It took Nero a moment to find the necessary sliver of light. For several minutes he ran wildly through the darkness, screeching to a halt to peer at every suggestion of light or movement. He reminded Vincent of a caged animal searching desperately for a way out. At last Nero found the correct puncture in Reality. It wasn't a sliver, more like a pinprick, and he pulled and tore at the edges until it became big enough to crawl through.
The space was small- just tall enough to stand, just wide enough to lie down. The remains of food packages had been swept into a corner, along with some smaller stones and bits of rubble. A bulky young man with a wild shock of white-blonde hair and dressed only in a pair of dirty white trousers and heavy boots sat propped against the far wall, a woman with startlingly red curls and clad in heavy armor cradled in his arms. This could only be Weiss and Rosso, Nero's long lost siblings.
"I did this," Vincent breathed, appalled. Images flashed in his mind, blow after blow, the boy - Weiss - striking with the speed and power of an oncoming train, and Chaos smashing into him. A sweep of vast wings, the sharp crack of bone, the spurt of blood, and the boy was down.
The girl, Rosso, lightning-swift, her short blade scything into his torso, her fingers clawing for the summon in his chest. "You dare?" Chaos rumbled, shoving an incorporeal hand through her flesh. Gripped her heart, beating frantically against his palm. Closed his fist. And pulled. A shriek, a gasp, blood flowing. Her soul fled.
"No, stop!" Vincent shook his head, dislodging the ugly scene. "Why? You let Nero live! Why not these two?"
Eerily, Chaos's voice came out of Vincent's mouth, as though he answered his own question:
"These were of no consequence. Jenova's spawn. Tainted." He actually spat, and Vincent tasted blood.
"This one," Chaos used Vincent's hand to point at Nero, "the shadow-mage, Omega's child. Of all beings, I owe loyalty to my brother Omega. I did as he bade me, eons ago. I preserved his shadow-child. My part in this is done, the rest is yours…and his."
Chaos faded, once more leaving Vincent to deal with his work.
Nero stared at him, naked shock plain on his face. Behind his mask, his jaw worked, but made no sound. Across the room, Weiss looked up at the rough and guttural words, raw terror transfigured into disbelieving joy.
"Nero!" the older boy's voice was rough and raspy. He tried to get up, but didn't get very far. In the blackness of the half-collapsed room, it took Vincent's eyes a moment to adjust to the deeper darkness; to notice what remained of the boy's left leg. The flesh of his lower leg was bruised black and badly swollen above a wide gash that had been inadequately bandaged with fabric torn from his trouser leg. Angry red streaks ran up from the point of injury. It would not support his weight, especially not with Rosso hanging limp and heavy in his arms.
"No stay there," Nero urged, hurrying over to his brother. Rather than hug him, Nero dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead against Weiss'.
"I was afraid you were dead," Nero whispered, smiling behind his mask.
"Not yet," Weiss replied, grinning, but Vincent could feel the bravado behind the words. A fine sheen of grimy sweat coated his waxen skin, only the flush of fever lending him any color.
"Is Rosso…?" Nero trailed off as he looked down at her inert body. Vincent's stomach sank as he took in the grayish cast to her skin, the dull and cloudy eyes, and the disquieting black stain trailing down her uniform. Weiss brushed her brilliant red ringlets back with one massive hand.
"I can't get her to wake up," he said softly. For a long and horrible moment, both boys stared at their dead sister.
"I knew you'd come," Weiss rasped, cradling Rosso close and smiling up at his brother. "I knew you'd find us."
"I'll take you to the surface," Nero promised. "You'll be okay."
"Take Rosso first," Weiss urged, pressing the dead girl into his arms. "Take her somewhere safe. Make sure she gets treatment."
"I will," Nero said rather blankly, hefting his sister in his arms.
"You promise?"
Nero nodded. "Yeah. I promise."
"Good…"
Nero turned to Vincent who shrugged helplessly. Not knowing what else to do, Vincent held out his arms to take the dead girl from Nero. He stopped short, however, as Weiss slumped back against the wall.
"Weiss?" dropping to his knees, Nero laid his sister down as quickly and as gently as he was able. Seizing his brother by the shoulders, he shook him.
"Weiss? Weiss! Weiss, wake up! Say something!"
The older boy's eyes had gone vacant and glassy; unseeing, staring at nothing.
"Weiss…"
Nero shied back as Weiss slid to the floor. The labored rise and fall of his chest had stilled. Nero knelt in front of him, hands empty, utterly at a loss. Vincent could not move either; frozen in place by the hopelessness, the horror of what had just happened. Mutely, he watched as Nero lay down on the floor between the bodies and curled an arm around each. At first his tears fell softly, welling up and spilling over silently, as if Nero hadn't even noticed them. After a minute, however, he buried his face in his brother's shoulder and wept.
Unable to bear it, Vincent knelt next to Nero and his departed siblings. Gingerly, he lay down in the narrow space between Nero and Rosso's body. Unthinking, he gathered Nero into his arms and held him close. Vincent couldn't help a brief flicker of surprise as Nero turned and latched onto him, giving in and sobbing uncontrollably. Unable to do anything else, Vincent held him, blinking back his own tears.
How long they lay there Vincent had no idea. It might have been hours, it might have been minutes. Nero cried and cried as only a child forbidden to cry for most of their life could do. A lifetime of tears drowned them both. He cried until he had no tears left to shed, but still the sobs wracked his narrow body. The lurch of throat and diaphragm on top of so much grief made Nero jerk in his arms and scramble to hands and knees. Tearing off his mask, he retched, adding bile to the half-congealed blood coating the floor. Vincent held his hair and made comforting circles on his back as Nero coughed and gagged before replacing his mask.
In the darkness they sat, stricken and still, only the whisper of Vincent's hand passing over the fabric of Nero's uniform intruding on the silence. Eventually, Nero slumped against him, exhausted.
"What do I do?" he rasped, respirator crackling. "How do I say goodbye?"
Vincent could not answer at first. Unthinking, he put an arm around Nero's shoulders. The boy leaned into the touch gladly. The bodies lying on the broken, sticky floor reminded him of a less graceful iteration of the funerals the Turks held, of the one they'd held for him. Swallowing the sudden knot in his throat, Vincent took a deep breath.
"My beloved brother, beloved sister, be at peace.
You go from life into death, from the earth to the Lifestream;
Carry with you my love, carry with you the memories of our life together.
May the gods bring you safely to your rest,
Be at peace in the arms of Minerva,
Be at peace in the mercy of Alexander."
Nero swallowed, the reflex seeming to require every muscle in his body. "The only gods anyone ever talked about down here were the gods of death: Cosmos, Chaos, Alpha, Omega. They said the only mercy in Deepground was the mercy of death." Nero closed his eyes briefly, the wet salt trails of tears gleaming slightly in the dim light.
"I never… I mean…" Nero pulled in air, an inverted sob. "They looked out for me. We took care of each other. I never thought it was so bad…"
Vincent rubbed his shoulder, hoping the gesture would offer at least some comfort. Leaving the protective circle of Vincent's arms, Nero went over to his departed siblings and knelt down between them.
"Beloved brother," he began, voice rough from crying, "Beloved sister...be at peace."
"You go from life into death," with one hand, he gently smoothed Weiss' eyes closed, with the other Rosso's. "From the earth to the Lifestream."
"Carry with you my love," he bent low, rubbing his head against theirs like a cat. "Carry with you the memories of our life together…" He took a deep, shuddering breath, and Vincent thought he was going to be sick again. Edging back, Nero arranged his brother and sister so that they appeared to be holding one another as they slept.
"May the gods bring you safely to your rest," he whispered, rubbing vainly at his eyes. "Be at peace in the arms of Omega, be at peace in the mercy of Alpha."
For a long moment Nero just stood there, visibly trembling, trying hard to get a hold of himself. Stepping forward, Vincent stood close enough that their shoulders touched. Rather than simply lean against him, Nero threw his arms around him and hid his face in Vincent's shoulder. Vincent would have liked Nero to embrace hugging at a happier moment, but here they were. It would have to do.
"I can't…" Nero's respirator turned the ragged sob into a discordant wheeze. "I can't do this alone…"
"You don't have to," Vincent told him, holding him close. "I'm right here. You have me, and Veld, and Shelke, and Max, and Shalua. All the friends you've made. You're not alone. You can do this. I'll help."
Vincent wasn't even sure what 'this' was, but Nero straightened and nodded.
"I can do this," he repeated, sounding more desperate than confident. "You'll help."
"Yes, I will," Vincent promised. "Come on. Let's get the others back to the surface. Okay?"
Casting one last look at his siblings, Nero nodded. "Okay."