Midgar Burning, Chapter Three

RP between Larry and Maynard

Rating: M

This chapter: PG-13

After finishing at the sanatorium, Vincent drove back to the ShinRa Tower and headed up to his office. Tseng followed him while Rude and Reno left to enjoy their day off. After firmly embedding himself in the finer art of black market accounting –which he hated with an ill-motivated passion – he proceeded to lose all track of time. When there came a knock on his closed office door, it didn't register at first. It wasn't until the third knock and Tseng sticking his head into his office, that Vincent realized that he had visitors. "There are some men here to see you, sir. They say that they have a 'business proposition'. Shall I show them in?"

Vincent raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. "Please do, Tseng." He was curious as to just what this was about, grateful for the distraction.

His second entered, followed immediately by a trio of silver-haired young men, dressed smartly in identical black-and-white pinstriped suits. His eye was instantly drawn to a tall, willowy young man sporting a black fedora and a deceptively empty and somewhat vacant expression, save for his eyes. Those bright green eyes missed nothing as they scanned the room to finally come to a rest upon his own, and he saw a silver brow arch slightly. He felt a momentary thrill hum through his body to come to a rest in his groin before he dismissed his scrutiny to take in his companions. The next to draw his attention was a rather heavily muscled young man who wore no hat, but instead wore a red carnation in his lapel. Vincent thought that rather odd, but moved his study on to the third and final member or the group who likewise did not wear a hat and had his shoulder-length hair half obscuring his face. Affecting a bored expression he asked, "And what can I do for you gentlemen?"

"So you're Vincent Valentine," the shortest one said disdainfully, "somehow I expected more."

"Did you." Vincent said flatly. "And what, by chance, were you expecting?"

The shortest one grinned, but didn't answer, saying instead, "My name is Kadaj, this is Yazoo ,and the big one here is Loz. We're here to tell you about a meeting that you are to attend."

Amused, Vincent's eyebrow rose. "Really."

"Yes. You are to meet a man named Cid Highwind, a cop." Kadaj smirked.

"Is that right," Vincent said, amused that this upstart would think to order him around. "And who is it requesting my presence at this 'meeting'?"

"Me, and it's not a request." Kadaj sniffed. "Everything has been arranged and if you wish to see your man again, you'll be sure to happily attend."

Vincent's blood ran cold, and his voice was deadly calm as he said, "Explain."

"Your redheaded friend so loves alcohol and flirting. It took very little effort from Yazoo here to get him to spill who it was that he worked for, not that we didn't already know, and then a simple discussion with Loz's fist persuaded the idiot that it would be fun to come back to our place and 'play' for a while." Kadaj crossed his arms and sneered. "Do you always hire incompetence?"

Vincent had moved from amused to irritated to downright pissed off with alarming speed, and he could feel Tseng's tension next to him, which did nothing to help his stress level. What was worse though, was that it didn't appear as though this "Kadaj" was finished. He had had enough however, and with deceptive calmness he leaned over, opened his desk drawer and withdrew his weapon of choice: a high caliber, tri-barreled pistol affectionately named Cerberus, and leveled it at Kadaj's head. Next to him Tseng tensed, ready to go for his own weapon should the need arise.

"What are you doing?" Kadaj asked, a little startled, as the other two snapped to attention, with Yazoo obviously going for a concealed weapon and Loz balling his fists and taking a threatening pose.

"What does it look like I am doing, runt?" Vincent calmly. "I am growing tired of your little game, and I'm preparing to remove a useless shit-stain from this world. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Do you think so little of your man? You must if-"

"Ah-ah," Vincent interrupted with a patience he didn't how he dredged up, nor from where. "I want you to carefully consider the next words that come out of your mouth, because they will be what determines whether you have a good day," he cocked Cerberus, "or a very, very bad day."

Kadaj was not stupid. He knew, as he stared down that tri-barrel, that this weapon would very efficiently redistribute his molecules. Namely against the far wall, but neither was Kadaj entirely sane. He grinned slowly, and said but one word: "Sephiroth."

"I'm listening," Vincent growled.

"We know what you want, and we want the same thing. We are merely offering our services to help get what you want…what we want."

"Go on."

"Your control is slipping, Valentine. Even now the tiny cracks of dissention that have begun in the careful foundation that you have taken such pains to construct over the years are spreading and widening. That idiot Hollander was only the first. We are willing to work with you to 'shore up' your foundation, even as we work toward our common goal."

"No."

Taken aback, the young man blinked. "What?"

"Well, let's see. First, I have no idea who you three are and therefore have absolutely no way to confirm that what you say is true. Second, you come marching into my office and have the sheer ridiculous audacity to make demands of me while telling me that you have one of my men. Third, you are either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to have taken Reno – assuming you even have him – but your clear lack of judgment does nothing to instill any confidence in me whatsoever. Fourth, should I agree to your "help", there will be no working with. You three would be working for me. Any idiot can pull a trigger and I don't need thugs, I need discipline. Shall I keep going?"

The three now wore nearly identical scowls that only served to amuse him. "You have no idea who you are dealing with..." Kadaj began.

"That's right, I don't," Vincent snorted.

"…Which is why I brought a little incentive." Kadaj finished smoothly, and the muscled member of the trio handed him something white. Kadaj then tossed it onto Vincent's desk.

Sobering instantly and never lowering his weapon, Vincent slowly unwrapped the bundle to reveal Reno's bloody shirt and a hank of red hair…Reno's ponytail. His gaze flicked back up to Kadaj, eyes burning like coals, and when he spoke his voice was frigid and deadly calm. "If I find...that you have seriously hurt him in any way, shape or form…I shall use all of my considerable resources to make you three realize that your creation was a mistake. You shall feel pain unlike any you have ever felt before, do I make myself absolutely clear?" Out of the corner of his eye, he just caught the faint tic beginning in Tseng's jaw that revealed the man's anger, but other than that, Tseng's face was stone. He did not relish the idea of telling Rude about his partner's abduction.

Kadaj snorted. "We'll see…"

Vincent saw red as the last of his patience snapped, and he was around the desk before Kadaj could finish speaking. With an inhuman snarl, wrapped one hand around Kadaj's thin neck and pressed the young man up against the wall. His free hand was used to backhand Loz, tossing the man to fall into a boneless heap, unconscious, on the floor. He then caught Yazoo, as the beautiful youth growled softly and lunged at him, hand also about the throat. He squeezed both necks, forcing Yazoo down onto his knees and Kadaj's eyes to widen as he took in Vincent's terrible face with eyes that glowed not red, but now a bright citrine.

Kadaj knew Vincent could break him; snap him in half with very little effort, and Kadaj had no choice but to respect that. He heard a wheezing sound and managed to turn his head to see Yazoo struggling against Vincent's choking hold upon his neck. This only made Kadaj laugh – as much as he could, given his current situation. "If you want your man back, Valentine, then meet the cop at The Cetra at 9:00 two nights from now. Or else we keep the redhead, and 'play' with him a little more."

Growling, Vincent lowered Kadaj to the ground but did not release his hold on the thin neck. He did however release Yazoo, who then slumped forward coughing before crawling over to check on a moaning Loz. Jerking Kadaj up so their faces were only inches apart he hissed, "Very well, boy. I shall meet your cop and hear his terms. Then I expect Reno returned to me unharmed, and your loyalty to me as discussed. Do we have an accord?"

Kadaj's grin widened as his feet touched the ground. "Indeed we do, Mr. Valentine."

"I hope I do not need to emphasize that not holding up your end would be a very, very bad idea." Vincent said stiffly as he forced himself to release his hold on Kadaj's neck.

Straightening his jacket, Kadaj snapped his fingers at Yazoo and Loz as the two slowly climbed to their feet, and said stiffly, "That will not be necessary, Mr. Valentine. I believe we got it the first time."

As the trio then headed for the door, Kadaj stopped in the doorway after Yazoo and Loz had left, to look over his shoulder at Vincent. "Oh, and Vincent?" When the red-eyed man with the over-compensatory firearm, leveled a flat stare on him, Kadaj smirked. "Pleasure doing business." At the rabid narrowing of the man's eyes, Kadaj laughed again, mockingly, and followed after his associates as he made a point to slam the door behind him.

Vincent's nostrils flared as he curled his hands into fists. But it was Tseng who spoke up, "I believe I do not like him, Vincent. That one is not to be trusted."

"No he is not," Vincent snarled, and prowled around to sit down behind his desk again. Worry for Reno's safety and rage at Kadaj's presumptuousness and attitude had him wound tighter than a bedspring. He did not like being told what to do; Shinra was bad enough, but this little upstart was too much. He picked up Cerberus and began to meticulously and obsessively clean the massive weapon. It was either that, destroy something, or kill someone, and he couldn't afford to do either of the latter at the moment. "We have a little less than two days, Tseng," he said quietly. "I want to know everything you can find on this Cid Highwind."

Tseng nodded and without a word left Vincent's office to begin his mission.

--------

Two days later at 8:00, Rude was driving Vincent and Tseng to The Cetra, a ritzy new restaurant toward the upper plates whose owner, one Dr. Gast, who moonlighted as a restaurant and nightclub owner outside of his new private practice just this side of the upper plates, Vincent had yet to visit. He had however heard good things about both facility and owner. Pulling to a stop, Tseng got out of the vehicle and opened the door for Vincent who stepped out of the sedan while placing his dark glasses on, and followed him inside. The maitre d' looked up and smiled. "Two, gentlemen?"

Vincent nodded and said, "Yes, but the second member of the party has yet to arrive."

The maitre d' looked at Tseng confusedly. "Very good sir, will that be smoking or non?"

Vincent briefly considered specifying "non", but thought better of it. He wanted this meeting to go smoothly, and not give Kadaj a reason to be more difficult than he already was. "Smoking, if you please."

"Very good, and your name, sir? So that I might assist your party-member when they arrive?"

"Valentine, and I would like a table in the back, close to the bar." Vincent said, not wanting to be far from Tseng who would keep an eye on things from the bar. He also wanted to watch the door. The maitre d' seated him at a corner table and he sat, putting his back to the wall. Tseng nodded slightly to Vincent and removed himself to sit at the bar in such a way that he could keep his eye on both Vincent and the door. Vincent crossed his legs primly, and leaned back in his chair.

When the waitress approached and asked what he wanted to drink, he ordered Vodka on the rocks and began to mentally review what he had learned of Cid Highwind, which sadly wasn't much. But then again, the man wasn't much. Born and raised in Midgar to parents who were both now deceased –one to suicide and the other natural causes – Cid Highwind had spent his whole life living from flop house to flop house and stealing what he needed to in order to survive, until the "force" picked him up. His legal history was nearly spotless except for a few minor charges of loitering and shoplifting. He had been with the Midgar PD Lower Plates Division for eight years, and from the looks of things was on his way out, for good, following some rather horrendously botched investigatory work. Vincent snorted. He had no idea what Kadaj had been thinking when he had set up this meeting with Highwind; the man was washed up, virtually useless to him and the picture of incompetence, and yet here he sat, impatiently awaiting the man's arrival.

When his drink arrived, Vincent began to take slow sips of it, and let his mind wander to business. He was so caught up in itineraries, personnel analyses, meetings, Rufus, money, Reno and his new trio of headaches, that he nearly missed the scruffy blond in the battered trench coat – making him look disgustingly out of place and more fit for a bar than a glitzy restaurant – walk in. The man looked around, even jumping at one point until the maitre d' scurried over and spoke softly, stilling the jerky movement. Words were exchanged that he didn't hear, and then the maitre d' began walking back to his table. Face neutral and expressionless, he watched Cid Highwind approach from behind his glasses until they finally stopped, and the maitre d' pulled out the second chair before leaving them. Cid shrugged out of his trench coat and finagled it onto the back of his chair before sitting down.

"All right," Vincent said levelly, cutting to the chase. "I'm here. Now what can I do for you, Mr. Highwind?"

Cid sighed and removed his glasses, reaching around to clean them on his jacket. This was going to be one of the most difficult, potentially life-changing things he'd ever done.

Fate, he reasoned, was a funny thing.

The man before him was a man he could have loved had they been given the chance. But now, he used every quality Cid admired in him for purposes that made Cid loath to be in his presence.

He wished he could have saved him.

No, no; he just wished he could have saved someone. But he could, if only this would turn out the right way. He would just have to hope that his idiot's charm would help that along. "Valentine," he acknowledged, nodding brusquely. "Let me say this first. You're the reason my life is hell. It's 'cause o' you I can't get past th'bottom. I reckon I oughta hate you more'n I've ever hated anybody."

Cid sighed heavily, finally realizing just how deep this hole was. He would not be able to get out if the need arose.

"Let me also say that I mean you no harm. I did not plan this meetin' an' I did not take yer boy, but I reckon you know that. I couldn't pull that off if I tried. I did not hire those assholes t'do it, either. He's safe, by th'way. Back at my place an' feelin' pretty damn good about 'imself. Friend o' mine's kept 'im more or less sedated," he clarified, "so 'e didn't go runnin' off to ya an' ruin a chance fer all of us."

"I suppose I should be glad that I don't have an idiot like you working for me if you insult the person you are negotiating with as soon as you open your mouth." Vincent replied, a tic beginning in his jaw. "But you are not the first person to "hate" me, Mr. Highwind, nor will you be the last." He took another drink of his vodka and studied the sad excuse for a man across from him. He really should be more disgusted with him, and the fact that he was not was slightly off-putting. "Nor was it a particularly wise idea to inform me that you have my associate, as I could just as easily phone one of my men to break into your home, kill your friend and retrieve what is mine." Something else that threw Vincent off balance, he realized, was that Cid oddly made him relax. He should be walking out right now, pissed as all hell that Highwind had Reno, but instead he found himself wanting to be patient and lenient with the man. He cleared his throat. "It would seem that 'those three' who visited me are also making your life rather 'inconvenient' as well." He reached up and removed his dark glasses and regarded Cid calmly. "Now why don't we both do each other a favor and cut to the chase. I'm a very busy man, and I'm sure you have…other things that you would rather be doing at the moment. Why did you wish to see me?"

Looking away immediately from the eyes that tried to pierce him, Cid muttered, "I didn't know what they'd said. Just thought I'd let y'know, y'know, that 'e ain't hurt. I ain't never hurt anybody, Valentine, an' I ain't about t'start. An' I don't hate you. I should, but I just don't."

"Long an' short of it is this: I'm tired. You're tired. We're all fuckin' sick o' who we are an' where we are. An' I'm aware that most people have t'live their whole lives feelin' like that, but dammit…if I can do somethin' about it fer m'self, why shouldn't I? I need you t'make that happen."

Cid took a deep breath and looked determinedly, unblinkingly into Valentine's eyes. He was not, for some reason, afraid of this man. He respected him, but he would not be made to back down.

So much pain hidden behind the lids…but there was also humanity in those eyes.

He just hoped that would win out, and that this would somehow pull itself together.

"I know what you need. I don't know why, but I know it ain't fer you directly. I also know full well you're the top no matter how highly Shinra thinks of 'imself. I know…know that if not fer the mako, you'd've already taken over. I'd like ya t'do that," he said firmly, speaking only for himself. Scarlet and Palmer wanted Valentine taken out as soon as all his protection was destroyed. "You could fix up Midgar. You could, 'cause you ain't...you ain't bloodthirsty, an' neither are the ones behind ya."

Cid was very glad for help from higher places; this speech had been rather well rehearsed, even if his delivery was, well, lacking.

"I'll make sure you keep gettin' what you need. You'd be workin' with us…with me, but not for me. I wouldn't ask that. I'll keep m'self outta yer business so long as the crime rate stays low."

Vincent was silent as he regarded Cid, tapping a finger on the tabletop. Finally he said, "Why would I want to 'fix up' Midgar? Perhaps I like it just the way it is. Look, Highwind," he leaned forward and rested on a forearm, "I appreciate you looking after Reno, and I won't forget that. But you need to understand something about me. I'm not at your beck and call, and I do not appreciate being manipulated nor taken advantage of, much less coerced. Now, I do not know where you got your information in regards to my hypothetical need for mako, nor do I truly believe you fully understand what it is that you are asking of me." He smiled gently, and genuinely. "I appreciate your ambition, and if the authorities were a problem for me, then I would find your offer somewhat worthy of consideration, but they are not." His smile turned wry. "And while I do not trust a vast majority of my associates, I trust law enforcement even less. You could be wearing a wire even now." He knew Cid was not, but the blond didn't know he knew. He leaned back again in his chair. "I am curious, though. Just what exactly do you expect me to do for you?"

Cid's job, as he had finally worked out during those weeks of waiting, was meaningless. He existed to keep Valentine occupied while bigger plans were made around him. He was a decoy, positioned to be removed from play whenever was most convenient.

"I'm nothin' but a fool, Valentine. Ain't worth nothin' t'nobody, least of all the people I call my superiors. I reckon it's easiest t'make a diff'rence that way, 'cause then they don't know somethin's changin' 'til it's changed fer good. You have no reason t'trust me; I have no reason t'depend on you. Except, o' course, that you're crucial t'this. An' whatever yer answer is," he whispered, leaning farther over the table, "the kid'll be back t'you t'night. I'll make sure o' that."

What did he expect Vincent to do for him? What do I expect?

"All I know is that somethin' needs t'change, an' all the major players need t'be playin' t'gether. An' like I said, I ain't nothin' now. I guess…I guess what I'm really askin' is fer your protection, so I c'n work m'way up an' take control on th'topside while you're keepin' the underside in order. I don't believe that you want things th'way they are now. An' if you really feel th'need t'search me fer a wire, go right ahead. I know you got somebody else here. I don't. I ain't armed, either. I just…I dunno. They c'n call the whole lot o' ya cutthroats, but I'd rather be in yer comp'ny than theirs."

"And why is that?" Vincent blinked lazily, his grin matching. While he appeared relaxed and nonchalant his mind was weighing the possibilities. "Do you have any idea how brutal my world is, Mr. Highwind? 'Cutthroat' is not far from the mark. Where your world is politics, mine is bloody politics. Still," he grew thoughtful, cocking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. "You may yet prove useful to me. But I warn you that in my world everything is permanent. There are no 'do-overs', there is no going back and apologies very rarely, if ever, work." Highwind had charisma, Vincent thought, and to have a man, a puppet, on the inside in the highest echelon of law enforcement would indeed be useful. If he could survive, and that, Vincent figured, was where he fit in. And if what Highwind was saying about the mako proved true, then he could get out from under Shinra and remove the slimy bastard from the picture permanently, while still achieving his end goal while acquiring Shinra's substantial monetary assets. It was a very tempting carrot indeed. "I shall consider your offer Mr. Highwind. And as a show of good faith, I ask that you allow me to return you to your home and retrieve my associate. What say you?"

"You don't understand, Valentine. Wasn't ever a time I messed somethin' up when I didn't have another plan goin'." A lie, but Cid felt it was a fair one to tell. "There won't be any need fer do-overs. I might be nothin', but most o' the time I know exactly what I'm doin'. It's how t'get there that's been th'problem." Not like they don't already know where I live. Still…. "Don't be upset with the kid. He just wants t'make th'world a better place. At the end o' the day, I think that's what we all want. We just have diff'rent perspectives as to what 'better' is. I know exactly how brutal yer world can be, an' I know that some people ain't cut out t'be a part of it. Yeah, come get yer kid outta my house 'fore he raids the refrigerator again. He c'n eat, y'know that? Damn." Cid stood and pulled on his coat again, realizing only then that he had never ordered so much as a drink. That was just as well; he wouldn't have had time to drink it anyway.

Vincent smiled indulgently, amused that Highwind felt so confident about what he thought he knew. As the cop gathered up his coat and put it on, his eyes sought out Tseng's, and he nodded slightly, once as he replaced his dark glasses and put a hundred gil note down on the table. His second quickly got up from the bar and walked parallel to them, threading his way around tables, as they made for the front door. Vincent grinned when he saw the cop pale and fidget with the tie on his trench coat at the appearance of Tseng. "Easy, Highwind," he chuckled, "as long as you stay on the right side, my associate posses to threat to you." He turned to Tseng and said in a low voice, "We are returning Mr. Highwind to his home and retrieving Reno."

Tseng nodded briskly to both Vincent and Cid before exiting the restaurant ahead of them, speaking softly into the lapel of his jacked and summoning Rude to pull the car around. Once it had arrived Tseng opened the door and indicated Cid get in first, with Vincent sliding in afterward. Tseng passed a cold, observant glance around the area one last time, before he climbed into the front passenger seat. Once settled and the car pulled away from the curb, Vincent said, "Mr. Highwind's residence if you please Mr. Rude. I believe Reno wants to come home."

Rude nodded and shifted direction accordingly. The following drive was a silent one, and Vincent sat and thought about the possibilities that were now available to him, going over pros and cons, until he turned his head to regard Cid Highwind thoughtfully. The cop sat staring out the window, his chin propped up on the palm of his hand and apparently lost to his own thoughts. The streetlights flashed across his rugged features, glinting off of his eyeglasses and Vincent saw something that he had missed before. Green eyes, he thought abruptly. At Hollander's, the man I had bumped into when we were leaving after collecting Hollander's debt. He frowned. So Highwind was tailing him, which meant that others had to have been as well, and he was willing to bet Cerberus that the cop was at Hollander's the first time he and Tseng had paid a visit. He needed information. It seemed that the authorities were becoming more active as of late and he needed to why. But there would be time for that, he thought as the car pulled up alongside the curb outside Cid's apartment. He would see to it.

After they had all gotten out of the vehicle, and Highwind had begun walking up to let them into his apartment, Vincent turned his back to the cop and murmured to Tseng, "Have Rude drive somewhere else and wait for us. I don't want my car seen parked in front of this building. Not in this neighborhood. That's a complication I do not want to deal with." He paused Tseng's action, as his second bent to comply with his orders, with a touch to the man's elbow. "Tell him to keep his radio on and stay alert. No doubt there are other cops prowling around down here."

"Do you wish me to join you upstairs?" Tseng replied just as quietly.

"Yes, but wait a moment before coming up." Vincent smirked. "I think you make the cop nervous, and I want him a little more relaxed than he already pretends to be. We're invading his home and that tends to make people nervous, twitchy, and that's when accidents happen. I would prefer to avoid one if at all possible."

"Understood," Tseng said with a nod and they parted.

At Cid's confused look from he to Tseng as he walked up, Vincent smiled. "Tseng will be up shortly, he has some business to attend to," he lied smoothly.

Cid nodded hesitantly and opened the door. As they climbed the stairs of the old apartment building, Vincent, lip lifting in distaste, was careful not to touch more than was necessary. The floor was filthy and the walls were stained with he didn't even want to know what. There was trash jammed into corners, and a pervasive odor that might have been food at one point, but certainly didn't smell edible anymore. They stopped in front of a battered and scratched wooden door that looked as if it had been ripped off of its hinges by a kick-in more than once, and whose number – 302 – had a screw missing so that the "2" was upside down and read "307" instead. Cid had to jiggle the key for nearly thirty seconds before the lock finally gave and the door swung inward.

As they walked in and as Cid shut the door, Vincent looked around the extremely small dwelling. He was startled to see that it was surprisingly clean in comparison to the squalor of the hallway. There was a light lingering smell of cigarette smoke that he strangely didn't find offensive, some dirty dishes in the sink and old mail scattered in forgotten, mountainous piles over the tiny dining room/kitchen table, the stove's burners were rusty but the surface was clean, the ancient refrigerator was humming happily –and rather loudly– in the corner while the kitchen sink had a persistent and slow drip. Cid tossed his coat over a chair with an uneven leg, grinned lopsidedly and headed into the equally tiny "living room." There Vincent found a battered old television set with twisted wire hangers for rabbit ears on a broken TV stand held level by several thick books on law and aeronautical engineering, and he had to wonder how those books even caught the cop's attention let alone made it back here to become an involuntary 'leg' for a TV stand. In the corner there was a ratty old armchair with burn holes in the arms and a frayed headrest, and two bookshelves filled with aviation books and cookbooks with a couple of old mystery novels wedged in between them, while the walls held a couple of old framed photographs of late-model airships.

Along the far wall stretched an old, worn-looking leather couch with a TV tray by one end of it, and by the looks of things Vincent was willing to bet that this was where the cop did most of his sleeping. It was here that Reno was stretched out and moaning softly, his face a mess of cuts and bruises. His white shirt was missing – Vincent had that – and he wore only his jacket, slacks and shoes. Kneeling by his side and dabbing at the wounds with what looked to be a washcloth was a lovely young woman, also wearing glasses. Upon seeing them she rose to her feet with a worried look at Reno, and clutching the washcloth to her chin. Vincent nodded to her and approached the couch to take her place on his knees by the semi-conscious young man. He removed his dark glasses and set them on the TV tray then placed his hands to either side of Reno's face. When he spoke his voice was gentle and patient. "Reno," he said as the redhead stilled a little. "Reno, can you hear me?"

"Uuuhhhgggnnn," Reno moaned, his legs continuing to slide up and down on the couch. The young man's hands came up to grip Vincent's wrists as his teal-colored eyes slowly focused upon his face while he blinked rapidly. "Boss?"

"Yes, it's me," Vincent said, grin still in place. "I've heard that you've gotten into quite a bit of trouble here lately."

"Awwww," Reno groaned again, this in shame. "I'm sorry boss, I didn't see it comin', I didn't think-"

"Shh," Vincent said, firming his grip a little on Reno's face. "We'll talk about it later. Right now the important thing is that you're all right." A brisk knock on the front door interrupted them and he jerked his head up, senses already reaching out to identify who was beyond it. Both Cid and the woman had jumped and the cop had somehow acquired a firearm from somewhere, but he already knew who it was. "That would be Tseng, let him in please." He turned back to Reno. "Can you sit up?"

"I-I think so." Reno said and with Vincent's help managed to get into a sitting position. "My face hurts."

Vincent chuckled. "I imagine so. I met the man who used your face as a punching bag and he's relatively muscle-bound," he said wryly.

"No shit," Reno said groggily, rubbing his bruised jaw. "What happened?"

"I knocked him out," Vincent replied. "Just backhanded him right into the wall. I tell you, who really puckered my ass was that runt who talked too much. I nearly broke his neck."

"Poor bastard," Reno laughed. "I know exactly how he felt."

Cid was much more uncomfortable than he liked to admit, and he was genuinely sorry for involving Shera in this. He tugged her into the kitchen area, setting the washcloth under the faucet to quiet the dripping. "Sher, I- you c'n go home if y'want. If shit goes down, I don't want y't'be here."

"I'll be all right," Shera said, placing a hand on his arm.

Head dropping onto his other hand as he began the familiar habit of massaging his temples, Cid sighed, "That ain't th'point. I shouldn't've asked y't'stay with 'im."

"Someone had to, Cid," she answered, and her voice was gentle as she wrestled his hand away from his face. "Stop doing that. It gets fingerprints on your lenses."

"I can't help it!" he snapped, then sighed again. "It didn't hafta be you. But I wouldn't really trust nobody else with it, not even Aerith. Well, if y're gonna stay…boil us some tea?"

"The usual, or the good stuff?"

Cid considered this. He shouldn't tell her to prepare anything for people who might not even stay to enjoy it, but… "Yeah, the good stuff. Good thinkin', kid."

"Sure thing." Shera winked and set about gathering cups.

Cid reentered the living room and winced at the sight of his three…guests…huddled on his couch. "I, uh…m'sorry it ain't much. I…y're all more'n welcome t'stay fer tea. How ya doin' t'day, kid? Y'look a little better."

"Don't feel much better," Reno grumbled back, shaking his head lightly. "Hey, listen…you didn't hafta keep me here. That was…well, thanks, I guess," he finished after some gentle prodding from Tseng.

Yeah, I did, actually… "Well, y'sure weren't fit t'be tryin'a go anywhere. Toldja I'd getcha home, didn't I?"

The "kid" nodded and smiled a tiny, dry smile that made Cid's heart ache for some reason.

"Look, I…" Cid trailed off, shaking his head. He had never been embarrassed before by the state of his home or the neighborhood around it…not that he had ever had many guests. And really, he shouldn't care one bit what these people thought, these people who had likely passed judgment on him long before seeing where and how he lived. Still, with Valentine's unshielded, appraising eyes taking in everything, it was hard not to feel self-conscious. He shuffled his feet and stared at the floor, unsure of whether the intrusion or simply Valentine's presence that made him uncomfortable. "M'sorry I don't have more t'offer y'all, that's all. I uh …make yerselves at home, I guess. I- tea's almost ready, so I hope y'll stay for it."

He dragged over a chair from the kitchen table and sat backwards in it, facing the three men on his couch who were at the same time less frightening and more intimidating than the three who had visited him a few nights ago. "You all don't think very much o' me, do ya? Can't say I blame ya. But I ain't trash," he finished firmly, determined for some reason to defend himself in the face of comments that did not exist.

Vincent opened his mouth to speak but it was Tseng who beat him to it, surprising him, because the stoic Wutaian usually never bothered to involve himself in interactions beyond their own circle. "It is not our place to pass judgment upon you, Mr. Highwind, until we have all the facts. Often how a man lives does not adequately nor accurately reflect his true character. Rather it is his deeds that do, and your obvious attempt to care for Reno tells me that you are a man of honor."

Vincent sat back, his lips quirked up in a smile as he looked thoughtfully at his second. "That's the most I've heard you speak, Tseng, to someone other than myself or Reno and Rude."

"I speak when I have something to say or the individual is worth my time." Tseng huffed curtly. "Shut your mouth, Reno."

"Indeed," Vincent said, catching Cid's eye and giving him an amused wink, while Reno continued to gape openly at Tseng.

Just then, Shera came into the sitting room, carrying a laden tray. "Tea's ready!" She said merrily and began to distribute the mugs. Vincent took a sip just as Tseng did and both of their heads came up abruptly to look at Cid, rather surprised.

"Wutaian." Vincent said, and Tseng nodded appreciatively. "I haven't had Wutaian tea since I left that country." He shared a look with Tseng, then turned back to regard Cid with a newfound respect. "This is genuine and extremely difficult to come by. Where did you find this?"

Acceptance, or what passed for it, somehow made Cid even more fidgety than he had been while waiting for one of them to say something deprecating. He shuddered in something between confusion and revulsion when Valentine winked at him; that was honestly on his list of odd experiences he did not want repeated, and he very quickly looked away. Before commenting at all, he took a sip of his tea, making a face at the flavor. He truly did not enjoy the stuff and would gladly have tossed these men the entire case just the way gourmet foods often found their way into a basket for Shera instead of onto Cid's plate. Finally he replied to the question: "A gift from a good friend o' mine. She knows I like tea, an' she came across it on one o' her trips. Don't really care fer it, but I haven't gotten rid of it. Figgered it'd come in handy one o' these days," he drawled. "Guess that's t'day. Sher, you gonna have some?"

"Not tonight, Cid, sorry. I promised Johnny I'd be home tonight. You know he sometimes still suspects?"

"No shit? Damn, he's one stubborn sonuvabitch. Well, tell 'im g'night for me. I don't- I don't s'pose one o' y'all could make sure she gets home safe?" he asked. "Usually if it's this late, she just stays. Ain't safe t'be walkin' around this place alone, 'specially in th'dark."

"Cid, you know I'll be fine," Shera fussed, pulling on her coat. "Haven't I always been?"

"Hasn't he always come t'pick you up?" He turned and glared at the group of men on the couch, daring them to side with her. "At least help me talk some sense into 'er."

Tseng snorted and Reno laughed outright. "Ya can't talk sense into a woman, man. Haven't ya learned that?"

"Easy, Reno." Vincent said with a sigh and stood up, the other two getting up as well. "Actually, we really ought to be going." He carried his mug into the kitchen, followed by Tseng and Reno, and stood by Shera at the door. He looked at the young woman and smiled gently. "We would be happy to take you home, madam. A woman has no business walking alone in this neighborhood at night."

Shera blushed and nodded, looking down at the ground. Tseng opened the door and left first after a nod to Cid, followed by Shera and then Reno who gave the cop a lopsided grin and two fingered salute in farewell.

Vincent stood and looked at Cid for a long moment before he nodded and said, "I'll consider your offer, Highwind. And I would suggest that you consider what I said. Are you ready to sign you soul away to the devil? Because that's exactly what you would be doing." Then he gave a small bend at the waist and said, "I'll be in touch." Before turning away and following the others down the stairs and out of the building to the waiting vehicle outside.

"Soul?" Cid wondered aloud. "Can't remember how long it's been since I had one o' them." Melancholy, he flopped onto the couch and noticed a familiar pair of dark glasses. He picked them up in the same careless way he handled his own. Shera, no doubt, would have griped at him about fingerprints.

He looked thoughtfully at them as if they held the key to understanding the man who wore them, but upon learning nothing, set them back on the TV tray where Valentine had left them. Cid fell asleep scowling at them.