I was stalling.

Word of the heroes buzzed around Edge, what people were starting to call the habitable portion of Midgar. I walk in amongst them, catching the gossip as it passes. Old women waggling their tongues and children fighting with sticks... the coverage around the crater, as well as the risky expose regarding the great General Sephiroth left an impression on everyone.

"...cut it right in half! The sword is massive..."

"...totally hot. I mean a figure like that? Gods, and she's real sweet too..."

"...creepy, man. Really. I mean, like some kind of vampire or..."

There it is. The right tidbit. I can't help but chuckle at the "vampire" comment. They should have seen him when he was younger, gods, back during our steakouts. They should have seen how easy it was for him to assume the role of punisher, deliverer...

The red eyes suit him far better than those innocent blue ones ever did. I wonder if they took my killer and made it physical... what would I look like then? Certainly not this tired old man that I see in the mirror every morning. Would I even look human?

Ah, I don't need thoughts like that. So I stroll a bit more, until I can pinpoint the location of a makeshift home of some kind. A half building that had all sorts of things propped around it to make it into a real building. To keep out the rain, which could properly hit what is left of Midgar... since now the sky is free.

I can almost hear what seems to be a near family of people. An older man cursing and ranting, a younger one responding in full force, a pleasant woman's voice in between.

Then there is the bullet whizzing past my ear. So the rumors were true.

I duck, roll, do whatever fancy maneuver it used to be called to get the hell out of the bullet's way. Yes, I'm a little old, and my bones feel a little funny when I do that. No more shots fired for now, though and I take the opportunity to show my appreciation.

"You gonna come out from that hiding spot, Valentine! Are are you going to hide and take cheap shots!"

Alright, this shot is aimed for somewhere lower. Think before you speak, Veld, geez. Didn't you just tell Tseng to take the open shot? Then again, things were always different with Valentine. Never did trust him, did you?

"Very funny! Will you STOP with the creepy sneakiness!"

A flutter of red fabric in the corner of my eye and my old fashioned pistol is in my hand, taking a couple of cheap shots myself. No, I'm not really trying to hit him. Though if I clipped him in the leg or something equally nonvital I wouldn't cry over it. I mean, it's been a couple decades since we've been aware of each other's pulses... does he really have to hold grudges for so damn long?

"I'll shoot you until you stop with the inhuman fluttering!"

He stops then, after another bullet flies by, and I get a good look at him. So full of darkness and brooding... or at least that's the image he wants everyone to see. Really, growing your hair out and putting on an extra high cowled cloak does not make you gothically pitiable. Not Vincent Valentine, at least.

Though, judging by the expression on his face, it is safe to assume that yes, he's still holding a grudge.

And he's out of bullets. Should carry more than a pea shooter, Valentine.

"You're out. I still have two. And you look like I just stepped on your sandcastle. Really, Valentine, I figured you'd be a little happier to see me."

"And I figured you were dead, Veld."

He stands there, and I sit, having long given up on fully standing when he shoots like a maniac at me. He only has one arm so I won't be cruel and shoot the other one, but he does however have two legs. Two bullets... two legs...

Well, I figure I've done enough to him for a lifetime or two.

"I was. Then again, weren't you?"

"Very funny. Are you done yelling now? Is the General going crazy and summoning Meteor my fault too?" That same unblinking stare. The red eyes really do suit him, they're almost too perfect on him. The clothing is a little much, but he never did wear his uniform properly.

"Almost. Fault by association, but you're clearly more angry about this than I am."

"...You were wrong, you know." I really must have been, to get an admittance like this so soon in this argument. The great Dragoon and Valentine arguments used to last for months nearly. Well, this one has lasted for years.

"Was I really? Then what do you call that crazy trying to kill me stunt!" I still have my pride, despite having won the wickedest fight of this unholy century by simply reappearing at the right moment? Was there a catch to this?

"Of course. You, Hojo... do you honestly think I was stupid enough to get that much involved with a member of the group I was assigned to protect? That I had in fact shirked off everything you had ever taught me for a nice pair of legs?"

Alright, so he does have a point. Maybe I had not in fact won this grand argument.

"You've been known to do worse things..."

"Oh shut up."

I do shut up. For a moment I stop all the yelling going on in my head, the nearly homicidal... anger. He makes me angry by existing. Hasn't always been that way but seeing him, looking nearly the same but not quite... one photo negative on top of the other.

You shouldn't have gone to Nibelheim, kid. And I shouldn't have sent you. And we shouldn't keep shooting at each other like children. The threats, the insults, the fighting... we've lived, Vincent. We've survived the Company, the fucking end of the world.

"...You were wrong too."

Remember the first time you argued with me? You were standing outside the boss's office, having gotten your way past the lobby with the right words, and were waiting to sign your life away. He called me in to evaluate you, to see if I needed a team member because my opinion... I never quite knew why it mattered. And I said you were too young, though I'd seen you were far more capable than most people already employed.

And you replied, "As if you did not begin this job at a highly illegal age."

I think I hated you immediately. Your stance, your mechanical skill, even the way you did your hair. And I said you were fine, only on the account that I wanted to be the one to see you when you were disciplined, broken down from that terribly arrogant and unruly state.

Well, you're broken down now Valentine... hardly any more disciplined, just as arrogant, only you've got ghosts and demons and one really strange getup. I got to see it, and does it matter? No, not really. That's an awful lot to give up to let an old man say, "I told you so."

I pull the remaining two bullets from my gun, call it a gesture of good faith if you will. I have two more firearms on my person, so it's not really that much disarming. I'm sure Valentine has more under that cape of his. But his eyes follow as they drop to the ground before I reholster the weapon.

"...They're trying to find the President, you know." I really didn't have a side in this particular conflict, did I? No, my kids were all scattered, all blown around with different names and acronyms... it is hard to keep up.

"I am not staying with these people for long."

Are we two to go gallivanting off like a pair of rebels from the old stories? Or two samurai, like the readings I prefer? Because if we leave this behind, we leave it well armed and with no lingering attachments. Valentine was never at an equal standing with me, I was always the team leader, the section leader, the latter Turk leader. He never made it past my underling, so how did I know he wasn't falling into old patterns?

"What do you want, Vincent?" I never use first names... too personal. Not unless that's all a person gives me. Women usually do that, but they're naturally more social, more intimate creatures. Maybe that's why I always shy from them. Always have.

"Vincent, do you know where, oh my. I didn't mean to—"

"Are you in need of my assistance?" He is quick and to the point, not leveling the girl with as hard a stare as I expect from him. She's nice enough, and I know he has a weakness for kind women. But no, this argument is said and done, no use bringing up another one.

"I was just looking for Cid. He's usually pestering you, so I just figured you might know. Oh, and Cloud wants to talk with you." I recognize her now, the very same girl that had pestered me earlier. And she recognizes me and gives me that wide-eyed stare of someone that only fights for survival. Fearsome, I bet, but there is no monster lurking within her.

"No, he is not here. Tell Cloud I will be there in a few minutes." She disappears back into the shelter quickly, like her intrusion is the worst crime she's ever committed. No, there are worse things, kid.

"You can't just up and leave this, you know."

We're standing that distance apart that suggests uncomfortable familiarity. Comrades that know a little too much about each other to be entirely professional, but never truly friendly enough to stand around like normal people. He, for all his suspension in past times, is starting to show his age. Differently than I do, of course, but it hangs from the edges of his already worn cape.

He went off and found a cause to fight for without me.

"I know."

There isn't much else I wanted to do since coming back from the dead. I see that Tseng is grown up, Valentine is no longer truly angry with me. I am not angry, just tired. Time for me to exit the stage, maybe find a place to live, read some books. I have nothing more to offer the world other than to undo all the things I've done… and that never happens.

This is where I walk away.