Cid had been unsurprised to find himself called to Palmer's office. Valentine had returned, as expected, to Hollander's. Aerith, Hollander's newest waitress, had been able to blend in well enough at the beginning, but she had no way of getting into the back untroubled. Instead, she had called in what she found out, and somehow that meant it all became Cid's job again.

"I really don't know what you want me to do, sir."

"Nothing now, obviously. You're a clumsy idiot, Highwind, do you think I'd ever send you on a real stealth job? Not a chance. Your job is to be the muscle if Gainsborough gets herself into trouble. Time for lunch, Highwind. Stay alert. We cannot afford to lose her."

"Then send Wallace, he'll scare 'em all off," Cid grumbled as he walked to the restaurant, cheesy fake facial hair and contacts in place.

"Sometimes I hate my life," he sighed at a dog sitting outside the restaurant, and pushed open the doors, coat thrown over his shoulder.

****************

"Neat as always, sir," Tseng said as he carefully settled Hollander's body onto the floor.

Vincent snorted as he wiped his blades off with the cloth he kept the case for just that purpose. "You know I don't like this part of the job."

"Yes, sir," was all Tseng said by way of reply.

With a sigh, Vincent then retrieved the medical supplies that he also kept in the case, and then walked around the desk to kneel by Hollander's body. Thankfully the older man had fainted as he had begun to cut, and Vincent wasn't so sadistic as to wake the man up for the involuntary amputation of his right pinky. With practiced skill, Vincent cleaned and securely bound the wound, threw away the bloody gauze and alcohol pads and returned the supplies to the case. Leaning over the desk, he wrote a simple note in his elegant penmanship that read only, "Pleasure doing business."

"Shall we, Tseng?" he said wearily, and at Tseng's brisk nod, the two men left the office. Luxiere and Kunsel jumped and reached for their weapons but Tseng was quicker, leveling his sidearm in Kunsel's face making the thugs freeze. "Please," Vincent said quietly, "our business is concluded. Mr. Shinra is happy, and if Hollander is smart, he will not try to cheat him again. If such is the case, then you shall never see us again." He smiled serenely. "You may want to tend to your employer. And I would suggest avoiding doing anything…unnecessarily stupid," He finished when he saw Luxiere's eyes shift over to Kunsel's, as the fingers on his hand going for his gun, twitched.

The four men continued to watch each other warily, Vincent and Tseng with the patience of saints, until Luxiere and Kunsel relaxed and lowered their hands. Vincent nodded and touched Tseng's lower back lightly, which caused the Wutaian to lower his weapon and finally holster it. He nodded to the two thugs, and simultaneously the two went into the office and shut the door as he and Tseng began walking toward the front door of the restaurant. Tseng exited first and as Vincent began to walk through the door, his shoulder clipped that of a man entering. Their eyes met and held briefly and in that instant the only thought in Vincent's mind was that green was not the right color for this man's eyes, but he nodded nonetheless in greeting and made his way to the waiting sedan.

Shit, Cid thought, realizing he had arrived too late. If anything had happened to Aerith it was done…but his mind strayed back to Valentine as he searched for her. Surely the other man knew who he was. How many times had Cid conveniently been in the area while Valentine "conducted business"? He knew perfectly well that such a man was no fool, that he would recognize Cid by now, and likely not be put off by minute changes in appearance.

"There you are," he fussed at Aerith, who squeaked as he grabbed her around the waist from behind.

She giggled genuinely and replied, "I'm working now, silly, you have to wait until I'm off for that!" as she slapped his hands away.

Cid heaved a theatrical sigh and complied, saying, "All right," with just enough of a questioning note that she knew what he meant.

"Of course. Now, be good and go sit down at the bar where you belong, you old lush," she teased, swatting at him with the menu in her hands.

Cid wondered just what the people staring at them were thinking.

*****************

Vincent tossed the envelope of cash down onto Rufus' desk and stood looking at the blond who raised an eyebrow. "It's all there." Vincent growled.

"And my insurance?" Rufus asked skeptically.

In reply to that Vincent tossed the small box onto the table so that it slid and Rufus had to lunge to catch it. He continued to wait, arms crossed over his chest as Rufus checked the box's contents, made a disgusted face, then placed both envelope and box into the top right-hand drawer of his desk and began to shuffle papers importantly. Rufus picked up a pen and began to fill out paperwork, saying, "Aaaaand you're still here."

"You know why I'm here," Vincent hissed.

Rufus smirked and leaned back in his chair, "Do I? Hm, let's see." He tapped his chin and looked at the ceiling before admitting, "No, can't say as I do."

"You arrogant asshole," Vincent said breathlessly, barely containing his fury, "Don't you dare play games with me."

That prompted Rufus to slam his palms down hard onto the surface of his desk and lunge to his feet. "No, don't you play games with me, Vincent Valentine. Or have you forgotten that you need me?"

Shaking in impotent rage, he forced his voice to remain calm. "I haven't forgotten."

"No, I think you have," Rufus sneered, licking his lips as his eyes traveled up and down Vincent's body. "I think you need to be reminded of just exactly what your place is."

Anger leaving him and discomfort and fear taking its place, he whispered, "That won't be necessary, sir."

"I'll see you in my rooms," Rufus said, sitting down and shuffling his papers again. "You know what to do." Then he looked up and said, "Unless you no longer want what I have?"

Vincent swallowed and began loosening his tie, only barely containing the shaking in his hands. "Yes, sir."

Rufus raised his eyebrow again. "And?"

"I want what you have," Vincent gritted out between clenched teeth.

"Well," Rufus smirked, "we'll see, won't we?"

A hand slapped across Cid's face sharply. "Damn it, Highwind, how many times are you going to fail!?"

"You sent me there to make sure she was okay. Wasn't nothin' else to it."

"You let him walk right past you!" Scarlet walked to the window hands in the air dramatically to emphasize her point.

Cid massaged his temple. "What the hell was I supposed to do? Everybody in that place but me was armed. Y'think I'm fool enough t'try that?" Again?

"I know you're fool enough, Highwind, you've done it before! Why do you think you're under Palmer now?"

If he disliked Palmer, he detested Scarlet. "A' right. I know. I don't deserve another chance, I deserve t'be thrown outta here headfirst into the next car passin' by. I know." He took a deep breath, hoping his information was correct. He relayed to Scarlet what Shera had told him, then casually mentioned that he might have a way to get a personal, private audience with Valentine.

"You have three days. Wallace is getting very eager to see you. We keep promising him, you know, then you go and do something right."

A truck would hurt; Wallace would kill if given the chance.

"I'll take care of it," he said, and he would.

Three days.

This night, after being surrounded by things he hated, he would allow himself to be corrupt as well. The Honeybee, after all, was a perfectly respectable place if visited in moderation.

He was not surprised –though admittedly quite disturbed- when he found himself requesting a boy with looks similar to Valentine's. He was even less surprised and more disturbed that he used his companion until he screamed.

"Damn you, Valentine," he muttered into the night air, pulling his collar up to shield his face.

Three days.

Vincent jerked awake and immediately regretted it, as his whole body burned with pain.

"Easy, sir," Tseng murmured from where he sat beside him, dabbing the oozing lash marks that crisscrossed his back, buttocks and thighs with yet another washcloth.

"Where am I?" Vincent rasped, fisting his hands in the sheets under his body.

"Your quarters."

"And how did I get here?" he asked stupidly.

"I carried you," Tseng replied and waited patiently as Vincent hissed and squirmed under his touch, issuing quite a few colorful curses before continuing again. "I took the liberty of tending to your front while you were unconscious."

"Thanks for that," Vincent muttered. He sighed, staring at the wall for a while before noticing the small vial of glowing green fluid on his bedside table. "So he handed it over, huh?" he murmured.

"I would say that you more than 'earned' it, sir," Tseng replied.

Vincent snorted and barked out another curse as Tseng hit a particularly nasty gash. "Dammit, that hurts!" he growled.

"Again, as to be expected. Now hold still." Tseng continued to gently wash him. "You know, you complain much."

"Well who the hell else am I going to complain to?" he griped.

"Too true," Tseng said with a tiny, amused grin, which quickly vanished when he asked, "Was this for him?"

Knowing immediately what Tseng was talking about, Vincent said, "That's none of your business."

"Right. I only work for you. You're not just my boss and my friend. Not my business at all," Tseng said bitterly.

"The less you know, the safer you are, Tseng," Vincent whispered hoarsely.

"Let me kill him," Tseng said suddenly. "You don't need him, nobody needs him. Everyone knows you run things anyway."

"But I need him, Tseng," Vincent said firmly. "So you will leave him alone and let him continue to think he owns me, us. It's safest that way. Besides, do I really have a choice?"

"There's always a choice, Vincent," Tseng said.

He was silent for a while. Tseng never used his name unless he was truly worried about him, electing instead to always call him 'sir'. "Well, I'm still waiting for mine," he finally admitted. "Okay, that's enough!" he snarled, withstanding the pain to turn his head and glare at his second.

"Just let me apply this balm, sir. It will remove the pain, and allow you rest more comfortably."

Grunting, Vincent laid his head back down and allowed Tseng to sweep his long hair to the side and apply the anesthetic ointment. He squirmed uncomfortably when Tseng parted his buttocks to apply the balm and Vincent made a conscious effort to forget just what it was that Rufus had done to him and with what.

"I told Mr. ShinRa that you would not be of service for three days." Tseng said quietly as he capped the ointment and sat back.

"That wasn't necessary, and you know it. I'll be better by tomorrow." Vincent said, surprised as he turned his head to look at his second, already feeling the numbing effects of the ointment.

"I know sir, but given the amount of blood that was lost, Mr. ShinRa was inclined to acquiesce. I suggest you take the time off," Tseng said matter-of-factly.

Vincent looked a moment more at the Wutaian, and then nodded, "Then perhaps I shall."

"Good," was the only reply.

*************

"You told me to come to you if I needed anything. I need somethin' big now. I never wanted t'ask you t'do this, Shera."

"You need me to get you in."

"Not quite. I need Valentine. S'my last chance, Sher, an' I can't lose this. You know that."

"I know."

"But you can't lose what you have, either. I won't let that happen." Cid let his head drop onto his hands as he regarded Shera with weariness, hope, and respect. "Do you ever see him?"

"No. He doesn't come in. I just know it goes to him."

"Damn…but you know how I can get to 'im?"

"No, not really. But…"

His head picked up again. That had to be a good 'but.' "But?"

"I might be able to get a message to him. The chances are…slim, Cid. Really slim. Shinra doesn't trust him the way you all think he does. If those packages aren't checked at least every other time, I'll eat my hat."

"Well, since you ain't wearin' a hat," Cid said flatly, "we better go for it, 'cause I ain't got another choice. Gods, Shera, I didn't ever wanna get you mixed up in all this."

"I know, Cid," she said kindly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from where she stood behind him. "I know."

***********

The next day found Vincent up and dressed. He checked himself in the mirror before heading down to the lobby of the tower. Rude, Reno and Tseng were gathered on two chairs and a couch with Rude staring into the fountain, Tseng reading a newspaper and Reno playing with a yo-yo. When they saw him approaching, Reno sat up abruptly, his teal-colored eyes wide and his face pale, making the tattooed stripes under each eye stand out alarmingly. "Shit boss, you look terrible! What happened man?"

"Mr. ShinRa was in a mood…again," Tseng answered, before Vincent had to.

"Fuckin' bastard!" Reno snarled, spitting onto the carpet by the couch.

"It's done, Reno, let it go," Vincent said wearily, walking up to Rude. "I need the keys."

"We can make him disappear for you, sir," Rude said seriously, fishing them out of his breast pocket and handing them over.

"And as I've told Tseng already, you'll do no such thing, and you're not to mention this again, do I make myself clear?" he said firmly, leveling a stare at first Reno and then Rude until both nodded reluctantly.

"And I wish you would let one of us go with you, Vincent," Tseng said fluttering his paper and folding it neatly to lay it in his lap.

Vincent smiled gently. "Not this time. This is private business, and it would put you all at risk to expose you to it. I'll only be gone about three hours." Vincent looked around at his men again then back at Tseng, "Be careful…and," he jerked his head at Reno, "watch that one."

"I will," Tseng replied, glancing briefly at Reno. "You watch your back."

Vincent's smile turned wan. "They say that the strongest steel is forged in the fires of hell, my friend. I'll be fine." He then placed his fedora on his head, stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded to his men. "Good day gentlemen."

He could feel their eyes on him as he left the lobby and it made him feel oddly melancholy. He banished those feelings though as useless. Arriving at the sedan he paused before unlocking it, sending out his unnatural senses to search for any incendiary devices or other unusual electrical currents. Finding none, he unlocked the driver's side door and climbed in. He put the key in the ignition and sat there a moment as he thought of where he was going and the young man he was going to see. With a sigh he pulled out the tightly stopped vial of mako and studied it sadly. Then, with a shake of his head, he replaced it safely back into the inside breast pocket of his jacket and started the car.

An hour later Vincent pulled the car into the small drive of a private, and extremely expensive sanatorium. He parked the sedan in the near-empty parking lot and climbed out, sliding on his tinted glasses as he did so while adjusting his suit and replacing his hat. As he entered the front lobby, an immaculately uniformed nurse looked up from the receptionists desk, her pretty face lighting up in a smile. "Well hello, Mr. Black!" she said, blushing when he touched the brim of his hat with a gloved thumb and forefinger, and smiled back in greeting. "We were afraid that you wouldn't come today! Silly me; we should have known better! You've never missed a Friday yet!"

"Any change, Ms. Lucien?" Vincent asked softly, beginning the usual back and forth that he and the various members of the staff had developed since he had first brought his charge here three years ago.

"No, sir, I'm sorry. But your nephew is still unresponsive," she said sadly.

"Well, I suppose that cannot be helped," he said with a sigh. "But one can hope, can one not?"

"Oh indeed!" the nurse said readily. "I think your visiting him so regularly is doing him some good. We just can't see it yet!"

"I hope so," Vincent murmured, his voice distant and hollow sounding to his ears.

There was an awkward moment of silence between them before the nurse straightened and her smile returned. "Well, stay as long as you like, Mr. Black."

"Thank you," he said, giving a slight bow before heading off down the wing that housed the comatose and catatonic patients.

The door he sought was the last one in that wing. He paused a moment before taking a deep breath and entering the dim room. It smelled of dark spices – a specific request – and he slowly approached the pale, thin body that was carefully arranged in the larger-than-normal bed. There was a quiet beeping from the heart monitor by the wall, and the various adornments necessary for sustained life, from catheters to feeding tubes, were surreptitiously placed around the recumbent form and tucked out of sight.

Vincent stood over the body for a while before he reached into his suit to withdraw the mako tube and syringe. He carefully withdrew the glowing, thick fluid, tapped out the air bubbles, and then reached down to grasp one thin arm. With practiced ease he inserted the needle, pulled back on the plunger to mix the thick blood with the mako, the slowly injected the frail body with the substance. Once finished, he capped the syringe and placed both it and the now-empty tube back into his inside breast pocket. Reverently, he stroked limp, matted hair. "Very soon now," he said gently, "very soon we shall both be free."