Vincent poked through his crowded bookshelves, more out of desperation than because anything useful might be there. He had Gaian life sciences, history, anthropology, folklore, books on magic and materia, numerous volumes on guns and ammo. Nothing on parenting.

"Why don't I have 'The Idiot's Guide to Being a Dad'?" he muttered. He knew the answer. There had never been a need for it.

Intellectually, he knew there was no proof that Nero was his son. The Jenova in his cells was almost a blood type in and of itself; he might never have proof. Veld had warned Vincent more than once to keep his emotional 'd tried, but now he knew that he wanted it to be true.

Most rookie Turks were assigned a partner, an older agent who acted as advisor and mentor. Vincent hadn't been active long enough to take on that duty in the past. In a way, Nero showing up in his life was a second chance. Even if they didn't share DNA, maybe he could be that mentor.

Someone knocked at the door. Vincent grinned, assuming Veld had forgotten his keys again. Instead, he found Nero on the doorstep.

"Oh, it's you."

"Yes, sir. Reporting in, sir."

Vincent sighed. "Nero, please stop calling me 'sir'. Just call me 'Vincent'. Come on in."

"Um, yes, si- Vincent." He stepped inside, glancing around.

"Veld's out getting groceries," Vincent said. "You can wait if you want, unless there's somewhere else you'd rather be? With friends?"

Nero shook his head. "I don't have any friends. Just Max, and she's busy right now."

That didn't make much sense. "What about all the other survivors from Deepground?"

"They're mostly mothers and kids," said Nero with a shrug. "They're afraid of me. And the troops that lived either don't like me, or they have their own friends."

"But...that's...not fair," said Vincent. Damn, that sounded lame. "Well, I'll be your friend, okay? I can't….I don't know if I'm really your dad, but I can do this much. I'd like to do something for you."

"Sure," said Nero, with a hint of shy grin behind his mask.

An awkward silence fell. Casting about for something to talk about, Vincent's eyes fell on Nero's most defining characteristic. "Could you...show me how you do the thing with the shadows? I think I may be able to work with them."

"I can try…" Nero took a step backward, his back to the light, shadow stretching out before him. "It's just something I could always do, because of the dark mako they gave me when I was little."

"But how does it work?"

"It's like...being able to reach your arm longer. The Dark is its own thing. I can't really explain it." He pointed at the dark shape on the carpet. "See if you can drop into my shadow. That way, if you get stuck, I can pull you out."

"Um." Vincent stepped forward, not quite stumbling, as though he'd felt for a stair-step that wasn't there.

"Just treat it like stairs, or empty space," said Nero. "As though the floor's not there."

What would Chaos do? Vincent stepped sideways, sliding into shadow.

Darkness welled up around him, cutting off the light.

"Um. Hey. It's dark in here."

"You did it!" Nero's voice came to him. "Now see if you can step back out. Let it boost you up."

Vincent did so, stepping backward into the living room. "It worked!"

"You learn quick," said Nero, beaming at him over the top of his mask. "Now try a wall. Those are harder. See if you can open a hole."

"You do realize we don't own this house, right?" Vincent said.

"Not like that. See your own shadow?" said Nero. "I can't make shadows from nothing, but I can pull them together to do things. So you can either use a pre-existing shadow by itself, or you can pull small shadows together to make a bigger one. You can make a hole or a doorway."

"What's on the other side?"

"Whatever you want. Wherever you want to go. It's easier to go someplace you've been before."

That meant almost infinite possibilities. Thinking hard, Vincent chose a particularly dark corner of the room, reasoning that as a new practitioner of the art of shadowing, it might prove easier to work with. Holding the image of a familiar place in mind, he walked into the shadows, at the last second calling out, "Are you coming with me in case I get lost?"

"Right behind you."

Darkness closed around him again, and Vincent kept walking, expecting to bump into the wall. He didn't; the dark opened out before him like a tunnel, black as the midnight sky. He walked forward, Nero at his back, and moments later stepped out onto a stone balcony high above the city.

Wind hit them hard, tossing his and Nero's hair. "This is Reeve's private balcony," Vincent said. "He doesn't use it much. I come up here sometimes to think."

Standing at the rail, looking out over Edge, Nero nodded. "I used to go to the mako caves when I needed to think."

It gave them something in common, although Vincent was drawn to heights, while the depths were Nero's home. "Did you do that a lot?"

"Yeah, there's a lot of caves. I explored so many tunnels. Do you want to see?"

Encouraged by his success thus far, Vincent nodded. "Sure."

"Okay!" Nero led him into darkness. Shadows swirled around them, thick as stormclouds, and in a few minutes opened out into a deep grotto.

"Gods." Vincent spun on his heel, taking in the surrounding space. The cave glowed with the blue-purple light of numerous mako pools, some small, some large. Stalagmites rose from the floor, their creamy-gold surfaces oddly marked with scribbles and scratches. A few random objects lay scattered about: A rough blanket, a threadbare pillow, a couple of books and other odds and ends.

Vincent looked it over, coming to the inevitable conclusion. It didn't even take Turk skills.

"Nero. You've been sleeping here, haven't you?"

"It's safe here," said Nero in a small voice.

"It's a cave," Vincent snapped. "You could have a real bed and a roof over your...I mean…" He looked up. There was a roof over Nero's head, as well as a few million tons of solid rock.

Solid rock, silence, and acres and acres of darkness broken only by the wan glow of dark mako. Vincent shivered. "Okay, never mind. I get it. It's okay, but we'll...talk about it?"

Damn, the walls were closing in, oh gods…Seeking a distraction, Vincent focused on the drawings that covered the rock walls from the ground on up to about shoulder-height. "D'you mind if I look at these?"

"If you want."

Vincent examined the drawings, noting the crude marks obviously done by a child's clumsy hand, the pictographs showing increasing skill as they went up the wall. The kid had talent, even Vincent could tell. He found a man's figure, pale hair sticking up every which-way, wide-shouldered, his torso bare. And near him, a woman, curves delicately rendered, with long curling hair.

Somewhere Nero had found things to color with: The man's eyes were blue, the woman's golden, and her hair a bright blood-red.

Between them, Nero had drawn a tall, thin male figure, black-haired, golden-eyed, his lower face covered by a mask, shadows swirling about his feet. The shoulders of the trio touched, Weiss's meeting Nero's right, Rosso's his left.

"These are really good," he said. "Now I've got a much better idea of what they look like."

"D'you think it will help?" Though he tried to keep his tone casual, Nero's worry for his siblings came through clearly.

"I think so," Vincent said, with more confidence than he felt. Weeks had passed; Weiss and Rosso hadn't turned up yet. They could still be among the dead, but he hadn't the heart to dash Nero's hopes by reminding him of that.

He touched another drawing gingerly; a thin layer of mako had crystallized over it. Words had been scratched into the surface, over a drawing of a dark-haired face.

"This looks like you," Vincent said. "What does 'tried to help' mean?"

"Oh. That." Nero rubbed the back of his neck, looking down. "It...the mission failed. I had to be punished."

"What? Why?"

"Well, Rosso can't feel pain. You can only hurt her feelings. And you can't hurt Weiss because he's too strong, you can only make him sad."

His voice flat and totally matter-of-fact, he went on, "If Weiss messed up, they would punish Rosso. If she messed up, they'd punish me. I wasn't half as good a Tsviet as they were. The Restrictors didn't usually let me out to do anything."

With every word he said, Vincent's temper rose, burning through his self-control. He sputtered, and finally spat a string of curses that could have raised a demon.

"Fucking Restrictors-gods, what I'd give to be able to rip them apart again."

Nero just shrugged. "It was my fault."

Vincent rounded on him. "It was not! You can't help being what you are!"

Nero backed up a step, his eyes huge and dark. Vincent grabbed his shoulders, too angry to think. People had deliberately hurt this boy, blamed him for things beyond his control.

"Nero, they were wrong to do those things to you! You're a person, you're human! And they were evil!"

Nero vanished, collapsing into shadow.

Silence fell.

"Oh, great."

Millions of tons of solid rock, acres and acres of darkness, and not a living soul to be seen.

Okay, Valentine, stay calm.

"Nero?"

It's just a cave, I can get out again.

"Nero, I'm sorry. I'm not angry at you."

I am not claustrophobic, this is just...a little creepy…

"I know it wasn't my fault!" Nero's voice echoed from somewhere in the vast space. "It was Rosso's fault, so they took it out of me. That's how it works!"

"No. It doesn't. Or it shouldn't." Vincent turned slowly, searching the shadows, the mako glow, the stalagmites standing like sentinels all around him. "It's wrong!"

"Right or wrong, that was my life." Nero appeared in front him. Vincent only just managed not to jump.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong with me," said Nero. "I already know."

"I didn't mean wrong with you." Vincent reached for him; Nero flinched, and Vincent dropped his arms. "I'm sorry. I shot my mouth off without thinking. Could we...could we get out of here now, please?"

"Sure." Nero opened a tunnel and stepped into it, leading the way back to Reeve's balcony.

Wide open sky, fresh air, and blessed daylight. Vincent took in a deep breath, and turned back to Nero, who stood in a patch of shadow in the lee of the wall.

"Nero, listen. I'm not angry at you, I'm...I'm angry that I wasn't there when you were growing up, to keep you from being hurt. Even if you're not my son, someone should have stopped this."

"They didn't know," Nero said, as if that made it all right.

"But I do, now. And I want you to be safe. You don't have to sleep in a cave. Veld and I have a spare bedroom. You're welcome to stay with us."

"The cave is fine. I don't mind."

"The cave is NOT fine. Seriously, Nero, go back and get your stuff-" Not that there'd been many personal possessions there. "Bring whatever you want. Tonight. No more living in a cave."

"Is that an order?" said Nero, a little stiffly.

Vincent ran with it. "Yes, it is."

Nero looked unconvinced. Vincent thought he knew why. "Veld will be fine with it. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

Shadows flickered over Nero's body, fluttering in the wind, giving him an insubstantial appearance, as though he was a hologram about to vanish. Vincent kept his distance, even while a part of him ached to reach out and pull Nero into a hug.

"You'll be safe there," he said gently. "And look at it this way: You'll eat a hell of a lot better at our house than you do at the WRO cafeteria."

That got him a hint of a smile behind the respirator. "Oh. I guess so."

With that settled, Vincent focused on getting both of them home via the shadows. It only took him two tries, the first one landing them in an alley behind a bar across town from their house.

On his second attempt, he brought them back into the living room, just as Veld came in through the door, his arms full of grocery bags.

"Hey, Veld," Vincent said. "We've got a new roommate."