No warnings for this chapter :D Sorry it's a day late. Enjoy!

"Aerith, honey, think y'c'n do me a favor of a personal nature?"

Aerith raised an eyebrow, interested but still absorbed in her crossword puzzle. "Hm?"

"I need somebody followed."

"Cid," she sighed, "I'm not going to stalk him for you. For one thing, you need to approach him yourself. For another…isn't that kind of your job?"

"Not Vincent," Cid said, setting a cup of tea in front of her. "His buddy. Tseng. I need t'figure out how t'find him when 'e ain't on duty, an' I can' very well follow 'im seein' as he knows me."

"What makes you think I'll get away with it? This is what he's trained for. He'll probably think I'm that guy from the party and just shoot me down."

"Nah," he grumbled hoarsely, knowing Aerith was just trying to be difficult.

"What's in it for me, anyway?" she asked, finally looking up from the newspaper and tucking her pencil behind her ear.

"Made ya tea, didn't I?" he teased, racking his brains to find a suitable reward. "Well, he's a pretty good-lookin' fella. Y'might hit it off, an' if not, at least y'get some eye candy, right?"

"You're lucky I want you to be happy, you know that?"

"I know it," Cid said, turning the task over to Aerith. He had figured out that Tseng would have to be caught with his guard down if there were any chance of him helping Cid. He was, however, beginning to wonder if a man like Tseng ever truly relaxed. Every time Cid had met him, he had been uptight to the point of being stuck up. The information-gathering would be tricky, but it would probably be worth it if it worked. An' anyway, I got through t'Vincent, didn't I? Well, sorta. Tseng can't be too much harder.

Vincent had been irritable all week. He had hardly slept, choosing instead to either work or pace his tiny apartment. His work, when he elected that route, usually went poorly because he found himself thinking about Highwind, of what the man had said, and the crushed look he had seen in the blue eyes when he had called Tseng. It also hadn't helped that Rufus had ridden him all week as well, demanding that he go 'personally' to collect on trivial debts that he normally would have sent Reno or Rude to collect on. Vincent knew that Rufus was testing him, and given the state of things right now with everything else in his life, he needed to keep Rufus complacent and happy. He didn't get this far to have things implode on him now, so close to the end.

"I can hear you thinking from here, sir, and it's rather painful," Tseng said from behind the wheel as he drove Vincent to yet another meeting with Highwind.

"Then don't listen," Vincent grumbled back. "Did you get word on the investigation of the raids on those medical supply caravans to Junon?"

"Yes, Verdot and the others had apprehended them all I believe and are en route back to Midgar as we speak," Tseng said, signaling and turning onto a residential street. "He was very glad for the reassign."

Vincent snorted. "I'll bet he was, are any of them still able to speak?" He wanted to question them thoroughly, and find out who had told them to use his name.

"Three or four of them last I heard, higher ups so they'll be able to tell you what you want to know, I think." Tseng chuckled. "As for the rest of them, it's doubtful they'll regain consciousness any time soon, if at all."

"I'm impressed," Vincent had to grudgingly admit. "Verdot does have self-restraint."

"Don't tell him that, sir," Tseng said, and Vincent could hear the grin his second had on his face, in the man's voice. "The last thing we need is Verdot getting a swelled head."

Vincent groaned. "Perish the thought. He's already arrogant enough; he doesn't need to think I'm favoring him. That would just make him annoying as well as insufferable."

"Precisely," Tseng said, pulling the vehicle to a stop outside a respectable apartment complex, "but he is good at what he does."

"That he is," Vincent conceded. "He's professional and he cleans up after himself. He has intelligence, which is why I leave him alone." He sighed and rubbed his temple. "Do I have to do this?"

Tseng turned around and gave Vincent an incredulous look. "Are you whining, Vincent?"

Vincent glared back at his second. "No, I am simply voicing my displeasure at having to meet with the cop right now. There is too much going on at the moment that needs my attention and…why are you grinning like that?"

"You are whining," Tseng said smugly. "Don't bother to deny it, I've known you too long."

Vincent had nothing to say to that, so remained silent, which only earned him a victorious smirk from Tseng. "Try and have some fun this evening, sir."

"Shut up," Vincent grumbled and got out of the car, making a point to slam the door a little harder than he had to.

Over the quiet clamor of Cid's rather busy apartment, louder-than-necessary footsteps could be heard as someone came down the hall. Intrigued, Cid opened the door and was surprised to find that the stomper was Vincent, who stopped moving when Cid poked his head around the doorframe and called, "Hey, Vincent! C'mon in. I uh, got a little unexpected comp'ny. Heh. Hey, you guys, this's Vincent, th'man I tolja was comin'. C'mon'n interduce yerselves."

Two more heads stuck out the door and focused their twin stares on Vincent. "Hi!" the smaller one piped, a little girl with a pink ribbon in her hair. The boy, whose head was easily inches higher than hers, just stared skeptically at the dark-haired man paused in the hallway.

Upon seeing the newest addition to the 'meeting', an unholy scowl pulled Vincent's lips down and narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Mr. Highwind, what is the meaning of this?" He looked at first one child and then the other before leveling his glare back on the cop. "I did not come here to 'baby-sit'."

"Aye…I know. I wasn't 'spectin' it either, like I said. They're good kids though, Vincent, real quiet an' all. Miss 'lena just didn't wanna leave 'em alone. She just dropped 'em by 'bout ten minutes ago, an' I thought about callin' t'reschedule with ya, but I knew y'd'a already been on yer way. C'mon in anyhow. Don't hafta stay too long, o' course, if y'don't wanna."

Damn, he looks even better wi'that hat o' his, Cid thought smugly as Vincent stepped inside. "Dinner oughta be here soon. Ordered pizza this time, seein' as I wouldn't want 'em chokin' down somethin' I cooked like you did."

A few feet away, Marlene was already occupied with her dolls again. She seemed to be playing a silent, unexciting game of make-believe with them, but Cid could not identify what that game might be. He had offered to play with her earlier, but she'd declined and said she didn't like boys. Cid had laughed, thinking that he was hardly a boy, but hadn't protested. Darned things're prob'ly covered in germs an' shit anyhow.

Denzel, on the other hand, was wandering restlessly around the house. His only complaint had been that there was nothing here; the TV only picked up "boring" channels, and Cid didn't have any interesting board games. His game systems had been left behind when they had moved out, so he couldn't play those, and he didn't feel like reading yet. He always fell asleep when he did, and it was much too early for that.

"Well," Cid said, taking note of the awkward silence in the room, "why don't we play a game?"

"You don't have any," Denzel pointed out miserably from the couch.

"Not every game has a board. Whaddaya say, Vincent? Charades? Pictionary? Got any suggestions?" Cid nudged Vincent with an elbow as he settled onto the arm of the couch next to him, trying to get him into the spirit…or at least pretend to be so the kids wouldn't feel unwanted.

Scowl still very much in place, Vincent said darkly, "I do not 'play games'." But the boy, Denzel, was eyeing him strangely, and he began to fidget. Raising an eyebrow he asked wryly, "Do you find something objectionable, young man?"

By way of reply, Denzel scooted closer, and reached for Vincent's dark glasses. Vincent caught the boy's wrist to stop its progress. "Bet'cha got red eyes under there," he said eagerly.

"Excuse me?" Vincent asked sternly.

"I know who ya are, I seen ya on the TV. Yer that Valentine fella, ain't'cha!" Denzel said, blue eyes going huge as recognition hit. "Marlene! C'mere! It's Vincent Valentine! Y'know, that guy from TV! The scary one that mom says we have'ta be careful of!"

Oh no, Vincent thought with growing horror. It was bad enough that Cid had children in his home, but now it was infinitely worse that these children recognized him! He eased back even further into the couch as Marlene came over, cocking her brown-haired head and blinking enormous brown eyes curiously. She didn't appear to care so much about who he was as to what was on his head. "Hey mister, I like yer hat, c'n I have it?" she asked, and reached for his fedora.

Vincent's other hand shot out to stop her hand in mid-grab. "No, you may not 'have it'."

"What's it like, Mr. Valentine? Bein' a mobster 'n all? D'you have'ta like beat people up all the time? Do people really recognize you wherever you go? 'Cause I'll bet they do. Man, that would be so cool! I'll bet'chu have a really neat car. D'you have a lotta guys workin' for ya? D'you have'ta, like, have all those really big meetings n' all where all the other big bosses get together? I'll bet th' girls really love y-"

Vincent cut Denzel off mid-sentence by removing his hand from the boy's wrist and firmly clapping it over his mouth instead. "Do you ever shut up?" he asked desperately. He pulled back as Marlene went for his hat again with her other hand, and he desperately wished he had at least two more arms. "Not the hat, young lady." But he wasn't quick enough to dodge Denzel's move as the boy snagged his dark glasses to reveal his crimson-colored eyes.

"Awesome!" Denzel said from behind Vincent's hand, which sounded more like: "awwwfoom".

"That's it," Vincent said, gently pushing Marlene back, snagging his glasses from Denzel's hand, and standing up. To Marlene he said, "Do not touch my hat." Then to Denzel he held up a finger and said firmly, "I am not a role model, young man, nor do I appreciate being pawed at. Have you no manners?"

Placing his glasses into the breast pocket of his suit coat, he leveled a look at Cid. "Do you have anything to drink, Mr. Highwind, or shall I drink out of the toilet?"

Cid glanced apologetically at Vincent as he wondered just what had gotten into the children. They had been incredibly well-behaved as far as he'd seen…but then, Vincent got him worked up as well, so he couldn't really blame them. "Y'all be nice t'Vincent. An' don't go tellin' nobody y'seen 'im, neither," Cid said as he went into the kitchen to fetch the "good wine" Lazard had left him. He poured a glass for Vincent and started to pour one for himself, but opted to play the responsible adult while the children were here. In three identical glasses, Cid poured grape juice, though he figured he would not fool the kids that way.

"Here we go," he said, handing the distinctly darker glass to Vincent and keeping the other three for himself and the kids. "C'mon an' sit back down, Vincent," he said, patting the cushion next to him. He very much wanted to collapse against Vincent's warmth and just stay there as he had before, but he knew that was positively not happening today. He'd be damned, though, if he let Vincent leave without a kiss.

Vincent gratefully took the wine glass, and took a sip. He nodded in approval, and then opted for the familiar beat up recliner instead of the couch. He didn't need to be smothered tonight. I knew I should have canceled, he thought miserably. Cid had given him that extra mako, so he could have opted out. But he never reneged on an agreement, not without a hell of a good reason. He was horrified on a very deep level that he had actually briefly considered pissing Rufus off enough to beat him unconscious again, but that would have kept him from going to the sanatorium, so it was not an option. What a mess things had become. How was he going to discourage the cops' amorous advances if he kept meeting him like this? With a deep, weary sigh, he took another drink of wine and rubbed his tired eyes.

Cid had nodded at Vincent when he'd seen the other man take the chair. Once a week, he noted, was much too often for them to meet as long as the distance between them was so great. The pizza arrived shortly, twenty minutes later than it should have, and Cid got it for half the price as a result. Denzel ate nearly half of what was ordered himself, while Marlene seemed to grow quite sleepy after eating. Cid raised an eyebrow as she turned to Vincent, pouting and seemingly near tears.

"Mommy always reads us a story. How come she ain't home yet?"

Cid glanced at the clock. It was indeed nearly the time Elena had given for Marlene's bedtime. "I'm sure she's just runnin' late, honey," he answered firmly, looking worriedly at Vincent.

Denzel let out a surprisingly loud belch and pushed his chair back. Cid suspected that he, too, was concerned as to his mother's absence and was being rude to cover it up. "I don't need any old story," he said, looking defiantly at Cid. "I can read."

"I know y'can," Cid said, trying to sound proud without sounding patronizing. "That what y're gonna do now?"

Denzel nodded and ran into the guest room, slamming the door behind him.

"Kids," Cid sighed, and turned to observe Vincent's progress with Marlene.

Vincent blinked at Marlene, as she looked up at him out of eyes much too large for her face. "What do you want me to do about it?" he asked awkwardly, and he knew he had said the wrong thing when a tear leaked out of an eye and down onto her cheek. He felt a softening in his chest. He reached out and brushed the backs of fingers down her soft, soft cheek, "I'm sure she's just running late, Marlene. Perhaps I might read you a story instead?"

"Yer not mommy!" Marlene said sorrowfully, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. "I want my mommy!"

Vincent sighed, leaning forward onto his knees and said, "No, I am not your mother. But you are making me sad with your tears, and do you know what I need when I am sad? To make it better?"

"What?" Marlene sniffled, curious despite her misery.

"A hug," he said, making his eyes as large and innocent as he could while giving her a small smile. "Do you think you could you give me a hug?"

Marlene eyed him a moment as though contemplating the request before she stepped in between his spread legs and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. Vincent's throat closed unexpectedly as he wrapped his arms around her slight body, and he inhaled the soft, clean scent of her hair. Would his son's hugs have felt like this? He suspected that they would have, only better. Without thinking he scooped Marlene up to sit on his lap and out of reflex she snuggled down into his chest, her tiny hand seeking out some strands of his long hair to twine around delicate little fingers. "I am sure your mother will return shortly, and until then I shall look out for you, all right? Would you permit me to read you a story? I would like that very much."

Marlene pulled back away from him and looked up into his face a moment before finally nodding and crawling off of his lap and over to a pink bag that she kept her dolls in. She rummaged around a little bit before she produced a ratty, severely dog-eared book, which she clutched to her thin little chest. She came back over to Vincent and timidly held it out to him. Vincent took the beloved book with careful reverence, "The Thirteen Adventures of Nanaki the Red, I do not believe I have ever read this one," he said, looking at Marlene with interest. "Is it good?"

"Uh-huh! It's my favorite!" Marlene said, clambering up onto Vincent's lap again, and curling up, hand finding its way back into his hair once more.

"Then I am sure I shall like it as well," Vincent replied, lifting the footrest and rocking them both back into a more comfortable position. He began to read while Cid manhandled the door to the guest room open to make sure Denzel was getting settled properly (and not tearing something up that he shouldn't be), and had only made it through the fifth adventure before Marlene had fallen asleep. He closed the book and laid it on the table by the chair. He was comfortable, warm, full, and the alcohol he had consumed has sucked what little strength was left in him right out, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep, with his nose buried in Marlene silky hair.

Cid stepped back into the living area after having a heart-to-heart with Denzel about setting an example for his sister (which had gone surprisingly well, for all appearances, at least), and he stopped dead at the view that greeted him. His warm smile at the sight of Vincent sleeping so soundly was not at all diminished by the fact that Marlene was sleeping on him…though he was a bit worried that they would both wake up in pain after sleeping in that chair. He flopped onto the couch and flipped through the book, amused by the drawings of a feline…thing with lots of decorations.

"S. Weaver, huh?" he asked aloud as he read the statement that the story was written and illustrated by the same author who had written his personal favorite story as a child, "King Alexander and the Black Materia." Soon he too was drifting, an unlit cigarette in his mouth as he watched Vincent sleep without stirring. Who'd've ever thought a man like him could sleep so peacefully? Cid wondered. A sound of discomfort reached his ears just in time to bring him back to full awareness; Vincent was blinking awake slowly and confusedly, and Marlene seemed to be resituating herself in a most time-consuming, flailing manner.

He saw Vincent take an elbow to the stomach, and decided it was time for all of them to move to more comfortable sleeping arrangements. Cid stood and approached them, shaking Vincent awake the rest of the way. "C'n move 'er t'the room with Denzel, an' you c'n get some sleep in th'other bedroom. I'll be in here if y'need me," he offered, tilting his head in the direction of the other room.

Vincent grunted again as Marlene placed yet another sound jab to his ribs. How something so small could deliver such a stout punch, he'll never figure out. With a low moan, he returned the footrest to its original position, and collected a sleepily protesting Marlene into his arms. He carried the girl into the guest room to deposit her in the bed next to her brother. He kissed her forehead as he tucked her in, then returned to the living room where he removed it and draped it over a dining room chair, his awareness a delayed fog as he was still half asleep. He then wordlessly moved into the remaining bedroom – it never occurred to him that it was in fact Cid's bedroom he was occupying – and literally fell into bed. He was too exhausted to bother with dragging a blanket over himself, and within moments of his head hitting the pillow, Vincent was once again, sound asleep.

I really gotta stop gettin' this guy drunk, 'specially since I ain't just havin' m'way with 'im when 'e's like this, Cid scolded himself as he dug through the pockets of Vincent's coat for his phone. Tseng would be wondering soon where Vincent was, he was sure, and Cid did not have Tseng's number. After finding the phone, Cid had to look twice as long to make the thing call Tseng. Although there were only three stored in the memory and one other under 'recent calls' (that one, incidentally, being his own), Cid could not figure out how to make the speed dial work. Eventually, he decided to write down the number and dial it manually. He was pleased beyond all reason when the acknowledgement came over the line.

"Yes, sir?"

"Heh. Well, I don't reckon I c'd pull off his voice if'n I tried, so I ain't tryin'."

"Highwind?" Tseng said startled. "How did you did get Vincent's phone, is he all right?"

"He's fine. Passed out on me again, lazy ol' thing, an' didn't have t'time t'call ya. Figured I would so y'didn't come bustin' down m'damn door," Cid replied, grinning. "He was exhausted 'fore 'e even got here. Y'shoulda made 'im stay home an' rest," he finished more seriously.

"I would have tried if I had thought the effort would have done any good." Tseng said wryly. "As it is, I'm glad he's actually sleeping. I've been concerned about him since he hasn't been this past week, I'd say no more than six hours total. Do him a favor and don't wake him up again anytime soon."

"Nah, I ain't goin' to," Cid assured him, then laughed. "An' I reckon it'll do all o' y'all some good if he ain't so…well, cranky." He sighed, wondering if Vincent would wake if he were to slip into bed behind him. Probably not, the way the man slept. "Well, he'll be here. M'sure in the mornin' he'll feel real bad fer not callin' ya, but take it easy on 'im."

A rude snort was all Tseng gave the cop in reply. "Good evening Mr. Highwind." He hung up.

Satisfied somehow with the turnout of that call, Cid replaced Vincent's phone in the pocket where he'd found it, then on second thought added a slip of paper into the pocket. The paper bore these hastily scribbled words:

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come,

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom

His work done, Cid smiled and returned to the bedroom to check on Vincent. His shoes and socks were still on, and he was lying across the bed without so much as a sheet to cover him. Cid remedied those sleep-disrupting ills quickly and quietly and somehow without waking Vincent. T'hell with it all, he decided, and crawled under the covers after removing his own shirt. Spooned up behind Vincent with one arm protectively curled around the other man's chest, Cid placed his head on the pillow beside Vincent's and exhaled carefully against the pale neck before him. He felt vaguely creepy for this, but more comforted. Besides, it was his bed, and he could sleep in it if he wanted to sleep in it, regardless of Vincent's presence. "G'night, Vincent," he whispered as sleep tried again to claim him.

...Y'know, Cid really is kind of creepy. Don't try this at home, folks.