Vincent didn't sleep that whole day or night for fear of sleeping away another 18 years of his life. He couldn't afford to be sleeping away his life now. He was getting old and ageing just like a normal human. Chaos was no longer with him to make his body immortal.

He was so afraid to sleep now. He wondered what nightmares might lie waiting to haunt him. Nightmares of his friends and family would always be there to torment him and he couldn't have that—he wouldn't and so he decided not to sleep.

He stayed in the facility for a while until he saw it fit to leave. He didn't know how to though seeing how his friends would not allow him to leave their lives again for who-knows-how-long. It would be a difficult thing to do from people like them. But he'd find a way for he knew soon enough he, himself, wouldn't be able to stand this place with his wife and son being taken by another.

Vincent at least wanted to spend some time with the children, but not now. Just before dawn he snuck out and went to their place under the tree. There he sat down and just through of so many things as he watched the sun rise and light the skies a rose pink. He inhaled and slowly blinked as the rays of the sun lit everything.

Just as soon as Vincent stood up ready to leave he was met by a most unwelcoming good-morning. A fist had collided with his jaw making Vincent stumble a bit backwards. Hm, he was getting old. If he was younger he would have noticed that hit before it came. Ageing did make you get rusty.

Vincent held his jaw with his right hand just rubbing it. Once he looked up he saw Gilmore standing before him with his fists clenched and a great frown upon his face. Vincent was a bit surprised to see him wearing a shirt with his wings out in the back—he must have heeded Shelke and asked Shinra to make him a shirt fit for his wings.

"What is your problem?!" cried Gilmore.

Vincent just looked at him with confused eyes as he straightened and stood his ground just incase another punch came flying.

"What did you say to her?!" asked Gilmore, his tone of voice still not lessoning.

"What do you mean?" asked Vincent.

"My mom's been crying her eyes out ever since she got home from—from talking to YOU!!" he said trying to land another one on him.

Vincent dodged quickly and was surprised to see Gilmore quickly catch his balance with his footing. That meant he paid great attention in his training lessons. Gilmore turned to Vincent still looking quite angry.

"WHY?!" he cried.

"Why what?" asked Vincent. "I can't answer unless I get a clear explanation as to what I did."

"You said you didn't want us!" said Gilmore growling at him.

"What?" asked Vincent his eyes narrowing.

"My mom now feels like you've abandoned us!" said Gilmore pointing at him. "What—Are we not good enough for you?!"

"No, it's not that," said Vincent.

"Then what is it? Would you rather dump us on Reeve so you can be free of the burdens of a family?!" asked Gilmore. "Is that it?!"

"No," said Vincent.

"Then what is it?" asked Gilmore. "ANSWER!!"

"I don't deserve you," said Vincent.

"What?" asked Gilmore his defenses falling a bit.

"I said that the reason I don't want you is not because I want to be free of a family burden—by all means I wish I could have the wait of it, but what I meant was because I don't deserve you . . . I don't deserve to have a family."

"Why?" asked Gilmore his arms falling limp to his sides and his wings casting downward.

"Because I made a promise to your mother that I'd always be there for her . . . and I wasn't," said Vincent casting his eyes down.

"But . . . you couldn't have stopped that," said Gilmore his outlook quickly changing.

"Perhaps, but perhaps yes," said Vincent.

"Then why don't you give us a second try?" asked Gilmore. "I don't know of any man who'd like to see his family in the arms of another."

"Trust me—I don't," said Vincent. "But Reeve's a good man. He can care for you a lot better than I ever could. If you would have seen the place me and your mother lived in before you—"

"I have," said Gilmore cutting him off.

Vincent starred at him silent for a moment until he looked around and noticed that Gilmore even knew where'd he'd be and where this place was.

"Mom used to take me there when I was little—before she started seeing Reeve. She even took me to her place under the tree where she used to tell me about you and all you had done for this planet and its beings," said Gilmore casting his eyes down in remembrance. "Hm, I used to imagine you as some great hero who'd—one day come back and claim us as your own."

His eyes soon found Vincent again and his face became bitter as he said—

"I guess I was wrong though."

Gilmore turned to leave and fly away when Vincent heard that voice again as if someone was saying something right behind him.

No . . . don't let him get away again. Why won't you listen to me? He has to be the only one—the only one!

"No . . . don't let him get away again," came the words from Vincent's lips.

"What?" asked Gilmore halting his flight and turning around.

At that Vincent's hand stretched out to Gilmore to at least touch him on the arm. Gilmore looked at him as if he was crazy. His eyes followed his metal claw and he tried to touch him.

"Don't touch me!" he scoffed snapping Vincent out of his trance.

"What?" asked Vincent.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Gilmore shaking his head.

Vincent soon looked at his hands and said—

"I don't . . . I don't know."

"What did Deepground do to you?" asked Gilmore now seeing how strange Vincent had been acting.

"I can't tell you," said Vincent casting his eyes down.

"Are you—okay?" asked Gilmore coming closer to him. "By what mom told me about your attitude you shouldn't be acting like this."

"It seems to happen every time . . . I see you," he said lifting his ruby eyes at the young adult.

"Me?" asked Gilmore as he pointed to his chest. "Whatever for? What did they make you have a disorder against your own flesh and blood?"

"I keep . . . Hearing voices," he said in a hushed whisper, but Gilmore could still hear him.

"Voices huh?" said Gilmore leaning on his right heel and placing his fingers on his chin trying to figure out this anomaly. "Could it be you're suffering from a bipolar disease?"

"No, believe me I already have," said Vincent remembering Chaos.

"Do you mean Chaos?" asked Gilmore tilting his head to the left a bit.

Vincent looked at Gilmore with wide eyes. He didn't know that Gilmore knew about that little incident. He didn't know anyone of the next generation knew.

"Shelke told you about Chaos?" asked Vincent lifting his chin up.

"Yes," said Gilmore with a small smile. "She told me about the Omega incident and how everyone thought you were dead. I liked how she kept saving your life."

Vincent just shook his head and smirked. He looked at his son and sighed silently saying—

"We both did our share of saving each other."

His eyes then fell down in remembrance.

"As a matter of fact . . . without each other we'd not be where we are today. We helped each other in so many ways."

"Hm, that's exactly what mom said," he said with a smile as he tilted his head downward.

There was a slight pause of silence before Gilmore lifted his head and looked at his father in the eyes saying—

"She really missed you, you know."

Vincent just smiled an unseen smile as he bowed his head and placed his hands on his hips just gazing at the ground. He sighed and looked at Gilmore saying slowly—

"I'd be lying if I said I did as well . . . but . . . I didn't even know I was gone. I was lost in confusion Gilmore—lost in my dreams."

"What did you dream about?" asked Gilmore stepping closer to the tree to lean on it and perhaps play with a stick he picked from one of the limps.

"Well—many things," said Vincent coming to the tree as well and leaning on it a couple of feet away from Gilmore. "I dreamed of my friends and foes and of your mother—and of you."

"What?" said Gilmore perking up his head. "How could you dream of me when you never even knew I existed?"

"I've heard that people can dream of the future," said Vincent casting his eyes up towards the sky then down across at his son. "Every now and then—but I thought you were just me when I was little."

"What, did I have wings?" asked Gilmore with a nudge of his wings.

"No," said Vincent looking down. "But Chaos was with you and I think that signified that he was a part of you . . . just like these wings are."

"Oh . . . I see," said Gilmore casting his eyes down.

"Yes, I've had many dreams during my years of slumber . . . many . . . nightmares," said Vincent. "I seem to have them every time I close my eyes."

"Have you ever just dreamt good things?" asked Gilmore with childish curiosity in his eyes.

Vincent was silent for a moment as his eyes scanned his memories. He then smiled a little as he said—

"Yes."

"When?" asked Gilmore picking off a leaf from a branch.

"When I held your mother in my arms for the first time. The night before I left," he said with a kind smile to his son.

"Was she that precious to you?" asked Gilmore bowing his head and letting his raven black hair cover his eyes.

"Yes," said Vincent slowly blinking.

"Then why isn't she now?!" asked Gilmore jumping forward and looking at Vincent with wide eyes.

"Gilmore I—" started Vincent but halted his words once he saw Gilmore bow his head and let his wings fall down.

There was another pause before Gilmore started speaking again—

"You know . . . I always wondered what it would have been like to be raised by you . . . to actually be a family—maybe even have another sibling like Zack, but . . . I learned to stop thinking so foolish long ago . . . and when you came back . . . I thought that maybe you'll want us back and I'll be able to get a chance to know more about the great Vincent Valentine that my mom always spoke so highly of and everyone else always held you so high. You were their hero and my dad—what kid wouldn't want a father for a hero? . . . But now that I look at you and see the way you react towards us I see no hero."

"I never said I was a hero," said Vincent.

"But they did . . . I was so wrong to believe them—you're nothing more than a man . . . a man who's afraid to fight for those he loves," said Gilmore turning ready to take off. "As I said before—I'm willing to sacrifice for those whom I love—but are you?"

At that he took off with two great flaps of his wings. Vincent just watched him fly off. He bowed his head and sighed. He didn't know how much his son looked up to a man he never knew . . . a father he never knew.

What are you doing you fool?! Go after him!

This time . . . the strange voice didn't seem so wrong. He needed to make amends with his son before it was too late. Anything could happen for all he knew. Vincent started off back to the Shin-Ra facility to perhaps talk to Gilmore.

It took him a while to get back, but once he had he found the younglings already in training. He'd wait if he must, but he wasn't alone. He had run into Tifa who held little Sun in her arms.

"Hey Vincent," she said with a smile. "Still getting used to everything?"

"You can say that," said Vincent with his arms gently crossed.

Vincent's eyes then wandered to little Sun who delighted himself in playing with a toy in his hands soon deciding to taste it.

"He looks just like him," said Vincent with a twist of his shoulders.

"Hm?" said Tifa looking at Vincent, apparently not paying attention.

"Cloud," said Vincent.

"OH, yeah he does," said Tifa with a slight blush as she turned her face back to her little boy on her hip. "Hhh, he's getting so big now—yes you are, you're getting sooo big Sun!"

Sun just smiled as his mother turned her attention back to the man in crimson. She shrugged her shoulders and said—

"Have you seen our first?"

"Yes, I met him yesterday," said Vincent. "Zack right?"

"Mhm," said Tifa shaking her head. "Cloud insisted on naming our first boy that."

"What would have you named him if he was a girl?" asked Vincent.

"We both liked Aerith," Tifa said with a smile and glint of her deep brown eyes.

"Hmm, good names," said Vincent inhaling and taking in the cooler air of the day.

"Yeah," sighed Tifa leaning her head back downward then looking at her son. "You were supposed to be a girl. You were supposed to be Aerith, but no," she said flapping her free arm to her side. "You came out a boy and we had no choice but to come up with the name Sun."

"It suits him," said Vincent getting her attention again.

"Yeah, it does," she said as she ran his fingers through his gold hair.

"When did you two—?" started Vincent as he pointed to Sun.

"Oh—about a year and a half after you vanished. Cloud didn't want the same thing to happen to him or me like it did you and Shelke and so finally fessed up and married me," said Tifa with a smile. "Not long after I got pregnant with Zack."

"They're fine boys Tifa," said Vincent inclining his head.

"So is yours," she said softly with a kind smile as she twisted her shoulders back and forth.

Before Vincent could say anything the training was over and soon came out the children each going to their parents.

"Hey mom, hey Sun!" said Zack with a smile as he came to his mother and brother soon noticing Vincent. "Oh, hello Mr. Valentine."

Vincent just slowly blinked in approval. He then noticed Gilmore come out. Gilmore glanced at him then turned. It appeared he'd rather wait for his mother.

Vincent sighed and shook his head. He walked up to him and asked—

"Where's your mother?"

"I don't know," said Gilmore looking at him. "Probably still home crying. She was when I last saw her."

"Are you ready to go Gilmore?" came a weak voice behind the two.

When they turned they saw Shelke wiping her red swollen eyes. Once she finished and opened her eyes to look at Gilmore she saw Vincent standing next to him and just froze for a second.

"Oh," she said looking at him.

"Shelke," started Vincent never seeing her like this in his life.

"I should go," she said turning around quickly and leaving.

Vincent was about to follow her until he heard the warning in Gilmore's voice.

"Why can't you just leave her alone?"

Vincent froze and stood in silence for a second. He then turned to Gilmore who had his arms crossed and his wings pressed against his back. Vincent finally straightened and turned to him saying—

"Because I already have once . . . and it nearly killed her."

At that he turned and ran off to find Shelke. It wasn't long until he found her. She was far away from peering eyes as she bowed her head and hugged herself. She just wanted to be left alone, but her heart ached so much for someone—anyone who can understand what she was going through, but alas . . . there is no one.

She then gasped once she felt the faint familiar feel of arms embrace her. Her head leaned back against a neck that was covered by a buckled collar. Shelke covered her eyes and just continued to cry.

"Shelke," Vincent whispered feeling as if his own heart was being torn and tattered with each cry and tear shed.

"Please," she cried turning her head to the left. "Don't look at me!"

Shelke then felt the familiar touch of his gloved hand as it rose to gently stroke the locks of he red hair. She let out a small gasp as her eyes slowly opened. She then felt Vincent lift a lock of her hair to his lips as he gently kissed the fiery strands. Shelke then wrapped her hands around the metal arm that held her so close.

"Please don't do this," she said biting her bottom lip.

"Shelke," he whispered again. "I never meant for it to sound like I never wanted you."

"I know," said Shelke as more tears filled her eyes.

"No," said Vincent. "You don't know how much I'd . . . how much I want to keep you, but don't you see . . . I too easily drop something precious to me and I'm afraid of doing it again. Can't you see Shelke? I dropped you and for that I can never forgive myself. I still love you Shelke-Lucrecia and I always will."

"Why did life have to turn out like this?" she asked. "Where you be on one side and I on the other? Can you tell me why—Vincent Valentine?"

Vincent just smiled. He loved her calling him that, but at the same time he knew she did she was so unsure of herself and hiding so many feelings.

"I don't know," said Vincent. "I would say it was for a higher and greater purpose, but why separate two people who just got a chance at love?" he asked.

Shelke then turned to him and looked him in the eyes and said rather softly—

"Perhaps to have a second chance at it."

Vincent just scanned her eyes and sighed. His hands went to her shoulders soon sliding up to her collarbone and then next just gently caressing the fair skin. Shelke's eyes closed just taking in the feeling of his lost touch. She had forgotten what he did to her every time he touched her like that.

She then felt his hands come to her jaw line and slowly pull her closer. She knew what was going to happen next but didn't want to stop—never. She could not feel the hot breath of Vincent's mouth float down upon her plumb lips. She inhaled it and just longed for his kiss again.

Vincent was but one centimeter away from making contact with his lips to hers, but opened his eyes as that same voice returned.

I need contact! Any contact! With him! With him!

Shelke soon noticed his hesitation and so opened her eyes to see him frozen. She gently licked her lips that had been dried by his breath and asked—

"What's wrong?"

Vincent soon bowed his head and closed tight his eyes. He let go of Shelke and backed away as if something was the matter inside his head. He looked like he was aching in a way, but then again she hadn't known the volume of the voice.

"Vincent?" she said taking a step forward.

She then placed a soft hand on his shoulder that got his attention. He turned his eyes to her and just starred at her for a moment. He then heavily sighed as he straightened, maintaining himself.

"What is it?" asked Shelke with wondering eyes. "Is it me? Tell me Vincent Valentine—is it me?"

"No, never," said Vincent shaking his head.

"Then what?" she asked begging for him to tell her.

Vincent then felt the sudden touch of her hand as she slid it into his gloved one. He looked down as if in a little shock. His eyes soon found hers again as she smiled that same familiar smile he first saw her smile at Lucrecia's cave—the cave of crystals.

"Would you like a picnic Shelke Valentine?" he asked straightening and catching her off-guard.

"What—now?" she asked looking around almost blushing at the sudden change in topic.

"If you can," said Vincent. "I would also like that young son of yours to join us if he wishes."

Shelke smiled as she twisted her shoulders and leaned closer to Vincent as she said—

"I shall ask him Mr. Valentine, but I must say he doesn't take kindly to strangers no matter . . . what their relation."

"Hm, protective over his mother I see," said Vincent.

"He's been like that ever since birth," said Shelke. "But he's a good boy."

"That's good," said Vincent with a nod of the head. "Then shall I meet you in the valley?"

"That would be nice," said Shelke with a shake of her head.

"I'll meet you there," said Vincent as he turned on his heels and quickly left.

Shelke just sighed as she watched him pass out of seeing range. She then straightened and inhaled as she turned to go see if Gilmore wanted to come.

Vincent paced back and forth wondering where they were. Maybe they didn't want to come or couldn't. No, he knew Shelke wanted to come but what if Gilmore didn't? He didn't seem too happy about him before.

As Vincent thought about these things they all dropped as he looked up to see Gilmore descending from the clouds with his mother in his arms. Once his feet touched ground and he let his mother to her feet Vincent couldn't help but shake his head.

"What?" asked Gilmore. "I wasn't gonna walk that far on my own."

"You rely too much on those wings of yours," said Vincent with a smile.

"You would too if you had wings," said Gilmore pointing at the man dressed in scarlet.

"I did—once," said Vincent turning around. "Now . . . shall we have our picnic or do you have more important places to be?"

Gilmore looked at Shelke who gave him warning through her eyes. He rubbed his arms and tilted his head saying—

"Actually I have no choice but to be here."

Vincent couldn't help but smirk. He turned to him and looked at Shelke beside him. She still held a strange power over the Valentines . . . that same power she held onto his heart with even though she was physically weak her will was something more powerful than anything—Gilmore was just starting to learn that.

"So you're the mama's boy type huh?" she Vincent turning to him with an unseen smile.

"Uh!" grunted Gilmore his eyes narrowing. "I bet you were too!"

"Actually—my mother died when I was young," said Vincent turning back around. "You should be lucky to still have your mother."

"He should be lucky to have 'both' his parents," said Shelke as she wrapped her hands around Gilmore's right arm. "Let us enjoy the picnic shall we?"

"Let's," said Vincent with a smile as he held out his left hand to Shelke.

Shelke just smiled. Gilmore watched as his mother finally let go of him to cling onto someone else. It was a revolution to him for she had never let go of him like this. She always held onto him because he was a Valentine—because he was his father's son . . . and now that the father is here he guessed she felt it was time to let go of the son and return to the true Valentine.

Shelke's hand met Vincent's claw and once he felt her gentle touch his grip tightened to were he had a grip on her hand. Once he did he pulled her closer slowly and turned to lead the way to the place he had prepared for them. His other hand soon met her waist. Shelke looked down and saw where he had touch but she just looked into his eyes again and smiled as if he had trapped her inside some trance she may never be able to escape.

Gilmore just rolled his eyes and sighed as he followed. It was a very nice picnic that they had together as a family. All enjoyed it and the day was perfect on the valley. It was one of the times Gilmore actually enjoyed being with his family.

He used to shy away from his mother for feeling as if he was incomplete because of the missing father. Now that he was there he felt whole again and the feeling inside him brung out happiness like nothing else. He smiled and laughed to where Shelke had never seen him so happy and this pleased both his parents. Why wouldn't seeing your child smile and laugh?

"Thanks for the picnic," said Gilmore with a smile as he gazed at Vincent.

"I'm glad you liked it," said Vincent. "Me and your mother used to wander this valley all the time before you were born."

After a cool breeze ran through Gilmore's hair he smiled and inhaled. As he exhale he looked at Vincent and then Shelke who seemed captured by the nice day as well and asked—

"So—this is what it's like to be a real family huh?"

Both parents turned to their child and just smiled. They glanced at each other and Shelke just smiled. She shook her head as she turned her attention to Gilmore.

"Yes Gilmore . . . this is what it's like—"

"To be . . . a family," said Vincent as he finished for her and placed his hand on top of hers.

"Too bad this can't last," said Gilmore with a shrug as he cast his eyes down.

Vincent just cast his eyes down in thought and moved his hand away from Shelke. Shelke took her hand back and just rubbed her diamond ring. Her heart seemed to always sink every time she touched it. Often she wondered if she was doing the right thing about going with Reeve—the heart was a mindless jigsaw puzzle to figure out.

"It's just the way life's pushed against this family," said Vincent almost in a mumble.

"What's wrong with pushing back?" asked Gilmore.

"Gilmore!" said Shelke her eyes widening.

"It's true mom!" said Gilmore looking at her. "You and—dad just sit here and do nothing. You say you wish things were differently and I know the both of you cry in your sleep for each other—"

"Gilmore not now," said Shelke casting her gaze away from her son.

"Then when?!" asked Gilmore. "You two are so pathetic! You say you still love each other but don't love each other as much as to fight for each other!"

"Since when do you wish us to come together again?" asked Shelke looking at him with almost fiery eyes.

"I've had . . . a change of heart," said Gilmore bowing his head then lifting it. "What changed me is just seeing this man I call father . . . he's just like I imagined him—"

At that Vincent turned to look at his son who gazed at him with affectionate eyes. Upon his lips he wore a dreamy smile. Vincent never thought he'd have his child ever look at him like this—especially when he had only known him for two days.

"I used to dream of him," said Gilmore casting his eyes down from his parents, especially his mother. "I used to dream of what he'd look like. He'd look mostly like me of course seeing how I don't resemble you in any way. I just guessed that's how it was and now—I guess I was right, heh, but . . . now . . . it's like you both want nothing to do with each other."

"It's not that, it's—" started Shelke.

"Complicated?" said Gilmore casting his eyes back at his mother. "I know . . . we've had this 'talk' before mom."

He then looked at Vincent and noticed how quiet he was. He always was in things like this. In problems of the world he kept silent—keeping his thoughts to himself, fearing that whatever he said it'd worsen the situation or not be able to help.

"Well you're sure silent," said Gilmore. "Have you always been like this? Is this how you get out of problems?"

"Gilmore!" warned Shelke. "That is enough!"

"You're right mother—it is enough," said Gilmore sassing his parents. "Wouldn't you say so—father? Oh wait you don't speak—how silly of me."

Gilmore had enough of this and so stood up and stretched out his wings. He inhaled and looked at his parents then outstretched his hand to Vincent saying—

"Thanks for the picnic Vincent, but I do believe I have to go."

Vincent just starred at the boy's outstretched hand ready to be shaken, but refrained from doing so as he asked—

"Would I offend you more by not shaking your hand or by participating to the gesture to say 'good-bye'?"

Gilmore just looked at him not knowing what to do or say. Shelke just sighed and bowed her head as she got up and said—

"I do believe Gilmore is right. Thank-you Vincent Valentine—we had a wonderful evening."

Vincent just stood up and bowed. He inclined his head to Gilmore until his eyes met with Shelke's one last time.

"Same here Shelke Valentine," said Vincent feeling as if his heart was being stabbed for letting a part of himself go.

Shelke just smiled as she wrapped her arms around her son's neck and flew into the air with him as he carried her across the clouds. Vincent just watched his life fly away. His wife and child—he'd miss them, but this is the way it had to be. But—he wasn't ready to leave just yet. No he'd wait a few more days until he took of to find answers as to why his life had turned out like this.

Perhaps the next day'd be better. Perhaps these issues wouldn't arise between the family. It seemed Gilmore wouldn't let them go unnoticed. In a way that was a good thing—no child should want their family to be willingly split like this . . . even if they hadn't known their father their whole life.

Vincent shook his head and sighed. He felt it was all his fault for his family's predicament. If he wouldn't have let those Deepground soldiers sneak up on him and knock him out then maybe things would have been different.

He would have been able to feel the exciting yet fearful joy as Shelke told him she was expecting their first. He would have been able to be there with Shelke through her hard pregnancy and let her know everything was going to be all right as long as he was there by her side. He would have been able to see the birth of his only son and hold his little form in his arms just to feel the pride of being a father.

He would have been there to watch little Gilmore grow and make new friends . . . perhaps even being able to provide a little sibling for the lonely child. Oh Vincent would have loved to have made a great family with Shelke. He would have loved seeing her bare all his children—sons that look like him—and daughters that look like her. Vincent could only smile seeing their beautiful daughters grow in grace like their mother—but . . . those dreams were things of the past now.

You cannot erase the past but—you can change the future. Vincent looked up and inhaled. He may not be able to change much about the future, but he could change the relationship with his estranged wife and son.

At that Vincent made up his mind and took off toward the Shin-Ra facility. He wasn't going to give up on his family just yet. What kind of a husband, or father would he be if he did that? No—they were definitely worth the try.