Title: Drifting
Characters: Vergil
Word Count: 1.437
Summary: Vergil contemplates what he'll do next.
Warnings: Set straight after the end of Crossfire.
Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom.

It's strange that I feel like I have to get used to freedom again, Vergil thought. He stared at his hand, closing his fist briefly and then relaxed it. To get used to my own strength once more.

He dropped his hand on his thigh again and looked up. A landmass glided by slowly as the ferry pushed through the water. Vergil stared at the scene before him idly: The sea rising and falling against the rocks of a sheer cliff-side that seemed to stretch on forever. Sailing by, the ship seemed small and powerless before the height of the cliffs and the churning sound of the waves crashing against them. Despite the roaring sound, there was something surprisingly non-violent about the way the waves broke on the rock. Almost like the caress of a lover, rough but tender at the same time-that's what he might have thought if he were prone to make such allusions.

This ship is nothing but a leaf in a much greater force and yet...it is the only thing that is actually moving with some kind of purpose. It can forge its way through this sea while everything around it remains...immovable.

He glanced up as a seagull screeched overhead. A few of them followed the ship's course on stretched wings, lithe forms riding the wind smoothly. Sometimes they would dip, plummeting towards the water, just to rise again and climb higher. They didn't even need to beat their wings, staying aloft over the breeze almost as if by sheer will.

Vergil looked away, back towards the stream of foamy water left in the small ferry's wake. The port it had left behind was just barely visible now, soon to be nothing but a speck in the distance. He wasn't quite sure where the ferry was heading, and he didn't really care; he just needed that undefined destination. He turned his eyes again at the ship. The upper rear deck, where he sat on a bench by himself, was empty. There had been someone there earlier, picking up some discarded materials left from a maintenance job, but they were gone now and to his surprise, Vergil had not really noticed them leaving. He must have been lost in thought. The ferry sailed on over the choppy waters and he found, to his surprise, something very soothing about the smell of the sea.

There was a time when I felt certain that by becoming truly powerful I could get back everything I have lost. And yet now I find myself...unsure of what I lost.

He glanced down and to his side, at the sheathed katana resting on the bench beside him. Yamato had served him well all these years, through the worst battles imaginable. It served him through battles against his brother...

He looked up again. Clouds, heavy with rain, were traveling overhead, heading back to the land he left behind. He mused them idly for a moment and then returned his gaze to the ocean and the rising cliffs that were slowly but surely beginning to end. Soon they too would be left behind, to vanish into the distance. The breeze grew stronger momentarily and a tuft of his hair suddenly flopped downward over his forehead. He seemed surprised for a moment and quite sheepishly put his hand up and brushed it back into place with his fingers.

I have struggled hard to bury all those feelings that make me weak. That...make me human. But this particular feeling is so...different. I am free...but I don't know what to do.

He reacted to that thought by bending forward slightly and resting his elbows on his legs, fingers entwined pensively. Two men walked out on the deck from one of the doors that led to one of the passenger lounges; they came from the far side to Vergil and he briefly watched them walk all the way to the end of the deck and stop there, talking quietly and very calmly. One of them lit a cigarette and they stood there, watching the ocean, completely motionless. They perfectly ignored him. Curiously enough, Vergil felt no aversion to this human presence so nearby and it dawned on him that he didn't care about being on that ship in the first place.

Vergil persistently stared at the weather-worn floorboards of the ship's deck while he mulled over those realizations. He could deny it, thinking that what he wanted to was resume his quest for power but...

But I have already been burned twice by this. The last time I nearly lost my life and I most certainly lost my freedom. Then I became entangled in a centuries old game played by two witches, just to get my freedom back. I got it, no doubt, but I was still used by someone else.

He tried to force his thoughts away. It would be...inconvenient to wonder just what kind of power he was seeking and whether he needed it. However, thoughts have a persistent way of eluding control and following their own trails, just like wayward streams that burst their bank.

I want power in order to become more like Father. Because...because I lacked the power to protect mother when the demons came. I could not protect myself. I could not protect...

Vergil parted his hands and tightened his fists a little. Then suddenly he sat straight again and brought his hand to his shirt's collar and pulled the amulet out. Briefly he thought that this was the only connection he had left to his mother...and to his brother. He stared at it for a while, seeing his reflection in the dark ruby-like gem that made its core. Though he had been restored to power and his vitality had returned fully, he was surprised to notice that his experiences were etched out perfectly in his look. The way he gazed and the way that his face, even completely calm, looked jaded and...shockingly human.

I wanted power for the sake of it. Because I believed it would sever me from my human side. When I was Nelo Angelo, I was no more human than the demons surrounding me, yet I was a slave to someone else's will. I believed myself to have achieved my goal but...in truth, I was nothing like father. I was just a puppet to someone else's whim.

He looked away from the amulet. He would never even admit to himself that he truly needed help to escape that darkest hour of his-let alone that he would need Dante. Seeing his reflection made him think of his brother. That thought, that he would need his brother, whom he always considered weaker, to help him was just preposterous and it still made his blood boil-yet he knew his own indignation and it wasn't anger. He was just too proud to admit gratitude.

But...was it that he has grown strong, or that I was weak?

He tucked the amulet away under his shirt with a calm decisiveness and took a deep breath. The salty, moist air of the sea filled his lungs and he breathed out suddenly. It was a good scent, actually; visceral and primal yet so sublime, older than mankind and even certain demons. But he also knew that pride had been part of his downfall. He was beginning to question his own desire to sever himself from his weaker, human traits but he was only just starting to wonder at what cost he could achieve that. He wondered if that was really the answer he was looking for.

What power I have now...will suffice for the time being. There are many ways for me to attain power. But first...I must define my purpose. I need to decide what direction I will follow. Like this ship, I need a purpose...

A seagull screeched overhead again and Vergil watched it swoop down towards the boat, almost crashing into the deck, but it swerved gracefully upwards again, just to perch on one of the benches on the other side of the deck, right across him. The bird turned its beady eye to him for a moment, screeched again and then took to preening its wings briefly and looking around. It stood there but for a few moments, fluttering its wings sometimes before stretching them fully out and with a few nonchalant flaps, took off again into the sea wind. Vergil followed with his eyes for a few moments, coming to a calm conclusion.

And if I will seek power, it will be of my own nature. I will not eat out of someone's hand ever again.

NOTE: For some reason I find it extremely hard to write Vergil well. I don't know, he just doesn't jump out on paper the way other DMC characters do, which is odd, because I really love his characterization as a cold, calculative kind of guy who is very goal-driven to the point of his own detriment. However, I still think that Vergil is, above all, a creature of reason and prone to think about what he'll do next, even if in the canon we have seen that there are moments when even he throws that out of the window and does something that honestly isn't very reasonable.

At the end of Crossfire Vergil just up and leaves, taking the amulet with him. I'm not sure what he'd do, but I really believe that for some time at least, he might be plagued by these kind of thoughts, concerning what he'll do next. I tried to leave an open end to this kind of idea, not really wanting to just randomly put Vergil on a 'path to redemption' or something of a 'self-discovery journey'. I think those terms, while perfectly good character development, have been done to death and I'm not ready to go down that road unless I've got some good reason.

I think Vergil would rather find himself caught in a sort of personal crisis concerning whether he just needs power and what he really needs it for, trying to reconcile those ideas. Probably never attempt to 'gain power' again if that means he must turn to an external force. What he'll want to do is become powerful on his own.