Author's Note: I watched FFVII:AC and realized that: Vincent's hair is not dark brown, it's black! So I can't really call him a brunet . . . crap. Well, since I'm lazy, in this Alternate Universe fic he has brown hair. And brown eyes, you know, non-vampire thing. Anyway, this version is the EDITED VERSION! Means NO LEMON, thank you ffnet for that rule. The lemon in this chapter doesn't affect plot much (unlike the ones later that I'll write which is full of plot), so if you don't want to bother this chapter makes perfect sense in itself. If you want to be dirty and read it, please go to my website http // scarecrow. atspace. com (Sorry the format's funny. For some reason ffnet won't let me do links in a document.)

Trinity

Two

Cloud remembered the aftermath when the troops had conquered Ancen. The city had been very loosely defended; the Avalanche apparently had underestimated their speed of travel, causing the reinforcements to be three days behind Shinra's schedule. It had only taken two days of mild battle, and the white flag was already flying above Avalanche's dome-like tent. The army had not been the main threat, not even close. What had really gotten under Cloud's (and many many others') skin had been the civilians.

Ancen had been in Avalanche's possession ever since the initial takeover fifty years ago. The generation of citizens whom fought the intruders had mostly died off, letting the army become part of its scenery, and later, its population. New rounds of troops had come and gone, not fighting yet perpetually there, acting as peacekeepers and odd-and-end errand boys. The citizens of Ancen had grown accustomed and even welcomed their presence. Which was why that, when Shinra had marched through the fortress doors, the civilians were as happy to see them as bears woken up from winter hibernation.

Consequently, the next fortnight had been beyond rough for the Shinra soldiers. Cloud didn't even know how he had managed to survive without missing any of his vital organs. During that time he had gotten stabbed by a barmaid, found poison in almost every drop of water he didn't fetch himself, and received numerous rocks and arrows through his tent flap. To avoid further incensing the citizens, General Zack had ordered the troops to endure all assaults, as long as there weren't any casualties, without harming a single soul. "Once they stop seeing us as a threat to them and their properties," Zack had announced, "they should stop their foolish gimmicks and accept us. But, we have to give it time. It's crucial that we hold down this fort."

Easier said than done. Cloud had considered himself a fairly levelheaded person, but as the days grind on he felt his nerves chipping away in bits and pieces. God, please give me the patience, he used to repeat the mantra every night. The patience not to kill the next person that spits on the ground when I walk by.

Here at Orion, on the other hand, things were significantly simpler. Orion was a basic military camp, stashed in the corner of the plains between a mountain pass and a river. Strategically it was a perfect defense hold, and for the Shinra it was a challenge to attack. The battles were bloody, casualties fairly high, and Cloud was quite doubtful of the future capture. The rations were running low, and although the river provided freshwater, Avalanche had the intelligence to build a dam to cinch the flow from their high point . Had it dragged on a few days more, Cloud would have to report to General Zack and ask for a temporary cease-fire. His men were tired, hungry, wounded, and provided easy targets for anyone with reasonable health and a weapon.

Fortunately, their patience bore its fruit. Orion surrendered earlier that day, after a month of waiting entrapment. Cloud personally tore down Avalanche's blue-and-green flag, replacing it with the Shinra's symbol draped in blood-red. The battle was long and painful, but it left no sour residue and Cloud was just glad he didn't need to heed his troops about another vicious aftermath. All that was left to do was to take care of the prisoners and round up the wounded. Oh, and took a breather some time before he collapsed.

The takeover ended in the late morning, but he was tied up with matters great and small until well into the afternoon. By the time he retired to his personal tent, Cloud was ready to drop on his face. He took a hasty shower in the riverbed beside the main camp, reveling in the cold and clean feeling, but it did not alleviate his fatigue. He stumbled inside the warm structure, expecting a comfortable and empty room, but found none other than the second lieutenant sitting on the bed, looking at him with calm and languid eyes.

"What're you doing here?" he asked.

"Who do you think put up this tent?" Came the reply.

The conversation ended there. Cloud vaguely remembered climbing on top of the sheets and Vincent's body, and the rest was –

"Major Strife!" Zack's voice suddenly came from ahead. Cloud snapped his head up and directly met his superior's laughing eyes. Cloud swallowed.

"Daydreaming on the job?" Zack sounded amused.

"No sir!" Cloud replied hastily. He whipped his horse forward, closer to the general. "All areas clear, sir!"

Zack chuckled. "Relax, Major. What's the stats?"

Cloud briefly described the current situation. Based on his surveying for the last few hours, the casualties were a bit better than he had first anticipated. His regimen had more than a third left with minimal injuries, another third were alive but required drastic medical attention. The medics were already on the field, busy with stretchers and blood bags and morphine. From where the two of them were standing, Cloud could see the horse-carts full of bodies and patients running to the center camp.

"In other words," Zack said after a moment, "everything is relatively fine and under control at the moment, yes?"

Cloud nodded in assent. He let his horse gallop side-by-side with Zack, as they both began the journey back toward the heart of Orion. Cloud heard his stomach grumble. He was famished – hadn't had anything since daybreak. He definitely could use some nourishment.

"So," Zack spoke again, this time in a much more conversational manner. "Cloud, what are we going to do about your punishment?"

"My . . . punishment, sir?"

Zack gave him a look. "The adequate reprimand for your little . . . incident . . . earlier."

"Oh . . ." Cloud felt his face grew hot. He should've known better than to expect someone like Zack to simply forget the episode. Wishful thinking.

Zack grinned. "Geez, how old are you, Major? Still getting tomato-faced. Come on, you tell me what should be done. I'm sure the army code had something to say about that."

It did. It was the only paragraph in the entire army handbook that he had actually memorized verbatim. Zack made every soldier recite the code within the first week they joined, no exceptions. Cloud was prepared to answer this question ever since the first time he and Vincent spent the night in the same tent.

"Yes, sir," Cloud began softly. "'In the case of possible sexual assault and/or sexual relations with a civilian, a policy of zero tolerance will be enforced. For first and initial offense the party at fault will receive a week of solitary confinement and appropriate demotions in rank. For repeated offenses, the party at fault will be discharge from the army.'" He paused. "But sir, it says . . ."

"Yes?"

Cloud didn't continue. Something in Zack's tone unnerved him. He looked at the ground, silent.

"But it says civilian and not fellow soldier, doesn't it? Because somehow they just never considered that a possibility, which I admit, is a pretty damn big loophole. Don't you think?"

Cloud looked up and frowned. Did he hear this right? General Zack was still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Cloud scratched his head.

"Soldier," Zack sighed, "why do you think I made you memorize the code? All of you know the basic concepts by heart. But I'm sure many have missed, or perhaps did not ponder, such small specifications, no? Those rules aren't made to be broken, no, but if they have loopholes big enough to fit in an elephant, well then, people are going to take advantage of them."

"Sir...?"

Zack smirked. "So, with this unnecessary clarification written down in plain sight, you can damn well screw anyone, as long as he's a fellow soldier, and I cannot do a single thing about it legally. I certainly have no right to kick such a fine officer like you out of the divisions based on that alone."

Cloud didn't know whether to think his superior officer merciful or insane. Either way, he seemed to be off the hook, officially. "Um, thank you, sir." He stuttered.

"Ah ah, don't thank me, thank the idiots who drafted the code. Me, I have personal questions for you. Considering that your punishment, hmm?"

"Q-questions?" Cloud blanched.

"Yeah," Zack let his horse cut in front of Cloud's. "How long have you and the lieutenant been, uh, fucking?"

"Uh, um, it –"

"Too blunt? I'll rephrase it, then. How –"

"No no! That's unnecessary, sir. I . . ."

Cloud knew the general was enjoying watching him squirm. He again swallowed hard, and still did not meet the dark-haired man's eyes. "Two years."

Zack's jaw dropped. "Holy f – how long? I've been way out of the loop. Two years! Does Reno know about this?"

Cloud nodded.

"And if he knows, then Elena and Rude . . ."

Cloud nodded again.

"Huh," The general's face belied astonishment. "I thought I knew everything about my men. Guess I need to work on that."

"You have a lot of men, sir," Cloud contributed.

"Right. Nice try, Major. You know, I used to hear a lot of things about you that I dismissed as half-rumors not worth investigating, but maybe they have merits after all."

"Rumors, sir?" Cloud frowned slightly. First time he heard of such.

Zack smirked. "I suggest you ask Vincent about it. I'm sure he's a much better candidate for, uh, enlightening your knowledge bank. Take care, soldier."

Cloud restrained himself from asking more questions. They now reached Orion and were slowing their horses down as a boy trotted up to take the beasts. Cloud dismounted, still mindful of the conversation past, and only half-concentrated on where he was going. The general headed off toward the direction of the main cluster of tents – probably to check on the medics.

Cloud looked around him and sighed. His stomach grumbled loudly once more. The evening mass had undoubtedly passed, but there would be leftover food at least. He often forgot that Zack was not of the same faith as his men, and hence wouldn't be very aware of these rituals among the soldiers. Cloud wouldn't exactly call himself devoted, but he always made it a point to go to the one prayer after a victory. It seemed appropriate.

Well, too late now. He grabbed a passing private, inquired about the location of food supplies. With the arrival of General Sephiroth from behind the lines, Cloud was sure they brought the much-needed sustenance from Mana. After getting the tent number he immediately broke into a light run toward that direction. His body needed to be fed, so he let his legs do their job.

Zack found Sephiroth in a clearing between two trees, training. His seven-foot-long sword moved in a blur around him, picking up a cyclone of leaves in its wake. Zack watched.

He's lost more weight, Zack thought, crossed his arms and stepped to one side, his back against a nearby tent pole. Sephiroth looked positively gaunt. His cheekbones were getting sallow, his chin sharp enough to cut paper, and his hair was wilting. Zack remembered back when they were still fresh recruits in the Shinra Army, Sephiroth's hair was the talk among the soldiers. Long and fine and silky and platinum, of all colors. Sephiroth hated it when people touched his hair, which was exactly why Zack took every opportunity to yank on them, earning the glares and sometimes a punch hard enough to leave bruises. Zack thought it was hilarious.

Now, the pure white mass of hair had on a grey tone. The shine was dull, although pulled back into the tight high ponytail concealed some of the damage. Anyone could see that the great general Sephiroth was tired. Not a wonder, Zack smiled bitterly, he was reaching his own limit. They had been in this war for fifteen years.

The Holy Land was always a hotspot for dispute for its namesake. Its center, the city of Nadia , received thousands of pilgrims every year from all over the globe. Along with them came exchanges of goods and information. Everyone spoke the same language there, and on the soil of worship all appeared equal. Nevertheless, the different factions of religion had fought over the control of the Holy Land for centuries, all wanted to share in its glory. The Avalanche and the Shinra were simply the most contemporary and powerful factions of late.

The war had been declared before Zack was born. A good twenty years before, actually. Zack only knew the big details, such as the reason for their path to force was because Avalanche had sealed off the Shinra's pilgrim privileges. The Holy Road was now only open to ones whose faith lay within Avalanche, cutting off all other religions' worship passages to Nadia. The Prime Minister of Shinra at that time was beyond infuriated. He declared war almost within a week of the so-called eviction, but Shinra had been much weaker then, and no major battle broke out between the two tribes of people.

It was different now. Zack's generation had bred a surge of heroes. Zack remembered his mother's voice, telling him the stories of the Holy Land and its beauty. Their family did not share Shinra's dogma, but his mother had firmly believed that no one should be barred from his religious practice. We live on this land, she had said. We should help these people, because their welfare is just as important as our own. Remember this, Zack, for we are all free under the same sky.

With that ideal in mind, Zack joined the army and leapt through the ranks, making general at the mere age of seventeen. He spent the next eleven years on the front lines, bringing the small meek Shinra army into a considerable force. The invasion into the land of Avalanche was mostly Zack's effort, with Sephiroth fighting closely behind him. They had met when Zack was a corporal. The dark-haired man never liked the supposed status of titles, and hence spent most of his time with his men rather than alone in a tent. It was something he never grew out of.

Zack watched Sephiroth dance with the sword, graceful and deadly as always. He smiled, his hazel eyes sparkled under the moonlight. "The enemy's behind you!" he yelled, pointing toward a nonexistent shadow in the distance.

Sephiroth didn't stop the roundhouse he was performing. "Would you like to help me, then, General?"

"Oh?" Zack raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, o mighty one, I think I'll have to decline. I have other –"

His sentence was sharply cut off when the point of the silvery glistening weapon suddenly appeared underneath his chin. The tip grazed his neck, leaving a small cut in the skin. Zack froze, but the smile remained on his face.

The two men stared at each other for a while. Finally, Sephiroth's lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes glowed. "Care to dance?"

"Daren't I refuse?" Zack replied, pulling out his massive blade behind his back. What followed was only the crisp sound of metal clashing together, and bright sparks illuminating the surrounding field.

Something warm was on his face, wet and soft and moving rapidly. He let out a small moan, shifting his position and turning his head to the opposite side. The warmth didn't fade. Light puffs of air above it tickled his cheeks, and Vincent wanted to brush it away. But his hands were malfunctioning, glued to his sides on top of the covers. Covers?

It took him a few moments to remember he was on a bed, and even longer whose bed it was. By then Vincent also recognized the warmth as someone's tongue thoroughly licking him, the lips soft and caressed his skin. Vincent didn't open his eyes. Instead, he reached up, vaguely noticed his arms' regained mobility, and searched for that tickle spot along the familiar shape of a back.

"Oh!" he heard a grunt, and the bed dipped on his right side. Vincent smiled, finally letting the lids of his eyes lift. Cloud Strife was lying beside him, giving him a fairly hard glare under the lit candlelight.

Vincent propped himself up on his elbows. "You look beat."

Cloud scoffed lightly. "Well, pardon me for not having the leisure to sleep away the afternoon. I had a job to do."

"What time is it?"

"Just past eight thirty."

Vincent didn't trust his ears. Eight thirty? It couldn't be. He frowned, trying to disprove Cloud's words by observing his surroundings, and realized that his lover was in fact, very correct. The candle had been burning for at least an hour, and they only light them after sundown. Crickets chirped crisply outside the tent. Vincent put a hand over his eyes, his brain incapable of processing the escape of time.

"How did –" he began, sitting up slowly to avoid a head rush. "How did I manage to –?"

"Fall asleep for so long?" Cloud answered him. His voice no longer came from Vincent's side, so Vincent reopened his eyes. The blond was walking toward the table, stripping off his uniform at the same time. "I'm surprised you didn't earlier. I wasn't the one who had camped outside Orion for the past two days. Did you sleep at all when you were out there?"

Vincent shook his head. The battle this morning was still fresh on his mind. His men's cries, the cannonballs, and the rapid succession of gunfire left their echoes in his skull. Vincent sighed quietly, shifting his body on the bed to stretch out his legs. They had grown numb from the motionless nap. He looked up, catching Cloud opening a package on the table with one hand and pulling off his pants with the other. Vincent raised both eyebrows.

"Don't look at me like that," Cloud said, successfully accomplishing both tasks and kicking away the garments to a corner by the fire. "I don't want to touch these uniforms for the rest of my life. God knows how long it's been since they're washed. You hungry?"

With the question came the response of Vincent's stomach. The hunger of the past two days made itself known loudly, causing its bearer to flush red in the cheeks. Cloud gave him an amused smile, and laid out the contents of the paper bag. Vincent took a glance and immediately stood up, eyes burning like bright coals as he rounded the wooden table. He hadn't seen real meat for months, and the bread was fresh and not green with mold. Vincent swallowed down his gathering saliva.

"Oh my," he muttered. "Where did this come from?"

"General Sephiroth," was the reply.

The mention of that name re-jolted Vincent's memory of the afternoon. "Oh," he answered, hands reaching for the sandwiches slowing down a fraction. "The troops are already here?"

"Yeah." Slender fingers sketched across his waist from behind, pulling on the strings of his sleep pants but not undoing the tie. "They got here just before dinner, I heard." A gentle kiss graced his shoulder, as Vincent crossed himself and said a prayer before biting ravenously into the sandwich he picked up. Ham and cheese now tasted so good.

Before he knew it he had finished one and was eager for another. His body thanked him for the necessity, but was not anywhere near sated. He leaned against the edge of the table, aware of Cloud's slender body behind him and feeling the beginning of an erection emerging beneath the drawstrings. Vincent cursed at man's endless desires. Here one wasn't even completely fulfilled and another had taken over already, demanding attention that Vincent wasn't sure he didn't want to give. Not with a certain blond's hands moving like that on his stomach.

The second sandwich didn't make its way to his mouth. Cloud stepped beside him, turning his body slightly so they faced each other. One hand came up and held onto his wrist, gently yet firmly. Vincent raised an eyebrow, asking the question in silence. Cloud smiled.

"I missed dinner," the blond said.

"You didn't eat?" Vincent didn't know whether to be touched or angry at Cloud for bringing him food first.

"That, too." Cloud replied.

Ah, he understood. Cloud had missed mass, and the unspoken request was heard plainly. Vincent nodded, putting the sandwich back down on the brown paper and knelt where he stood. Cloud followed suit. They both removed their necklaces – Vincent's dark red rosaries against Cloud's silver cross – and held them together in their hands. The cords twined with their fingers.

"Holy Father," Vincent recited softly, "we accept at Thy hand, with all its anxieties, pains, and sufferings, whatever kind of death it shall please Thee to be ours. And yet, we thank Thee, for sparing our measly lives for another day, to bath in Thy Glory and Thy Mercy. In nomine Patrius, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen."

"Amen," repeated Cloud.

They crossed themselves and exchanged a brief kiss on the cheek. Cloud put his necklace back on while Vincent simply laid his piece on the table, on top of the map of the Holy Land . He picked up a sandwich and separated it in half, offering one triangular piece to the blond beside him. They ate the rest of the food in comfortable silence.

A/N: And this is where the lemon starts. So it's gone. Again, if you want to see Cloud and Vincents screwing each other silly, please go to my website at http // scarecrow. atspace. com. Leave me a note on what you think, yes?