Author's Notes: For Liltigre because the story/comics were inspiring. Short, but sweet I think.

Theme: Fixed

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Million Pieces

It was something the others didn't understand, and couldn't understand really. Sure, Cloud could tell you what it was like to have your past stolen away from you, but he'd been the one to steal it, no matter what he said about Sephiroth. And Cid could tell you about having your dreams die in front of you. Barret would school you about losing a loved one because you didn't have enough courage to fight. Tifa, below all of that strength, knew what it was like to watch your life go from perfect to hell in seconds flat. And Yuffie could show you what happened when your dignity was stolen away. But for all of that pain, none of them had to take it all at once. Except for them. Except for them.

He'd watched as his dream was built and corrupted to a point where it was his blood that people took as a curse. He'd lived through being abandoned by his family for making such a place, and exiled from what he once loved. His mother, his dear sweet mother, had died when he was a child and SOLDIERs had 'dealt' with the old AVALANCHE near his home village, accusing her of being one of that rank. His dignity had been stripped away when he'd been thrown in jail for doing what was right, and everything that had been perfect for those few moments that he was helping Cloud and them was destroyed as Meteor came down on his city and people died. He'd heard the screams, and they haunted his dreams. That was the pain Reeve had to feel, and yet, it was nothing at all.

For all of that pain he'd been sure he would crack, would die from the pressure, but now it seemed like that if he couldn't handle such trivial things, how was he going to help the one in his arms now? Reeve said nothing, just let the man stay there, in the shelter of his arms. The executive didn't mention how the polished gold claw cut through his coat and brought blood from the injured flesh beneath. Reeve didn't comment about how the tears were soaking him, or how the sobs cut him to the bone. Instead he sat there, stroking the hair of the crimson clad man in his arms. Talking would ruin it, ruin the comfort he was trying so hard to give.

Who ever would have guessed what was hidden beneath the pale, scarred flesh of their companion? That his pains were worse than theirs? Reeve had, and damned if he didn't love the man in spite of what he'd learned. How the former Turk had handled what he had for so long was beyond him, and Reeve wasn't even going to pretend he could put himself in Vincent's shoes. But Hojo was gone, dead by their hands, and this time, Vincent had a chance to live.

Still, Reeve wondered if she ever knew just how Vincent had suffered for loving her, for trying to protect her. Could Sephiroth ever understand that Vincent had tried so hard to stop what had happened? Would Vincent ever forgive himself for failing? He'd been so strong throughout the whole thing, stronger than the rest of them and with far less reasons to be so. The pain, the torture, the humiliation, all in the name of 'science' but truly for nothing more than revenge.

Yet, for all of that, Reeve couldn't find it in him to do more than curse Hojo's name. For all of the pieces he had to pick up, this long after the fact, for all of the pain, he was doing his best. Bit by bit it was changing. It would never be okay, not what had happened, but damned if he couldn't spend the rest of his life comforting the man in his arms, mending the cracks and polishing the broken statute of a beautiful man in black and crimson.

Unlike the woman Vincent had loved, Reeve intended to put the man up on a pedestal, and make sure there would never be another fall that left the beauty in a million pieces again. Their was a lot of pain shared between them, but Reeve could be strong. He'd put it in the past for both of them, and show Vincent the world he really deserved. There were still beautiful things out in the world, and once Vincent realized he was one of them…

Despite the tears of Vincent and the blood running down his own chest, Reeve smiled. Carefully he kissed the head of the broken man and smiled when the crimson eyes looked up at him, redder than ever from the tears, but still, something was different. Just a little less broken than the were ten minutes before. Still a long way to go, but together they could do it.

Let the others of AVALANCHE keep their problems, let them think that Vincent had been the one to keep them all going in the end when their own pains were making them falling apart. Let them think he had put his own past behind him. Because Reeve intended to be there and repay the favor a million fold.