Disclaimer: I like my friends from FF7. They give me something to write about. I also like Square Enix, whom they belong to.

Author's Note: I believe we are now getting to the home stretch. There probably won't be more than four more chapters, including this one. I want to keep it 20 chapters or less, if I can manage it, but I don't want to shoot myself in the foot here, so I'll just shut up and let you read.

Chapter 17

Higher than Hope

Midgar was the city of the future.

The Planet had existed for thousands of years, beginning as Spira, before that name was lost to the centuries. Civilization had progressed and regressed so many times that it was difficult to keep track, but ask anyone at the Shinra Corporation, and they would tell you that the Planet was on its way up. It would advance into a new age of technology, surpassing even Spira at its peak.

The Shinra had their headquarters in the Residential Sector of Midgar City. It was meant to be used for housing, but there was only so much space on the Umbrella, the vast steel platform that separated Upper Midgar from the slums below. Most businesses had their buildings in the lower sectors, but the bad air made the Shinra President ill.

That wasn't a problem for Scarlet. She had no desire to drown in the choking sights and smells of the slums. It was bad enough having to work at a desk job. She missed being out on the Overworld, she missed the air and the sky, and she missed being a Turk. There had been so much power in that job. It had seemed like the career for her, until Erika was murdered and Vincent took her place as leader. Scarlet didn't hesitate for a moment to believe that if he go the chance, he would kill her too. He blamed her for the death of his bandit girl, and she had killed Gon…

He had every right to hate her.

She slid into the shiny leather chair that stood behind her desk. There were times, fleeting as they may have been, that she wished she had turned that gun on Erika instead of Gon. But she most often regretted the fact that she hadn't killed Vincent when she'd had the chance. It would have cleared a lot of things up.

With a sigh, Scarlet pulled a large stack of forms toward her, picking up the black pen sitting beside them. HeH

Winter was cold at Fort Condor. The wind attacked like clawing fingers, sending even the most hardy into their Mako heated houses. At least, all of those who could afford to pay the bills the Shinra incorporation imposed for the use of the precious energy.

Deep within the mountain, there was a certain residence that was without heat and light. Above the entrance was a rusted metal pole which once upon a time had held up a wooden sign, proclaiming the name of the best inn in Condor. But now, four months since it had been closed down, the sign was nowhere to be found. Inside the inn was a large assortment of small shapes, all huddled together, trying to glean whatever heat their respective bodies had to offer. There was a fireplace in the back wall, but it had long since burned down, its daily supply of old newspapers, woodchips and twigs exhausted.

Beneath the bar in a very dark corner, sat a girl, barely eleven years old. Her hair might once have been blond, but it was so dirty it looked more grey than anything else. She was dressed in a ragged jacket and a skirt that had been much too long, so she had hacked it off at the ankles, though she hadn't done a very neat job of it. Her shoes had little holes in the soles, and her feet were growing too big for them. Pretty soon she would have to cut open the fronts to give her toes room to breathe.

"Wick!"

Another girl, this one around thirteen, had crawled over and joined her underneath the bar. She had violently purple hair, slightly pointed ears, and only one eye. She had lost the other in a knife fight with two boys, both much older and bigger than she. She had survived. The boys had not. She was known as Patch, for the rolled up scarf she wore tied around her head to hide the empty eye socket.

"Have you had anything to eat tonight?"

Wick shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

Patch looked at her disapprovingly. "Are you worried about that Lile? Don't be, Wick! That kid could charm his way outta anything."

Wick smiled. It was true. Lile was a master of all things secret and unknown. Tiny and soft-spoken, he looked a lot younger than he was. He had really turned eleven a few days ago.

"I'm kinda worried about him," Wick admitted. "I know he disappears sometime, but it's been almos' a week."

Patch offered a hand to pull her up. "Let's go find something to eat." Wick nodded in agreement.

Nobody looked round as they picked their way through the mess of sleeping bodies on the floor. The two girls emerged into the icy tunnels, both of them pretending they weren't cold for the benefit of the other. Wick knew Patch fancied herself the leader when Lile wasn't around; she was the oldest and the toughest. Wick, however, wasn't in the mood to be a follower at the moment. She took point as they paced through the empty inner marketplace, pausing at the wide opening that led to the plateau, where the stalls and shops stood, silent in the still air. There was a large black curtain covering the arch; someone's useless attempt to curtail the normally strong wind, which was oddly nonexistent tonight. Wick pulled an edge of the curtain back, sticking her head out into the open air.

The sight that greeted her was both bizarre and incredible.

The marketplace, which was usually deserted at this hour of the night, was full of people. The bulk of these were dressed in dark blue uniforms, standing in ranks three deep. They were all armed to the teeth with sleek, fancy-looking rifles. Standing at the head of these ranks were four men. One of them was tall and pale with a large quantity of silver hair. He seemed to be deep in conversation with a shorter, darker man in a long red coat. There were two men in black uniforms standing slightly, almost respectfully, behind them.

"What in the bloody the 'ell is 'appening here?" Patch muttered, joining Wick at the edge of the curtain. "Who are they?"

Wick shook her head. She had never seen anything like the four men standing in the front, but she thought she recognized the ranks in the background. They were dressed similarly to the men Lile had been ready to pick-pocket last week, the last time she had seen him. Nervousness spread from her stomach into her throat, making her gasp at the cold air. Patch elbowed her to shut her up. Wick turned to give her a shove, but she was distracted by a sudden movement in the ranks. They were parting. Two of the blue uniforms were coming forward, carrying someone between them. Wick almost screamed when she saw that it was Lile, bound and gagged and seemingly unconscious.

"Stop!" Patch hissed as she tried to struggle forward. "Stop! They'll kill you." Wick obeyed, just watching.

The man with the silver hair was pulling something out of his coat pocket. He was too far away from the girls for them to see make it out clearly. The man in red held up a hand, stopping the first man as he started toward Lile. He looked shocked, his face contorted with what might have been rage, or amusement. The silver-haired man ignored him, approaching Lile, whom the two men had left lying motionless on the cold ground. As he got closer, Wick was able to make out what he was carrying. It was a syringe, similar to the one that a doctor had used to give her a shot, back when she had parents to take her to the doctor. She drew in her breath sharply as he leaned down and speared the needle into Lile's upper arm.

At once, two Uniforms jumped forward to cut the ropes on his hands and untie his gag. They had only just rejoined the ranks, hurrying like they were afraid of something, when Lile's body began to shake. Wick wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light, but his skin seemed to be changing color, turning from pale ivory to a sickly grey color, and then to as black as ink. His hair was growing at an accelerated rate, tangled and ragged. His little hands became claws.

Wick and Patch watched in horror as he sat up, still shivering violently. When he opened his eyes, they could see the orbs of burnished gold they had become. Behind him, Silver Hair snapped a finger. A single flare, rose into the air from the back of the ranks, streaking upwards and exploding high over the Fort. There was a loud clatter and a shout, coming from above them. Evidently, the flare had awoken the night watchmen who were known for sleeping on the job. Wick could hear their feet as they thundered down into the marketplace, freezing at the sight of the Lile-monster. One of them raised his gun, a tiny pistol compared to the guns the people in blue held. He fired, but Lile rolled to the side, moving almost too quick for the eye to catch. Then he charged.

Before Wick had even registered what had happened, the first watchman crumpled to the ground, run through with the monster's clawed hand. The other two froze, and it was upon them in a heartbeat. There was a splatter of crimson as it dived at their throats. Suddenly, a bell began to clang. Evidently there were other watchman, and upon seeing their fellows being gutted, had rung the alarm.

The effect was instantaneous. People began to pour from the various doors leading off into the tunnels, all of them stopping dead at the sight before them. Then the silver haired man said a single word, one that Wick could hear even above the yells of the crowd.

"Fire."

It was as well rehearsed and executed as a dance. Rank after rank, the Uniforms dropped to one knee, aiming their guns at the people in the marketplace. The weapons didn't make any sound, just shot a blast of condensed energy toward whatever target its owner chose. Screams filled the marketplace, screams that seemed to be driving the monster crazy. It ran at the closest living person, claws ripping and teeth snapping.

"Lile!" Wick screamed, unable to restrain herself any longer. "Lile, Lile, stop! Stop! Stop!"

Two people seemed to hear her. The monster, and the man in red. Lile's eyes gleamed at the sight of her, and a wicked grin seemed to spread across his face. Wick found herself unable to move as it bared its teeth and charged. It was barely a foot from her; she could smell the reek of death coming off it in waves. But a second later she found herself lying sprawled on the cold ground.

Slightly dazed, she rolled over. Patch was there. For a moment, she looked like she was staring the monster straight in the eyes, but then Wick saw her cough, blood dripping from her open mouth. She slumped to the ground as the monster drew its crimson-stained claws from her belly.

It turned on Wick. She screamed, too horrified to do anything more. She was going to be killed by Lile, killed by her best friend. But then she felt her body leaving the ground, floating quickly away from the approaching monster. She squirmed in surprise, and realized she wasn't floating, she was being carried. She caught a glimpse of red and felt strong arms gripping her unceremoniously on the waist and shoulder, lugging her like a sack of potatoes.

The man dove into a line of closed stalls, setting her down. He looked at her with wild black eyes. "Run, hide!" he ordered.

Wick didn't move. The sight of the monster that had only a minute ago been her best friend in all the world coming at her kept her rooted to the spot. The man in red cursed, reaching for something in his belt. A black gun was suddenly in his hand. He fired without hesitation. It did as much good as the watchman's guns had done; the monster simply darted to the side. But it did succeed in distracting it from Wick. It turned on the man instead. His black eyes flashed as it charged him to the ground.

Wick screamed. The man was lying on his back. He looked unconscious. The monster bared its fangs, leaning over him, seeking the pulse in his neck. Suddenly, it froze. A low growl issued from its throat and it began to thrash again. The man's eyes had opened. It was only after he had rolled away from the monster that Wick was able to see what had transpired. The man in red's golden claw was slick with dark blood. He stood up, looking at it with disgust.

He turned to her. "Are you hurt?"

Wick shook her head. "Is he…"

"He's dead."

Wick felt tears form in her eyes. The monster's skin began to writhe, and moment later, it was replaced with Lile, his face white and sweat-streaked, clothes dyed crimson. Wick felt the shriek that had been building up inside her escape. It rang out over the marketplace, the howl of a wounded animal.

An instant later the man was beside her, clamping his right (and normal) hand over her mouth. "Shut up!" he hissed. He waited until Wick's breathing became more controlled. "Are you going to scream more?"

Wick shook her head. The man let her go, where she collapsed to the ground, shivering. "Listen to me…" The man leaned down next to her. "My name's Vincent. You can't let them find you." Wick knew he meant the other men, the ones who had attacked her people.

"You're very lucky," Vincent told her seriously, "That I'm more awake today than I usually am." Wick looked at him in confusion. He clutched a hand to his heart. "There's something wrong with me. It controls me sometimes, but this place makes me feel…I don't know, in charge of myself again." He grimaced. "If I was the way I have been lately, I would have let Lile kill you."

"You know Lile?" Wick whispered, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

Vincent nodded, straightening up and adjusting his coat. "Yes, I did. But I can't regret killing him, I can't feel the pain I should. I'm empty. Killing…killing doesn't bother me." His gaze was distant as he said this. His eyes then snapped back to Wick. "Hide, until Soldier is gone."

He left Wick there. There was nothing he could do for her, but that was alright. She was used to it.

Vincent trudged slowly back to Sephiroth and the Turks. He had just poured out his heart to a child he had never met before. The truth was that there was no one else to tell. Lucrecia would have listened avidly, but whenever he was in the facility the force that held sway over his heart and mind was at its strongest. It whispered false words of contentment and joy. Vincent knew exactly what was happening to him.

He was becoming like Sephiroth.

Seph had been little different than him; a young, kind, slightly naïve boy, Vincent was sure of it. Hojo must have gotten his hands on him, just like he tricked Vincent into the facility. There he had been deformed, defiled, and turned into that cold-hearted killer that now ran Soldier. Vincent was sure he didn't have much time left before he lost himself forever.

All of this continued to ransack his mind as he, Reno, and Tseng boarded the helicopter on their way back to the facility. As usual, the other two said nothing to him, attempting to put as much space between him and them as possible. They were afraid of him; it was an unspoken truth. With nothing to distract him, Vincent slipped deeper and deeper into his depression.

He couldn't run, he knew that. The moment he got away, that horrible false conscience would be upon him again. Why did you leave your home? It would ask, You love your job. You're the Turks leader, you better get your ass back. And he would, he knew he would. Shinra had screwed him, he was now nothing more than their willing slave. It made him sick.

They only thing that seemed to be real in both of his minds, both of his consciences, was the way he felt about Lucrecia. Ever since that night when Seph's words had compelled him to prove it to her, he had spent all his free time in her presence. He knew that she thought she was too old for him, but was five years really that much of a stretch? His answer was yes, of course it was. But that didn't mean he cared.

"Sir, I have a request to make you."

Hojo didn't even bother to look up from his work. "Yes my dear?"

Lucrecia took a deep breath. "Sir, I would like to request you curtail all operations in the case of subject 362."

That made Hojo look up. "Valentine, you mean?" He removed his glasses, dropping them onto his desk. He sighed. "Lucrecia, I am curious as to what has provoked this odd attachment."

Lucrecia blinked. Did he know? "S-Sir?"

Hojo rubbed his temples. "You spend more time with Valentine than you do on your work. Tell me, my dear, is there something going on?"

Lucrecia's silence was all the conformation he needed. His hands balled themselves into fists in his coat pockets. "No, I will not cease operations on Valentine. He is one of our most promising subjects. His body doesn't reject the shape-shift. He stays in. Now if you'd excuse me…" Lucrecia left nodded sadly and left.

The moment her clicking heels had faded, Hojo picked up a coffee mug. He hurled it at the wall, where it shattered, bits of porcelain skittering in all directions. He had work to do, but it could wait. Right now, he had a visit to pay.

Vincent had arrived back in the Labs a little over an hour ago. He had bathed, eaten a bit of something, and was now sitting on the edge of his bed lacing his boots. A knock came on his door. Standing up, he grinned, knowing it could only be one person.

"I was coming to see you-," He froze. It was not Lucrecia. The person outside his door was taller, darker, and much more masculine. "May I help you, Sir?"

Hojo didn't wait for an invitation, but pushed his way into Vincent's room. For a moment, he just stood there, his eyes roving over the un-made bed, small table and lumpy armchair. Suddenly, he lashed out, pinning Vincent to the wall by the throat. Kicking the door shut, he hit him across the face. Vincent slid to the ground, coughing. Hojo was unreasonably strong for a scientist.

"You son of a bitch," Hojo whispered, dragging him up by the shirt and slamming him against the wall again. "How dare you touch her? She's mine!"

Vincent didn't need to ask him who he meant. He wiped the blood away from his mouth. "Fuck you," he said. Hojo punched him hard in the stomach. Vincent doubled over in pain.

Fight back! His body was urging. You deserve it, his mind said.

"Stay away from her," Hojo ordered, his voice low and poisonous.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

It looked like Hojo was about to knock him out, but instead he kissed him, unabashedly, full on the lips.

"Don't lie, you taste like her."

Vincent didn't answer, he was too busy dealing with the fact that a man had just stuck his tongue in his mouth. Hojo, no less. That fact alone made him gag.

"You won't take her away from me. I'll control you, I'll break you." A maniacal grin spread across his face. "Just like I broke my son."

Vincent looked up. "Your son?"

Hojo nodded. "Indeed. I believe the two of you are well acquainted."

All that did was thrust Vincent farther into the dark. First a man kisses him, and know he finds out the psycho has a son? It was too much to handle all at the same time. Hojo left him there, bleeding and exceedingly confused. He slid to the floor, trying to make sense of it all. First off, he wanted to know how Hojo had found out about him and Lucrecia. It wasn't like they went around advertising their relationship.

It hit him like another fist to the side of the head. There was no way Hojo was going to just let this go. He hadn't gone back to his office, he had gone to punish the other perpetrator. Vincent sprang to his feet, ignoring whatever injuries he had sustained. It took him less than a minute to sprint to Lucrecia's room. He threw the door open without knocking. Hojo was there, standing over Lucrecia, who was sprawled on the ground, not moving.

With a cry of rage, Vincent threw himself at him, claw slashing toward Hojo's chest. He ducked, but not fast enough to avoid a slice to the upper arm. The pain didn't even make him wince. He just turned and swept Vincent's legs out from under him.

"You bastard," he gasped, winded.

Hojo smiled as though it was a compliment. He then turned to Lucrecia, who was shaking her head groggily. "I should kill both of you," he spat, his face contorting with rage. "But I doubt the President would appreciate that." He pulled Lucrecia up by the front of her coat. Her face was terrified, but she stared Hojo levelly in the eyes.

"I hate you," she growled.

"Huh," Hojo smirked. "If I were you, my loveI wouldn't speak to me in that manner. Keep in mind, I control whether our son, your precious boy, lives."

Lucrecia yelled, struggling to free herself from his grip. "Leave Sephiroth out of this!"

"What?" Vincent stammered from behind the two of them. "Sephiroth?"

Everything was beginning to fall into place, like a pile of bricks. But it wasn't possible. Seph, Lucrecia and Hojo's son? He tried to meet Lucrecia's eyes, to ask if it was true, but she was occupied with the man holding her captive.

Vincent jumped to his feet, aiming a kick at the back of Hojo's knee. He pitched forward, releasing Lucrecia. She squirmed away, grabbing the closest thing in reach. She brought a spindly wooden chair down on his head. There was a loud thump and Hojo dropped on the spot.

"Vincent!" She was breathing heavily and her eyes were full of strange fire. "We need to get before he wakes up."

Vincent didn't move for a moment. He was still trying to process what he had just realized. The feeling of Lucrecia's hand on his arm snapped him back to reality. "Let's go," he said.

He had no idea how they could escape, but Lucrecia seemed to know where she was heading, so he just let her lead him. The two of them flew down the bright, lifeless corridors and up two elevators, stopping at a security door. Lucrecia fumbled for her security card, swiping it through the sensor. They were met by a rush of cold air. Vincent didn't recognize the room; he had been unconscious the only time he had entered. Rows of shelves filled to the brim with books hugged the rounded walls. A giant telescope and viewing platform stood in the center of the room, just to the left of a gaping hole in the glass roof.

There had been neither the time nor the money to repair an observatory that hardly anyone used. Lucrecia didn't waste time but began to ascend the ladder to the telescope's platform. Vincent followed, realizing her plan.

"There," Lucrecia said, indicating the gaping hole in the glass. "You can get out that way."

"What?" Vincent asked, "What do you mean 'me'? You're coming too."

He didn't give her a chance to protest. Grabbing her around the waist, he leapt off the platform. Lucrecia screamed as they plummeted down toward the unyielding wooden floor. Vincent tried to empty his mind, focusing on keeping control. They were barely two feet from the ground, when the black feathery wings leapt from his back. He climbed back through the air, streaking out of the jagged hole into the night.

It was freezing outside, but he didn't dare go back. The darkness pressed in like a smothering blanket; it was impossible to see where he was going. If he didn't watch out, he would fly into a mountain peak. Concentrating again, he allowed his eyes to change, slipping from the color of ground coffee to the deep red of fresh blood. It suddenly became much easier to see.

"Hold on tight," he whispered to Lucrecia, swooping down and away from the facility. He didn't know where he was going. It didn't matter, really.

Okay then. We are almost at the end of the fic! Just a couple more chapters to go. I am considering writing a sequel afterwards, to continue Vincent's tale. If you want me to, tell me! Leave me a review, and tell me whether or not I should continue. I appreciate your input.