With a sigh, Tseng looked up at the others.

"How is he?" Reno asked, looking around nervously.

Before he could answer, a voice came over the overhead speakers: "Dr. Bugenhagen to Emergency Room 4, STAT; Dr. Bugenhagen to Emergency Room 4, STAT." Well, he was still alive anyway.

Tseng looked at Reno. "He's still alive. And that's pretty much all I know." He looked around at the other men. "We're either in for a long haul or a short wait, you all should go home and try and get some sleep, change your clothes-"

"The fuck we are!" Verdot said taking a step closer. "I ain't leavin' him, and you quit talkin' about him dyin'. He's the toughest sonofabitch I've ever known and he'll make it."

Not wanting to argue, Tseng just nodded. "Then try and get some rest here then-"

"Are you two gentlemen all right?" A resident asked Verdot and Reno, looking questioningly at the blood covering their clothes and hands.

"Yeah," Reno said sheepishly, and before Verdot could snap at the poor man only doing his job, Tseng interjected, "They're with me, and we're with the…gunshot victim in ER room 4."

The resident paled, swallowed and nodded. "Just let us know if you need anything. The coffee and vending machines are down the hall, and the restrooms are just before that on your right," he instructed, and then headed down the aforementioned hallway.

"I'm goin' for coffee, y'all want something'?" Reno asked, heading in the direction indicated. He shrugged when the only answers were headshakes in the negative.

Rude nodded at Tseng. "You all right?"

"Yes," Tseng said rubbing the back of his head and staring reluctantly own at his phone. "I just have a phone call to make."

Rude nodded and took a seat on the other side of the waiting room while Verdot stood staring sightlessly at the television suspended in the corner. With a sigh, Tseng dialed Cid's number.

Cid had succeeded in making an edible lunch and was actually feeling somewhat okay when his phone rang. He narrowed his eyes at it, having no idea who would be calling him. He brightened; maybe Vincent? But the number didn't register as a known one, and Cid wasn't quite sure who it was…but then he recognized some of the digits from the time he'd called Tseng from Vincent's phone. Smile still in place, he asked, "Vincent?" cautiously, wondering why he wasn't calling from his own phone.

Tseng tried to answer immediately, but his voice got stuck in his throat. He cleared it, and said, "No, Cid. It's Tseng."

Confused now and somewhat unnerved, Cid said simply, "Oh." He waited a moment, and when Tseng didn't speak again, he prodded, "So…what, uh, what's up?" even as his heart began beating faster with the certain knowledge that something was not right.

Somehow, Tseng managed to keep his voice calm and even. "There's been an accident, Cid. Vincent has been shot. We're at Minerva Memorial Hospital, and I really think you should be here." Because I don't know how much time he has left, went unsaid.

"Wh- Don't joke about that. It'd be one thing if…you ain't jokin'," he realized suddenly. "What…no. Just no. Not Vincent. Not now." He told himself not to panic, and that pleading with Tseng would not change anything. There was only one thing to do, and that was to get his ass to the hospital immediately. "Oh, god…" Cid felt sick to his stomach as another realization hit him- it must be very serious indeed if Vincent had needed a hospital. He swallowed against the nausea and said, "I'll be there. I'll be right there."

"Calm down, Cid. There's nothing you can do, and getting yourself killed by rushing won't help the situation. Please, try to calm down," Tseng said, concerned and yet sympathetic to the tone of the cop's voice.

"No. No, I gotta get there. Tell 'im I'll be there." He hung up and darted to his room, then wandered, lost, as he tried to remember why he had done so. The yellow robe he was still wearing caught his eye, and he nodded and went to the dresser, nervously running a hand through his hair as he pulled out clothes like a man possessed, with no idea of what he was looking for. Eventually he noticed that he was doing nothing but rooting through clothes and wasting time, so he grabbed the nearest shirt and pair of pants he could find, put them on, and headed for the lobby. Halfway through the parking lot, he met Aerith. He tried to ignore her until she took his arm and steered him in the direction of her car.

"You'll get there faster this way," she said. "Come on, Cid, we'll go see him."

He had no idea why she knew or why she was here so quickly, but she was right, and he wasn't going to argue with getting there faster.

Tseng looked at the phone until the 'off-the-hook' tone began sounding, and then flipped it shut. He sighed again and shook his head. In the just a matter of minutes, the world had stopped turning for them all.

"Excuse me, sir?"

He looked up at a receptionist standing in front of him holding a clipboard, a pen and an expression of sympathy on her middle-aged face. His nostrils flared as he restrained himself from hitting the woman. She didn't know what they were going through! With a startled blink he came back to himself and woodenly took the clipboard and pen. She didn't know, true enough, but she had her own struggles to deal with, and it wasn't her fault any of this had happened. She was trying to empathize with him. After all, how many other people had she done this with? Feeling ten times older than he was, Tseng began filling out Vincent's paperwork.

Cid was silent on the way to the hospital, but his thoughts were racing, and they were filled with Vincent. He hadn't given Tseng much of a chance to tell him how bad things were; now he almost wished he had. When they were finding a parking space and the restlessness was taking over him again, he asked quietly, "Aer, how bad is 'e?"

She didn't answer right away, saying instead, "Oh, look, there's a spot."

"Aerith?"

"I'm not sure, Cid," she lied. "Tseng didn't say."

Cid nodded and tried to find some hope in her words; he half-believed them, and that wasn't enough.

They parked, and she led the way into the building. At the counter, she asked where they could find Vincent, and the attendant shook her head and told them they'd have to wait with everyone else. Aerith tried to probe for information, but that didn't work nearly as well with women as it did with men, she found. Instead, she settled for being directed to the waiting room where "everyone else" supposedly was.

Enough time had passed before Tseng looked up and saw Aerith and an extremely worried Cid come striding toward them that Reno had drained his coffee, ceased pacing and was now agitatedly flipping though magazines. Neither Rude nor Verdot had moved from his respective position, and Tseng was, quite frankly, glad for the distraction. He smiled slightly, standing as the two walked toward him. Embracing Aerith briefly, he addressed them both. "He's alive," he said tiredly, running a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. "That's all I can tell you. A doctor hasn't been out to speak with us yet, but I assume he's in surgery now."

"So I can't see 'im?" Cid asked, dully receiving the point of all of this. "An' he's not okay, an' there's no guarantees, an'-" suddenly he took in the sight of the others, particularly Reno. "Geez, kid, what happened t'you?" Eyes wide, he realized that he really had no idea what had happened at all. He sat, unthinking, in the seat Tseng had just vacated, and put his head in his hands. After a few calming breaths, he looked up, sobered and nearly relaxed. "Tell us what happened," he demanded. Not like there was anything better to do than listen.

Aerith took Tseng's hand and sat beside Cid, tugging Tseng with her and encouraging him to sit on her other side.

Tseng took a deep breath and let it out slowly, running his hand through his hair again. "I-I don't know what happened…exactly. I parked the car and he told me to go on up, and I did. I had some business to attend to and stepped into my office and the next thing I know there was a gunshot. I ran out into the hall and down towards where I heard it and then saw Vincent lying on the ground and Rufus lying on the ground. My first thought was to call the emergency medical response units and was starting to do that when Rude came up and asked me what had happened. I can only assume that Rufus had shot Vincent, as he was still clutching his weapon, but who shot Rufus…" he shrugged helplessly. "…I haven't a clue. Vincent was unarmed."

Reno, who had been listening intently to Tseng said, "This ain't mine." He plucked at the blood staining his white shirt. "I've never seen so much, yo. Never knew someone could bleed like that." He shuddered and tucked his hands under his armpits. "All I knew was that we had to stop it…I tried man, I really tried!" He looked up at Tseng.

"I know, Reno. We all did." Tseng said, nodding at the younger man.

His questions were mostly still unanswered. But Rufus had shot Vincent, and then someone had shot Rufus… "Is 'e dead? Shinra?" Cid asked intensely, fully intending to see it done before the day was over if Tseng answered in the negative.

Tseng nodded, but Verdot was the one who answered, snapping out of the trance he had seemed to be in as he stared at the television. "You bet yer ass 'e is. Cut that motherfucker's tongue right out and put a bullet in his brain myself."

"Verdot," Tseng said quietly, but harshly. "I would suggest you not reveal that information so readily."

Verdot eyed Tseng a moment, as though contemplating challenging the Wutaian for position, but averted his eyes in the end and nodded. "Yes, sir."

A little disturbed, Cid nodded slowly and began looking around. "So…how long, d'ya think, 'til we hear somethin'?" He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing they were Vincent's and that he and Vincent were waiting in the hospital for anyone else, anyone but Vincent.

Tseng shook his head. "I don't know, Cid." He put his hand on Cid's shoulder. "I don't know."

Cid nodded absently, then stood. "M'goin' fer a walk. I swear, if somebody don't call me as soon as they come out with some news, I'll never fergive any of ya," he said fiercely, glaring at them.

Tseng felt a small spike of fear at that and before he could stop himself he reached out and wrapped his fingers around Cid's wrist. If Vincent died and Cid was not here, the man would never forgive himself. "I can't stop you, Cid. But I would strongly recommend you not leave."

He was tempted to stay, but this place, the atmosphere, and the knowledge that several pairs of eyes were on him were suffocating him. He removed Tseng's hand from his wrist carefully and squeezed it in both of his, sad, tired eyes meeting a pair that matched his feelings exactly. "You said yerself there was nothin' I c'd do here. I'll be right back, just…gotta breathe. I ain't goin' far."

Tseng nodded and leaned into Aerith. He didn't want to talk anymore anyway.

Cid let go of Tseng's hand with a final pat and sighed, turning to leave. The moment he was outside, he leaned back against the wall and brought both hands up to grip his hair. A few more deep breaths and he was on his way, no clear destination in mind until he saw a brightly colored room through the glass doors. At first he thought it must be a children's ward of some kind, but then he read the sign and realized that he was staring into the gift shop. He entered the building and then the correct room and found himself face-to-face with bouquets of candy…and several large stuffed animals. He blinked once, then checked his wallet. There was enough there for one of them, and he set about selecting the perfect one from the shelf. There were chocobos –too fluffy- moogles –too childish- tonberries –creepy buggers- and, the last of its kind on the shelf, a solitary bandersnatch. The choice was easily made, and he scooped the rather offensive-looking creature up and headed for the counter. He felt much better as he started back for the waiting room, and he hardly noticed that he was hugging the newly purchased animal the entire way back.

Everyone was silent, exhausted and lost in their own thoughts. Verdot was watching television again, Rude had actually sat down and apparently didn't mind when Reno had crashed and put his feet onto his lap, and the poor redhead had finally passed out, his blood splattered coat wadded up under his head. Aerith hadn't asked him any more questions and sat quietly with him, holding his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. He grinned a little when he saw Cid returning, clutching a stuffed bandersnatch in his arms. Now that he thought about it, how could one not love the mouthy cop with the too-big heart?

Someone clearing his throat politely made Tseng blink and look toward the sound. A tired-looking doctor dressed in blood and iodine-stained scrubs had approached them and stood waiting patiently. Upon seeing the doctor, Tseng rose to meet him. Verdot made no move from where he stood but by the tilt of his head it was obvious that he was listening to everything and Rude tapped Reno's feet and the redhead jumped awake, batting away some imaginary nuisance. When he had the attention of everyone involved, the doctor held out his hand to Tseng. "I'm Dr. Bugenhagen. Did you bring in the gunshot victim?"

Tseng nodded, shaking the doctor's hand and taking comfort in its confident, steady strength. "Yes. How is he, doctor?" He was terrified to hear the answer, but he had to know. Not knowing was far, far worse.

Dr. Bugenhagen sighed and rubbed his eyes. "He's alive. For now. His condition is extremely unstable. He's in a coma, and his lungs are not working so we have him on a ventilator. His heart is very weak, but somehow managing on its own." Blinking, Dr. Bugenhagen lowered his hand and Tseng saw the dark circles under the man's eyes for the first time. "The damage was extensive. From what I could tell, he was hit with a hollow-point bullet that exploded when it hit his sternum from such a close range. In effect, it acted like a grenade going off in his chest. Quite frankly, I'm astounded that he is even alive. There was a large tear in his right ventricle that I managed to repair, which was his most life-threatening injury, but even so the cardiopulmonary damage was…well, it was devastating. We removed as much of the bullet and bone fragments from his lungs as we could, but we didn't dare remain in his chest cavity any longer given his extremely weakened state. If he survives, and when he heals, we'll perform another surgery and remove the rest."

Tseng slumped visibly. "But he's alive."

Dr. Bugenhagen nodded. "Yes." The doctor hesitated a moment before saying. "There is something else. As we worked we noticed an advanced rate of clotting of blood, and an incredible tissue regeneration that actually made the surgery rather difficult. I've never seen anything like it before. Do you know anything about that?"

Tseng hid his reaction with practiced ease. "No, doctor, I don't. But it would seem that an anomaly like that would be beneficial."

Dr. Bugenhagen eyed Tseng a moment before he nodded. "It would, but for the fact that his body is appearing to absorb the fragments of bone and metal from the bullet, which could potentially cause problems further down the road, and certainly limit his activity level. I'd like to draw some more blood to run some tests, with your permission, since he's not able to answer for himself."

At that Tseng shook his head. "I cannot give that permission. If he survives, then you may ask him yourself, but that is not for me to say." It made him twitchy that they had taken blood from Vincent at all, given how phobic his friend was of doctors and needles altogether and, not for the first time, he wondered what had made Vincent so afraid. But now was not the time for such thoughts. He just had to keep Bugenhagen from opening any more cans of worms.

"Understood," Dr. Bugenhagen said with a little sigh. "Now, do you all have any questions for me?"

It seemed no one had any questions really worth asking apart from the obvious, so Cid asked the obvious. "Can y'say even vaguely what th'chances are?" he asked quietly, wanting something to hold onto.

"Suffice it to say, not good," Bugenhagen replied. "If his lungs begin functioning properly, he'll be in much better shape…if his heart can keep up with them."

"I don't like all this 'if'," Cid told the floor. "When c'n one of us go in an' see 'im?" Tseng would go first; Cid would make sure of that. He deserved it after giving his all and protecting Vincent for so long.

Dr. Bugenhagen shook his head. "Not for a day, at least. He's in intensive care at the moment and has to be under constant observation. He was clinically dead for nearly five minutes and given his current condition, cardiac arrest is a very real threat. Brief visitation, I think, can be permitted tomorrow, but it's my opinion that you all need to be prepared for the worst. He's not strong, even with his remarkable regenerative ability, and the fact that we can get no reaction from his lungs is not good. Does he have any next of kin? If so, you may want to contact them."

Tseng, his heart in his throat said softly, "We are his next of kin, sir."

Nodding, Dr. Bugenhagen said, "I see. Well, go home and try and get some rest. You're welcome to stay here, but it's not comfortable, and there's nothing more you all can do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other patients that need attention." With a final handshake with Tseng and nod to the others, Dr. Bugenhagen took his leave.

Cid watched the doctor walk away, feeling about as happy as the bandersnatch looked. Which is to say, thoroughly miserable. He looked forlornly at Tseng, who seemed not to see him. A small smile, unsure and not at all bold, quirked up a corner of Cid's lips. He put a hand on Tseng's shoulder and said, "They don't know 'im." This earned him nothing but a quizzical glance, so he continued. "They say his heart's weak, but they don't know th'part of 'im that's stubborn as hell. I reckon me an' you're the only ones who know that, I mean really know. They got all their fancy machines an' shit, but they can't measure will, an' they can't put a number on determination, an' dammit, this makes me sound conceited, but I think he just realized he's got somethin' t'live for. He ain't gonna give up now. Few weeks ago he might have, but…well, you've seen it too, aintcha? He's gonna be all right. It'll be a long road for him, an' I wonder if th'world'd be kinder t'just let 'im pass an' find that peace we always hear about, but he's gonna make it, an' he's gonna be stronger for it." Cid nodded twice, firmly, and hoped that Tseng believed his words more than he believed them himself. It was nearly six-thirty now, and Cid doubted that any of them had so much as found a vending machine. "I think we're gonna go get somethin' fer dinner. We'll bring somethin' back for ya. You stay here," he said, handing over the stuffed animal, "an' watch Domino. Take it to 'im for me if they letcha in."

He returned to the rest of them and announced that they were all eating dinner on whomever was willing to pay, which turned out to be Rude.

As the others walked away, zombie-like, toward the cafeteria, Aerith approached Tseng and slid her arms around him from behind, resting her head against his shoulder blade. "I didn't hear most of what he said, but he's right. Everything will work out." In truth, she didn't think Vincent stood much of a chance, but she wasn't going to tell Tseng that. "Let's sit back down," she murmured. "Tell me what's on your mind."

Mechanically, Tseng sat, staring down at the stuffed bandersnatch and feeling pain squeeze his heart at the memory of the conversation that they had had just that morning. He squeezed the stuffed animal in his big hands, crushing it, then eased up to rest it in his lap and pet it with the awed gentleness of a child. It really was pretty ugly, but it was perfect. Cid knew him, even though the man had known Vincent for only a painfully short amount of time, he still, somehow, knew him. Which only confirmed to Tseng, that the man had been put on the planet specifically for Vincent, so if Cid felt that confident didn't it mean that it was true? He spoke words of such hope, and he wanted to believe them, desperately wanted to believe them, but he had always been a realistic man, firmly grounded in the realm logical thought; that what you could see, touch, taste, hear and feel were what was real, and everything else created by the whims of the desperate. Knowledge was power, he knew this, and Vincent knew this, but he was slowly beginning to develop a new respect for the unseen. The potential. The heart. And the spirit.

"I'm lost," he said softly to Aerith, continuing to stare down at the bandersnatch.

She sat beside him and took one of his hands. "I know," she said quietly. "You've spent so much time caring for him…it's a shock when you learn that you depend on him, too. Can I help?" Aerith pulled Tseng to lean against her, and he did not resist as she tucked his head under her chin and put her arms around his shoulders. "I'm afraid I'm about as skilled as Cid when it comes to saying the right thing, but I can try my best."

Tseng took her hand and squeezed it. "I don't know that you can do or say anything at the moment, but just being here means a great deal to me. I've lived my life for him, done everything he asks of me without question or complaint. He's always had everything; he's brilliant, skilled, charismatic, had the ideal family growing up. He has power, Aerith, and I am deeply shamed that I have hated him for that." He sat up, but did not release her hand. "But then I step back and take a good, long look at the price for it all, and I'm so relieved that it isn't me." Tseng swallowed. "And now I have cowardice to add to my shame." He shook his head. "While we waited for you to arrive, I kept replaying what happened in my mind and I found myself wondering if I would have taken that bullet for him if I had been there. In the end, all we have is our honor, and I'm afraid that I have turned my back upon it as well."

"No one wants to die, Tseng," she told him, "and we all crave the things we hate. Isn't it safe to say that on some level, we hate the things we love?" She shook her head and continued, "You would have, you know. Taken the bullet. I could tell you that. If you had no honor, you would have run, jumped at the chance to get out from under him while he's down. And I also get the feeling that he already knows everything you've just said to me, and that he thinks no less of you for it." She squeezed back, smiling softly. "I don't know that you realize how much power you've had all these years just being that close to him. He would gladly have shared it with you had he been willing to let you suffer the cost. As you say, you know the price…and he wouldn't have let you live like that. He needed you exactly as you are, and he wouldn't fault you for your feelings. He'd worry if you didn't feel them." Despite herself, she gave a small giggle. "Funny how the 'bad guys' are so noble and the 'good guys' don't hesitate to stab each other in the backs. Family means something entirely different when you're desperate, hm?"

Tseng gave a good humored wry smile and pinched Aerith's chin in between thumb and forefinger. "We didn't used to be the "bad guys," you know. But thank you." He looked down into her luminous green eyes, marveling again at how quickly he could get lost in them. "I am going to kiss you, Ms. Gainsborough," he said by way of warning, and before she could respond, leaned forward and with exquisite gentleness captured her lips with his own. Gingerly he placed his hands to either side of her face as though he might break her at any moment. It was ridiculous, of course; she was probably tougher than he was if he had to bet on it, but that steel was hidden beneath a delicate-appearing shell, and the male in him demanded that he treat his woman with the reverence that she deserved.

Aerith was a bit caught off-guard despite his warning, but she wasn't complaining. She returned the kiss briefly, smiling as she pulled away. "They're ba-ack," she sang, pointing at the three men returning with food, and noticed that Reno was wearing a clean t-shirt advertising a hospital fundraiser. It made him look much younger, and she could see how truly frightened he was by all of this. Regretfully, she stood and smoothed her skirt. Leaning over and kissing Tseng's cheek, she said, "I'm going to leave you men to do whatever it is you do when you're worried. I'll be back bright and early tomorrow, but if I don't get some sleep you won't want me here, trust me." With another giggle and a wink at Cid as she stole a roll off the plate he had brought for Tseng, she exited the building and left for the night.

Tseng nodded his approval at Reno's change of attire, even if the color and theme were…lacking. Reno rubbed the back of his neck and resumed his position on the bank of chairs next to him. Turning his attention to the plate of what he assumed was food, Tseng found himself somewhat reluctant to return the bandersnatch, but was even more concerned about getting food on it. Exchanging plate of food for the stuffed animal, he averted his eyes and muttered his thanks, suddenly overcome with guilt for his previous confession to Aerith.

"It ain't as bad as it looks," Cid assured him, pulling a package of cellophane-encased plastic utensils from his shirt pocket and handing them over. He settled on the floor between Tseng's chair and the one Reno's feet rested on. He kept the stuffed thing close to his chest and off the floor as he leaned back and prepared to try to sleep.

At a red light ten minutes away from the hospital, Aerith decided at the last minute to turn instead of continue straight. She went around the block, got back on the main street, and even managed to snag her old parking place back as she pulled into the lot. It was going to be a long night and an even longer day, but as she realized that she was coming to care for Tseng, she figured it was probably worth it in the long run.