All I see are the palms of my hands, pressing around my eyes, creating a dreadful darkness. I want the tears to stop. I don't know why I broke down like this. It's pathetic. Air just tares itself from my feverish lungs, forcing silent sobs. I can't stop it; every inhale just provokes more pain. My very soul is on fire!

It hurts. My chest- my heart. It hurts. I don't understand why. I haven't felt this in a long time. It's releasing, but excruciating. Make it stop! Please… It hurts. I fight it like the fiercest enemy. I suppress the tears. I want to get up. I want to stop shaking.

I'm alone.

I've been awake now for a year and half. In that time I've managed to learn the strengths and weaknesses of my new body. I've managed to avenge Her: I've struck my claw into Hojo's gut and twisted. I've helped kill demigods and brought the world back from the brink of destruction. I've met and befriended the last Ancient. I've exchanged words with Sephiroth himself. But the hunger… the loneliness… it's never gone. Never left my side.

I hear small footsteps approach me. Dammit! She's still awake? She asks me if I'm alright.
No, you nitwit. I'm not. It's all your fault…! You opened this floodgate just because you show me everything I'm not. You had to step on the one thing that I didn't want to admit!

Holy… It hurts. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to have this dagger in my bosom. I'll take it out with the power of conviction. My pain is shameful, my giving into it so suddenly; unpardonable. And did I just blame the six-years-old for my problems? Vincent… You're the biggest coward in the world.

Now's not the time for it. Tifa might be back, or someone might come in and see me in this miserable state.

Stop it, Vincent. Stop it.

How pathetic.

A part of me wants to just give in and cry- why I should keep it all in? Why should I not cry? The only one here is Marlene. And if anyone else chanced upon this sad, sad scene? Who cares? I'm human, too, despite it all.

Marlene has enough scars for one her age. She does not need to see a grown man cry.

I am the most wretched thing in the world. I have no right to be sad. I have no right to cry. Every tear that manages to slip through my fingers tears at my soul and makes me feel more wretched- resulting in more tears.

Make it stop!

I feel Marlene's hand on my back, but I don't want to look at her. I don't need to be consoled by someone with ten percent of my lifespan.

"There, there." She pats my back, and I must resist the urge to grind my teeth or toss her over the railing.

I don't like crying in front of people. I like showing my feelings to no living thing. It's something my mother used to say; "Everybody has a hard time. Don't make it worse." The only reason you would show pain in front of someone is to get attention. Otherwise: keep it to yourself.

I don't know why I can't stop crying. I don't know why I must have a mental breakdown just now. Maybe it's a sudden overwhelming concern for Avalanche, maybe it's the fact that everything just hit me- my age, my physical pain, my loss, my loneliness. Maybe it's because I've been pretty high-strung since I woke up and only now do I feel like I can let it all go. Maybe it's because it's dark outside and it's not even my world out there. Whatever the reason, it hit me like a shot from Sister Ray. The dam of my emotion had cracked. I'm doing my best to contain it. I am.

"Why are you upset?" She asks.

I'm not 'upset', I'm an emotional wreck. There's a difference.

"Did someone hurt you?" She asks softly. She sounds funny. Like she's quoting Tifa. I don't answer. There's no point.

"Don't be sad." She says. She sounds awfully calm. I want to throttle her. Go away or I'll rip into Chaos and have you for a snack. I hate you, Marlene. I hate everyone and everything.

I hear my own chocked sobs like from a million miles away, and I point and laugh from outside my body. What a miserable figure I must strike! My hair everywhere, my heart on my sleeve. Midgar is in ruins and flames behind me and I dare cry for a world that no longer exists. I cry for the unseen ruins of something I used to call my life. There's no excuse for this. No real reason for me to cry. None. Crying did not bring Her back, and did not make Hojo relent. It will not fix everything and it will certainly not give me the strength I need to face this world.

Vincent, stop it!

She surprises me, then. She removes her hand from my back to put little hands on mine. Gently, she pries my hands from my face. I'm too confounded to resist. Too damn emotionally tired.

You want to see my face? Fine. I'll erase all emotion from it. There.

How easy has it always been for me to do that! To hide my emotions has always been so much easier than finding ways to express them. If I show emotion people will use them against me. Laughing too much is a sign of stupidity, crying too much is a sign of weakness. I always had something to hide behind; anger, an easy grin, a blue suit, a coffin. Now a cape of simple red cloth and buckles. I always have to hide, don't I?

I'm sure I'm a mess. My eyes are actually red now, Marlene. The wind burns the chill of the tear-streaks into my cheeks. I think the airship is moving, though I know it is not. I'm just a little unstable.

She peers into my face, and I must really look like hell because her little brows scrunch together in the colossal effort of thinking. I look back at her large, lustrous eyes. How simple life is for you, Marlene. How innocent. How lovely must the world look in your ignorance of its true, dreadful face. How lovely to have people who are ignorant of mine.

"This is no good." She says. What isn't? What are you talking about? Do you have any idea what you're saying? Do you realize that I have nothing left? "Don't cry."

"I'm-" Not? I am. I can't lie about it; she's staring right into my stricken face. "I'm just…" What? "It's been a hard year." That's an excuse and a lame one at that. If I had the worse year in the history of Planet I still have no right to burden others. "You should g-go back to bed."

She gives me a sad look, as though she sympathizes. As though she has an inkling as to what I feel. She thinks again- that's twice in one day! and then…

She simply gives me a hug.

...Simple as that.

Wrapping little hands under my cape and she can't even encircle my back.

I'm suddenly huge compared to her. She's so small! I'm old and big and so out of proportions. I settle slowly, not to startle her. Why is she doing this?

I don't push her off, my muscles don't tense. They're probably just too tired. I just don't want to be alone right now. I don't… I'm not…

The warmth from her body spreads into my chest. It's not bad. There's something… relieving about it. Something close to a lethargic state takes over my heart.

It almost feels like that time in the Turks I got shot. One of many times where my skin was torn by hate propelled led.

There was this intense fire-fight once: one of the worst of my experience. I was so anxious, shooting and dodging and protecting. When I got shot I felt so relieved! The bullet went clear through my chest, and it felt good. I knew where I stood. The battle was over for me- I knew the conclusion. I knew I lost. I didn't need to worry and run and shoot anymore. I was relived. All the fear had gone… And it didn't even hurt. It didn't even hurt when I felt myself falling. It was such a relief.

I sort of feel the same now.

My inexplicable sadness is somehow washed away, leaving a sort of empty reprieve that I know will not last, but while it does… I lean my head on hers. I won't even try to hug you Marlene, I'm too tired.

I lost, but… I'm not sure to whom. I wasn't really sure there was a battle, but I guess there was. One for my strength and my courage.

I lost.

I don't feel the need to cry anymore. I know how this ends. I lose. I'm used to it. At least the only person that'd seen me in my defeat was Marlene.

Now I feel drained, spent and above all- ill.

"Don't tell Tifa." I whisper. I meant to say it normally, but I'm just so exhausted. She nods gravely and then pulls back. She holds up her little fist. It takes me a moment to realize that she's holding up a pinky.

Pinky promise? Oh, please. But she looks so serious, and I need this secret kept. I have no choice.

"…Which hand?" I ask dejectedly. I don't think she'd like my claw's little finger. It is almost the size of her head.

"Don't care." She shrugs, "They're both your hands." Hmm? Yeah, I guess they are. "Whichever one you choose it's still you."

We make a pinky promise.

I feel details start disappearing, I feel my one leg really not enough to keep me steady, I feel myself slipping.

This is bad.

Hello, everyone! I'm glad to be back, though I'm sure Vincent wishes I leave him alone. Things are kinda gonna go downhill for Vince in the next little while, but don't worry- I never end a story on a bad note. I feel that life sucks and that it always ends bad- so at least stories should end good, right?
As always, I nervously await your reactions to this chapter.

This chapter was almost delayed indefinitely because I was thinking of deleting the entire ending I was working on and making a new one. However, I decided that there were reasons I structured the story like this and I have so much written already that I should keep my other ideas for the sequel. I felt things were going too bad for poor Vincent, but I also feel that in order for his to rebuild everything he must first lose everything. So; things are going to get even worse before they get any better. Insert evil laughter here> Let me know your opinion?

For all those of you who kindly shared Vincent's feeling; a lot of this fic is written from personal experience and emotions. I hope to invoke more real feelings from my readers if I can tap into the feelings I had or still have, sometimes.

Welcome ChibiMatchMaker and Bloody Angel X! Thanks for the reviews!

LilTigre: Thanks for your kind words. You made my day when I read your review! I await your drawing with baited breath.

Oh, by the way; Vincent says 'Holy' as homage to Sether: Hidden, Unseen, in which Aeris and the Holy materia are now religion. So instead of saying 'god' they say 'holy'. I just thought it fitting. ;

Scarlet Dewdrops: Yeah, the whole 'actions' thing has me in a bit of a pickle. On one hand I want to describe what Vincent is doing, but on the other… People don't really think about what they're doing unless they're doing it deliberately, right? So it's hard for me to write about what he's doing believably. I can't have Vincent say "I look perplexed" unless he's deliberately making a face, you know? There were many many instances in the story where I purposefully deleted the parts about his actions. There are stilla few that are in that bug me. It's a tricky balance I'm still trying to work out. What do you think I should do? Suggestions?

As always, you guys are the fuel that fuels my passion for writing. Positive and constructive criticisms are the food with which I grow! Please keep the reviews coming! The last few chapters I've been working on are really tough… ; I'll do my best!

Darknightdestiny: There's a problem with you reviewing? Noooooo! I always look forward to your reviews. But please do continue reading, and thanks for letting me know! I was afraid you just hated the last chapter or two… ; I'm glad that's not the case. Say 'hi' to Johnny from me!