Trigger warning for this one:
Mentions of attempted suicide, and suicidal thoughts.
If this is not something you need to read, please feel free to skip.
Please make sure you're in a good headspace before going forward.
Be assured, it does work out in the end.

They left the bodies where they lay, Nero arranging his brother and sister as if cuddled together asleep. It had been Deepground policy to burn their dead. Since neither of them had a fire materia, Nero simply sucked all shadow from the space, collapsing the cavern.

Nero moved as if in a trance, holding the shadow passage open as Vincent led a long trail of survivors directly into the WRO building. Their microchips were deactivated, and then removed, courtesy of Nero. How long he stood and plucked the little bits of plastic and metal out of people's necks, Vincent had no idea. All he knew was that he had been needed elsewhere, and so he'd had to leave Nero alone for a while. When he returned, Nero was still at it.

There was so much to do, so many people to rescue, to process, and only Nero and himself to lead them through the darkness. Nero and Shelke were the only two besides the team of therapists and trauma staff assembled who really knew how to deal with the survivors. Some of them must have been friends if not family, for they seemed happy to see both Shelke and Nero alive. The sky darkened, lightened, and grew dark again. Vincent barely noticed. It wasn't until a profoundly sleep-deprived Veld pushed a styrofoam cup of coffee into his hands that Vincent stopped to wonder if it was even the same day?

"You alright, spook?" Veld asked, voice fond yet weary.

"I'll live," Vincent replied, sipping gratefully at the coffee. He might not need caffeine anymore, but damn if it didn't feel good. "I'm more worried about Nero."

"I take it you didn't find them."

"Oh, we found them," Vincent said, unable to suppress the bitterness.

"Gods of Gaia," Veld breathed. "The poor kid. Vince, I'm so sorry…"

"It's worse than you think. He...something blew up. Chaos came out to save him. Nero knows...it was me."

"Chaos saved him? What are you talking about?"

"I don't understand it myself," said Vincent on a shaky breath. "Something about Omega, it doesn't matter."

Vincent reached for Veld's hand, gripping it so tightly that Veld winced. "I killed them. I destroyed his home, his family, everything important to him. Even the Restrictors never hurt him like this. He'll never forgive me-"

"Vincent. Where's Nero now?"

"I left him with the survivors," Vincent said. "Last I saw he was still pulling microchips out of people. He and Shelke were taking inventory, so to speak."

"He still there?"

"I don't know. I think I should go look."

"We'll go together."

Nero was not where he'd left him. A niggle of worry cramped unpleasantly in Vincent's stomach, but he forced himself to be calm. Perhaps he'd become tired and gone to rest. Everyone's microchips had been removed, so there was no reason for him to remain.

"Where's Nero?" Vincent asked Shelke.

"What? Oh. Vincent," Shelke said, looking up from her laptop. She looked as frazzled and sleep-deprived as Vincent felt. "He...was just here. He asked me 'are there any more' and I told him 'I don't think so'. When I looked up, he was gone. I'm guessing he went with the recon team to check for any additional survivors."

The niggle turned to gnawing. "Do you know for sure?"

Shelke shook her head. "No, sorry, I didn't hear him say."

A hand came down on his shoulder, warm and reassuring. Reflexively, Vincent reached to touch it.

"Vince?" Veld asked.

"We need to find him. Now."

"You think he'd do something desperate?"

Vincent swallowed hard, the motion triggering an involuntary shudder. "I don't know. But we need to make sure he doesn't try."

"What's the plan?"

"You check the light, I'll check the darkness."

It took him half a beat to puzzle out what Vincent meant, but Veld nodded. "Right. I'll start here, you check the house. Call me if you find him, no matter what. Don't do anything unless I'm there with you, okay? Promise me."

Vincent hesitated a moment himself before nodding. "I'll call. I promise."

"Okay," Veld nodded, clapped him on the shoulder before releasing him. "Go."

Vincent just heard Veld begin to speak, his voice magnified by the loudspeaker, before all sound was lost in the vacuum of the shadows:

"Nero Sable report to the command center. Repeat: Nero Sable please report to the command center immediately."

The harsh overhead light of noon made for very black, but very small shadows. Indoors, the soft fluorescent lighting only provided a faint, gray suggestion of shade. Vincent was a novice, he needed something blacker, deeper, and much, much larger. With no better options, he flung open the door of the nearest broom closet and stepped inside. He pretended it wasn't a closet, but the entrance to a hallway that would lead him to Nero. Vague light was evident at the other end, and he hurried toward it- and found to his embarrassment, that he'd stumbled into the Turk's locker room. This wasn't right. Ducking back into the darkness, Vincent tried again. This time he stepped out of the closet of the extra bedroom at home. It was closer, but still not helpful.

Tearing through the house, Vincent disturbed a number of squeakies, sending them scurrying from one shadow to another.

"Nero!" he shouted, dashing through each room. "Nero!"

Nero was not in the house. He found himself back in Nero's bedroom, staring into the yawning square of black of the closet. Vincent tried to think, to focus. Would Nero have remained in Deepground to mourn his siblings, or would he have gone somewhere else? Nero had lost his entire world, the only family he had ever known, and Vincent didn't know him well enough to guess if he just wanted some time to himself, or if he might do something dire. There was one obvious place he hadn't checked. Charging into the darkness, he thought of the dim purple glow of the mako fountain, the countless scribbles and drawings on the walls. He'd come to think of the mako cavern as Nero's room as much as the back bedroom. Surely he'd find him curled up in the darkness, surrounded by a flock of sympathetic squeakies.

The blackness lightened, a dim purple glow illuminating carefully carved and colored images on slick stone walls. Nero's drawings. He'd reached the mako cavern. Vincent raced forward into the gloom, casting desperately among the shadows for Nero. Aside from his own footsteps and panicked breathing, the cavern was silent. Perhaps Nero wasn't here after all?

"Nero!" he called into the blackness, his voice echoing loudly off the bare stone. "Nero, where are you?!"

As if in answer, a part of the shadows detached itself. Vincent jumped as a pair of antennae and yellow button eyes popped up out of the darkness. One of the little shadow creatures stood up on its back legs and looked at him, head tilted to one side, a blue ribbon around its neck. Max had put it on him to distinguish him from the rest of the shadow creatures. Nero's little pet, Ned.

"Where's Nero?" Vincent demanded. "Can you take me to him?"

Ned blinked at him and scurried off; his blue bow seeming to bob by itself ten inches above the floor. It was the only way to spot him among the shadows. Ned skittered away from the eerie light of the mako pool toward the deepest darkness.

"Wait!" Vincent called, racing to keep up. Ned and his kind might not be large, but they were fast. Ned's bow was retreating at a rapid rate, and it was all Vincent could do to keep up. Panic rose up inside him as claustrophobia descended. No. No, he didn't have time for this. He had to find Nero, he had to find his son. Forcibly ignoring the void, Vincent tried to concentrate.

He could picture Nero's ragged black hair and piercing golden eyes. Because of the respirator, he had never seen Nero's shy smile, but knew it was there. How someone so sweet had lasted so long in Deepground, he had no idea. In a twisted, round-about way, Nero had been homesick for Deepground, for the only life he had ever known. Nero had never known anything different. In his mind, it hadn't been so bad. There had been people there who cared about him. There might not be anything left of his home, of his family, but that might not stop him from visiting the grave of the life he'd had to leave behind.

Even without Ned's help, Vincent suddenly knew where he would find him. Automatically he put a hand out and caught the broken edge of the concrete. Ducking under and through the hole, he reached for Galian's ability to see in the dark. At once the shadows lightened, throwing the formerly invisible rubble and broken architecture into sharp relief.

Ned wove between chunks of concrete and broken furniture toward an indistinct heap lying on the ground. Ned reared up and placed a forepaw against it, chirruping softly.

Oh gods…

"Nero!" Vincent fell to his knees. Nero lay face down on the cold cement floor next to the cairn he'd made for his siblings, completely naked. His exposed skin had begun to crack and blister. Torn shreds of his mako suit lay scattered around him, the remains of his mask- smashed and broken- lay out of reach some distance away. Vincent's usually unbeating heart thundered loudly in his ears as he turned Nero over.

Nero's face and throat were dark gray, almost black, a froth of bloody foam washing over his chin to pool on the ground. His golden eyes rolled far back in his head, he lay senseless and unbreathing. However, through his translucent skin, Vincent could just make out the dark knot of his heart still slowly beating. He wasn't dead yet.

Scooping him up in both arms, Vincent darted back into the darkness, his only thought to get Nero into dark mako. He had not taken ten steps before he found himself splashing into the mako pool in Nero's cave. At once he dropped to his knees, dunking the boy under the surface. Nero sank like a stone and Vincent held his own breath as he pumped his son's chest.

"C'mon, son," he whispered urgently. "C'mon… It's not your time yet. I know you're lonely, I know you hurt, but this isn't the answer…"

Abruptly, Nero convulsed and gagged, a plume of black blood trailing from his mouth. Releasing the breath he'd been holding, Vincent sank down in the dark mako and gathered his son onto his lap. It didn't work very well. Nero was every bit as tall as he was, the boy's long legs dangling over his own knees. The surface of the mako inches below his chin, Vincent looked down on Nero's bare face through a filter of deep indigo. It was like looking into a mirror. Nero's eyes were a bit more narrow and slightly almond-shaped, his features softer and less sharp, otherwise they could have been twins.

"Idiot," Vincent murmured, cradling Nero's head against his shoulder. "What were you thinking?"

Except Vincent knew full well what he'd been thinking. Hadn't he had the same hopeless thoughts himself not so long ago? How many times had he turned his gun on himself, or stepped from Reeve's balcony? Nero had just wanted to be with the people who had loved him. Vincent could not fault him for that.

The dark mako felt cold and whispery against his skin, but Vincent ignored it. In his arms, Nero stirred, one hand latching onto the fabric of Vincent's shirt.

"It's okay," Vincent soothed, stroking a hand over Nero's hair. "Well, it isn't, but it will be. I know it doesn't feel like it."

Beneath the surface, Nero stirred and stiffly tilted his head to look up at him, golden eyes rimmed black from crying and a lack of oxygen.

"Why?" he rasped, no sound, but a flute of blood accompanying the word.

"Because I love you," Vincent told him, wondering at his own words. "Because you're important to me, and because I'm a selfish bastard who's not ready to let you go."

And there was that shy smile, but the expression was so sad it broke Vincent's heart. Forgetting himself, he gathered Nero close in a careful hug. Nero stiffened briefly, but soon relaxed into the touch. His head lay heavy on Vincent's shoulder, the painful rasp of his breathing growing softer and softer until it stopped.

"Nero?" Vincent asked, shaking him gently. Nero's head rolled limply against his shoulder, black blood still trailing from his mouth in a thin ribbon. The labored rise and fall of his chest had stilled. He'd stopped breathing. A spike of panic shot through Vincent, and he hurried to lay Nero out on the fountain floor and began pumping his chest. Again Nero coughed and gagged, vomiting a second plume of blood. Every inch of his long body shuddered, pain clear on his face as he struggled for his next breath.

This wasn't going to work. Nero needed more help than Vincent could offer. Mako wasn't any better for cell phones than water, and Vincent glared at the sodden device resentfully. Scratching and chirping at the pool's edge made him look up. Ned and a veritable army of squeakies sat at the mako's edge, clearly worried about their master. An idea formed in Vincent's mind.

"Ned, go fetch Veld," Vincent ordered. "Tell him Nero's hurt. Hurry!"

Standing straight, Ned gave an unmistakable salute and vanished into the darkness.

When Ned appeared in the command center and tugged frantically at Veld's sleeve, Veld's worry turned to full blown fear.

"What is it?"

He knelt down to look into Ned's yellow eyes. "Is it Nero? Vincent?"

Ned shuffled a bit, then grabbed his ribbon and pulled it up over his chin like a bandit.

Veld nodded. "Nero. Is he all right?"

Ned shook his head, tugging again at Veld's shirt. The yellow eyes closed and Ned sagged, going limp. For a moment Veld thought the little creature had passed out, but Ned opened his eyes, and deliberately did the fainting act again.

Oh, shit. "Got it, Ned!"

Veld rose. "Someone get me Dr. Rui!"

A nurse put in a call to Shalua. Veld paced, waiting. There could only be one meaning to Ned's actions. Nero was in bad shape. How bad remained to be seen, but if Veld's Turk instincts were on point, they'd need every bit of dark mako they could scrounge up.

"Somebody start pumping dark mako!" he ordered. "Enough to fill a mako pod and then some. Assemble medical staff. We're going to have casualties incoming in a minute!"

Well, probably more than a minute, Veld reflected as several people scrambled to do his bidding. Pulling his PHS from the clip on his belt, he dialed Vincent but the call went straight to the voicemail he had still not set up. Shaking his head, Veld put the phone away again.

"Ned, tell Vincent we're working on it, okay?"

Ned tilted his head and blinked his luminous yellow eyes. Right. Ned was smarter than the average squeaky, but he didn't speak, and there was only so much one could communicate through body language.

"Will Nero be okay for a couple of minutes?"

Ned considered this and shrugged. It was something.

"Think he can wait until we get the mako pod set up?"

Another shrug. Veld chewed his lip and tried to think what else he could do to somehow speed up the process. Maybe cast Haste on everyone…

"Veld, you wanted to see-" the sentence ended in an abbreviated shriek. Veld turned to see Shalua looking warily at Ned.

"It's okay, he doesn't bite," Veld assured her. Ned made a little bow to Shalua and sat down, watching her expectantly.

"Okay, that was cute if still creepy as hell," Shalua commented. "You wanted to see me?"

"We have a situation," Veld informed her. "I have reason to believe Nero's been injured. Can you commandeer a corner of the medical unit for his treatment?"

"What happened?" she asked. "How bad is he?"

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "Vincent went looking for him. I assume he's found him, but he's not answering his phone. For all I know he left it at home on the bedside table again."

"So how do you know all this?"

"Ned." Veld nodded at the shadow creature who obligingly waved. "He's Nero's pet. Pretty smart for a living shadow. I'll send him back to Vincent once we've got everything ready."

"Yeah, I heard you gave orders to have the crater pumped for dark mako. Do you think it's that serious?"

Veld looked at Ned, the creature's earlier theatrics replaying in his mind. "I hope not, but I'd rather be prepared."

"Sir!" one of the workmen called. Veld turned in time to see the man salute. "We've got the pumps going and a mako pod in place. What else do you need?"

Veld looked to Shalua. "Well, what else?"

"Show me where you've set up," she said. The workman saluted a second time and gestured for her to follow him. Veld invited himself and followed along.

The mako pods were all housed indoors by necessity. A single pod stood more than three-quarters full, dark purple liquid still gushing into it, pumped from a hose.

"Go fetch Vincent, Ned," Veld instructed the shadow creature waiting at his heels. "Tell him we're ready."

As Veld waited for Vincent to arrive with Nero, a volunteer in a white coat and cap, and suspiciously familiar clunky boots, showed up in the doorway.

"What's wrong with Nero?"

"Max, what the hell are you doing here?" Veld growled.

She held up both hands, eyes wide. "Helping. I haven't been near the crater, I swear! But they're sucking dark mako out of there by the tankful and that means Nero needs it. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes. Vincent's bringing him in."

Her face paled. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know yet." He took her arm, walking her back into the hall. "You need to stay out of the way now, Max."

"Veld, I'm scared for him." Max reached up, pulling off the surgical cap that had hidden her bright purple hair. "I won't interfere, just-let me hang around until I know if he's gonna be okay. Please?"

His first thought was to send her away, so she wouldn't have to see what he feared was a badly injured Nero. But she wasn't a child, and she was Nero's friend. He'd need friends now-friends and family. That was Vincent, and Max, and himself.

He patted her shoulder. "Okay, Max. You can wait out here."

Vincent tried later, but could not recall how he'd managed to warp both himself and Nero from the mako cavern, to a room in the WRO medical wing. Upon exposure to the air, Nero had begun choking and gagging again, blood spilling from his mouth with every breath. They could not get him into the mako tank fast enough. Even submerged, he continued to convulse and gag, trying and failing to draw breath.

Vincent reached a hand toward him, but felt himself pulled back by strong hands. Doctors and nurses swarmed the tank, blocking his view. The horrible rasping crackle of Nero struggling to breath penetrated his ears like an ice pick. But hearing him, even if he couldn't see him, was something. Nero might be in pain, but at least he was alive.

"Out, please," Shalua told him kindly yet firmly, as a nurse ushered both Vincent and Veld toward the door. "He's in good hands."

In his head, Vincent knew he should stand back and let the doctors work. He would only get in the way if he stayed. It didn't make it any easier to let Veld pull him out of the room and down the hall to a waiting area. His sodden leathers dripped dark purple onto the sofa as he sat down. There was only one other person there, a girl with brilliant purple hair, but Vincent barely noticed her.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Veld asked gently, putting an arm around him.

Vincent nodded. It took him a couple of tries to get words out.

"He tried to kill himself."

Veld closed his eyes. "I had a feeling he might."

"He-" Vincent took a breath, ran his hand over his face. "He ripped his suit to shreds. I'm not even sure how. Smashed his respirator. When I found him, I thought-he…"

"Steady, Vince."

"If it hadn't been for Ned, I never would have found him. I wasted so much time running around in the shadows. If I'd found him sooner, I could have stopped him."

Veld had been waiting for that. The famous "everything is my fault" Valentine take on the world.

"Stop that."

Vincent looked up, blinking. "I'm sorry. I'm just so afraid he's going to die."

Veld pulled him into a hug. "He won't. Shalua and her team are doing everything they can. Don't give up hope yet, Vince. He's gonna make it."

He wasn't nearly as certain as he sounded, but Vincent didn't have to know that. Time would tell, but for now all they could do was wait.

It took every con and connivance Veld knew, but he managed to drag Vincent down to the locker room long enough to shower and change. If nothing else, he was still soaked in dark mako, not to mention all the other dirt and grime from climbing around Deepground. Although Vincent knew in his head that leaving the waiting area would not sentence Nero to certain death, it was hard to get his heart to agree.

"Just for a few minutes," Veld promised. "They probably won't let you in to see him if you're covered in crud."

In the end, that was what made Vincent reluctantly abandon his post, leaving a purple stain on the waiting area sofa. Vincent had never gotten ready so fast. As they walked back, Vincent's hair still wet and dripping, Veld's phone dinged.

"It's Shalua. Looks like Nero's stable."

"I want to see him," Vincent said.

"I'll come with you."

Vincent was not about to refuse.

"I'm sorry, sir," the nurse on call said when they knocked on Nero's door. "Family only."

"We're the only family he's got!" Veld snapped. "The kid was born in Deepground. He doesn't have any other next of kin!"

The nurse held his ground. "Look, I'm sorry, but hospital policy-"

"Let them in!"

Both Veld and Vincent turned to see Shalua hurrying toward them

"For godssake let them in! They're his sponsors, they're acting on his behalf!" Elbowing the nurse aside, she led the door open for them.

The WRO medical staff had filled a mako pod with dark purple stagnant mako. The modesty feature had been engaged, the lower half of the transparent tank tastefully frosted over. Nero would not have cared, but it was a small gesture that meant someone did. The horrible dark gray bruises had, if anything, grown darker, painting his throat and shoulders an unpleasant purple-black. Vincent had expected Nero to be barefaced, but a different mask- white, with a long hose attached- had been strapped over his nose and mouth. Eyes closed, he appeared to be asleep. The monitors in the room, however, weren't keeping a steady rhythm, or at least not a normal one. It took Vincent a moment to work out that every breath drawn made the lines waver and shudder on the many screens. He was in pain. Stepping forward, Vincent lightly rested his flesh hand on the tank wall.

"Please don't tap on the glass." Shalua had followed them in. Taking a moment to look at her, it was all too clear to Veld that she had not slept. Her red hair had mostly escaped her neat bun, strands hanging loose around her face and neck. She'd changed into a fresh lab coat and scrubs, but her hands were still stained purple from the dark mako.

"How is he?" Vincent asked, looking at her over his shoulder. He had planned to glance at her, to briefly make eye contact just to be polite, but the look on her face held him frozen in place.

Shalua took a deep breath. "He's...stabilized," she began. "We had to get creative with him. We must have cast a dozen Cure spells, but it didn't do anything. I'm guessing it has something to do with his dark mako alignment. We tried every analgesic we've got, but nothing seems to work. It's probably the Jenova in his system, many SOLDIERs had the same problem. Right now, he's in mako stasis. It isn't easy to do that to a SOLDIER, but low-grade mako poisoning is better than being in pain. Like a medically-induced coma, it will allow him to rest comfortably."

"Go on," Veld prompted gently.

"His skin is healing, and we're keeping him breathing. That's a modified CPAP machine," she explained, gesturing at the white plastic mask. "He's scorched the inside of his lungs and throat, sort of like someone who had breathed in super-heated air in a house fire. Not only has he damaged the lining of his throat and lungs, but his inhale-exhale reflex isn't engaging. That's why we had to resort to forced air- er, mako- to keep him breathing."

"But he'll get better," Vincent said. It was not a question. Shalua swallowed hard, and Vincent felt his stomach drop as he realized she was struggling to hold back tears.

"The mako will help," she began, "but the damage is extensive." She paused, steeled herself. "Even with the ventilator, he's not drawing enough oxygen to fully function or to heal. At best, all this is just buying him time."

Her jaw worked, but she couldn't seem to force herself to say what they all feared. Taking a shuddering breath, Shalua tried to shove the professional mask into place, to become a doctor, and not a trusted friend.

"Vincent I'm so sorry. There's nothing else we can do."

"No," Vincent insisted, hearing his voice break. "No."

"You do have time to say goodbye," she said by way of consolation. "We can keep him in there, but he won't improve. He'll slowly get worse. Because he can't draw enough oxygen, his brain will deteriorate. There will come a time when he won't recognize you. His body will struggle on for a while longer, but in the end, it won't be able to keep pace with the damage. The Jenova in his system will eventually turn on him and when it does..." She took a deep breath, blinked, single eye spilling over unnoticed. "I truly wish I had better news. I'm so, so sorry…"

He could not even be angry with her. The impossibility of her words vibrated through him like a rung bell, every molecule of his being refusing the information with everything he had. It was too cruel. Nero was still just a kid, barely out of his teens. He had his whole life ahead of him. It wasn't fair to discover his sweet, kind, brave boy only to lose him. He couldn't be responsible for the death of a second son. Sephiroth had died because Vincent had been unable to step forward, to say what needed to be a said, to do what needed to be done.

It wasn't fair. Why should he live on and on while his children died? By all rights he should have bled to death back in Nibelheim. If not for Lucrecia and Chaos…

Chaos.

"Give him Chaos."

"What?" Veld and Shalua asked, beautifully harmonized.

"Give Chaos to Nero," Vincent said urgently. "It's kept me alive- sort of- all this time. Nero needs it more. He's just a kid. He should be able to live life and grow old. I'm ready, I don't mind. Please, give it to him."

"Vince…" Veld began, stepping forward to lay a hand on his arm.

"Are you sure?" Shalua asked, uncertain.

"Schedule the operating room, or I will tear it out myself."

"Actually…"

All of them turned. Max stood awkwardly in the doorway, salt streaks glistening on her cheeks.

"I think I know where another summon materia is."

"Where?" Vincent demanded.

"Down in his mako pool," Max explained. "It's in one of the side tunnels pretty far down."

"Do you think you could find it again?"

"Yes," Max nodded.

Without another word, Vincent grabbed her by the wrist and marched into the nearest shadow, dragging her behind him. Before long he was sloshing into the shallow depths of the mako pool, Max stumbling along behind him.

"Where's the materia?" Vincent asked.

Not bothering to strip, Max waded in a bit further and plunged under the surface. She'd only been down to the tunnel two or three times. The depths were dark and eerie without Nero beside her. She tried to remember the geography of the mako fountain; the features they'd passed. A sparkle caught her eye, and she recognized the glint of gold and silver. The shelf full of votive offerings. Good. Next, several stalagmites that bore a suspicious resemblance to statues loomed in the dim depths. They were on the right track. A number of openings appeared in the near wall, but Max ignored them looking for… There! The materia-encased remains of a broken staircase. The entrance to the tunnel had been adorned by hieroglyphs and ciphers, just as this one was. A lighter purple glow at the end of the tunnel, further confirmed her memories. At the end of the winding passage sat an enormous pile of crystal facets: a huge materia.

Vincent stared at the materia formation long and hard. Carefully, he reached and laid his flesh hand against the surface. The crystal blinked and flickered. Inside Vincent's head, a strange voice echoed:

Chaos? Is that you, my brother?

Vincent could not immediately think of a good response to that.

It has been many eons, the voice continued. Why do you seek my aid?

My son, Vincent thought back desperately. He's dying. Please, will you help my son?

A new initiate, the voice mused. So be it. Too long have I slumbered. Let a new high priest be born.

Vincent hadn't any idea what that meant, but he'd take it. A blinding light flashed, brighter than day, illuminating the cavern in radiance. Both Vincent and Max shut their eyes to the brilliance. Half a breath later, darkness descended, and Vincent felt the hard, smooth surface of a round stone in his hand. Grabbing Max with his free hand, he willed the darkness around them to obey.

He stumbled slightly as the lights came up, Max tumbling into him a moment later. Gasps and shrieks went up on every side, but Vincent ignored the terrified nurses.

"Here," he said, shoving the materia into Shalua's hands. "Use this."

Shalua took the small red stone. "Where did you…?" she began, and then took in the pair of them dripping dark mako all over the floor. "Never mind. Thank you."

"Save him," Vincent charged her, before turning and sloshing out the door and into the hall, Max right behind.

Vincent let Veld strong-arm him into going home for a few hours. He was tired, and heartsick, and once again soaked in mako. If nothing else, he needed another shower and change of clothes. They saw Max safely back to her apartment for similar reasons before heading home themselves.

Clean and dry again, Vincent paced while Veld shaved. As soon as Veld walked out of the bathroom, Vincent turned to head for the door, intending to go straight back to the hospital.
"Vince, wait." Veld caught him by the elbow. "Come sit down for a minute. We need to talk."

"Can't it wait?"

"Nope. Come on. Take a moment to catch your breath, such as it is." Veld steered him into the kitchen, gently pushing him into a chair, and set about making tea.

When they each had a steaming mug in front of them, Veld said, "We have some decisions to make, Vincent."

Vincent blinked. "What do you mean?"

"About Nero. In case this doesn't fix everything."

"But-" Vincent began, and stopped, remembering Shalua's words. Extensive damage, she'd said. Severe burns to Nero's lungs and throat. Trouble breathing, lack of oxygen...oh gods, what had it done to his brain? Even if his lungs healed, would there be brain damage? Would he still...be Nero?

"Okay." Vincent swallowed the lump in his throat and chased it down with a gulp of chamomile tea. "I get it…"

He couldn't continue. Veld's hand slid over and covered Vincent's.

"I'm sorry," said Veld. "I hate to bring this up, but better now than later. You know I went through this with Felicia. It hurts like hell, but you need to face it."

"I'm not pulling the plug!" Vincent hissed. "He gets every chance we can give him. Don't ask me to give up on him, Veld. I can't!"

"I understand, Vince. But it...doesn't look good. We need to have some idea of what we're going to do in the worst case."

Meaning, of course, if the summon materia couldn't reverse the damage to Nero's brain and internal organs. How long would they let the mako and the machines keep his heart beating and his blood pumping? How long would they keep a shell alive if the spirit and intelligence were gone, or his brain functions severely diminished?

Vincent shook his head, denying the ugly images. "No. No. It's not going to be that way! He's going to be all right! He has to be. I'm not going to lose another son!"

"Vincent…"

"No! Don't say it, you don't know-!"

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Veld went still, his silence a sharper rebuke than anything he could have said. Vincent winced. Grief and exhaustion were making him stupid.

"Veld, I'm sorry." He turned his hand, gripping Veld's fingers in his own. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, spook." Veld gave him a sad, tired smile. "It's the hardest thing any parent can face, whether you've known your child for a lifetime or just for a few weeks. You're entitled to be angry."

"But I'm not entitled to hurt you. I just...I don't know what to do."

"What do you think he would want?"

"How can I know?" Vincent let go of Veld's hand, and rose, moving to the kitchen window to stare out at the night sky. "I don't even feel I have the right to decide for him. It should be his choice, not mine."

He glanced at Veld. "That choice was taken away from me. I won't do that to my son."

"Fair enough, but he may never regain consciousness. He might not be able to make the decision himself."

"I know. So we'll have to wait and see what happens. I want him to know we're there for him, if he...chooses to stay. And if…" Vincent paused, hating what he was about to say. "If the worst happens, if we know beyond a doubt that he's never going to get better, then...I'll do what I have to do. If he...ends up brain-dead, I won't let him float in a tank until his body gives out."

"All right then." Veld came to stand behind him, sliding his arms around Vincent. "Come on, we'll head back and see how it's going."

"There's something I need to do first," Vincent said. "I'll catch up to you."

Alone, Vincent opened the double doors of the small shrine, setting the pale blue porcelain cup out first. Then the incense holder, then the glass votive. He lit three sticks of incense from the candle flame, brought a small dish of rice, and filled the cup with sake from a new bottle.

Sinking to his knees, he cleared his mind. It wasn't easy. Every fear he'd ever had for Nero reared up like a tsunami, pulling him under. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, Hellmasker hissed curses at him. Galian and Gigas grumbled and moaned. Body shaking, eyes filled with tears, Vincent bowed low, his forehead touching the carpet.

"Gods of Gaia, be with me now," he breathed. "Ancestors of my house, mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers. Hear me."

Words never came easily to him. There was so much he wanted, needed, to say, and yet words were inadequate. How did one ask for the world?

"Gods of Gaia…my son is dying. Take from me what you will, but please, give him life. Make him well. Let him live. I deserve nothing, but Nero…I'll do whatever you ask, if you only let him live and be healed. I ask this in love and humility. Please, give Nero life and health. So let it be."

There was no more to be said. His headmates had settled down, and some of the tension had drained from his body. He would not give up hope. Stranger and more wonderful things had happened on Gaia.

What was one more miracle?