Cosmo Canyon and the Sleeping Turk


I'm thrown back several feet from Tseng's body while grunting from the shock of a violent force that seems to consume my entire body in a flash of painful crimson. But there's no one present that could have done it and Tseng is still out cold.

For a moment, I feel like I haven't fully returned from wherever I was and I look around in confusion at the faint flurries in the air that almost seem to glow, and I notice the ground is covered in a sparkling veil of white while the vapours of my breath materializes in front of me. It rarely snows in this area—if ever—and to confuse me even more, the amount of crystal glistening ground and the blackened skies above me suggest that I must have been out for longer than I thought.

The only thing I can do to try to make sense out of what's happening is try to retrace my steps before I catch a glimpse of Tseng lying on the ground, lifeless amidst it all. His body is covered, eyes are open and staring blankly while light flakes fall upon him—not melting when they touch him as if he's as cold as they are and it fills me with an anxious dread over the lack of life I believe I'm witnessing.

But it's all gone within an instant and the snow suddenly disappears while the skies return to day, and I quickly turn my attention back to him with a heavy feeling that I haven't felt since the last days I spent with Lucrecia. He's still unconscious though. However, he's breathing and looks more alive than he did only a moment ago, and I'm finding myself wary of touching him again for fear of triggering whatever void it was that I caught myself in again.

And I suddenly feel sickened once the revelations of everything I saw comes flooding back and I realize that Tseng was lovers with…

I don't even want to think about it, I realize, and I quickly shut my eyes tight to try to burn the images away and convince myself that it was only a dream, nothing more. Though I take a strange comfort in the fact that if it was real, then I can take some form of relief over the fact that Sephiroth is no longer in touch with this world or he wouldn't have been able to contact me through the veil of dreams.

But it's not much in the way of comfort because it leaves me with an uncertain feeling over what type of hold he has over Tseng, if any. And even more disturbingly, it leaves me speculating more about the real reason why Tseng behaves the way that he does and the fact that he's admitted he hasn't been with anyone for years.

"Bad luck," he told me, and I begin to wonder if he meant something more by it.

Though I hope not.


As I sit on the ground that's returned to nothing but hardened soil and sparse sprouts of grass wherever light shines through the shelter of the trees, I tell myself he would have known better than to get involved with someone as deceptive as Sephiroth. I tell myself that Tseng isn't the type of person to put his trust in something so fallacious. He's hard and calculating, not soft and easily manipulated.

Then I suddenly wonder if that's why he's been acting so fluctuant around me since he could easily place me in the same category as far as experiments go. And the sickened feeling returns while I try to brush off the thoughts of how he stood behind the President in his search for the promised lands like he believed it existed.

'Romantic,' Hojo called him, and I knit my brows as I push myself up and wind up on my hands and knees like a predatory animal, just staring at him through my own veil of drudging weight like the less I see, the more I can hide from.

A mirror image of myself becoming more disturbingly real, and I shake it off because I don't want to face it while lowering my head farther into my mantle as if I can deny it by shielding myself from it.

But it does me no good even though I'm doing my best to deny everything I caught a glimpse of, and I'm still trying to reason it out in a way I can swallow without choking on it.

I'm also finding myself crawling along the sharp stones on the ground like a lowly prowler, almost ill as if I'm uncontrollably drawn and I'm going straight toward the custom weapon Tseng has hanging from his holster.

I remind myself that I've never seen him use it. Nor have I ever seen it, and that it's the only reason I suddenly want to see it. And I tell myself that it has nothing to do with what I might have been witnessing because the last thing I really want to do right now is verify it. But I reach for it anyway and pull it from its sheath. Then I feel even heavier once I recognize it as the gift he was given in the vision, and heavier still when I notice that he'd never used it. And I drop it on the ground from an even more disgusted feeling than what I had only moments ago.

He's still mourning.

Though I hope that's not the real reason and all the while, I wonder who Saity is and tell myself again that I'm concerning myself over nothing of relevance to me.

And I'm beginning to think that I've made an even bigger mistake by involving myself with him than I originally thought. Only now, it has nothing to do with him being a Turk. Or at least that's not the only reason any more, and I find myself walking away as if my will has taken precedence over my better senses.

But I can't leave him like that, whatever that is. And I lower my head again, inwardly struggling over the fact that I can't blame him for suffering from the same weaknesses that I do and I take a deep breath while my jaw unconsciously tightens over the reminder that he's not only mourning over a man who nearly killed him and left him for dead, but he's mourning over a man whose very existence destroyed my life and many others as well.

It's nothing more than blame though. And I deny the fact that Sephiroth was only a victim too because I don't care to see things that way.

Everything would have been so much simpler if only I hadn't followed Tseng in the first place, I tell myself, and I close my eyes for a moment in hopes that my silent prayers for guidance can be answered.

But there are no answers. There never have been, and like always, I'm left to operate on nothing more than instinct and conscience. Though in this case, higher reasoning plays a part even if I question exactly how much higher it is. And I grit my teeth again over the fact that I can't help but be concerned about him, considering I don't really know what made him pass out and I kneel beside him to reluctantly put his weapon back where it belongs and to pick him up while frowning over the fact that he doesn't stir at all.

He's out cold and the only place I can think to take him right now is Gongaga since we're still fairly close, and I want to get him looked at by a doctor sooner than later. But for some reason, I find myself minding his reaction the last time I tried to get him to go there. And I take a deep breath while wondering if taking the longer route and taking him to Cosmo Canyon is nothing more than a fool's decision even though I've already started walking in that direction.


Carrying Tseng for such a great distance along with what little supplies I could add to the burden is nothing more than a simple feat for me. With the enhancements Hojo's and Lucrecia's experiments left me with, I'm left with the inability to judge exactly how heavy something is or isn't since my body can handle it with great ease. And as a result, Tseng weighs next to nothing to me, making it easy for me to deal with the odd creatures I come across and making it easy for me to insure his safety at the same time.

Luckily, the trip is cut short when a traveller transporting chocobos offers to take us the rest of the way, reducing the length of the venture further.

"Heh, looks like ya got yerself a wounded Turk," the man states when he stops the rusted vehicle with a grinding complaint, and the first thing I do is lower my gun-arm so the access is more readily available while I carefully scout the vast and green fields on the outskirts of the woods.

But he leaves me with little to be concerned about once I convince myself that the man is too feeble to be wary of and too poor to be in league with any of Tseng's enemies.

"Y'know, I can take ya to Gonegaga," he offers while mispronouncing the word and thumbing behind him, "There's a medical facility back there."

All I do is shake my head and dumbly mutter out, "I need to take him to Cosmo Canyon."

Then the man leans through the opening of his mud-stained window and takes a good look at Tseng.

"Ah," he muses and nods before he waves at me to get in, "Never would'a guessed 'im as the type ta perfer witch doctors over perfessional medicine."

"You know him?" I ask, suddenly wary again and unnecessarily cautious as I fight with every sense of mine that says to just shoot the man and set my mind at ease. But I know that's nothing more than the feral senses I was left with and I do my best to ignore it as I lower my head even more in hopes that he can't sense my thoughts.

"Nah. Well. Sorta," he answers, "Used ta do deliveries ta Midger back in the ol' days. N'sometimes he'd be ord'rin 'is men ta check over the shipmints."

The man pauses for a moment as if he's going back in time before muttering with a careless shrug, "Standerd perceeder, really. He was one'a the ones I act'ally purferred ta deal with. 'E was always quiet'n polite, n'he always tipped me fer the trouble."

Then he frowns and leans farther out of his window to take a closer look at the Turk in my arms.

"Never smiled at any'a my jokes though... Bit of a serious fella."

Sounds like him, I think to myself as the man waves me into the vehicle again while he moves some garbage out of the way with weather-worn fingers on the passenger's seat and asks me if I'm a friend of Tseng's.

"Something like that," I quietly state, keeping my head down as I walk to the other side and pull hard on the loose and nearly broken handle to get the rusty and oil-starved door to open with a loud and creaking complaint that almost hurts my oversensitive ears.

Even though I'm relieved to find a faster way to Cosmo Canyon, my concern for Tseng's well-being grows greater the closer we get because he still hasn't stirred. His breathing is still shallow and his heart continues to beat irregularly. I take some comfort in the fact that there's been no change though, considering that I'd have more to be concerned about if his condition worsened.

But it hasn't yet, and I'm still overly cautious about touching him with bare skin to check his temperature. And as a result, I find myself trying to convince myself that his colouring seems healthy, at least what little colouring he has to begin with.

And when we finally reach the outskirts of the small town of Cosmo Canyon sometime in the evening, I start to feel a sense of relief and I almost forget that I'm in the company of a stranger while I thoughtlessly hold onto Tseng a little more tenderly than I should probably be doing. But the moment I realize it, I quickly change my mannerism and take note that the man didn't seem to notice.

I'm slightly relieved that he seems more focused on constantly checking on the chocobos he's transporting through his rear-view mirror and keeping his eyes on the sparsely gravelled road than he is in involving our business with his own.

He stops just near the edge of town to let us out. Then he apologizes for not taking us directly into the town, not that he needs to though. Cosmo Canyon has never been accessible by vehicles and I nod at him while lowering my head and mumbling, "Thanks," in a distracted sense of gratitude.

Then I pull out Tseng's wallet and hand the man some gil while he watches me suspiciously, knowing full-well that I'm paying him from someone else's wallet.

"He would have given it to you himself," I mutter as a weak explanation while he looks me over and sceptically nods.

But he says nothing about it and accepts it just the same. And after that, I walk into the town to run straight into Red XIII who's inquisitively staring at the Turk in my arms with a tilt to his head while seemingly relaxing on top of the iron-stained rock that bares the reddish colour dominating the area.


"Nanaki," I mutter, respectful of his real name as he nods a silent greeting in return and makes his way down so he can curiously follow me into the town. All the while, I'm wishing I'd taken Tseng somewhere else instead.

"Is that Tseng?" He asks with a genuinely interested tone that makes me wonder why he'd show concern, considering the man I'm carrying over my shoulder is the very same man that captured him for Hojo to use in his biological experiments.

At first I hesitate, and I even go so far as to kid myself into believing that Nanaki's not following me or even asking innocent questions about his past captor and tormentor. And I even take it a step further and hope that if I ignore him long enough, he'll go away.

He doesn't though, and I suddenly stop, take a deep breath, and remind myself that I'm being unnecessarily rude before turning around to face the fire-coloured creature that I've never been able to clearly define as anything recognizable. Despite the arguments between Yuffi and Cid, I'm still not fully convinced that Nanaki is related to either a dog or a cat.

And why I'm suddenly falling back on a circular argument that was never solved in the past, or even has any relevance on the present is beyond me even though I'm inwardly convinced that he's an entirely unique species onto his own. But besides that, I take a quick glance at the flame burning on the end of his tail and wonder if it reflects the health of his spirit.

Then I lower my head while carefully giving my explanation some thought and I mutter out, "I found him in the forest outside of Gongaga."

But I didn't give it as careful thought as I assumed I did because his first question is justifiably inquisitive, "Why did you bring him here then?"

Good question, I think, before I turn away and start to walk toward the inn without really thinking about my inability to stop myself from always physically reacting. I'm suddenly wishing I could trace my steps back and rephrase the reason for carrying the devil's right arm over my shoulder, and I mutter the first thing that comes to mind, "Their doctors were unavailable."

Now I'm lying for him, I think, as I lower my head again and grit my teeth while Nanaki muses as I push the blanket the inn uses as a door aside, "That's strange."

What's strange? I feel like asking. But I don't simply because it would go against all my inner efforts to will Nanaki away, and instead, I open Tseng's wallet again and hand some gil to the innkeeper for a room with two beds.

All the while, the fire-coloured beast watches me intently and tilts his head as if I asked the question.

"Well, our doctors are unavailable too."

You've got to be kidding me, I'm tempted to say before I turn to look at him through a blackened veil. But as usual, I say nothing and just stare down at the creature that seems to sense the fact that I'm not exactly thrilled at the new turn of events.

Then he tilts his head curiously at me again and attempts to set my mind at ease.

"Er, they will be back later this evening."

"Back," I mutter before I take a heavy step over the mismatching stones beneath my feet and falter when Tseng's right hand—the one he keeps his blade near—twitches. Then almost instinctually, I walk passed Nanaki with an urgent pace while asking him to, "let me know when they return."

"All right," he calls after me as he follows behind with a curious stride, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

No, I think. Then I falter again when I'm reminded of the torn state Tseng's clothes are in and I toss his wallet behind me where Nanaki anticipates the action and catches it with his teeth.

"Take this," I tell him as I continue to walk to our room, "He's going to need some clothes."

Then I pause for a moment when I recall how revealing the native garments are to these parts and add, "Make sure they're concealing, long sleeves, closed collar, and long pants—No shorts."

Then I open the door to the room and pause, realizing that Tseng hasn't eaten all day.

"And something sweet to eat."

"Sweet?"

I don't blame him for the questioning tone at the bizarre request and about the best I can come up with in response to it is, "I have a craving," and as if I don't seem strange enough, a last thought crosses my mind and I ask him, "Do any of the local shops sell lavender?"

"Y-yes," Nanaki answers, making it more than obvious that he'd like to know why I'm asking as he stares at me while tilting his head again. He doesn't ask though. Instead, he sits down and scratches at his ear with his hind paw, scattering the beads and feathers the locals like to adorn his mane with before licking at his nails to clean them off.

"I'll need some of that too," I tell him before I quickly open the door and step inside to lock myself away from having to answer for anything else. I know he'll just give the wallet to one of the locals and relay the questionable orders I've requested. But I can't say that I really care as long as Tseng's needs are met. And I lower my head while taking a quick moment to shake off my concerns before I carefully place Tseng on the bed closest to the bathroom.

He twitches again, same hand, and I'm wondering if he's close to regaining consciousness. I'm also minding the fact that his blade is there as well, and that I should deal with him cautiously.

Then I let out a weighted breath as if I'd been holding it and I carefully run my gloved fingers along his chiselled cheek while leaning over him. He looks flush now, and his eyelids are fluttering like he's dreaming. And I'm slightly relieved that his heart is starting to beat more regularly.

But I'm still concerned because I have no idea what happened or is happening to him, and I have no idea if he'll ever come out of it. And all the while, I try to brush away the thoughts of how the flashes I witnessed were reminiscent of death.

There's not much else I can do though, except to either wait for the doctors or wait for him to wake up on his own. And with that anxious feeling that comes with not knowing, I let out another heavy breath and grit my teeth. Then I adjust him more comfortably and grab the pillows from the other bed so I can place them under his knees, hoping it will help alleviate any possible pressure on his back.

I don't really know why I'm doing any of this because for all I know, I'm the one responsible for it. And as much as I hate to admit to it, I can't help but suspect that Sephiroth has somehow managed to hang onto Tseng from whatever 'other' place he's connected to him from, if that's the case.

I doubt it's out of love though. Instead, I suspect that it's more out of a sense of possession, and maybe even punishment just to simply be cruel due to the bitter state he wound up in. And I also highly suspect that Tseng would wake up immediately if I were to leave if my guesses are right.

But I'm not about to give in and I convince myself that it has nothing to do with my own sense of possession. And I tell myself that it's more for Tseng's benefit than for mine.

All the while, I brush off the nagging thought that I might very well be choosing to be difficult just because I suddenly want to take something of Sephiroth's away, just like his existence took something away from me.

And I lower my head before I straighten up and stare at Tseng's sleeping form while silently questioning my own motives. He looks peaceful, as ironic as that is. Then I grit my teeth while subtly sneering at how ill I'm suddenly feeling again, and I take my mind off it by closing the curtains to all the windows in the room, knowing how much Tseng would like to keep his privacy.

But that's not the only reason. I also know how much he'd disapprove if I left them open, leaving the chance for someone to see me climbing onto the same bed he's laying on and wrapping my arms protectively around him, possessively, before placing a soft kiss on his cheek to add emphasis to the fact that he belongs to me now.

Feral, as Tseng calls me, barely cuts into the name for the beast-like instincts I've buried under thin soil. And I bury my face into his neck while closing my eyes to shut the inner turmoil out. I take what little comfort I can in the diminishing scent of his cologne and the fact that no repercussions arise by touching him with bare skin again.


A light scratching at the door snaps me back to reality and I slowly lift my head in confusion. I must have dozed off, I think, and I look down at Tseng who's looking less flush and breathing more steady. Then I frown and sit up with every effort not to disturb him and walk to the door while taking in the irony of how only moments ago I wanted him to wake up, and now all the sudden, I'm trying to let him sleep.

When I open the door, Nanaki is sitting on the worn, wooden deck with a bag closed by a drawstring in front of him and tells me, "The wallet is in the bag."

Then he looks passed me and fixates his attention on the closed curtains and Tseng before he looks back up at me and asks, "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

"No," I tell him, realizing I'm being rude again as I bend down to grab the supplies, and in an effort to let him know I appreciate the help he's already offered, I lower my head and try to come up with something that doesn't make me sound thankless, "I think it's best to just wait and see what the doctors say when they get back."

"I can keep you company," he offers in that soothing and non-intrusively melodic voice of his while he regards me again, making me wonder if he's only being polite.

Then to make things even more awkward, Tseng unconsciously mutters out with long pauses between the words while his leg jumps in the air and his hands rush to cover his stomach, "Sefff'roth… No."

"Hades," I mutter under my breath while Nanaki looks up at me and asks, "Pardon?"

"Nothing," I say while inwardly hoping that Tseng's not reliving being stabbed by his own lover. Then I mumble as I step back and close the door out of nothing more than instinct, "I'll be fine."


If only I had some guidance, I think, after I close the door and stand there with my head down. Then I turn to see that Tseng has returned to whatever slumber he's trapped in and I let out a long-held and unneeded breath. I can only hope that whatever's wrong with him isn't going to last much longer, and I walk over to him and look down.

It's ironic, I think again. But he doesn't only look peaceful, he almost looks angelic with those striking features of his, ethereal. And as I watch him in a trancelike state, his leg slides back down from a lack of wakening fortitude and his hand slips from its protective grasp over his scar. It makes me frown while I tilt my head and lean over to stroke his hair behind his left ear, betraying the fact that I tell myself I don't care about him.

"Wake up soon," I whisper, rough and broken and in a contradictory tone as if I don't really want to disturb him. Then I push his blazer to the side and take a look at the weapon he's never used again.

And this time, I admit that it bothers me even though I know I should be the last one to frown upon someone else's sentiment. I'm also the last one to judge over someone else's choices whether they sit right with me or not. But it still doesn't stop me from wanting to take it away for reasons I can't quite explain, and whether it's my right or not, I find myself unable to fight the urge to pull it out of its sheath again.

Though this time, it's with the intention to take it away and keep it away.

Maybe it was something I should have done in the first place—and with that particular desire in mind—because the moment I get the weapon nearly half way out, Tseng's eyes dart open with a brief flash that almost makes them look silvery. It's only my imagination though, and I know it's only because I want to convince myself that he's nothing more than the devil's advocate so I can find a reason to hate him.

But despite that, I'm moving on the defence while the blade around his wrist juts out quicker than I can anticipate, and he manages to swing out and miss me by just a hair as if he sees me as a threat.

Though he manages to slice a tear into my shirt, intending to kill.

He stops dead once he's aware enough to know he's staring down the barrel of my gun and that the safety's already been pulled back instinctually. Then his eyes dart around the room, confused and wondering where he is before he fixates on one of the windows and gathers his wits.

"Where are we?" he asks, oblivious to the last couple of seconds or maybe just ignoring them.

"Cosmo Canyon," I answer in a low growl, still armed and unwilling to trust him enough to put the gun away just yet.

Then his attention snaps to the other weapon I'm holding in my other hand and he quickly reaches over to his customized holster to find it empty before he glares at me and hisses with his hands possessively covering it, "What are you doing with that?"

And when I don't answer him, he purses his lips and pushes himself off the bed with an exaggerated and austere movement while slicking his hair back, which makes me wonder how long he's been practicing that for since I know he's nowhere near being as proper as he pretends to be.

"I never said you could touch that," he slowly says with such a forced amount of control that I can literally see the opposite pending up inside of him as his eyes burn like the fires of hell are being stoked within.

It has no effect on me though and I'm almost finding it alluring for some strange reason. But I'm not going to let it persuade me from my newfound disgust for him while I lowly confront with an accusatory tone, "You were lovers with Sephiroth."

"Sephiroth?" he asks with that trained denial that he carries as he quirks his brow and looks to the side with those slanted eyes of his, muttering like he's surprised, "I had no idea he was gay."

Then he snorts and looks back at me like he's unimpressed and returns to that stone exterior he carries so well, "And I had no idea you were privy to rumours."

Then he narrows his conniving and lying eyes before he tries to grab his weapon from me and has to pull hard since my grip is unwilling to let him have it. All the while, he ignores the fact that I'm ready to shoot him with the slightest of reasons.

"Let go of it, Vince."

"Vincent."

"If you think I'm going to call you that while you're acting like a scavenging animal, you can forget it," he tells me, forcing himself not to clench his teeth to hide how agitated he really is while he tries to pull it out of my hand again and suddenly glares at me when I refuse again.

"Let go!"

"Not until you tell me the truth."

"You're deranged," he accuses as he continues to try to keep himself under control while still trying to pull it from my grip, "Have you always been this irrational?"

And when I still refuse to let go, he narrows his eyes again and leans daringly close into the pressing force of my gun.

"Or is this the result of Lucrecia's experiment on you?"

It takes all of my will at this moment to keep myself from putting a bullet in him and ending his miserable existence. But instead, I find myself stooping to his level and regretting it the moment the words leave my mouth.

"Maybe you were lovers with one of the remnants as well."

Unfortunately, I can't stop myself and I maliciously add without thinking, "Maybe it would explain why you survived that too."

I suppose the stinging slap to my face is warranted, and I suppose I went a little further than he did as far as boundaries go. And once I let go and he stumbles back from the unexpected release of his precious keepsake, he re-sheaths it and takes on that stone appearance again, hiding all traces that he's capable of feeling anything and he tells me with a controlled and blanketing tone to an inward sting that probably hurt more than the slap I know I deserved, "You need to leave."

"I'm sorry," I tell him as he moves passed me like he didn't hear me. Though I know he did, and he makes his way to the bathroom where he closes the door behind him, locks it, and makes a retching sound from the other side, making me realize that I'm making him feel as sick as he's making me feel.

Then I lower my head before staring at the door with a spiralling regret while recalling what he said to me about lies when he brought me to his home in Wutai, and I remember the feeling I had about him talking from experience. And the worst part is, that I don't even know if anything I said or did was justified.