Special disclaimer for this chapter from calvi_sama: We do not in any way own, nor profit from, the characters and/or locations of FFVII, that would all be Square Enix. Also any other references to persons or products mentioned herein are purely coincidental *coughs*. Music from FFX composed by Nobuo Uematsu, and likewise belong to SquareEnix ^^

Also, as always, if you want the scenes deleted to conform to ffnet's rules, catch the uncut version at community (dot) livejournal (dot) com / cerberusgospel . The community is open to non-LJ members, so don't be shy!

There is also a built-in link in that version to the song Vincent plays for Cid, which is the reason for the above disclaimer. For those of you who'd rather just read it here, the song is specified at the bottom for you to look up on your own.

Squeezing Vincent's shoulder tightly before removing his hand, Cid started to say, "Yeah, I think I'll go fer the night," but stopped after he said it and grinned. "No, actually. There is one more thing I'd like. Would you…would you play for me? I saw the piano, and I wondered if y'd decided t'take it up again." He looked hopefully at Vincent, suddenly wanting very much to hear him play.

Vincent snorted softly. "I am afraid that I'm not very good, Cid. But I shall try." Vincent said, getting slowly to his feet and picking up his wine glass headed into the adjoining alcove that housed the magnificent black grand. He didn't have any sheet music, it all being back in his apartment in the ShinRa Tower, but he knew his composition that he had begun writing for his mother by heart. He set his wine glass down within reach by the music stand and looked sadly down at the keys. He felt the cop's presence behind him and he said softly, "This piece I wrote for my mother. It is not finished, she-she died before I got a chance to." And with that he laid his fingers on the familiar keys and began to play, his eyes slowly falling shut as the haunting melody filled the room.

Cid moved to the side as Vincent began playing so he wouldn't smother the other man with his closeness. He stood transfixed at the way Vincent's hands and body moved as he played, as if the music were playing him instead of the other way around. He noticed the lack of paper music and knew that every note was important, significant in some way, and that Vincent would not miss a single one. The tune lasted about two minutes, during which time Cid had hardly blinked. It was sad and quiet but somehow hopeful, and Cid was less surprised than he would have liked to be when he noticed that he had begun to cry. Two minutes, he learned, could be an eternity when everything during it spoke of loss. He did not know when he had moved to stand behind Vincent again, nor could he remember making the conscious decision to put his arms around Vincent's shoulders, but they were there. "Finish it fer me," he whispered. "Just because she isn't around to hear it, don't give up on somethin' so beautiful."

Vincent too had moisture on his cheeks after he finally dropped his hands from the keys, and he leaned back into the warmth behind him. He brought a shaky hand up and hastily swiped at the errant tears the song had called forth. He turned in Cid's arms to look up at the man and said softly, plaintively, "I do not know how. Beauty cannot survive in this world, it is devoured as soon as it is born." His eyes began to burn again and he glanced away, blinking rapidly and looked down at his hands. "How can I tarnish beauty with these hands that have only perpetuated darkness and all that is ugly in mankind?"

Cid could feel his heart begin to break at the sight before him. He released Vincent's shoulders reluctantly and moved to stand beside him. Soon Vincent's hands were in his, and he kissed the fingers that had just graced the keys of the piano. "That's not how it works. The beauty washes away all that. Let it cleanse you, let it swallow you whole, an' then you'll know how it ends." He held Vincent's hands a bit longer, until he suddenly became ashamed of his rough, almost stubby fingers in light of Vincent's smooth, elegant ones. He wanted to give comfort without accidentally causing discomfort, but he did not know how, and another tear rolled off his face before he could stop it. "Beauty doesn't die, Vincent. It sleeps. It stays dormant until someone comes along who c'n wake it up again." His hands, much too rough to play the part, took either side of Vincent's face. Cid winced briefly at the contrast but held his ground. He only had to look into Vincent's eyes for half a second to know what to do next. He leaned in to kiss him again, and when it broke, Cid found himself on his knees with one arm around Vincent's waist, craning up to keep reaching the other's lips. "Wake it up, Vincent. It's slept in you a long time."

Looking down into Cid's face, Vincent felt something deep inside himself stir, something he thought dead and rotted away. He brought his fingers up to trail down the cop's weather-beaten and weary face, stared into the exhausted blue eyes and saw something there that he hadn't noticed before: warmth, compassion…and hope. Without thought he dropped his mouth down onto Cid's, desperately as though to coax that very hope into his own starved soul. He thrust deeply with his tongue, encountering Cid's and sliding along it. He felt that tingle of awareness he had felt before only this time so much stronger, the possibilities both terrifying and yet too wonderful to pass up, and before he could listen to his better judgment his heart decided for him. "Stay with me." He breathed, his forehead resting against Cid's and his eyes closed in an effort to keep that warmth with him a little while longer.

"Always," Cid breathed back, "if you'll let me." He shifted his arms to hold Vincent tighter to him, ignoring the pain in his neck that came with straining upwards this way. Gently, he tugged at Vincent's waist in an attempt to bring him to a height level that would be more comfortable for them and give him better access.

Vincent gave the smallest hint of a smile and held his ground. Instead of allowing the cop to pull him down he rose to his feet and tugged gently on one rough hand until Cid stood and without another word spoken began to walk to the bedroom and enormous bed there. He left the lights off, instead letting the lights from the city illuminate the room. He stood with his back to the cop, his heart thundering in his chest and he swallowed nervously. He had never done this voluntarily before, and he was a little uncertain as to what to do, his only experiences having been of pain and force. Slowly he turned to face Cid, and watched the man out from under a thick obsidian mane.

Cid's eyes widened when he realized what Vincent was asking. He shook his head once in denial; how long had he fought to keep himself from wanting this? How many times had he forced himself from thinking of it out of respect? Now here he was, at a complete loss. Would this be betrayal, or would that be better defined as walking out the door? His shocked gaze found Vincent's, and he stared until he found some composure. With no better ideas in mind, he pushed the hair back from Vincent's face and kissed him again, opening his mouth to Vincent's tongue as his own returned the favor. He wound his arms around Vincent's body and held him close, but left the grip loose enough for Vincent to pull away if he so chose. Tseng had said this would require time, but Cid was beginning to believe that maybe Tseng was telling a stronger truth when he said he did not truly know Vincent. When the kiss broke, he nuzzled Vincent's cheek and whispered into his ear, "If we're gonna do this…I need you t'know that I will stop the second you tell me you want to and will think no less of you. Understand that. I couldn't forgive myself if I hurt you over this."

Not trusting his own voice, Vincent backed up far enough to slip his slightly shaking hands up between them and began to unbutton his shirt. When he finished, he let it hang open, but made no move to remove it from his body. Finally he whispered, "Do you not want this? Did I misread your touch? Mishear your words?"

"I want…this. I want it, but not because I want you to feel like you owe it to me. I can't accept it from you if that's all this is." His eyes pleaded with Vincent to assure him that this was not spawned from a sense of obligation, and his hands, also shaking, found places to rest on the newly bared skin of Vincent's body. "I want you so much," Cid groaned, feeling utterly helpless as he fought the last round of his internal battle. "But I love you, too, and that's more important. Tonight is yours, Vincent, and it matters much more t'me what you want."

"You love…?" Vincent trailed off, utterly shocked at Cid's confession. "But-but you do not know me, how can you…?" He tried very hard not to focus entirely upon the man's hands upon his chest, the rough way they brushed over his flesh to leave it tingling and hypersensitive. Unconsciously he had pushed into the contact even as he looked, completely stunned, down into Cid's face.

"All right. Then I care about ya, an' I wanna love ya. That sound better?" Cid asked as he finally pushed off Vincent's shirt. He had to contradict Vincent on one decision; the light from outside was not bright enough. "It ain't somethin' anybody c'n explain, Vincent, least of all me, but I just do." He ran his hands once down Vincent's sides, then brought them up higher to let his thumbs trace lazy circles around nipples that were quickly becoming very interested. "An' if we've learned anything, it's that I make a lousy liar, huh?" he said, smiling, as he led Vincent to the large bed.

Vincent had watched Cid's hands on his chest in a daze, his belly knotting and his groin becoming increasingly tight. Now the cop was gently pushing him back onto the bed and slowly easing him up until he lay completely upon it with Highwind settled in between his parted thighs. The weight from Cid's hips pressing down into his crotch was both horrible and delicious and quite on their own his own hips began to rock up into the pressure. He was being smothered in contact as Cid kissed him again, harder, fiercer than the other times and he moaned softly, wrapping his arms around Cid's clothed torso. All of his senses, all he could see, touch, taste, feel and hear was nothing but the other man, and this time he did get dizzy as his breathing turned into ragged pants.

_insert deleted scene here_

It didn't take much longer before Vincent barked out a hoarse cry as his body released, causing him to curl up, tightening his abdominal muscles and thighs as his buttocks clenched and he came in short, quick thrusts of his hips as he fisted his hands in the coverlet once again. He clenched his jaw and was otherwise silent until his body was entirely wrung out. When he finally began to relax, his legs were shaking and his limbs were growing heavy. He lay still, breathing in soft, shallow pants as he looked out the window at the unique skyline. He felt dirty and used even though he had been the one to receive the pleasure, and when Cid moved out from between his legs he curled up onto his side, wrapped his arms around himself and pulled his knees up to his chest. He was beginning to think he had made a mistake.

Cid didn't know what he had done wrong, but when he saw Vincent curl away from him defensively, he figured it must have been something. "Vincent?" he asked, curling around the slimmer body and draping an arm over his companion. "What did I- what's wrong?"

Trying unsuccessfully not to cringe away from Cid, Vincent said softly, "You did nothing wrong. It felt very nice. Thank you for that." He didn't know why but he felt as though he wanted to weep, his eyes burned and his throat closed off. "I am just-just tired." And at that moment he had never felt so alone. He screwed his eyes shut and a tear finally escaped to fall onto the pillow that he had dragged down to prop under his head, and he curled up even tighter into himself. He reached out to try and drag a small corner of the coverlet over himself and only managed to cover his hips. It was the same every time, he always ended up naked and exposed, used and discarded, while those using him remained clothed, protected, distanced, and he opened his eyes to once again stare listlessly out the window.

"Don't you lie t'me," Cid said, a bit more harshly than he would have liked. He released Vincent, who appeared not to want his company anymore, and began pacing the room. "You wanted me t'stay, but you won't even let me hold you? Vincent, I- why d'you wanna hide from me? Is it th'scars? I have 'em too," he said softly, "though they're not much alike." To prove his point, Cid removed his shirt and dragged one of Vincent's hands from where he was lying on it and placed it on one of the worst ones, one he'd gotten during his first year on the streets before he'd learned the rules of Midgar. "Move over," he commanded, and Vincent scooted almost imperceptibly, but Cid wedged himself onto the mattress anyway. "Do you think that I don't want you because o' them? That isn't true. I just don't know where the line is between acceptin' pleasure from you an' forcin' you t'give it. You hafta set that, Vincent, 'cause I don't know what t'do." He pulled Vincent's arm over him carefully. "Is it any better if you hold me? I don't wanna let go of ya just yet." I don't ever wanna let go of ya.

"Don't look at me," he begged and when Cid turned away from him Vincent wrapped his arm around Cid's chest and clung to the man. He buried his face into the broad, tawny, heavily muscled back and wept. He dug his nails into Cid's pectoral and sobbed silently until he was completely exhausted and just lay there with his cheek against Cid's shoulder blade. His arm relaxed and said, his voice tired, "I do not know what is real any more, Cid. Sex is currency in my world, sex is a weapon, no don't….turn around, please-please allow me to remain like this." When Cid stilled again, he said, "Just once, I want something other than a lie…just once." He ended in a whisper. "I want something to fight for again."

Cid was silent until he knew for sure that Vincent was done speaking. He placed his hand over the one on his chest and wove their fingers together from behind, holding tightly to the hand he would have to release all too soon. "It might be, in your world, but it ain't gonna be your world anymore. S'gonna be ours. That's what you fight for, Vincent, for our world, 'cause it's not a lie. S'our job t'make it the truth." He soon found himself fidgeting; he was not used to being held. "Why can't I look atcha? Wanna make it better, Vincent. Wanna hold ya."

He squeezed Vincent's hand and shuddered as their fingers moved together over his chest, accidentally brushing against a nipple. He could feel hot breath on his neck from Vincent's rapid but slowly calming breathing. All this reminded him that he had declined Vincent's offer to bring him pleasure, and that his body had not agreed with him when he said that pleasing Vincent would be enough. Cid raised the pale hand to his lips and kissed it before letting go of it. He worked off the jeans he was wearing while trying not to wriggle too much and kicked off both them and his socks when they got close enough to his feet.

"S'better," he said, pressing back against Vincent more firmly now that he could fully appreciate the contact. "Yeah, that feels good," he muttered. "If I promise not t'look, c'n I hold you too? Wrap you up in these ol' arms an' rock you t'sleep? ...Right after we call Tseng an' let 'im know he c'n go home fer th'night, o' course." Cid had learned much about Vincent tonight, and of all the secrets he held, he knew that those would be kept most private and closest to his heart.

"I am not a child," Vincent murmured, pressing his cheek against the bare shoulder under it. "Regardless of how I might act at times." He voice held warm humor, and he squeezed briefly before he whispered, "You still wish to stay?" At the cop's nod he didn't, for life of him know why, but…"Good, that pleases me." It was also a good excuse to get out of bed and collect himself after that embarrassing display of pent up emotions that he apparently hadn't known he'd had. Slowly he slid out of bed and got up, going first to retrieve a pair of loose silk sleep pants – he needed something on, not liking being completely nude and exposed. He slid them on and then crouched down to retrieve his phone from his discarded pants pocket. Standing back up he wandered over to the wall of floor to ceiling windows and dialed Tseng's number. He looked down at the brightly lit city, placing his fingers lightly on the glass as he waited for Tseng to pick up the phone. Finally he heard his second's voice.

"Yes, sir?" No hello, no name…just how Tseng operated.

"Mr. Highwind shall be staying here tonight." Vincent said softly. "Go home and get some rest, I've been running you like a dog these last several weeks. Take some time for yourself."

"Vincent?" Tseng said slowly. "Are you all right? Did something happen that I need to know about?"

"No…no, everything is fine. I'm just…tired, is all." He replied, voice never changing tone or pitch. He stared down at a tiny neon sign.

"We're all tired niisan," Tseng said quietly. "I'll have my phone, call me when you need me. Oh, and Vincent? Be careful…"

"I will. Thank you, Tseng." And with that the call ended. Vincent snapped the phone shut, but didn't turn around. "Look at them down there." He said to Cid, himself, no one in particular. "Going about their simple little lives, just trying to survive, make ends meet, all while I slowly fall apart up in here my glass and marble castle…my coffin…my death." He laughed softly, sadly. "Oh, how I wish I were one of them: unimportant, invisible, forgotten."

Cid sat up, not liking Vincent's tone or his words, and looked at him looking out the window. He was unsure whether it would be better to stay where he was or to go to Vincent. His personal preferences won out in the end, and he moved to stand behind Vincent. "Everything's…to scale. To them, their problems are as big as yours are t'you. They're not as unimportant an' invisible as you think they are. I'm only just recently learnin' that m'self." He did not attempt to hold Vincent again, but he did lean forward to rest his chin on the shoulder he'd kissed earlier. "Say, Vincent?" he asked curiously. "How old are ya?"

"Ah, but you see." Vincent replied leaning in toward Cid's head with his own. "I'd wager that those people do not wake up every morning wondering who it they shall have to kill or intimidate, or whose family they are going to rip apart. My past…the things I have done, shall forever set me apart from them." He leaned a little into Cid, enjoying the comforting presence of the other before he answered the cop's question. "Thirty-four, but I feel as though I should be sixty-four. Why?"

Cid chuckled. "I dunno why. Just seemed like somethin' I oughta know. Didn't expect ya t'be older'n me, that's fer sure." They stared for a while, the silence this time bearable and even companionable, before Cid said, "Let's go back t'bed. I think we could both use a little sleep, prob'ly, an' there ain't no guarantees fer me that y'll still be here when I wake up, so I wanna make sure y're at least here when I fall asleep. If y'just wanna stand here a little more…well, I'd like a goodnight kiss in that case," he said eagerly, tugging teasingly on one of Vincent's arms to encourage him to turn around.

Vincent looked over his shoulder at Cid, raising an eyebrow. "Older than you?" He winced theatrically. "If you look like that at 'under thirty-four', I would hate to see how you look at forty. My mind just refuses comprehend that." His lips quirked in a little grin, but he allowed Cid to pulled him back towards the bed. They settled side by side and Vincent put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. "Such a strange turn of events…" he turned his head then to look at Cid, and asked curiously, "Why you? Of all the people they could have put on me, I wonder why they chose you."

"Hey, m'just a little…rugged, a' right? Y're just jealous. Couldn't grow stubble like this if y'tried, I bet." He grinned back, situating himself beside Vincent and looking happily at him until he had to stop smiling to think very hard. "Hm…could be 'cause they figured y'd kill the first one y'caught followin' ya. Hell, I dunno how they think, not even Lazard. Ain't complainin', though," Cid said, winking.

Vincent snorted, mind elsewhere. "I would not want to grow 'stubble' like yours even if I could…'rugged'." Vincent chuckled and shook his head. "If that is how you prefer to call it, then I shall abide by your wish, although we both know the truth. You just do not age well…ow!" Vincent said, laughing as Cid pinched his side in retaliation. Still laughing Vincent rolled onto his side, dragging the coverlet over them both. Tucking his arm under the pillow that currently supported his head, and still chuckling he said, "Go to sleep, Cid."

Cid peeked over Vincent's body in a bad imitation of stealth. "'ey. Not even a little one?"

Vincent cracked one eye and rolled halfway over to look quizzically at Cid. "Little one, what?"

Blinking in disbelief, Cid replied, "A kiss, o' course. Don't reckon as I'd get much sleep without one." The grin he showed now was the same as the one he'd sported when they were laughing together moments ago, but his eyes were sincere as he leaned in to emphasize his point.

Vincent's smile slowly faded as he rolled completely onto his back to look up into Cid's face. He watched the man for a moment before he reached up, threading his fingers through the soft blond hair and pulled Cid's mouth down onto his own. This kiss wasn't frantic or hard, but rather soft and tender, gently searching rather than demanding and desperate. When he released the cop and rolled back onto his side, shutting his eyes he murmured softly, "Thank you…Cid." And finally let his exhausted body sleep.

Satisfied with the kiss and even more so with the fact that he was going to wake up tomorrow in this warm bed pressed against a warm body, Cid also closed his eyes. Before he could sleep, though, he took a moment to revel in the fact that Vincent had laughed for him, honestly and openly and not in cynicism. It was that thought on his mind as he fell asleep, smile firmly in place as he rolled to face away from Vincent, their backs touching practically all the way down.

He woke in the morning prepared to attempt to make breakfast for them, but found that he could not move. Vincent was lying on his chest, legs between Cid's, and one of Cid's arms had ended up tossed haphazardly over Vincent's back; it slipped to thump against the mattress even as he noticed it. "Mm," he said, happily nuzzling and kissing the skin under Vincent's chin. Don't know how you got there, but don't move.

Vincent woke up slowly. He was seriously uncomfortable, his neck hurt and there was a kink in his lower back that made him wince, but he was warm, and that was a first in a very long time. He nuzzled into his pillow as he squirmed and tried to stretch, grunting softly only to realize that his "pillow" was another body…a very male body. Starting awake he pushed up on his arms and looked down at Cid Highwind's amused and sleepy face. Quickly he scrambled back onto his knees, shoving his hair out of his face even as it began to heat up. "My apologies, I-I must have shifted in my sleep…" He looked around confusedly.

"Hey, don't you worry 'bout it, not one little bit. I ain't slept that good in years. So sweet when y're sleepin', y'know that?" Sleepy or not, Cid knew that now he was awake, Vincent had to get off him soon if they were to maintain a civilized relationship this morning. "Think I'm gonna go shower, if y'don't mind. Y're more'n welcome t'join me, o' course," he said, grinning. "An' when I'm done, I'll cook ya some eggs like I cook fer me! …An' then by th'time that's done, I'll need t'take another shower…but anyway…Mornin'!"

"Uh, yeah," Vincent said dazedly and moved off of Cid so that the cop could get up. "The bathroom is through there. There are clean towels hanging by the shower and extras in the cabinet, use as many as you like. Point of fact, help yourself to anything you find in there." He said softly waving toward the door that was across the bedroom before turning away to sit on the edge of the bed. He sat like that a moment, staring at the ground and thinking about what had happened last night before he cringed and got up when Cid did. As the cop headed into the bathroom, Vincent made his way into his walk-in closet to find a suit to wear. He would shower at his other apartment. By the time Highwind was finished showering, Vincent was groomed and garbed in a casual, figure-flattering suit. He had brewed some coffee, and was now standing at the windows in the living room sipping a cup of the bitter liquid, and staring blankly out at the city-line as the sun continued its journey upward in the sky.

Cid, wearing only a towel around his hips, moved in behind Vincent and slipped an arm around his waist. He craned his head around the taller man's neck to plant a kiss on his cheek. "So why y'keep it so well stocked here if y'never use th'place?" His chest was pressed fully against Vincent's back, and he hoped Vincent felt as warm and secure as he did as a result of their closeness. No matter how he tried, Cid could not understand how he could feel anything close to comfort in the presence of a man like Valentine…but then he remembered that Vincent and Valentine were different parts of this man's life. He loved Vincent, or was starting to love him, but Valentine still unnerved him. He could be cold; Cid had seen plenty of that, but he could also be warm and a very pleasant companion. The tough exterior was deep, but it had been stretched so thin now that Cid wasn't sure how Vincent was still emotionally alive. "Vincent, are you…I don't want us t'go back t'bein' cold to each other. I know we gotta be when it's business, but when it ain't…it wasn't just nothin' fer me last night. I don't want it be just nothin' fer you." Unsure of how to ask this (for surely "Will you be my boyfriend?" would be a most inappropriate way), Cid could only hope Vincent caught the implication…and then hope for a favorable response.

A tic began in Vincent's jaw at the show of casual familiarity Highwind was displaying. He was confused and so torn that he was sure his soul was bleeding. He had taken such great pains to build defenses against the life he had been forced to live, until who he used to be had suffocated. He didn't know how Cid had managed it, but the cop had somehow revived that part of him that was so weak and near death, so that now it mewled and pleaded for succor. It could never work, and he would be deluding himself to think that it would.

They were from two different worlds, and if it got out that he had taken the companionship of someone from the across the legal and moral tracks then his days were very much numbered. Not to mention, he would be crippled, weakened and made vulnerable by this powerful new weapon to use against him. And he simply could not afford that. Especially not now. Not when someone wanted his life. His common sense and survival instinct told him to cut the cord between them and distance himself from Highwind before it was too late, even while what was left of his starved heart was whispering that it already was. The bottom line however, remained: he didn't want to hurt Highwind, even though he knew he inevitably would, but it would be infinitely more cruel to string the man along with false hopes. He needed to think about this…very carefully.

So he opted to skirt around the most obvious hint that the man was dropping and answer the easier question instead. "I believe in being prepared, so I be sure to keep stocked what I can because I never know when I shall require the use of this place." He kept his voice soft and carefully neutral. For now, he ruthlessly crushed down on the tiny, pathetic voice that pleaded he turn and allow the cop to hold him properly. He had to wean the cop off of him…somehow. He turned his head just enough that he caught the rougher features of the man in his peripheral vision and said, "Highwind, I would like to apologize for my behavior last night. It was weak and unfair of me to place my burdens upon you. I would be grateful if you would consider granting me your forgiveness." He had to force himself to remain in Cid's loose embrace while the man who he had become grew increasingly more uncomfortable, and the man whom he had been crooned peacefully, ripped apart in his own personal civil war. Distantly, he had begun to wonder just when it was that he had died.

That's how it's gonna be, huh? Well, I ain't givin' up on you, so y'c'n just stop that right now, y'dumbass, he thought as he squeezed Vincent briefly. "Hardly need t'be forgiven if y'didn't do nothin' wrong. An' I can't forgive ya fer what y're doin' now, 'cause yer tearin' yerself apart. I c'n feel ya doin' it, an' it's hurtin' me too. So don't," Cid said, dropping his head onto Vincent's shoulder and putting both arms around him. "Don't think about this, Vincent. Let yerself feel it. If y'won't...y're gonna lose what's left. I know ya think it's gone already, but it ain't. You proved that already. Keep it alive. Give in, Vincent, an' just feel. Don't make me let you go." He couldn't tell if he was ultimately making a difference, but he did know that his every word tormented Vincent. He knew it hurt, but there was no way to get around that. It would have to hurt at some point, and Cid figured it would be better for the pain to come now than later, because if it came later, it would bring with it regret. "Make love with me," he murmured against Vincent's neck just below his ear. "I won't look at all if that's what y'need."

"I can't," Vincent said, his voice barely a whisper. If you had asked me last night, I would have, he thought as he closed his eyes. If they came together in carnal union, there would be no going back, he knew that now. He turned slightly to look at Highwind. "I believe you now, and because of that I cannot give you what you seek." He reached up to touch Cid's cheek, but stopped just short of contact. "I'm sorry." The look in those cerulean eyes, the honesty he saw there, coupled with Cid's words only hardened his resolve and his inner voice finally fell silent. "Let me go, Highwind. Some dreams are never meant to be realized." He searched Cid's face, pleaded with his blood-colored eyes and breathed. "Let me go."

Cid's eyes first hardened, then almost immediately softened again. "No," he said, completing the contact Vincent had not quite made. He held that hand to his face and kept his eyes on Vincent's. "If ya really do believe me, then y'already know I can't. I don't want to, either, even though it hurts. You c'n kick me outta here now, but I'll always come back, an' I'll never give up on ya no matter how many times y'send me away."

"As you wish," Vincent said dispassionately, withdrawing his hand and reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone. Without breaking eye contact with Cid he punched in a speed dial number. "Tseng, Mr. Highwind needs a ride back to his residence." He then flipped the phone shut and replaced it. "Get dressed, Mr. Highwind. Tseng shall be here shortly." He turned away and headed into the kitchen to grab a glass, then rummaged around until he found the Vodka that he always kept stocked. He poured a glass, then took a gulp as the cop moved dazedly back into the bedroom, wincing as the liquid burned down his throat.

Suddenly he needed some air. Vincent walked over to the doors leading out onto the balcony and let himself out. He stood at the railing while the dirty, cold air moved around him, whipping his hair in a wild black cloud about his face. Someone was screaming. He shook his head to try and clear it, wincing as an unexpected pain lanced his heart. Someone was screaming, and he didn't know where it was coming from. He dropped the glass and it shattered on the ground into a thousand rainbow hued prisms. Gripping his head he clenched his jaw and leaned forward onto his elbows. Stop it…stop it, stop it! He begged as he fought for control, until just as abruptly as his glass had shattered, everything just stopped, and he was once again returned to the cold stillness that had become who he was. "Lucrecia…" he sighed in defeat. Never once did it occur to him that the one who had been screaming…was him.

So cold…Cid walked away, wondering what it was about him that repulsed people so much…besides the obvious. Vincent had already made it past the obvious and it had hardly bothered him. But now he had gone and said something wrong and screwed up something else, as was his lot in life. After quickly tugging on his pants, Cid grabbed his shirt and tie and went back out to find his jacket. He could see Vincent through the glass of the doors, apparently in agony, and Cid turned away to keep himself from running after him. In the end, even that did no good, because as soon as his shirt was buttoned, Cid opened the door to the balcony and stepped onto it. He would not invade Vincent's personal space again today beyond the bare minimum. Well…a bit more than the minimum. He placed a hand on Vincent's shoulder and said, "I'll go wait downstairs. I'll see you Friday. An' Vincent…give it some thought, since y'seem t'think it needs thinkin' about. I'll wait." With that and a peck of a kiss to Vincent's lips, stained with alcohol so early in the morning, Cid exited the penthouse and reentered the elevator.

"Then you shall wait in vain, Mr. Highwind," Vincent said coldly to the now empty apartment. Leaving the glass where it lay, he went back inside and stood in the doorway to the bedroom and stared at the rumpled bed. The air was still moist from Highwind's shower and much of the bedroom was still in shadow. Walking over to a chair that sat in the deepest one of them, Vincent sat down and stared out the window, mind blank and heart hollow.

An hour later, Tseng entered the apartment that he had visited only a handful of times in the past, carefully, after first knocking loudly and no one had answered. He didn't know what kind of mood Vincent would be in given the rather shell-shocked and exhausted state the cop had been in for the silent ride home. The door to the balcony stood open and Tseng went over to close it. "Vincent?" he called.

Nothing.

There was no one in the living room or kitchen areas, no one in the study, which only left one other place. The bedroom door was cracked open, and Tseng approached it carefully, reached out and knocked twice; still no answer. Frowning, he pushed open the door and stepped into the dim room. "Vincent?"

"I am here," Vincent said softly, and Tseng had to squint and wait until his eyes got used to the gloom before he could just make out Valentine in the corner. From what he could see, the man was pensive and exhausted. Beaten, Tseng thought, arching an eyebrow. He looks beaten.

"Are you all right, sir?" he asked, his black eyes missing nothing as he took in the state of the bedroom, from the rumpled sheets to the used bath towel in a discarded heap by the dresser. It was a loaded question, and thankfully he didn't have to elaborate upon its finer connotations.

"Yes, thank you." There was a brief moment of awkward silence before Vincent rose and walked out the door, Tseng falling in behind him.

"Do you have everything, sir?"

"Yes," Vincent said shortly and allowed Tseng to overtake him and hold the front door open for him. As Vincent passed him he paused, took out his dark glasses and put them on, still not looking at him. "I need you to do something for me, Tseng."

"Of course, sir," he replied easily.

"The piano," Vincent murmured, pausing long enough for him to look over his boss's shoulder and just catch a glimpse of the meticulously cared for piece in question. He looked back at Vincent with a raised brow. "Get rid of it." And Vincent continued past him to wait by the elevator.

Tseng was shocked speechless, and only gaped after his friend. Vincent loved that piano. He had been so proud when he'd found it. "Sir?" he asked, only just managing to keep from sounding as shocked as he felt. He couldn't get rid of that!

"Do I need to repeat myself, Tseng?" Vincent asked, back still to him.

It was a rare moment indeed when Tseng was ever gripped with the urge to pry out of disrespect, and now was just such a moment, but he knew better. He knew that he would never receive the answers he longed for, and so had it always been since the day Vincent had shown up on his doorstep out of the blue almost four years ago. Instead he sighed and shook his head sadly. "No, sir." And with that he shut the door with a 'click' of sorrowful finality.

And the song, in case you didn't hit calvi's version of the chapter, is "To Zanarkand" from Final Fantasy X, composed by Nobuo Uematsu. I had fallen in love with it the first time I heard it, and I shared it with her, and we agreed that it fit Vincent perfectly, especially in this fic. Review if you agree? Or if you disagree. Or if you have no opinion, or a split opinion, or want to rant at us about the horrible day you've had...*desperate*

Thanks for reading!