For You, I'll Fall


"Tseng… Tseng… He's not going to talk."

He should know as well as I do that Turks will die for whatever they're protecting as he demands the same whereabouts of the same man that Reno was demanding from the girl back in the warehouse and it appears as if he's oblivious to my presence. It takes him a while, but he finally hears me and listens, and he nods before standing and appearing to regain himself.

Then he looks up at me with those hardened eyes of his and contradicts any semblance of reason he might have had before unexpectedly grabbing my gun, quicker than I'm able to react so he can put a bullet between the man's eyes out of nothing more than sheer spite to prove that he's the one who's still in control.

Though as far as I'm concerned, his actions only prove the opposite and unfortunately, I'm afraid I'm beginning to understand the reason he's losing it over the situation even though I still don't agree.

And he does all of this without even turning to see if he hit his target or not, proving that he's nothing more than sheer nerve at the moment while staring at me like I'm the one to blame for everything that's going wrong. Then he puts the gun back into my holster, roughly, and I grimace slightly from the unexpected tug while he shakes his head and turns around to stare at the building we came out of and uncharacteristically stops as if he's stunned.

Then he looks around at his surroundings and lifts his hands from his sides, outwards, to physically regard the area like he can't believe he's where he is before he stares to the side with narrowed eyes and bitterly mutters under his breath, "We're in fucking Gongaga."

His voice trails off slightly then, and I stand behind him and stare at the old destroyed and abandoned Mako reactor we were just in. Then he takes his phone out of his pocket and sneers at the fact that our captives must have broken it on him and angrily whips it at the ground before he accusingly stares at me again.

"How the fuck did we wind up in Gongaga?"

At this point, I don't know if he's upset because we're overseas, or because his captors got the best of him, or if it's just because he hates Gongaga. And I realize that if I give it enough thought, I can jump to all sorts of conclusions that will probably never get answered.

So instead, I say while I remind myself of the beaten state he's in that, "There's an Inn in town. We should get you cleaned up."

And he turns to look at me with those hardened eyes again and deadly states, "The only way you're going to get me into that town, Vince, is if you drag my lifeless corpse behind you."

Then he starts walking in the opposite direction with a painful looking limp and makes a futile attempt to tidy up his torn and dirtied jacket and hair as he does so while I come to the conclusion that he's not going to make an effort to make this easy while he curtly states, "I only go as far as the reactor. Everyone at Shinra knows and respects that… Even Rufus."

"What are you doing?" I ask, as I start to follow him in disbelief.

Although I don't really know why anything he does surprises me after witnessing everything else he's done, and I hope that I can successfully talk some sense into him while he staggers away.

"The closest town is Cosmo Canyon."

"I guess I'm going to Cosmo Canyon then," he states as he shakes his head to remind me that I'm an idiot for not seeing things the same way as him and grimaces.

"You're in no condition to be wandering around the forests and canyons of this area," I tell him and wonder why I sound so surprised at the fact that he's the most stubborn son of a bitch I've ever come across. Not to mention, it's over a three-hour drive from where we are, never mind how long it would take to walk, and I make one more attempt to try to get him to see reason while I continue to follow him in disbelief.

"You can't possibly believe that you can handle any of the creatures out there in the state you're in."

He's completely lost his mind if he thinks he can walk it without any provisions to keep him sustained, not to mention the fact that he's wounded and would fall prey to the first wild creature he comes across.

"And what are you going to do about food and water… You don't even have provisions to sleep should you need them."

"I don't recall asking you for an opinion."

"You'd rather risk your life than go into that town?"

"Weren't you listening to me?"

"You're unbelievable," I mutter before I grab him by the arm and he swings around to hit me in the jaw before stumbling to regain his balance and the next thing I know is that we're both struggling with each other while he tries to break free and I refuse to let him go.

"You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Why should you care?" he hisses, more accusingly than questioningly before he tries to hit me again and I grab his wrist, noting that I'm gripping him harder than I need to with my gauntlet and that he's refusing to admit to himself that the crushing pressure bothers him in the least.

I don't answer him though, because I honestly don't know the answer and my focus is more on the fact that he's still trying to get away while I choose to ignore his wishes and drag him into the town. But he's not making any of it easy and I doubt I should have expected anything different, even though I believe a part of me was hoping.

And I finally give up altogether on my concerns about hurting him and go full-force at him when he roughly clobbers me in the gut with his free hand. At this point, I don't really care if I hurt him because he's about to make me lose my mind if he continues to be any more obstinate than he already is. And as a result, I clobber him back and tackle him to the ground in hopes that I won't need to hit him again.

"I'm stronger…" I growl, hoping that the warning will sink in as I hold his arms behind him and his head flies back to hit my chin, causing me to bite into my lip.

But I do my best to ignore it while I continue to warn him and hopefully stop him from his next attempt to hit me with whatever free part of his body is available.

"Faster."

Then I start to lift him like he weighs nothing so I can carry him and to get my message through.

"And I'm a lot harder to kill than you, Tseng."

"You're going to have to tie me to the first thing you come across if you want me to stay there."

And for a moment, the thought appeals to me, along with the temptation to leave him to his own devices after that before it passes and I stop.

"You'd rather die than go into that town," I state, not even bothering to ask him why because I probably don't really want to know, and he'll probably not answer me anyway like he usually does. Though depending on his mood, he might make an effort to lie to me just to spice it up a little.

"It's a matter of principle," he states.

Sure it is, I sarcastically think.

Then I decide that if he really wants to avoid Gongaga to the point to where he'd rather risk his life, both with me and with whatever else he'll run into, then there's not much I can do about stopping him.

So I drag him with little effort to the sturdiest tree I can find while he continues to struggle with next to no results since I'm not going easy on him anymore. Then I decide to utilize that miserable tie of his that lies about who he really is, and I find myself a little thankful that it comes in handy like that while I tie him to the damned thing without thinking twice about it.

"I'll be right back," I tell him while he glares at me with that burning fire of his again, and I'm about to walk away before I have second thoughts about leaving him alone like that.

He's probably capable of breaking loose, I figure, knowing how wilful and resourceful he is. So I walk back up to him and hit him across the head with my gauntlet, hard enough to knock him out.

Then I take his wallet because unfortunately, he was right about me the first time we met. The only gil I've ever had was from those that were thankful that I'd saved them, and since I haven't been helping anyone but him lately, I'm running a little low.


I don't really know what it is that he hates about this town so much. Though I'm sure it's a safe bet to say that it's probably related to someone who resides here and I catch myself studying everyone a little more carefully than I normally do as I walk past them.

It could be a past lover, or maybe even his father lives here or comes from here. It could even be his wife or his wife's family. In fact, it could be something entirely different, or all of it or none of it, and I'm well-aware that it's none of my business as I note the solemn and depressed atmosphere that this town has while I consider the fact that he may very well have enemies here.

Though I can't really see why that would be his reason for wanting to avoid the town to the level he was expressing since he probably has enemies everywhere.

It's bad enough that the first thing you see when you enter this town is the graveyards of loved-one's long passed. It's even worse that the cemeteries surround the whole town as if they've made a shrine out of it for whatever twisted and desolate reasons they might have.

And at that thought, I suddenly wonder if Tseng's childish and obstinate reluctance to come here is because he killed too many people in this town. But he doesn't strike me as the type to run away from what he feels is nothing more than his job. And more disturbingly, he strikes me as the type that would like rubbing the fact that he's killed someone close to you into your face.

Of course, he'd do it with style though, and maybe even a little bit of satisfaction as well. He'd probably be suave about it, just to make it more entertaining for himself and more sickening to everyone else who bares a conscience.


All of that aside though, I'm thankful that the Items Shop is still open and I walk into the old and small building, and up to the counter with the sound of creaking floorboards beneath my feet as subtle puffs of dust escape with each step. Behind the counter is a man that looks like he's crawled directly out of one of the cemetery's graves and should probably go back. He's far too aged to be up at this time and even more so, he's far too aged to be running the counter. But who am I to judge as I stare at him staring into space as if he's nearly blind, if not entirely.

And I suddenly think to myself, this could have been me one day if circumstances never changed the way I was meant to exist. Then I step to the side so I don't have the distraction of the mirror behind his counter to pull my attention to it with a sudden desire to compare my image with the things I'll never know, but should.

In an attempt to take my mind from it, I stare at his counter and mutter out, "Tent, please."

"What?" he asks, on the shrill and loud side while baring a toothless cavity full of evident poverty as he shakily leans forward to hear me better, suggesting he's probably deaf as well.

And I'm suddenly wondering what kind of town this is and why someone would leave a deaf and blind old man to tend to a sales counter at night.

"Tent," I say, louder this time and avoid watching his feeble and skeletal hands reach for my request near the back as he shakily walks over to it with an aging hump to his bones.

Once I have all the provisions and items I think I'll need, I hand him the Gil, along with a little extra for my own burdens and fight the urge to dig through the rest of Tseng's wallet to see if I can find any other secrets he might be carrying with him. But it's mostly because there's someone else present. Though unfortunately, it has nothing to do with my conscience even though I wish it did.

Then I thank the man before I leave and catch myself studying everyone around me again while I keep my head down and make my way out. And suddenly, I'm wondering what nationality Tseng's father might be since he is obviously not a full-blooded Wutian, and I wonder what the man might look like if I were to see him. Though it seems like a trivial thing, really, even to me, and I catch myself admitting that maybe I just want to understand him better.

But for whatever reason, I may never know.


When I finally return, I'm relieved to find that he's exactly where I left him and guiltily, a little tempted to leave him like that too. Though I doubt my conscience would ever be able to live with the fact that I'd left him in the condition he's in and I'm not really sure where or why I was half-expecting him to be gone either since I knocked him unconscious and tied him in a way that he hopefully wouldn't be able to break free from.

But he's still there and he's the first thing I concern myself with before I untie him, pick him up, and carry him farther into the woods for better cover from any more of his unwelcome friends from the past.

Once I find a spot I'm comfortable with, I catch myself not really wanting to put him down and almost disgusted with myself over the fact that I like the way it feels to be holding him. But I manage to overcome the more basic side of myself and I even go so far as to tie him back up after carefully placing him on an even spot on the ground.

I figure it's best to keep him like that until the tent's completely set up, just in case he manages to regain consciousness and decides he'll disapprove of something, or everything regarding my decisions. Though I'm not really sure why I'm concerned about that. He doesn't approve of anything anyway, and I try to brush it aside while I carry him into the protective shelter of the tent when I'm done.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get any proper sleeping bags for us. But I did manage to bargain for a few ratty blankets that the man set aside in his own cupboards, and I gently placed Tseng down on them in hopes that they'll be comfortable enough for him and suitable enough for his needs, if not to his taste, and I admiringly brush his straight hair from his face before sitting back and tending to the next thing that needs to be tended to.

And with an empty breath, I place a sufficient cut on my finger and let a few drops of the chemicals that invade my veins to spill into a small vial while frowning at the reminder that there's not a single drop of blood left in my body.

After that, I place a small pinch of crushed vampire fang that I acquired from the black bats in the mansion's basement in Nibelheim.

And out of nothing more than being personally trained from experience, I quickly hold the vial away from me while a puff of putrid and greyish-green smoke bursts out of it and I press my upper cloak over my mouth and nose.

The vile mixture lets off a scent that's sinful enough to wake the dead, or in Tseng's case, Hell's incarnate, and his reaction is nothing more than a reminder of how many times those miserable creatures had bitten me in that dungeon and how their teeth had broken as he jumps up and gasps for air.

"Leviathan," he blurts out as he scurries out of the tent on his hands and knees for fresh air and I follow while suddenly wondering why I didn't do that outside in the first place.

"You're foul, Vince."

"Vincent," I remind him as I kneel beside him and pull him back to check his eyes. Then I let out a frustrated breath and put a potion in his hand without bothering to explain to him that it wasn't really me.

"Dull your pain."

While he drinks it, I dig around for some gauze and whatever else I might need, mostly things to clean him up with since I know he can use whatever spell he requires on himself if he needs to. And all the while, I'm just waiting for him to say, "Couldn't you have purchased a better tent?" and he does.

"You didn't want to go into the town," I remind him as I close my eyes for a moment and try to pretend that he's not about to start again.

"Well I certainly hope you didn't overpay for that thing," he comments as mockingly as he can before he holds out his hand as if he's waiting for something.

"Speaking of which, I'd like my wallet back."

I don't even ask how he knew as I put it in his hand and moisten a piece of gauze with some water the old man bottled for me. But I break when I tilt his chin up and start wiping the mixture of dried blood and grime from his forehead.

"So, how did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I took your wallet."

"Because there's no way you could have afforded any of this on your own."

"Why do you always have to be an intolerable jerk?" I finally ask him before I grit my teeth and take a deep breath while I continue to clean him off, and I'm almost dreading having to get him to take off his shirt since he's been in an extra foul mood since I found his pictures. I also know how much he hates anyone to see what he hides underneath, even if they've already seen it.

"Jerk," he repeats before he surprisingly leans back and lets me undo his buttons while he snickers at me, "I don't see how pointing out the obvious makes me a jerk."

"It's not what you say," I tell him as I falter for a moment and stare at the heavy scars on his ribs, immediately making me flash back to what he said when he had the knife in the other man's ribs, "It's the fact that you say it."

"I'm afraid I don't understand why it would bother you," he factually states as if he really doesn't understand. Then he pulls his shirt closed when I think he becomes uncomfortable with the fact that I'm just staring at him and realizing from the age of those particular scars that they're from the remnants.

"All I did was point out the fact that you couldn't have afforded this all on your own."

"No," I mutter as I shake my head and fight with him to get his shirt open again, "That's not what you were saying and you know it."

"Are you putting words in my mouth?"

"I don't need to. You say more than enough."

"Then tell me, Mr. Valentine," he says sarcastically as I stare down at his smug face and realize I've wrestled him down without even knowing I did it and I'm lying on top of him as if to prove that I'm the more dominant one and that he needs to take note of it, "What exactly did I say then?"

"You think I'm dirt," I tell him before he laughs at me and agrees.

Then he pushes me off of him and mutters out, "But I don't recall saying that."

"Take care of yourself," I growl while physically stressing that I have no desire to do it for him as I push him farther away from me and stand. Then I throw the gauze at him so he can clean himself up while I go back into the tent to get the hell away from him.

Whether the smell has cleared out by now, if it's not mildly tolerable in the least, doesn't really matter since I've come to the conclusion that it's more tolerable than he is even though I don't bother to question why I let him get to me the way that he does.


I don't bother paying attention to how long he spends out there either, and I don't bother concerning myself with the fire he's started or even the fact that he's probably doing just fine without my help. I wouldn't be surprised if he only lit the damned thing just so he could sleep out there so he could rub in the fact that he finds me too repulsive to be around, not that it should matter to me anyway.

But he comes in eventually and he's quiet while I sense him staring at me with that hardened gaze of his. I don't bother to turn over though, because I don't really care to see his uncaring gaze, and instead, I continue to lay on my side with my eyes open while keeping my hand wrapped around the necklace Lucrecia gave to me and staring at the wall of the tent.

"Are you going to do that all night?" he asks before I realize he's talking about the fact that I've been unconsciously digging with the claw of my gauntlet and have managed to dig right through to the dirt beneath the tent's floor.

"Any reason why I shouldn't?"

"It's irritating."

"I don't see why that should concern me," I flatly say, figuring he would have given the same response if I had a similar complaint. But I stop anyway and frown at myself for doing it while he sighs like he's not impressed.

"I'm not going to give you any excuses, Vince," he says before he kneels behind me and tugs on my shoulder to urge me to turn over and I do, "But let's just say that over the years, I've developed quite the talent for pushing people away."

Then he pulls my arm over and starts to take the gauntlet off while I let him.

"I know I'm… abrasive."

He neither smiles nor frowns as he speaks. He says it all as if it's nothing more than simple facts that he's well-aware of. He also says it like he has no desire to change any of it either, not that I have the right to expect him to, or even the right to want him to.

"I know… it's a little off-topic…" he mutters, almost distantly as he brushes my bangs from my eyes and pushes my headscarf up a bit to hold them out of the way.

"The first boy I ever kissed told his friends…"

Then he looks away and shrugs as if he's ashamed about what he says next, "I lied to my mother about why I was beaten…"

After that, he crawls over me and locks his empty eyes to mine as he places both his hands on either side of my head and moves a little closer.

"Of course, he didn't object to me getting on my knees for him before publicly humiliating me," he confides as he lowers himself to straddle my hips and remains disturbingly empty.

"In fact, he asked me to."

Then he lowers his head so our foreheads are touching and he places the palms of his hands against my cheeks and closes his eyes, tightly, while the strands of his strong hair falls forward and remain caught between his fingers and my cheeks, and he almost shakes.

"I know you're nothing like that boy," he whispers.

"Or even… anyone else for that matter," he adds, like there's something else he's referring to but doesn't want to tell me before he releases his hold and slides one of his hands behind my neck.

"But it still doesn't mean that I don't think I'll regret trusting you."

After that, he grips his fist into the hair at the back of my neck and asks in a painful way while I grimace and grab his shoulders, holding back my strength to try and ease him from his unconsciously tightening hold.

"Why can't you just stay away from me?"

He doesn't give me a chance to answer though, and for that, I'm thankful. But it's not because I'm losing myself in the embrace of his kiss, because it's telling me that he doesn't really want to be kissing me. Nor is it because his breath is shaky with empty desires, because it's tense like he's fighting with himself to stop. And as much as I want to spare him from whatever weakness he's inwardly fighting with—to push him away—I can't, because I'm fighting with my own weaknesses.

And I'm silently begging for Lucrecia to forgive me for turning my back on her while I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer so I can feel the warmth of his reluctantly succumbing body against mine while I relish in the sinful feel of it.

And to make matters worse, I fear the only reason I can't stay away from him is because I'm hopelessly falling into something I never wanted to fall into again, and because I want him to tear me to the shreds that I know he's capable of tearing me into because of it.