Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy of Square. Damn do I wish though. I also do not own Ashley Parker Angel nor his lyrics. The song is called Along The Way.

Author Notes: Um ... mentions of death, YAOI!, and implied Reno/Rufus. Made for S.E. Campbell for her birthday. Happy Birthday!

III

It was the faintest sound, but my ears were trained to listen well as your voice was trained to be silent. It came with the territory of being a Turk. I followed it softly, treading the plush carpet quietly, I didn't want to scare you. My feet carried me to you, sitting in the corner of my bedroom, knees pulled to your chest, head buried from the world. It's a natural trait you learn in the Turks. You cry to yourself, because all you got is you and your team, and your team doesn't care.

I knelt down next to you and without hesitation pulled you into my arms. You heard me coming, we were trained the same. You cried, and I held you, never thinking twice when I placed soft kisses to your temple.

Firefly can I have a light? It's so dark out here.
My shadow looked me in the eye like I was standing in the mirror.
Everything became so clear in the middle of nowhere.

"What's wrong?" I asked, and you only clung tighter. What could have possibly reduced you to such a state? I wondered. I had only seen you cry once, when you fell on my doorstep that night. Your clothes were soaked to your skin from the rain, the blood, though washing away with the dropping liquid, was stuck to your pale skin like a paste, and when I asked you what was wrong, you collapsed in my arms and cried.

That was a year ago today, our anniversary, something that should be celebrated with happiness.

But just like that day when I caught you outside my door, you dropped a letter from your hands. Carefully, without moving you I read it.

A year ago, it said he hated you, that he'd hit you again, that you deserved the scars under your eyes to show your worthlessness. Today it was from Elena, tear stains clearly smeared along the ink that weren't yours, stating the official death of Rufus Shinra.

"He's not worth your tears." I told you, and rocked you back and forth, a failed attempt to calm your tears.

"I love him, Vincent." You told me.

"I know." I said, and I kissed your head again. Even after everything he put you through, you hold onto him. I guess I can understand, for years you thought that was all you were worth, a debt to pay to him.

You wiped away your tears, stopping to trace your scars, and I could see the pain welling in your eyes again.

"Don't," I said, taking your hand in mine, "You're beautiful." I held you closer, and you tilted your head as I kissed you.

I walk along the boulevard; my feet don't touch the ground.
Scratch my name on concrete stars, I'm never coming down.
Feels so good to disappear in the middle of nowhere.

A Turks' natural reaction to anything physical: match them move for move. I laid you back, you ground up against me. I kissed your neck, you sucked on my ear. Hands traveled up and under, over and across expounded territories of skin, and you moaned in time with me as our hips ground together.

We were quick and needy, but it was the best we'd ever been together. I brushed your hair from your sleeping eyes, as I did often when I watched you sleep in my arms. My lips touched your scars, another failed attempt the make the pain go away, and I smiled sadly, because no matter how much I love you, I'll never be what he used to be to you.

Along the way is where I'm supposed to be.
Along the way in the spaces in between.
I found my place in the middle of tomorrow and yesterday.
If you're going my way, look for me along the way.

I'll never be your everything.

III

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