Chapter Summary:

Sephiroth wants to be friends but Vincent doesn't think he can have those anymore. To make matters worse, Chaos finds out what the hot flashes are about. Hint: it's all Galian's fault.

—

An insistent knocking on his door broke through his concentration and he was forced to look up from his computer screen. He wasn't really surprised to find that it was almost five o'clock in the afternoon and he had failed to take a break to at least snack on one of the unhealthy cups of noodles available in the vending machine conveniently set in the lounge area of the Turks' floor. Saving his progress on the computer and rubbing his eyes, he called for whoever was outside his office to come inside.

It seemed it was Reno's turn to make sure Vincent hadn't passed out from exhaustion. The Director would feel offended if he hadn't collapsed several times over the course of his two years in the position. Instead, he was grateful that his subordinates had come up with a roster to look after him. He was even more grateful to see Reno carrying a bag of Wutain take-out in one hand and a carrier with two large glasses of iced tea in the other. Other than Tseng, the redheaded Turk was the only one in the team willing to indulge Vincent's taste for his mother's side of the family's native food. Rude and the two women in the team had never been fond of Wutain food but Reno was adventurous in all aspects of his life and had happily joined Vincent and Tseng at a small Wutain restaurant in Sector Three a few months after Veld retired. The younger man took an immediate liking to the food and would personally go and pick his and Vincent's favourites when it was his turn to make sure the Director ate properly.

"Hungry, Bossman?" Reno asked in his playful drawl.

Nodding and smiling, Vincent said, "Quite. I am sorry you had to go out of your way for me again."

"Not a problem, Vincent. You know I actually like our lunch escapades."

Vincent smiled and cleared his desk, then brought out two bamboo mats that he kept in his drawer for occasions such as this. He watched as Reno unloaded their food and waited until the redhead was seated before saying grace Wutain style and digging into his ginger and coriander noodle soup. Reno didn't like soups and instead got some curry.

"Besides," Reno said after taking a veggie dumpling, "I know I've said this a thousand times already and I'll say it as many times as it takes, but it's the least I can do, man. I mean, if you hadn't agreed to come back when Veld was due for retirement even after all the crap the company put you through, most of us wouldn't even be 'round anymore. Making sure you're alive and well once or twice a week is nothing compared to that, yo."

Vincent felt humbled by Reno's heartfelt gratitude. He had no idea what to say back—he never did—so he simply nodded in acknowledgment and finished his soup in relative silence. He shared some of his pork dumplings with Reno in exchange for some of the redhead's veggie ones, and they shared half a pint of plum ice cream. Vincent saved his tea for last while Reno had drunk his along with his lunch and, as usual, the Director ended up sharing some of his drink with the redhead.

"Thanks, yo," Reno said, smirking. "I think I'll have to start ordering an extra glass of tea so I don't end up drinking yours all the time."

The dark-haired man laughed as he cleared his desk again. "Might be a good idea. It's all on the company's penny, so feel free to do so next time if you like."

"Awesome," Reno said, leaning back on his chair. Looking at the clock, he realised it was almost six. "Damn, that was a long lunch break. I better go finish my reports before Rude comes back from the firing range. He'll be pissed if I make him wait after hours again."

Noticing the time, Vincent nodded. "Sounds good. I have to finish up one more report for Lazard before clocking out, too."

Reno looked at his boss with a surprised look. "Not working overtime today, Bossman?"

"I have plans, so I'm trying not to stay after seven," Vincent said.

"Oi, oi, oi, back-up, Bossman. You have actual plans?"

Vincent frowned playfully and tossed a paperclip at Reno; it caught in his hair and when Reno tugged it off, some of his hair came away, too, making him yelp and Vincent laugh.

"You deserve that for making fun of your boss. Yes, I have actual plans, Reno."

"But you never do! And when we invite you out you always blow us off."

"Not always," Vincent defended. "It's not my fault you almost always go out for drinks with the intention of drowning yourselves in alcohol—you know I can't drink. Besides, until Rufus sees fit to get rid of Heidegger, we must be above reproach at all times."

"Fine, fine," Reno said, scratching the back of his head. "What are these plans of yours, then?"

"I'm going out for dinner with General Sephiroth."

Reno had been sipping on the last drops of his tea and he nearly choked on them. "What the hell? Vincent!"

Realising how his statement could be easily misconstrued, Vincent rolled his eyes and threw another paperclip at the redhead; he caught it this time.

"It's not a date, Reno. Get your mind off the gutter."

"Well, now that I think about it, it would be odd, yeah. I don't think I've ever seen you two together outside of briefings and meetings. But that just makes it weirder, man. Why they hell are you having dinner with him, yo?"

"It was his idea," Vincent said, perhaps a bit too defensively. "I had a meeting with Lazard this morning to coordinate security efforts for next month's summit and it seems like he talked about it with Sephiroth, who then decided he wanted to discuss it with me."

"Dinner's overkill for that, yo," Reno said, not entirely buying Vincent's explanation.

Realising he had grossly underestimated the redhead, Vincent decided to tell the truth—or at least as much of it as he could without bringing up his own misgivings into the conversation. "He also said we haven't talked much in the four years since I've been back in spite of the things we have in common. For some reason, he decided to put an end to that and invited me out for drinks. Except I said I'd rather have dinner because if I miss any more meals Gast is going to scream my head off—again."

Reno actually laughed at that and let the rest slide. "Guess I won't have to call you tonight to make sure you had dinner, then."

"It won't be necessary, no," Vincent replied, smiling. "Now go do your work and let me finish mine."

Reno gave him a lazy salute and strode out of the office wishing Vincent a good night.

Vincent stretched as his computer shut down. A quick glance at the clock told him it was a quarter past seven, which meant he'd be late in spite of his best efforts to finish up early. With a heavy sigh, he left his office and locked up before dialling Sephiroth's number, which he'd gotten off the company's internal directory because he had neglected to ask for it in the elevator. The General picked up almost immediately and Vincent found himself momentarily floored by the younger man's deep, silky voice.

"Sephiroth Faremis speaking. Who is this?"

"Uh, Valentine. Just calling to let you know I just left my office and I'll need about half an hour to change my clothes and all."

"Like I said earlier, it is no problem. You'd only be arriving fifteen minutes late—that's no Loveless-grade tragedy, Director Valentine."

Vincent snickered in spite of himself. "I know. I just hate being late—deeply ingrained Turks training, I'm afraid. But since I have you on the phone, is there any particular dress code involved? Just so I know whether it's all right or not to wear my ducky tie."

Sephiroth's airy laugh came through the receiver. "Casual is fine. Ducky ties are acceptable but I can't guarantee that I'll be able to keep a straight face throughout the evening if you decide to wear one."

"Far be it from me to cause your reputation as an eternal stoic to crumble. No ducky tie tonight. I'll see you soon, General."

"Thank you, Director. See you soon."

Vincent hung up and smirked as he tried to imagine everyone's reaction if they found out he actually owned a ducky tie.

Little over half an hour later, Vincent stood outside Sephiroth's quarters wearing dress pants and a dark red silk button-up shirt. He had his hair tied up in a ponytail with his bangs clear off his face for a change. He took a deep breath and knocked twice. Sephiroth opened up quickly and seemed surprised to see Vincent wearing something other than his black Turks uniform. Vincent was equally surprised to see Sephiroth out of his leather pants and cloak and clad instead in designer jeans and an indigo cotton short-sleeved shirt. He, too, had his hair held up in a ponytail but his bangs remained in place.

"Evening, Director," Sephiroth greeted.

"Evening, General. Are we staying in or going out?"

"Going out," Sephiroth said, stepping out of his apartment and locking up behind him. "I am afraid my cooking skills are non-existent and I really don't want to risk giving you food poisoning. Father would not appreciate all his efforts to stabilise your health to go to waste due to my incompetence in the kitchen."

Vincent grinned as he followed Sephiroth to the elevator bank. "Fair enough. Where are we going, then? I'm afraid I had a late lunch so I don't think I'll be able to have a large dinner."

"What did you have for lunch?"

"Wutain food from Leviathan's Scales over in Sector Three."

"I've never been there. Is the food good?"

"It is, if you like authentic Wutain food. If you don't, or if you prefer cheap imitations, then Leviathan's Scales is not the place for you."

"I enjoyed the food they offered us during the peace treaty signing in Wutai. I might look up this restaurant in the future."

"I recommend it."

"Duly noted. As for where we're going, there's a small restaurant bar over in Sector Seven aptly called Seventh Heaven. Cloud Strife's girlfriend owns it in addition to working there."

"Ah, yes. Cozy little place."

They reached the ground floor of the building and headed for the train station. People greeted them along the way, although several of them seemed baffled to see the top ranking Soldier First Class going out for a night in the town with the Head Turk. It was an odd combination, to say the least.

"You've been there, then?" Sephiroth asked.

"A few times. Cloud spoke of it often enough that I eventually gave in. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a hermit and I developed a touch of agoraphobia, so the idea of being in such a small space while being surrounded by so much chatter prevents me from visiting as often as I'd like—certainly I'm not there as often as Cloud would like. But he's a good lad, so he understands."

Sephiroth stopped for a moment with a slightly shocked look on his usually calm features. "Director, my apologies—I didn't know. We can go somewhere else if you prefer."

Vincent also stopped, looking at Sephiroth with a slightly amused expression. "Don't worry about it, Sephiroth. Like you said this afternoon, we haven't talked much so there was no way you could've known. I have no problem with going to Seventh Heaven, provided you don't want to make this a daily occurrence. I'm perfectly capable of controlling my discomfort for a few hours."

"If you're certain…" Sephiroth said, not completely convinced.

Vincent smiled reassuringly and resumed walking. "Absolutely. It's been a while since I had their chicken pot pie so I think I'll try that. Also, Tifa's the only bartender I know capable of putting together a non-alcoholic cocktail that doesn't taste like sugary water."

The silver-haired man followed the gunman to the platform and they boarded the train that would leave them in Seventh Heaven's neighbourhood.

"You don't drink alcohol, then?" Sephiroth asked. He hoped he wasn't making Vincent uncomfortable with his questions. Then again, that was what the evening was supposed to be about, getting to know each other better.

"I try not to. It tends to mess with my still frail circadian rhythm. I made the mistake of drinking at Veld's retirement party and it took Gast about a month to rebalance my brain chemistry. Ever since then I've made an effort to remain sober."

"Did you enjoy drinking… before?" Sephiroth didn't know how to refer to Vincent's ordeal at Hojo and Lucrecia's hands, so he left it vague on purpose.

The dark-haired man smiled fondly. "Yeah. I used to go out for drinks with Veld after every mission, successful or not, provided we didn't wind up in the hospital. We often ended up getting kicked out of the bar, but it was worth it. Can't say that I miss the terrible hangovers, though."

"I don't get those," Sephiroth stated. "My body metabolises alcohol way too quickly for its side effects to affect me."

"I see. Is it the same with the other Firsts?"

"For everyone except Zack. Whatever they did to him doesn't make him immune to hangovers."

"Hmm. Tough luck."

"Maybe not. It makes him closer to a regular human than the rest of us."

Vincent looked at Sephiroth with mild shock. This was the first time since their conversation in the elevator that the swordsman had expressed any sort of negative view on, well, anything. He wondered if it was because the topic at hand was so closely related to his biological parents or because he felt more at ease being honest about his thoughts on Shinra while being away from the building's cameras.

The rest of the train ride was spent in the same sort of awkward silence that surrounded them when they ran into each other at Shinra Headquarters. When they arrived to Sector Seven, they made their way silently towards the bar. On their way there, they ran into Kunsel. The young Second was on his way back to headquarters after visiting his girlfriend.

"General, Director," he greeted them with a quick salute. "Have a good evening, sirs."

"Evening, Kunsel," Sephiroth said with an amicable smile. "You, too."

"Good evening," Vincent said.

As soon as Kunsel was out of earshot, Vincent said, "He's a nice kid. He and Cloud were quite understanding of my situation after they found me at the Shinra Mansion. I was half expecting one or both of them to start spreading tall tales about me, but I was pleasantly surprised when I found out that they limited themselves to reporting to Lazard and Gast."

"Zack handpicked both to promote them from Third to Second Class, so it's not surprising. He's still very young but he has a good eye for people."

"Am I to understand you approve of his relationship with Ms. Gainsborough, then?" Vincent asked, trying to make it as light a question as possible.

Sephiroth gave him an amused side glance and shrugged minutely. "I'm not even going to ask how it is you know about that. To answer your question, though, I'm not entirely sure it's my place to approve or disapprove. She seems very happy since meeting him, and quite more lively since they started going out. So far I have no reason to object to their relationship, but he has been warned that causing her any sort of harm or grief will end very poorly for him."

Vincent couldn't help but laugh at the mental image the statement brought up. "I'm sure that will keep him in line. Not that I really think he needed the warning; Zack seems like a sweet, honourable young man."

"I don't know about sweet, but he certainly is honourable. After all, he's Angeal's most apt pupil. But Aerith's my sister and I love her so I can't help but be protective of her."

They arrived to Seventh Heaven about then so Vincent was excused from replying. Which was a relief because he wasn't sure his comment about how thankful he was that Sephiroth had found a family to love and protect after being born amongst lunatics and half raised by one would be appreciated.

It appeared to be a slow night as the restaurant was mostly empty, something for which Vincent was secretly grateful. As soon as they stepped in, a young brunette with bright brown eyes came up to them with a huge smile on her lips.

"General, Director! It's so nice to see you both here."

"It's nice to see you, too, Ms. Lockhart," Sephiroth said.

"It has been a while," Vincent said. "You look well, Tifa."

"Same to you! Particularly you, Director Valentine. Have you been putting on weight?"

Sephiroth couldn't help but laugh and Vincent soon joined him. He rubbed his left hand on his quite flat stomach and gave Tifa a playful look.

"My clothes barely fit anymore, dear. All the same, I can't help but wonder if you still have any chicken pot pie left."

Tifa blushed but bit back her apology, realising Vincent hadn't been offended by her comment. "There's two left, actually. I'll get you seated and then I'll ask the cook to pop them in the oven."

"Excellent," Vincent said. As Tifa walked them over to their table, which turned out to be a corner booth in the quietest part of the restaurant, he turned to Sephiroth. "Unless you want something else, General."

"Chicken pot pie sounds good. I'd like some cheese fries as an appetiser, though."

Tifa didn't bother giving the men a menu as they sat down, instead bringing out her notepad and writing down Sephiroth's order. "Anything else? Something to drink?"

"A virgin strawberry daiquiri for me," Vincent said.

"A glass of Corel red wine for me; chilled," Sephiroth said.

Tifa wrote everything down and left with a smile, promising to bring Sephiroth's fries and their drinks in the next five minutes.

"I'm glad there's not a lot of people tonight," Sephiroth said after Tifa was gone. "I should've asked about your preference in restaurants earlier today."

Vincent waved his hand in dismissal as he made himself comfortable in the booth. "I told you not to worry about that. It would've made it nearly impossible for you to find a place at which to dine."

"What about that Wutain restaurant you mentioned?"

"It's no bigger than this place, but they have a patio so that makes it nearly perfect."

"Perhaps we could go there next time, then," Sephiroth suggested.

The gunman looked at him with a mildly surprised look. "I'm not quite sure I warrant a next time, General."

The silver-haired swordsman returned the Director's surprised look. "And why would that be?"

"You can find almost everything there is to know about me in the files kept by the company, not to mention Professor Faremis's first-hand knowledge of my… condition, should we say. What little isn't there won't take terribly long to tell."

"That would be enough if I were only interested in cold facts but, like I said, I want to get to know you. I'd like you to get to know me beyond the company's files, as well. Friendships aren't forged in a couple of hours, Vincent."

Vincent realised that it was the first time that Sephiroth had called him by his first name rather than his surname or title. It made him feel uncomfortable, for some reason, and slightly unnerved. A part of him, however, something deeply tied to the other two entities sharing his body, felt oddly exhilarated. That, along with the fact that Sephiroth had expressed a desire for them to become friends, left him temporarily speechless. Thankfully for him, Tifa chose that precise moment to bring along their drinks and the General's fries.

"Here you go," she said cheerfully. "Your food will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Is there anything else I can get you in the meantime?"

"Some iced water," Vincent managed. "But it can wait until the pies are ready."

"I'm fine, thank you," Sephiroth said.

As soon as Tifa was gone, the General looked into Vincent's eyes and said, "Is there a problem?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Vincent said. He took a sip from his daiquiri and then started rotating the cool glass between his palms, which felt strangely warm. "I guess I am confused as to why you'd want to be friends with me."

"Before I answer that, would you mind telling me why you think it's such a bad idea?"

Vincent stopped playing with his glass and looked at Sephiroth as if he thought that had been a dumb question.

"Every time I look at you, I'm reminded of my failure not only as a Turk but as a man. The only reason that doesn't drive me insane is because you turned out remarkably well when considering your parentage. I don't know how you feel about that or about my role in your early life, and I'm not sure I even want to know. I—"

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He looked at the General and shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry. Twenty-odd years in a coffin plagued by nightmares and worst-case scenarios led me to believe I'd never see you. I'm not sure you can comprehend how utterly ridiculous everything was for me after Cloud and Kunsel found me, how surreal it all felt. Amidst all of that, I find that, against all odds, you're not only alive but healthy and part of a caring family…" He shook his head slowly. "Sitting here, drinking with you and about to have dinner, that's just… I don't know. And you want us to be friends? Sephiroth, I wouldn't even know where to begin to explain how… impossible and even incongruous that seems to me."

Sephiroth ate some of his fries as he mulled Vincent's rant over. He ate about a quarter of the platter before pushing it closer to Vincent. "They're very good. You should have some."

"I'll make myself sick if I eat your fries and then the pot pie. But thanks."

"I'll get Tifa to pack the leftovers for you, then."

"Thanks. Sephiroth, listen—"

The General brought his hand up in a 'stop' gesture.

"It's my turn, Vincent. First of all, I don't blame you for anything, all right? It's clear enough from the reports and Father's account of things that you did everything you could to stop my biological parents from using themselves and I as guinea pigs. It's also clear that you worry about me, or at least have some sort of interest in me, given that you often ask Father about me."

Vincent blanched. "He… told you about that?"

Sephiroth nodded slowly. "About a year after you returned to the company. He said he wanted to make sure your worries were genuine and not just born out of misplaced guilt. He said you offered up all you knew about the Jenova Project when you returned in order to help him come up with a stabilising agent for me, Genesis, and Angeal. I know you've also inquired about them, but Father seems to believe you're far more concerned about me."

Realising Sephiroth was giving him the chance to reply, Vincent said, "I… Yes, I'm concerned for all three of you, but I'm more invested in your well-being than the others' for obvious reasons. I had no idea there were parallel projects to the Jenova one; when I came back and read up on them I was disgusted with the entire Science Department but I still felt far more strongly for you than anyone else. I was there during the planning stages of the Jenova Project, I read Lucrecia's notes and even managed to get my hands on some of Hojo's transcripts and—"

He stopped and rested his forehead on his palm. He was warm again and he somehow doubted it was just because of the conversation.

"Sorry. I got carried away. The point is I felt you were part of my life even when you hadn't even been born when I—you know. It's not just guilt, Sephiroth, but also a strong sense of unfulfilled duty that drives much of my interest for you."

"What about the rest?" Seeing the confused look on Vincent's face, he elaborated. "You said 'much'."

Before Vincent could think of a reply, Tifa came up to them with two steaming pans of chicken pot pie and a tall glass of iced water, as well as a new daiquiri for Vincent and the rest of the wine bottle for Sephiroth. She set their food on the table and left after making sure they didn't need anything else.

Needing the distraction, Vincent finished his first drink and then dug into his food. The warm, flaky crust and creamy filling were as good as he remembered, if not better, and he allowed himself to get lost in the sensations for a few minutes. When he felt he was ready for it, he tackled Sephiroth's question.

"A part of me, the hopeless romantic that refuses to die even after all the blood and violence he's witnessed, likes to think that you could've been my son. I don't look it but I know you're aware that I'm old enough to be your father, and that same part of me likes to think that, perhaps if I'd met her sooner, Lucrecia might've…" He waved his hand like he used to do before continuing. "Wishful thinking, I know, but there's not much to do while locked up in a coffin but to sleep and dream. Although it is impossible for you to be my son, although there's nothing official that makes us anything more than acquaintances, if that, I still like to entertain the notion that we were meant to share the same time, if you will. That my life was put on hold when it was and resumed when it was because I was meant to look after you in one way or another."

Sephiroth had been eating in silence but set his fork down with a little more force than he meant to. "That makes no sense. If you really believe that, then why is it so unfathomable for us to be friends? Whatever age you actually are, you don't look a day older than thirty. That's nearly two years younger than I, by the way."

Startled by the General's abrupt reaction, Vincent set his fork down, too. Taking in Sephiroth's agitated expression, Vincent felt even more confused than before.

"It's not just you, Sephiroth. I really don't think I'm capable of being friends with anyone. Even Veld, whom I considered almost a brother before my life took a turn towards insanity, is ill at ease when around me. And I can't say I blame him, given the state in which I returned."

"What about Cloud, then?" Sephiroth pressed. "And Reno and the other Turks?"

"Cloud lost his father before he could even form a clear memory of him. I met his mother while on assignment and she told him a few stories about me. That's why he adopted me as a surrogate father of sorts. There is no reason to deny him that, so I don't. Over these four years he has made an effort to make my return to society go by as smoothly as possible, something for which I am infinitely grateful. The first year I was back in Midgar was particularly difficult and, if not for Cloud, I would not have ventured out of the Shinra Building at all. However, there is much about me he does not know and will never know. Not because I don't trust him, but because it would serve no purpose to disclose certain things to him."

A small smile crossed his features as he prepared to discuss his relationship with the Turks.

"I suppose you have deep ties with the other Soldiers First Class?"

Sephiroth nodded. "Angeal and Genesis are my oldest friends. They're almost like my brothers. Zack joined us not too long ago but he's also very close to us."

Vincent nodded slowly before continuing.

"In that case, you'll probably have an easier time than most understanding what the Turks mean to me. My mother passed away when I was twelve and my father died shortly before I joined the Turks. Technically, I was an orphan when I joined the department, so Veld and the others became my family. In less than three years they knew me better than my parents ever did and I knew them just as well. We trusted each other with our lives, literally. We moved and worked not only like a unit but like a single entity—we knew what the others were thinking before they were aware of it themselves and we acted accordingly. The rumours circulating Shinra that we were more loyal to one another than to the company weren't, and aren't, that far off. To be a Turk means to throw your individuality into the pack to enhance it and yourself. There's no middle ground—you go all in or you go out.

"I may have been gone for nearly thirty years but my loyalty to the Turks remains unchanged. Once a Turk, always a Turk is not just a cute motto—it's a pledge we live by. Even before I accepted to take over as head of the department, before I even met them, Tseng, Cissnei, Reno, Rude, and Elena were already my family. I will never lie to or hide anything from them because I need them to trust me implicitly, just like I trust them unconditionally. It's a matter of survival, both physical and spiritual, if you like."

He took a deep breath and looked at Sephiroth straight in the eye. "Cloud chose me as his surrogate father, and the Turks became my family the moment they joined the department. I couldn't sever either connection even if I wanted to, which I really don't. But as for fostering new relationships… I wouldn't even know how."

"You can't be seriously telling me that you intend to go through the rest of your life without allowing anyone other than Cloud and the Turks to come close to you," Sephiroth said, obviously frustrated.

"I can, and I am." He ate some more before adding, "It might not be a particularly long life as Professor Faremis seems to think, mind you. The truth is that, unless Chaos and I can find a way to fix the protomateria, I won't last very many years."

Sephiroth was shocked, to say the least. It wasn't just the statement but the calm with which it was delivered. Vincent seemed, for all intents and purposes, resigned to this fate. To try to calm himself, he drank the rest of his glass of wine and poured himself more. He watched Vincent eat for a few long minutes, trying to find something to say that could sway the other man.

Truth be told, he wasn't really sure why he was so determined to befriend Vincent. The idea had come a few weeks before, when his father once again brought the gunman up in conversation. Something about his father's tone had sparked a sense of curiosity for the older man that Sephiroth hadn't felt before. So he went through all files pertaining to the Jenova Project and Vincent Valentine again, except this time he focused on the Turk instead of on the data about his biological parents or even himself. He accessed the previous administration's reports on the gunman's missions prior to being assigned to guard the scientists in Nibelheim; he also read up on Grimoire Valentine, Vincent's father, and the research he conducted along with Lucrecia before dying in a lab accident. He remembered reading about the protomateria but he had just skimmed through that section, so there was nothing he could offer Vincent in the way of help or advice, not even comfort.

"Your food's getting cold," Vincent's rumbling baritone interrupted him.

The General looked up sharply from the spot on his plate that he had been staring at and met Vincent's amused stare.

"What's so funny?" he asked, sounding like a petulant child and feeling silly for it.

"Not exactly funny," Vincent said, smiling a little. "Just… endearing, I guess? You look so crushed."

Frowning, Sephiroth prepared to reply but a sudden flash of gold across Vincent's eyes made him stop. Before he could ask about it, Vincent excused himself and strode to the restroom.

Once inside, Vincent took stock of the stalls and decided he didn't want to risk a panic attack so he climbed out the window and stood in the alley, leaning against the wall.

Okay, Chaos, he said, what's so important that it couldn't wait until we were alone at the apartment?

It's about what you asked me earlier, Chaos answered. He hesitated for a moment before adding, It regards the General, which is why I had to interrupt.

Vincent started and glared at the brick wall in front of him like it had been the one to make the statement. How on Gaia can they be related?

What you've been feeling since this morning is not a prelude to sickness. It's… Well, there's no delicate way to put this, so here it goes. It's soon mating season.

I'm sorry—could you repeat that very slowly, like I'm brain damaged? Because it sounded like you just said I'm in heat.

Chaos couldn't help but chuckle as he answered. That's what I said, yes. Except it's not you, but Galian. Another strange pause. And, well… me, too, in a way.

Vincent pressed his right palm to his forehead and closed his eyes so tightly that the colourful explosion behind his eyelids became painful. He fumbled mentally for a long time before sighing and resting his head against the wall with a resounding thud. He welcomed the pain as it helped him focus.

You'll get to the part where that's in any way tied to Sephiroth in a minute. Right now, I need you to explain to me how is it possible for you two to be in heat when you don't have a physical body. And why on Gaia is it happening now? And… Well, everything! Tell me everything you know about this.

That would take a long time and Sephiroth's in there waiting for you. I can tell you all about it when we get home, but the part where he's concerned you need to hear now.

Fine. Hit me.

I don't have a physical body, remember?

Chaos…

Sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood because there's no way to put this delicately, either. I'm not 100% sure how or why, but I am sure that when this thing hits full-on, you're going to be attracted to the General.

WHAT?

It didn't matter that Chaos didn't have a body—Vincent felt him cringe all the same. He probably shouldn't have raised his voice but the idea of him lusting after Sephiroth was not only preposterous but fundamentally abhorrent. Even if he amended that thought and reminded himself that it was Galian and Chaos's feelings or hormones or whatever, it would ultimately be his body involved in the whole process. After everything the silver-haired man had been through…

No.

Vincent?

Instead of answering, Vincent climbed back into the restroom, washed his hands, and returned to the dining area. He could hear Chaos protesting and trying to get him to stay put, but he shut him out. As he approached the table, he felt the palms of his hands warming up like they'd done at the beginning of the evening; he also felt his pulse rising slightly and his breathing becoming somewhat erratic. He had no idea whether he was having something akin to a hypochondriac episode now that Chaos had told him what was going on, but he didn't want to put the theory to the test, either. He quickly went through the things he would say to Sephiroth and then he skipped to calculating the quickest way back to headquarters through back alleys and out of anyone's sight.

He didn't know whether to count his blessings or curse his luck when he saw Zack and Aerith sitting at the table with Sephiroth. The General seemed glad to have them there, but a closer look told Vincent that he was annoyed by the interruption. The dark-haired man quickly decided this was his chance to call it a night without leaving room for Sephiroth to follow him, at least not immediately.

"Lt. Fair, Ms. Gainsborough," he said with a smile as he reached the table. "Good evening."

"Evening, Director!" Zack said, shaking Vincent's hand vigorously.

"Good evening, Mr. Valentine," Aerith said as she reached up and kissed Vincent's cheek. She frowned as she sat down, eyeing him critically. "Forgive the indiscretion, Director, but are you feeling okay? You feel a bit warm."

Eying Sephiroth's half-consumed bottle of wine, Zack grinned and said, "Maybe a bit too much alcohol, Director?"

Sephiroth shot Zack a warning glare. "He doesn't drink, Fair." Looking at Vincent, he said, "You do look a bit high-coloured."

Bless sweet, perceptive Aerith. Now all Vincent had to do was play things just right to be able to leave on his own.

"Nothing to worry about," he said, "just a bit of exhaustion, I'm afraid. I hate to cut our chat short, Sephiroth, but it would be better if I returned to headquarters to rest."

"I'll go with you," Sephiroth said. "Just let me pay the check."

"I got it," Zack said. "We'll keep the table."

"It's not necessary," Vincent said, feeling panic rising up in his chest. "A little cool air will do me good on the way back and I'd hate for your night to end so early, Sephiroth."

Just as the General was about to protest, Aerith placed her hand over his and smiled sweetly at him. "Stay, Seph. It's been a while since the three of us had a chance to talk. Mr. Valentine will be fine on his own and he can call one of you if he feels worse before reaching headquarters."

Vincent held his breath as Sephiroth looked between him and Aerith a few times before settling down on his seat again. "All right. But at least wait until Tifa wraps up the leftovers. Like you said, you can't skip any more meals and it looks like they might make a decent lunch."

The gunman nodded and called Tifa to ask for the check and to have the leftovers wrapped up. When she returned, he tried to pay for half of the check but the General wouldn't have that.

"I invited you, so it's my treat. Just… make it home safely and I'll check on you tomorrow morning… Director."

The disappointment in Sephiroth's voice made Vincent's stomach drop but he managed a weak smile. "Thank you, General. Have a good evening, everyone."

As he left, he was sure Aerith looked at him with concern and just a bit of suspicion.