible line of concentration edging his features. Her screams and curses of outrage echoed back to them. Luciel said very softly, "That's it, baby, kick the shit out of him if you can. Don't ever give them no slack!"

Vincent reached out to grasp his arm. Luciel turned to look at him, although he was intensely concentrating on his daughter.

"We have to be careful, for her sake. We cannot charge in on them. Not when they have so many children... but perhaps--"

"What?"

"The three of them can't possibly look after them all," Vincent went on, watching keenly as they herded the children glumly through a path in the stones, visible for a few hundred meters. "They are moving them because we let the silver-haired one get away."

Luciel grunted gently in affirmation. Of course. Seth had led them straight to the hideout and for whatever reason decided it was better to move. It wasn't a wise thing to do. The trio could have held them off easily - the water station was thick-walled and well fortified.

"We'll split up," Vincent murmured, slowly standing up. "I'll distract them somehow. You get the kids to follow you and I'll keep them busy."

"By yourself?" Luciel was horrified. No way, he thought. NO fucking way I'm leaving him alone to the mercy of two mysterious dudes and one angry injured Sephiroth clone freak.

But none of these words left his lips as Vincent bunched his legs, and leapt blindly into the shadows above them. Obviously Luciel had never thought to look up since it was so black. He didn't see Vincent even come down. SO he followed the group through the tunnels for as long as he could, waiting for the distraction.

It came when they were about to enter another of those half-drowned tunnels filled with water up to the knees. The children were clinging pathetically to each other, and those who trusted their captives were trying to cling to them. The silver-haired one was limping, and occasionally stopped to rest before hurrying to catch up.

At this time, gunshots rang violently against the cavernous darkness. From above, chunks of rock and metal debris detached from the unseen ceiling and descended, crashing into knee-deep water and drenching everything within close proximity. On the largest piece, Vincent stood up slowly from crouching on top like a dark angelic warrior, and from his two hands rang the thunder that never hit a single child. The men split apart and dashed in opposite directions. Luciel lunged from his hiding place and immediately cried out to them above the din.

"Follow me! Everybody, follow me! Saph!"

She turned around. Her eyes widened and she lunged through the water, collapsing against her father's chest, crushing him in a massive, strong grip. "DAD!"

He held her. Vincent flew, jumping along the fallen rocks which had landed in the water, rolling and diving as his guns blazed; his distraction was well-in-hand, so Luciel had to hurry. "Tell the kids to follow me! We'll get out this way!"

Saph's voice rose above. The silver-haired man glanced at them as the children all started circuiting around the fighting. Vincent was shooting carefully now. Bullets struck the water, puckered its surface. Seth sliced and lunged at him, but he was slowed up by water and injury. At last Kendal snarled, "Stop them!" and motioned to the children, who were almost through the tunnel, into bright, liberating sunlight.