For Gabby, thanks for just being you.

AN: After a protracted battle with my characters, I give up. It breaks my pattern, but Hojo and Vincent want their say, so here they are.

Now A Monster

Chapter 24: Ending

Hojo

My sneaky Turk was prowling around our tiny living room spreading a cloud of angst filled irritation around our otherwise pleasent abode. He had been trying for weeks to avoid telling me that we'd be moving to Junon, hoping that Tseng, who had mysteriously appeared as the head trainer, would go back to work as the Turk's liaison to the board of directors leaving him and Veld to settle back into their normal working relationship as Turk Leaders. Tseng, despite the horrors that an increasingly irritated Veld was throwing at him, seemed to be settling into his role as trainer. Now, my beautiful lover was fretting.

Unfortunately for him, I was going to let him ride it out on his own. I had a few issues to deal with and letting him wallow in misery of his own making kept him from poking that overly curious nose where I didn't need it poking, mainly in my quest to get that lazy dolt Zack Fair to stop serving bad coffee and to return to work as my son's second in command before Sephiroth decided to throw another meteor at the Planet in a fit of frustration over having too much work to do, too few qualified assistants, and not having, as far as I could tell, sex in nearly a decade. My other son, Cloud, was more than eager to help out in many fields, though sex seemed to top his list, but he lacked practical experience dealing with the routine idiocy of bureaucratic mine fields. Zack was the one that was needed, so his coffee serving days were limited.

Vincent, the caffeine addicted Turk, would never even begin to conceive of a notion that would deprive him of his daily intake of coffee-like substances (how he managed to survive for thirty years without a cup is a modern day miracle that even the most hallowed of Ancient lore couldn't rival), so it was up to me to end the coffee flow and send Zack back to work.

So, for the sake of my son, I once again hoisted my armaments and went off to battle. The first task, get out of the house without raising any undo Turkish suspicions. This was simple enough. Indeed, it would only take a matter of moments and my Turk would all but pitch me out of the house himself.

"Vincent! Look!" I waved a catalog that I had snagged of a café table yesterday under his nose as I nearly ran into the living room. "Chocobos! Racing chocobos are being sold at auction today." I latched onto his arm and started dragging him towards the door. "I need to talk to their breeders. They should be there." I waved the magazine again as he looked at me with startled horror. "I could learn so much about those nuts." Still dragging, I looked away as I pretended to ponder. "I wonder what nuts they use and where they get their breeding stock."

Vincent was now struggling, but I kept hold of him, pulling him around the couch and towards the door. The more he struggled, the longer I had to describe the fun day of nuts and birds that awaited him. Poor love, he'd already been hauled to more mind-numbingly boring lectures on the wonders of chocobo sex than any mere mortal could possibly survive and it was starting to take a toll on him. But, I'm a father and a father has to look out for the well-being of his child.

As we reached the door, Vincent latched onto the frame in an attempt at self-preservation. "I have work to do." His eyes darted around a bit wildly as he cudgeled his brain into coming up with an escape plan, the nuts and the chocobos effectively blocking him from his big confession. He knew in his conniving brain that if he offered me a reason to make him feel guilty, he'd be obligated to spend the whole afternoon discussing chocobos chomping on nuts and frolicking with their mates to make the whole trauma of his confession away.

Guilt. It's not only for mothers.

However, I couldn't let him get off too easily, or he'd get suspicious. "It won't take long. I only have a few questions." I gave him a tug. "You don't want me to go alone do you?"

Given the chance, he'd probably ship me bodily to the Gold Saucer to see all the racing chocobos I could wish for. It had taken weeks to train him to have a healthy loathing of all chocobo related activities and my hard work was paying off.

He shook himself gently free and stepped out of arm's reach. "I'm sure you'll be fine." A twinge of guilt passed across his face that I took note of to use later. "I need to…to call Veld about the next round of recruits."

"But…" I put on my best look of disappointment and pretended that I hadn't seen Veld snagging berry pie at Bettina's only an hour before. "…the chocobos…the nuts…"

It was interesting, as I stood there looking unhappy, to see how well my weeks long battle had taken its toll. Weeks of chattering about nuts, nut growing, slyly bringing chocobos home for a "visit" that somehow always ended in part of his garden becoming chocobo dinner had reduced my big bad Turk into a nervous, eye-darting, wreck. I'd have to make it up to him later. My poor darling needed intensive cuddling to sooth away this horrid episode of his life.

"It can't be helped." He, still staying out of lunging range, nodded out the door, encouraging me to leave him behind. "I'll see you tonight." He took a steadying breath and bravely nodded. "You can tell me all about it tonight."

Can you see why I adore him?

Not wanting to overplay my hand, I glanced down dolefully at the magazine. "Are you sure? I could wait awhile."

I had to applaud him for not picking me up and pitching me and my magazine out onto the street. "It will take all day to sort things out for the recruits."

I slumped and dragged myself out, gaining a few guilt points to be used later, then sadly made my way down the street. Only when I was sure I wasn't observed did I perk up and head off to assure my son of a bright future of competent second in commands and getting laid on a regular basis.

Vincent

Veld was gloating. I couldn't blame him since I probably looked much the same. Tseng was miserable, thanks to our combined efforts, and was sharing his joy with the other pains in our asses, the recruits. Citing a basic Turk tenant that the only way a Turk retires is by a bullet, Veld had informed Tseng that if he didn't retake his position as a Turk or as the moron sitting on the board of directors, no amount of shagging the president was going to save him from terminal, high-speed, lead poisoning. Thus Tseng, demoted to training coach to the most dumb-assed recruits his inept flunkies could scrape out of the cesspits of the Planet, was now shivering his nights away in a dilapidated cabin that made the recruit's barracks look palacial, taking life-threateningly cold baths in glacial run-off, and eating a diet that could best be described as rodent.

"I could probably go down there and offer him his old job back now." Veld sipped his espresso watching Tseng yell insults at a recruit that had the weapons skill of a blind, geriatric, blu blu. "It's been three weeks, but I just ain't feeling that kind. I've had to listen to Palmer. He's going to suffer this out for at least another week."

I nodded noncommittally. I was trying to keep out of the way of Veld and his protégé's battle of wills. Tseng certainly looked like he was ready to break. His normally immaculate appearance had disintegrated into a scruffy ponytail, a couple of frayed uniforms that looked like mice had nested in them at night, and a pair of ragged gloves that didn't hide the fact that his fingers were settling into a permanent blue tinged color. His cool, I-don't-take-shit demeanor had devolved into a hair trigger temper with periodic bouts of screaming rage punctuated by stunned depression. And as each layer of Tseng's masks dissolved, Veld snickered and added one more tiny insult: no coffee, lye-soap, progress reports in triplicate that had to be laboriously typed out on an old, rusted, manual typewriter, and less and less help to train the recruits.

After all, I couldn't run the Turks and help. Veld certainly wasn't going to miss meetings with the president, and Palmer. Rude and Elena had bodyguard duties. Which only left Reno, who Veld was keeping in the background, no doubt to throw at Tseng at a later date. Veld was merciless when annoyed and being on Shinra's board of directors had him nearly rabid.

I noticed my chick was roving around with his latest prize, a young female chocobo that I had brought back from the chocobo ranch. She was a beauty, one of the chocobo sage's best standard chocobos. She'd cost me a small fortune, but the joy on Hojo's face when I handed her reigns to him was more than enough to make me plan another quick trip to find her a best friend or a mate. The thank you sex had influenced me, too…just a bit.

Veld gave Tseng a mocking salute with his coffee, and turned to amble leisurely back to Bone Village. "We should pick something up for dinner tonight." He headed in the direction of the village store waving hello to a few people that were passing us on their way out to the excavation fields. "Steak, potatoes, maybe some cake. Bettina and the ladies are having a bake sale to raise money for the school." He looked falsely pious. "We need to help out and support out next generation."

"Reeve's joining us." I didn't ask. Just from the menu, I knew Reeve would make an appearance. Veld was trying to fatten his new lover up. Reeve managed to not only snag my partner's attention, but hit all the right cords to bring out Veld's inherent mother-chocobo instincts. I for one was grateful to both parties; to Reeve for saving me from a highly in need of getting laid Veld, and to Veld for taking Reeve in hand to nurse him back to health. I just wished Reeve luck in trying to maneuver around Veld as he had with us and Cait Sith.

"Yep." Veld sauntered into the store waving at Cooper as he headed towards the meats. "He's taking the evening off."

"Does he know that?" I suddenly found my arms full of a pile of steaks, a bag of potatoes, and a ears of corn that were doing their slippery best to escape from their horrid, tasty fate.

"Nope." He paid Cooper, complemented our old friend on his granddaughter's propensity to dance (mainly a two year old's strip tease of twirling around as her shirt, blouse, and undies hit the floor) and we were on our way back through town. "He's coming home this afternoon. The dolt thinks I don't realize that he's spent the last three days running himself to death with back to back meetings, late night work sessions, and a diet of vending machine crackers."

I found that curious. To know that, Veld must have managed to get a mole not only into WRO's upper echelons but into Reeve's personal life. "You planted a secretary, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "He needed a competent one. I just happened to provide him with what he needed. Is it my fault that she worries about him to me?"

"Of course not." I shook my head in mock sympathy that the world would find fault with such a kind, generous act. "It's nice that you both care so deeply about him. He's a lucky man."

"Right." Veld nodded, vindicated. "Before I get distracted, we have to discuss a new benefactor that has been making large deposits to WRO. It's not Rufus, so I'm curious to see who else has the bucks to toss around like that and why they're suddenly being so generous."

"What did Reeve say?" We were headed through the forest, for some reason with me still lugging the groceries.

"Nothing. He doesn't know about it. He's assuming it's Rufus, but Rufus says that it isn't him, that he's budgeted enough for WRO and feels no need to make another large contribution."

I considered that as we made our way home. My chick was probably still out playing with his kinfolk, and the house was blessedly nut free. Veld relieved me of my burden and took over the kitchen leaving me to consider who might want to give away large sums of money and why they might wish to do so. The list was actually surprisingly long and the reasons varied from minor to worrying. Most worrying however was the fact that I had no one to… wait a moment.

"Veld, how would a long, dull accounting assignment work with your plans for Tseng?" I didn't want to interrupt the flow of progress getting Veld back from his bureaucratic hell.

"Only if he does it in the shack and still has to keep up his present schedule." Veld remarked absently as he dug through the refrigerator. "It might do him good. A Turk has to be ready to perform whatever task he is presented with, even under less than optimal circumstances. Besides, he's too well rested."

I nodded. Tseng barely slept now having to deal with the recruits until late than having to wake up in the freezing predawn hours to prepare for the day's training. His streak of perfectionism was working against him there. If he was just a jot less determined and the recruits a tiny bit more intelligent, he'd probably be getting at least adequate sleep. "I'll need him then to go through the accounting records of a few companies."

"He'll love it. Remind me to cut the electricity to his shed." Veld muttered as he peeled potatoes.

Hojo

It took me some time to locate Mr. Fair. I had to take my prized chocobo Dilly, who was named by Vincent in an effort I believe to get Veld to tolerate me, from The City, to Bone Village, to the Turk training grounds, back to Bone Village, and even off to the tewit's mating grounds before I finally ran him to ground at Bone Village's store. He had been looking, from what I can tell from his wanderings, for wild chicory to enhance his already doubtful coffee. I didn't want to be the one to break it to him that chicory doesn't grow in these parts. Despite his cheerful nature, I doubt he'd forgiven me for those happy times we shared in the basement of Nibelheim. I hadn't even forgiven myself for that yet and I lived with me.

It had taken some time, mainly while I was enduring lectures on Chocobo reproduction with Vincent sitting in loving, if numbed, support at my side, to come up with a likely strategy to encourage Zack to leave his caffeinated paradise and return to the thankless job of being Sephiroth's second in command. Subtlety was wasted on him though, so I proceeded to smack him over the head, figuratively.

"Why are you here?" I caught him in the candy aisle looking at Cosmo Cocoalicious Carmel Coconut Bars.

He dropped the candy and looked guilty. "Wha…?!"

"Sephiroth! He's…" I looked around as if expecting someone to overhear us and dropped my voice as if it was a private secret. "Didn't he tell you?"

"Tell me what?" He tried to put the candy surreptitiously back onto the shelf.

The problem was that Sephiroth generally told Zack everything. The only way for this to work was to make Zack believe that Sephiroth didn't want him to know because my pig headed son was too proud to admit a weakness. This actually worked well, because Zack would then hesitate to say why he returned to Shinra's loving bosom thus keeping my son from learning about my meddling.

I looked around suspiciously again, as if expecting Sephiroth to be lurking around in the instant mashed potatoes. "Then you aren't aware?"

"Aware of what?" Zack tried edging away from the candy and towards the more respectable, and manly motor oil across the aisle.

"He's being brought in for a full health exam. There have been hints…" I darted my eyes around and craned my head searching for pretend evesdroppers. "…that with all the stress he's been under trying to run Soldier by himself that he's suffering a…" I dropped my voice as if imparting words of utmost doom. "…relapse."

Technically this was true. Sephiroth had been nursing a cold, which I suspect was actually a reaction to the overabundance of mako spawned ash that had been thrown into the air when Chaos had that lovely little get together with Jenova near Kalm. It had dropped Vincent and Veld like an elfadunks on loco weed trying to ice skate two days after the battle. Sephiroth had gotten away with a case of the sniffles and a scratchy throat. I had noted that last time I saw him that his nose was running again and his voice was roughening. I attributed it to too much stress, travel, and a lack of lactose in his diet.

"Relapse." That got Zack's attention. He even moved away from eyeing thirty weight oil. "Like…you know, HER?"

Well, yes, only bits and pieces of her dead, desiccated, never to be brought back after a pissed-off Weapon blasted her down to her component parts. However, Zack didn't need all those qualifiers, so I merely nodded solemnly.

"Whoa. Does Cloud know?" Zack actually looked like thought was going on behind those blue eyes. "You know, just in case?"

"He's helping out as much as possible to keep Sephiroth from…well…getting sick again."

Again true, and I was sure that given even a glimpse of the opportunity Cloud would ecstatically help out even more, preferably in activities that involved lube and repeat performances. It was nice to know my son was willing to give his all to help his big brother.

I sighed theatrically. "But he's only so much help. Sephiroth is under so much pressure and while Cloud is doing his best…"

"He doesn't have experience." Zack actually began to look bright, aware, and intelligent.

I nodded. "Didn't Sephiroth tell you? I could have sworn when he was last up here that he was going to ask you to come back to be his second."

Zack shook his head. "Nope, didn't tell me."

"Oh…" I jerked up as if something suddenly occurred to me. "Oh! Oh, well then…" I backed away as if guilty. "I…uhmmm…guess he decided that he didn't need your…"

"Just how bad is he?" Zack advanced towards me looking rather serious for a eager to please puppy.

I looked around, pretending I wanted to be far, far away from these questions. "If he decided not to tell you, then it can't…"

"Look, Hojo…" Damn I had him hooked. I could have run out of the store and he would have chased me down demanding I tell him my carefully woven net of half-truths.

I shook my head, "You know how he is." I nodded out the door as if Sephiroth was lurking there. "He's just like his father. Stubborn, independent, never wants to ask for help."

"Yeah." A tiny, ruefull smile lurked on Zack's lips. "He'd drop dead before he…" He paused and nodded. "That's it isn't it? He's getting sick and he's keeping it all to himself. Damn him and his pride."

He brushed past me heading out the door still grumbling. "Dumb-ass. He'd drop dead before he ever admits anything to anyone."

I had to make sure. "Wait! Where are you going? You know if he thinks…"

"That I'm helping him? That you're worried? That you told?" He glanced back over his shoulder and winked. "I'll deal with it. Just keep Yuffie out of the cash drawer, will ya?"

I nodded and as he ambled out listing Sephiroth's failings, I smiled. That had gone well, better than I had expected, really. But that wink had told me what I had expected. Zack had just needed one good excuse to head back to where he belonged and only needed a flimsy excuse to gleefully leave behind the dull world of wrestling with espresso machines for the fun of whacking things with larg, sharp…

The City of the Ancients

"Hojo?" Vincent called wandering into the shell house. "Did you see where Veld left that file on…never mind. Found it."

Hojo looked up from the laptop he had been working at. He'd been hunched over it since breakfast and his neck and shoulders were getting stiff. "Are you going to add another part to our diary?"

Vincent walked over and looked over Hojo's shoulder, "No, not really. I thought of titillate the world by describing Veld nearly humping Reeve's leg at dinner the other night, but I'd have to live with the payback."

"Who says this is going to be read by anyone but us?" The scientist clicked on save and then shut the computer. "I'm not going to let this out of my sight. I, for one, have learned my lesson."

Vincent tugged his pony tail teasingly, "You learned something? Better put that in there. It's momentous. By the way, we need to discuss the lack of coffee in The City."

"Coffee?"

"You know, that lovely brown, heavenly scented drink that is probably the sole reason I don't smother you with a pillow in the mornings?" Vincent opened the computer. "The divine substance that Zack did his mortal best to supply?"

Hojo shut the computer again. "How about some tea. It's supposed to be better for you."

"I doubt coffee is going to bother me much." The computer was opened again. "And did Sephiroth know that you were interfering with his sex life?"

"That's none of your business." The computer was closed again. "Don't you have new recruits to terrorize?"

Vincent's long, slender fingers spirited away the laptop. "Not right now. Reno's doing it for me. Now what's this about those nuts?"

Hojo, seeing things go badly wrong, made a swipe at the computer which was whisked lightly out of range. "It's no worse than calling me a chick."

"Hmmm." Vincent clicked the computer shut. "I suppose I'll have to make that up to you." He set the computer down on the couch and prowled over to where Hojo was trying to decided whether to run out the door and throw himself into the protection of his children or up the stairs tossing his clothes off.

Vincent prowled closer, letting himself grin at the picture his lover made. Hojo still hadn't noticed that he'd stolen the tie out of his hair, allowing it to fall in a soft sweep of silky black down his back, or that during his writing his glasses had been knocked askew and his shirt had become rumpled, making him look adorably jumpable. However, Vincent noticed for him and had come home on the pretext of needing an unimportant file to see if he could coax Hojo into a leisurely tumble. It wasn't like either of them were needed. Hojo's experiments with chocobos, if they were real, could wait and Vincent had been watching Reno scream obscenities at the recruits all morning while Veld and Reeve were off "comparing a few notes about recent activities that concern both Shinra and WRO" which was Veld speak for screwing Reeve. He didn't mind, indeed, he was inspired to follow his fellow commander's example.

Hojo made up his mind and took a cautious step back to the stairs. "Errr… I don't suppose now would be a good time?"

"An excellent suggestion, chick." Vincent prowled closer so he could practically nuzzle his lover.

"If you keep calling me that, you are just going to have more things to make up for." Hojo backed up another step.

Vincent tipped his head and followed, "Did you wark something, hatchling?"

"Oooh yes, a lot to make up for." Hojo turned and with Vincent a breath behind, ran up the stairs.

The End.

Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing my work. I have appreciated all of your comments and hope to hear from all of you in the future. I have treasured your words and your feedback more than I can ever express, so if this little thank you sounds a bit lame, it is because there are no words to do justice to my gratitude towards all of you.