Vagabonds


Maybe if I try hard enough, I can will it to happen.

I never thought of it before. But when Tseng reminded me of the difference between Nibelheim and the Temple, I'm suddenly reminded of an old Wutian belief. It's a myth or a fabricated superstition is what Tseng would probably call it.

Maybe I would have gone so far as to agree with him at one time too. But I'm not so sure about what I believe anymore.

It was more than thirty seven years ago, the last time that I was in Wutai as a Turk. I was there with my partner at the time and it probably would have been for much longer if it wasn't for one careless night where he dropped his guard at a crucial moment.

At the time I was angry.

When I found him, the upper half of his body was face-down in the waterways and there was a crimson pool flowing from him and mixing with the clear liquid. He'd been stabbed multiple times in the upper torso, mostly in his back which led me to believe he was attacked from behind. His wallet was gone and so were his weapons, and I wound up carrying him to the only medical unit in town that would help us since all the others refused us and fed into the animosity that I felt by the time we arrived at the opposite end of town from where we started.

It was an unnecessary trek in my mind, and even to this day, I continuously ask myself if he could have been saved if he'd gotten the attention he needed sooner.

But he was on his last breath when I found him despite what denial tells me, and I wound up getting into an argument with the doctor when he told me they didn't carry Phoenix Down or Revive Materia anywhere in the town.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, "This is Wutai. No other place on the planet is greedier for Materia than your people!"

Unless it's Tseng, I suddenly think, reflecting on how he prefers the Material over the Materia and breaking away from my thoughts for a moment to brush his hair from his face while he stirs in his sleep. Yet I'm reluctant to touch him even though I want nothing more than to test my growing theory at this moment.

But instead, my thoughts fall back to Wutai and I fall back to the Doctor. However unlike other times, my focus slips from his temper and what I interpreted as a refusal to help, and it locks onto what he said, having never paid much attention to it in the past as he ignored my presence and tended to a young boy with bruises on his face and a cut on the back of his shoulder.

All the while, I made no attempt to hide the embitterment over the fact that the boy was worth more of his attention than my partner was.

What he told me though, makes me wonder now while I mindlessly comb the ends of Tseng's hair and stare blankly at the back of his shoulder, lost in the scars that go further back in time than I can ever guess and tracing over a small one, older than the rest, while remembering.

It was something about the dead—a superstition, I thought. It had something to do with linking to those that crossed over and how it was considered to be a curse. What he said to me in Wutian roughly translated to something about broken souls and a fragmented existence, and for a moment I catch myself letting out a sarcastic snort while Tseng stirs uncomfortably in his sleep and I think about the similarities of what he said to my own existence.

Broken… Fragmented…

It isn't just frowned upon by the Wutians. The mere thought of being resurrected is a threatening concept to them. It's like a curse that can't be broken and I think I understand it more than I want to now. But there is more than just believing in omens. According to the people of Wutai, those that have crossed over can't break the link that was created between this world and the next.

In turn, it causes a pull that can either be enchanting or haunting through a portal that creates a greater relation between worlds. It allows those that have past access they normally wouldn't have, allowing them to communicate; even to touch in extreme cases…

"Stay away from him, Vincent…"

And I suppose that it goes both ways when I think about my experiences since I met Tseng, and I wonder how much truth lies behind the doctor's words as I unconsciously rub at my throat while thinking about how real it felt when Sephiroth was choking me in what felt like a dream.

Naturally, I dismissed what the Wutian said as nothing more than urban legend at the time while the child appeared to almost snicker at my defiance as the doctor stitched up the boy's shoulder. The boy never looked at me though—he only listened while he stared at the floor.

All the while, he hid behind ragged bangs that looked like they were cut by dull scissors, depicting the sign of poverty. Then he quickly changed his expression to a subtle sneer when the doctor pulled too sharply on the thread as he finished, suddenly striking me as something familiar while I shift my divided focus back to Tseng when he coughs in his sleep.

Of course I remained stuck on the idea that Wutai was the only place in the world that believed in such nonsense, both verbally and mentally, and I continued to counter each of his excuses with the fact that I disagreed.

Though nothing I said gained me any success and the shying boy seemed to withdraw as if he were recoiling from my aggressive nature before the doctor demanded that I leave, gaining me nothing but more contempt than I already had for the Wutians.

When I think about it now though, I wonder if I didn't gain something more, something to think about now.

But the best I can come up with is that maybe we're both linked since I suspect I'm not the only one that's trapped, and I chance what I've been reluctant to do since the thought struck me.

Whether my hesitance is from fear of being right or fear of being wrong though, I'm uncertain. Yet either way if I'm right, then maybe there's a way I can control it, and I hesitate only briefly before I place my palm on Tseng's shoulder and focus on the only thing I can focus on at the moment.

Perhaps it isn't the best of what I have to choose from. But the mystery is no different from anything closer to the present, and Tseng's mishap at Nibelheim seems like it's as good of a place to start as any other place.

What happens next though, isn't what I'm expecting…


It's not Tseng's world, his past, or his future. Nor does it have anything to do with Sephiroth or anyone else in passing that matters. All it has to do with is me—my own past, my own world, and my own coffin.

I have no idea when the lid was sealed or even if it was me when I wasn't myself, or if it was someone else that did it while I was sleeping in my own despair, escaping from the reality and the nightmare that it became. All I know is that it was closed when I opened my eyes and that I didn't care about it either. Nor did I even bother to test the strength of how well or poorly it was sealed.

There was nothing but darkness to keep me company and whether it was due to my wallowing state or the fact that I had grown beyond empty, I wound up taking comfort in it, knowing that it's where I should have been anyway.

Yet the lack of silence might have been what woke me as distant as it appeared. It was the one voice that made my blood curdle in ways I fear to mention. Yet dully, the only thought I barely had the strength to entertain was the fact that there must have been a vent running from the room he was in to the dungeon he'd confined me to and that he was either talking to himself or into his recorder.

Neither possibility really mattered to me though, and I tried to brush it off like the ticking of a clock during a sleepless night and just like the ticking of a clock, the effort only grew more futile as the shrill sound of Hojo's voice scraped at the insides of my bones as he went on about how excited he was to get his hands on 'The subject…'

Some poor and unsuspecting fool, I gathered.

"Valentine's research will come in handy," he said, making me believe that he was referring to my father before he lowered his voice and commented on how curious he was to see how whatever it was he was talking about would react with such a curious strain of Jenova, "Rare, indeed…

"It's unfortunate that I don't have the time I'd like to spend on this though, and I must make that transfusion soon… before anyone finds out…

"Perhaps… if I use… Hm…

"I'm afraid I'll have to mix it with something to make it look more convincing… Those last samples I took were nearly void of red blood cells and Sephiroth's blood… Well, I suppose he's the reason I've come across this discovery in the first place, hehe…

"Very intriguing… Indeed…

"Unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to collect any data… Perhaps… at a later date… we can continue… But for now…"

Whatever the hell that madman was talking about mattered little to me, even the mention of my father's name had no affect. I couldn't even be bothered reflecting on the fact that I would have been livid about what I was overhearing at one time.

At the time though, all that did matter was the fact that I just wanted him to shut the hell up so I could go back to sleep without having to listen to his grating voice with little to no care for whatever he was planning on doing to his next victim.

"Hopefully this will work… or at the very least, stall the infection long enough to leave my name in the clear...

"Not that it really matters, hehe… I do have to admit that I'd be more than happy to see what the results are going to be sooner than later—"


"I'm serious, Seph… I don't think I'd want to live if I was no longer myself."

"I'll never let that happen."


No…

Suddenly regretting what I think I'm regretting, I find myself sitting up and staring into the darkness with a mind-numbing sensation while wondering if there was more behind the reason that Sephiroth stabbed the man he supposedly loved, and I'm wondering if it was at all possible for him to still be in love with the man even after he'd lost his mind.

A chill crawls up my back when I think about the possibilities and avoid the answers to the questions I don't want to deal with, and I cross my arms in front of me as if to warm myself, suddenly thinking about the repetitive visions of the snow and almost feeling it, seeing it… and Tseng…

He looks almost like he does in the vision, almost too pale to be alive. Though I take comfort in the fact that he's breathing, warm, and murmurs something illegible before turning over with a slight grimace while he sleeps. He looks peaceful though, and I lay more comfortably beside him, turning so that I'm facing him and I just stare at him while hesitating without knowing why.

All the while, I'm resisting the urge to touch my lips to his in lieu of a connection to something that was never meant for me.

But I'm not admiring or pitying him as my gaze drifts in the thin line of his mouth. Instead, I'm thinking about the story Cloud told us years ago about the day that Sephiroth lost his mind… how he was down in that lab and going through everything he could find of Hojo's as if he was possessed, or as I think about it now, maybe it was a mission.

Maybe he found something more than he bargained for. Maybe he found something that was only more fuel for the madness that started with the discoveries he was making of himself.

Cloud told us the crazed Soldier destroyed several records after spending more than a day going through endless files without sleeping or eating. Then for whatever unknown reason, he set the town on fire and murdered anyone who ran out of their homes to find safety or tried to confront him.

Cloud said it was more like he was angry and embittered before the madness took its toll, like a spiral of lies had compounded before something set him off further when he was in the basement of that accursed mansion. He claimed the Soldier was calm at first and that he was far more passionate after he left the mansion as opposed to the way that he entered and seemed when he resurfaced from the dead years later.

Though the goal… to destroy everything… remained the same.

Maybe it was why Sephiroth went to Tseng first instead of Cloud or Aerith when we were at the Temple. Though none of us ever questioned or thought anything of how strange it suddenly strikes me, considering that the only other person Sephiroth appeared to want to personally harm at the time was Aerith.

I don't want to believe that any of it's possible though and for once, I'd like to believe that Tseng is right about me having an overactive and unhealthy imagination, and I can't help but want to convince myself that I'm losing my mind if not losing myself to the monster that lives inside of me.

Unfortunately though, it wouldn't do Tseng any good to have it happen again and I cross my brows while watching him stir again—telling myself that everything about him seems normal.

Then without really meaning to, I hoarsely whisper his name into the quiet air as if I want him to wake up, "Tseng…"

I'm uncertain why I want to wake him though and I'm even more uncertain what I'll tell him as he lets out a dry cough and grunts at me while turning over. But it doesn't stop me from doing it again, and this time I shake him with a feeling of urgency before he mumbles illegibly into the pillow without hiding his irritation, "What?"

"I need to talk to you…"

"In the morning…" he mumbles back before he pulls the blankets over his shoulder and attempts to fall back to sleep.

But I can't wait until the morning even though I don't really know why, and I wind up bothering him enough to make him turn back over and stare emptily at me. And despite his tired and weathered eyes, he keeps them open with the most uninterested expression he can come up with while I try to tell him again that something I can't explain is happening and that I think Sephiroth may have betrayed him in more ways than either of them were or are aware of while thinking that I might be going about the explanations in the wrong way.

To my surprise though, he doesn't interrupt me or insult me like he normally does.

Instead, he quietly waits until I'm done, interrupting me only with a dry and uncomfortable cough, and then he mutters out, "Mm," before he indifferently turns his back to me and pulls the blankets back over his shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"Going back to sleep," he says before grumbling that he can't believe I woke him up for something as ridiculous as the need to nurture my senseless insecurities.


To say that Tseng frustrates me sometimes would be an understatement, and for the life of me, I can't come up with a suitable explanation why he would act so dismissive when I know some of the secrets he's been witness to. Though I don't press. Instead, I tell myself that maybe he's denying it for a reason.

That maybe, for the first time since I've known him, I'm realizing he really is afraid of something and doesn't want to have to face it.

Then I tell myself that it's not that big of a deal and that maybe my imagination is as overactive as he likes to tell me it is and that the only way to really find out what's going on is to try to find some answers that have substance instead of jumping to 'superstitious' conclusions all the time. In any case, he says he's going to Wutai and that he doesn't want me going with him, and I convince myself that it would be as good a time as any to see if I can find anything that he might be avoiding.


When the morning arrives, Tseng behaves no different from I would have expected him to. He turns to me, frowns over the fact that he knows I haven't slept and then he pushes himself to the edge of the bed while taking the sheet with him. But as it turns out, he didn't forget my accusations toward Sephiroth as easily as he forgot about my request for him to leave the Turks.

"Vincent…"

"Vince," I mindlessly mutter before he continues with a subtle shake to the head.

"Sephiroth never would have done those things."

He says it like the conversation only ended a second ago or not at all as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and grimaces when he pulls the sheet more securely about him. Consequently, I can't help but notice that he seems more tired than he normally is and I can easily brush it off to recent events while I turn my attention to him, watch him rub at his nose and sniffle, and I fight the urge to sarcastically say, "Really?"

Only I didn't fight it off as well as I think I could have, and I remain with my arms crossed in front of me and my legs straight as I sit on the bed and stare at him through my heavy bangs in a way that questions why Sephiroth did the things that he did then.

"Leviathan…" Tseng mutters, more to himself before he rubs at his nose and stands like he's light-headed, "Is there no sacred time for you?"

What the hell is that supposed to mean? I wonder, while being too stubborn to ask as he awkwardly walks to the bathroom like his balance is off so that he can blow his nose, cough something up, and spit into the sink while running the water to wash down whatever the hell it was that he coughed up.

Then he groans and blows his nose again while grumbling to himself, "Of all the times…" before he comes back out and stares at me while holding the sheet clumsily about him and leaning against the door.

"You pick the worst times to start an argument, Vince…" he says, sounding stuffy while he rubs at his nose again and walks back over to the bed with a role of toilet paper in his hand.

Then I wonder if there's ever been a good time to start one and I can't help but recall that he's the one that started it the moment he opened his eyes as I watch him sit back down, rub at those charcoal orbs of his and mutter before I get the chance to say anything in my defence, "I have no idea why everyone always forgets that he wasn't always like that… They always forget about the lives he saved and the wars he ended…"

"Oh for Kjata's sake," I mindlessly blurt out, wondering how in the hell he can glorify an abomination before I suddenly pay more attention to the fact that he's blowing his nose again and repressing another cough, allowing me a better cover for my insult as I focus on the new turn of events as transparent as it is, "You're sick."

"Yes," he agrees, sniffling again and smirking at the veracity of my observation, "But not delirious… He was a good man, Vince."

"Maybe that's what he wanted you to believe," I say, attempting to keep my tone less offensive without denying the fact that I disagree with anything he has to say in Sephiroth's defence as I reach over to see if he's running a fever.

Then I frown when he bats my hand away and looks at me in irritation.

"Fine… Let's say for argument's sake that he wasn't always a good man… Or even the best… Would it make you happy to know that he was the first one to cheat in our relationship?"

"First?" I dumbly repeat, taken off guard before realizing that I might be striking a deeper nerve than I knew existed. Not to mention the question suddenly spurs the next question that comes out more accusatory and riddled with disgust than I meant for it to sound, "How many times did you cheat on him?"

"Oh… Now I'm the monster…" he fires back before sneezing on my lap and grabbing the roll of toilet paper to blow his nose again, "Leviathan, Vince… Sometimes I really don't know why you stick around someone as vile as me…"

"That's not what I meant," I say, attempting to justify my reaction while reminding myself that he told me near the beginning that he wasn't the most faithful person around and that I shouldn't be as surprised as I am. Though I can't help but note that when he said 'vile,' he looked at me like it should have been obvious who he really thinks the vile one is.

"No… Of course not…" he mutters before bursting into an uncontrollable cough, "You never say anything that you mean."

"No," I defiantly respond, "I never say anything that you think I say… You're the one that always puts words in my mouth whether they have any su—"

I would have finished.

But a knock on the door sets us both on edge and Tseng looks at the clock to see if we've overstayed our welcome while I quietly ask with an accusatory air to my harsh whisper, "Are you expecting someone?"

He only shakes his head as an answer before he gets off the bed, careful not to make a sound and grabs the gun that he took from the Bandit while I grab mine and ready it as well. Then he looks at me in question and I suddenly get the feeling that he's accusing me of being responsible for luring whoever it is on the other side of the door to us while he hisses at me to, "Put some damn clothes on!"

I ignore him though, as if the defiance adds substance to something when our question is answered the moment we both hear a familiar voice that's muffled from the other side of the door say, "Hey… Tseng… It's me, Man…" And my gun-arm suddenly goes limp as I return the accusatory look to the lying weasel standing on the opposite side of the bed to me, wondering exactly when he was going to tell me about the visit from his precious little guest as I unconsciously aim my gun at him like he's some kind of unknown threat.

"That's right, Vince… This is all part of my evil plan to piss you off," he coldly tells me as quietly as he can while narrowing his eyes for effect before he responds to the jerk on the other side of the door and turns his aim to my direction to stress that he doesn't trust me at the moment while calling, "Reno?"

"Yeah…"

"Shit," he mutters before his eyes wander as if he's searching for something, and then he adjusts his sheet before stressing with those charcoal eyes that he wants me to lower my untrustworthy defence.

Though at this point, I'm not sure which one of us is the less trustworthy one while he quietly stresses no louder than breath that, "I didn't know."

Sure you didn't, I sarcastically think, while I lower my gun in a way that stresses my protest and he scurries to grab all my belongings to shove them into my arms while clumsily fighting with his own clothes to dress himself as fast as he can, "Give me a minute! I'm indecent!"

"Heh…" the little monster on the other side chortles before saying in a way that I interpret as flirtatious, "I seen ya indecent before…"

"What?" I hiss while Tseng shakes his head at me in a 'never mind' sort of way and starts pushing me into the bathroom while I swear I hear Reno mutter under his breath in a non-audible way, "Been waitin fer ya all my life anyway… what's one more fuckin minute…?" and I wind up tensing up as Tseng appears to have missed what the vile creature on the other side said as he shoves me into the bathtub and grabs the curtain to close it.

Then I demand in a low growl that I want him to, "Get rid of that imbecile."

"Goodness, Vince..." Tseng responds before he closes the curtain with a sharp and scraping snap to his movement and mutters under his breath, "He's not an imbecile," and whether that was supposed to set my mind at ease or not… well, it doesn't.


As much as I'd like to blame Tseng for setting the whole thing up, the conversation between the two of them when he opens the door proves that he was just as clueless over Reno's sudden appearance as I am, and the first thing that he asks the untrustworthy redhead is, "How did you find out where I am?" and "What are you doing here?"

"Rufus said ya got into a bit'a trouble," the redhead responds before telling his senior Turk that he was ordered to find him while Tseng speculates that Rufus worries too much over nothing, which earns him a curt, "Yeah… well… he ain't the only one."

Then he goes on to tell his superior that he managed to collect Tseng's belongings from the other hotel that he was registered at and that he also brought him some extra gil before Tseng suspiciously questions why Rufus would think that he needs money. Though he doesn't bother to fill the redhead in on the fact that he lost his money before he changes his tone and thanks the little capparwire.

However none of what Reno says answers the question how he found out where Tseng was staying before an awkward sounding answer comes out with a lowered voice that almost sounds wry when Tseng asks him again.

"Well, it ain't too hard ta track down a couple'a vagabonds in this town, ya know?"

"Couple?"

"Heh… Yeah… couple."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."