It is much easier to become a father than to be one.

— Kent Nerburn

It's a foolish thing he does, going back to the lab. As a Turk he should have known better. As a man, he could do nothing else. Vincent knows Hojo perceives him as an annoyance, as some gnat to be squashed, but he underestimated the man's malevolence. Or, overestimated Lucrecia's kindness.

He returns to the lab.

Under one arm is a bouquet of flowers, the other, a box wrapped in teal paper with little rubber ducks spread across it. A peace offering, as well as a sincere gesture. He's said what he could against the experiment – it's appalling and even thinking about it has him gripping the roses tight enough to feel the thorns dig into his gloves – but there's no stopping them. He has no legal rights in the situation. He can't make them stop, short of kidnapping the damn woman which he won't do. Vincent Valentine would like to think he's a half-decent man, Shinra Turk or no.

But the child, the poor thing, the child is going to live (it has to live), and when it's born, it'll need care. It'll need love. Love it certainly won't get from Dr. Hojo. Vincent scoffs at the idea. He's halfway to the lab, pulling the proper book before the stairway, letting the door creak open before heading down.

He can't stop them, but he can at least be there for the kid through this whole damn mess. Vincent knows what it is to not have a father. He can barely imagine what growing up with one like Hojo would be. He's going to do his best to offset the damage, however he can. Hojo might fight him, but Lucrecia will be on his side, he's sure.

"Dr. Crescent?" He enters the lab to find it strangely empty. He sets the roses down, keeping the present with him. "Dr. Crescent?" Could she be off at lunch? The woman kept a rigid schedule; Vincent found it hard to believe she would suddenly…

He doesn't hear the shot. Silencer. Somehow, the silence manages to echo in his ears like a shrill scream, like white noise filling his mind as the blood fills his lungs. Trembling knees collapse beneath him as he struggles for his weapon on his belt. Another shot, and this time Vincent screams as it tears through his gut. He collapses forward, throws his arm out to try and catch himself. The present falls from limp fingers, sliding forward with the momentum underneath one of the pieces of lab equipment nearby.

Vincent can't move. Everything hurts, even as feeling seeps away and vision blurs, haggard breaths growing further and further apart. The man's shoes move into his line of sight, and he can barely hear him laughing. Laughing… of course… because he's won. Hojo has won, the child's life is his now, and Vincent succumbs to darkness with one desperate, somber plea.

Lucrecia's child… Sephiroth… I'm so sorry…

Cloud Strife has been called many things in his life.

He's been called an idiot, a bastard, a loser, a brat… (and one of those was his Mother). Most days, he had a hard time not believing these things were true. They seemed true. A lot of people believed it. So who was he to say they were wrong?

But today, he feels so sure of himself, so assured that everyone else is wrong, that it's like he's on top of the world. Because today, Gracie Dixon had called him a coward, and he had stomped up to her face and said, no he wasn't, and he'd prove it, to her and everybody else.

Standing on the first floor of the Shinra Mansion, actually inside it, he feels like he really is the bravest person in the world.

Of course, he's not going any further. He's not stupid (not about this, at least.) That would be suicide. Everyone in Nibelheim knows the mansion is abandoned for a reason and all sorts of nasty leftover shit from Shinra is inside it.

But hey, he's brave enough to at least go inside.

Satisfied that he's proven himself, Cloud turns to walk back out at a very brisk pace… only to find the way barred by creatures that look decidedly unhappy with his presence there.

The boy falters, horrified, stepping back as quickly as he'd walked forward. Apparently leaving by the front door is no longer an option. But…

Can he really go further inside?

Cloud doesn't get much of a choice; the first beast lunges and he gives a scream, barreling off to anywhere-but-here, deeper into the mansion.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Cloud mutters to himself, one hand trailing along the nearest wall. "Stupid. Ma always says, don't do things outta pride, and what'd you do?" He keeps mumbling to himself as he walks through pure darkness, led only by the dim beams of light coming through the cracks in the ceiling.

He is not crying, he just – has allergies, and that's why his eyes are red and watery and he can't stop sniffling. Cloud stumbles in the dark and bites back a scream, clamping a hand over his mouth. The last time, he'd made so much noises that bats had come out of nowhere and attacked him, and scraped him up pretty bad before he managed to scare them off with a broken off piece of the floorboards.

It's been at least an hour since he first got lost in this place, and with each step forward Cloud feels his heart thudding in his throat. There had to be a way out somewhere… there had to be…

In the dark, it was hard to see where he was going. Which was why Cloud stepped forward onto nothing and fell with a horrid scream through the floor, down, down, down, into the basement level.

It might damn near have killed him; if his constant noise in the building hadn't already awoken everything in the Mansion… and everyone.

When he finally stops screaming, Cloud realizes he isn't falling anymore – and that he hasn't hit the ground at all. In fact, he's being – held. Held in stiff, cold arms, but held all the same.

Around the same time, he hears a voice, deep, soothing, powerful. "Are you alright?"

Cloud blinks through the tears. Rubbing at his eyes, the fifteen year old looks up to see the brightest eyes he's ever seen. They're ruby red, and framed by messy, unkempt ebony hair. He blinks, confused for a moment. "You're pretty creepy looking for an angel."

The man blinks. "… angel?"

"Yeah," The boy mumbles. "Or am I in the other place?"

"… what? No," The man shakes his head. "You aren't dead."

"I'm not?" Stunned, the boy sits up so fast, he almost beams the stranger in the head. Glancing around, all Cloud can see are dreary grey walls, and lines of coffins. "… are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure." The stranger almost smiles, lips pressing together as if in an effort to hide it. "Though, you do seem to be injured."

Cloud looks down. Yeah, he had gotten a bit scraped up. His jeans are torn to ribbons, and he curses at the sight. "Ma's gonna kill me." As if she wasn't already. He's at least half an hour past curfew by now.

The stranger moves; Cloud's gaze drifts towards him. It occurs to him that maybe he should be more wary of the weird, blood-eyed man in the haunted mansion's basement, but there's something… calming about him. Comforting. He's kneeling, which puts him almost at Cloud's height, his gaze downturned, a gentle hand running over the boy's injuries.

"Nothing major," He finally says. "Though you will want to clean them out when you go home." Then, he lowers his arm, as if that is all, and stands. Cloud watches the man unfold into a towering six foot giant, all limbs and bone, before he turns to walk away.

Cloud blinks. The stranger keeps walking. He moves to one of the coffins, opens it, slides inside, and closes the door. That is it. Cloud blinks again.

… That's it?

"Excuse me?" The boy starts, stepping forward. He winces a bit with the pain, but it's nothing major, just stings and scratches. "Excuse me!" He comes to the coffin and raps on the top with his knuckles. "Sir." Tap, tap, tap. "Excuse me, sir?" Tap, tap, tap. "Are you still in there?" Tap, tap –

The door opens, and Cloud almost hits the man in the nose. "Sorry," He jumps back. The stranger looks only slightly miffed, saying nothing, merely lifting an eyebrow questioningly.

Cloud opens his mouth to speak – then stops. He has no idea how to start. There are so many questions on his mind right now he can't get a single one out. Like, who the hell is this guy, what's with his eyes, why is he apparently living in the Mansion basement, and why the hell is he sleeping in a coffin?

"What's your name?" Cloud finally picks. The man blinks slowly.

"Vincent," He says finally. "Vincent Valentine."

Vincent Valentine is a quiet, taciturn man. That day, the only question Cloud could get him to answer was that first one. It took coming back, time and time again, to get answers to more of them.

The town thought he was crazy – but then, they'd never liked him anyway. His mother had been very upset the first night, when he'd disappeared for two hours, but the times after, she'd been surprisingly alright with it. Of course, she'd given him her old materia bracer and a light sword to go with it, just in case.

"Adventure is part of every young kid's life," She told him. "Just – don't go runnin' off half-cocked on me okay?"

Cloud nods vehemently, beaming with pride at his new accessories. "Sure thing ma!"

And so Cloud Strife becomes something of a fixture at the Shinra Mansion… to Vincent Valentine's great annoyance.

"It is not safe here." The man says for the thousandth time when Cloud returns later that week. It's only been a few days, but Cloud can already safely say that the quiet man is a closer friend to him than anyone else in town.

"It's not that bad!" The boy insists. "I've gotten pretty good at getting through anyway." Most of the monsters gave up when their "easy prey" turned out to not be so easy, and as long as he didn't dig too deep into the other levels, he was fine. The area with Vincent was cleaned out good.

The man shook his head, sitting on the closed coffin, as always. "I do not understand your motivation."

Cloud blinks. He's sitting cross legged on another coffin – don't think about it don't think about it – staring at the other. "Really? You don't get why I might be curious about the mystery guy who saved my life? Come on!" Cloud chuckles a little. "You still haven't told me why you're here, or where you came from –"

"You are a peculiar child." Vincent says, but unlike most people, the comment seems… friendly. Cloud just shrugs.

"So?"

Vincent glances away. "I am a prisoner here." He finally says. "That is all."

"Wait…" Confused, Cloud's brow furrows. "How so?"

Vincent points up. On the ceiling are these weaving lines of what looks like the same shiny stuff Materia is made of. Mako, right? "There is a spell in place in this building, keeping me here. In this room, specifically." That's right – Cloud had never seen Vincent outside the little coffin-filled room in the basement. He'd only found the man by falling into the room through the hole in the ceiling.

"So… you can't leave? Ever?" Vincent shakes his head. "That's… awful." The man just shrugs. Shrugs. Indignant, Cloud stands up. "Don't you want to go home?"

"I don't have a home."

"Family?"

Something darkens in the man's eyes, and he shakes his head. "No one."

Cloud's heart breaks for the man. He stands, helpless, hands clenching nervously. "… I'm going to help you." Vincent's gaze drifts to him, questioningly. "You can't possibly want to stay here. I'm going to find a way to get you out!"

The man's gaze grows sad, almost pitying. "That is kind of you but unwarranted. I deserve this."

Cloud groans. "Stop it. You can't possibly deserve this. Unless you like – I don't know – murdered a bunch of people. You didn't… murder a bunch of people?" The man's gaze drifts back to his.

"I have."

Cloud gulps. "… oh." The boy fidgets. "But you must've had a good reason." Finally, it occurs to him, his eyes going wide. "That's it, you're a vampire, aren't you?"

The man's eyes go wide. "No, that's not – no." Shaking his head, Vincent's eyes take on a shine that almost looks humorous. "I am not a vampire."

"Then what are you?"

An hour of bugging him got Cloud no answers. Still, he left, certain that he would come back and learn more, sometime soon.

He kept coming back. Weeks turned into months, months into a year. Cloud spent more time in the Mansion basement than he did in his own house.

"Don't you have friends your own age to play with?"

"No," Cloud answers the man. He's not that hurt by it; he's gotten used to it, and as of late, having someone else as a companion has been a balm to that wound.

Cloud sits in the room next to Vincent's room, speaking to him through another bit of damage in the wall. It's a pretty large hole, large enough for Vincent to watch Cloud rummaging around in the lab as they speak. The older man had warned him against it multiple times but had no way to actually stop the boy's explorations.

"There's gotta be something here that can help you," Cloud had told him. "I'm gonna figure out this whole mystery about you, and get you out of here, okay?"

Vincent had just sighed, looking away, but there was something in his gaze that showed he was really touched by it. The man was lonely, admit it or not… and Cloud was, too.

"Why don't you have friends?"

Cloud shrugs. He's got a stack of old paperwork in front of him, and is searching through it page by page. He's looking for words like "spell", "Vincent", "lock", anything that might set him on the right path. It's a stab in the dark but it's something.

"I'm different," He says to Vincent as he continues. "In small towns like this people don't like that." Then, as an afterthought, he shrugs. "I don't have a dad, so… people pick on me."

Vincent's gaze seems to tighten. "I am sorry. Did he die?"

Cloud shook his head. "Mom says he was a one night stand she never saw again. It's okay – I don't really care about him." He really doesn't. He has a great mom, and if the rest of the town cares so much about his lineage, that's their problem.

"Hm."

Cloud sits up. "What's that mean?" The boy twists around to see the man. Vincent's gazing at the wall, thoughtful.

"What?"

"You said 'hm'." Cloud turns all the way around, hands on his knees. "What's that mean?"

"It's just a sound."

"You don't make sounds unless they mean something." Cloud points at him, certain of himself – he's been around enough months that he knows these things about the other. Vincent has to admit defeat to that, and Cloud sees him accepting it in the light smirk on his face. He inclines his head.

"I did not have a father, either."

Cloud gaze softens. But he doesn't offer platitudes or condolences. "Well, that's okay. You've got me. We bastards have to stick together!"

Vincent blinks at the word, but the cheerful, determined look on Cloud's face almost makes him smile.

Life in Nibelheim goes on as it always has. Years come and go; the Mansion becomes Cloud's second home. He spends time there constantly, enough for it to have an unforeseen effect on him. He hadn't noticed at first – but after enough time, it became clear he wasn't being quite as… careful, as he should have been in the lab.

He was no scientist – the boy had no idea how to handle the material properly. So if one of his open wounds from the monsters in the mansion came into contact with Mako, well, he simply didn't know better. Or if he cut himself on a beaker covered in the stuff, well, that was an accident.

It was accidents that kept happening.

He got sick from it once; sick enough he couldn't leave the mansion, curled into himself and groaning from the pain of it. It was like being seasick, on crack. He'd said as much and gotten a weird look from Vincent.

Cloud was gone so long, his mother came looking for him, and found him almost catatonic in Vincent's care. The woman had about beamed the man in the head, before Vincent was able to calm her. The fact that Cloud had already told her about a friend named Vincent calmed her somewhat, but she'd always thought that was some kind of imaginary friend.

"Alright, alright," The woman breathes steadily, trying to calm herself. Her son is still laying on the ground, moaning. "So you're Vincent. Now why don't you tell me what the fuck happened to my kid?"

Explaining "mako poisoning" to an ever increasingly worried mother was not a fun task, and something Vincent hoped he never had to do again. The fact that there was literally nothing to do but wait it out was even worse. But finally, eventually, Cloud woke up, and got a severe lecture from both of them.

"Going around gallivanting like some grown man, well I'll tell you boy, you ain't a man and you won't live to be one if you don't stop acting like some – "

"Your actions were reckless. I have warned you against the labs and you have constantly ignored and disobeyed me –"

Cloud glances from one reddened, enraged face to the other, and through the sick haze and giddy relief he's feeling, could only laugh. It breaksthe atmosphere, both adults relaxing, stunned.

"Sorry," The boy sputters. "It's just – it's like I have a mom and dad, after all."

There is nothing either wide eyed adult can really say to that.

Momma Strife wasn't going to keep her son from the only male influence in his life; but she wasn't gonna let him get sick all the time neither. After a good lecture and a month's worth of grounding, he was allowed back, after promising to be much, much more careful.

Cloud meant it, too. Mako poisoning was no fun and he never wanted it again.

(He'd never really notice it, again. There was so much mako in the lab, so many chemicals and leftover experiments, that it was on… everything. Everything he touched was contaminated. It got into his blood, his lungs, his flesh, all the time, but never in such a large a dose again. But it built up, and it changed him, and over time even brought out the green in his eyes.)

But the fact that it happened, brought questions to the young man's mind. "What was this place?" He asks Vincent one day, sitting with him in the coffin room. It's not his favorite place, but it's the only one where he can really be close to the man.

The other is sitting above him, perched as usual on his coffin. "It was a laboratory."

"I know that." Cloud scoffs. "But I mean… some of the stuff I've seen… and the things left behind…" Vincent's head lowers, gaze darkening. Cloud glances his way. "You don't have to tell me." It's the honest truth – he likes Vincent, no longer as just a "mystery" but as a friend.

"No," Vincent finally sighs. "You deserve to know."

Cloud once had a dream of going to Shinra, of becoming a SOLDIER. That day, he storms home in a fury, tears clouding his eyes, tearing the Shinra application out of his drawer and ripping it to shreds. He stomps on the remnants, before going after anything with a Shinra logo on it. Everything – save the magazine clipping of Sephiroth near his desk, which he can't bring himself to destroy.

His rage abated for a time, Cloud slumps into his desk chair, staring at the picture. How awful. Poor Vincent – poor Sephiroth! The boy's gaze shifts, to the figure at Sephiroth's back, almost cropped out of frame: a man in a lab jacket, with a hand carefully posed on Sephiroth's shoulder – a show of support? Or of ownership?

So we meet, Hojo, Cloud thinks with a frown. So we meet. Cloud has had enemies before – usually town bullies and classmates. But he's never hated anyone like this.

He's not going to SOLDIER. It's a somber thought, but most of his affection for the dream has been crushed by reality. But he can still be a hero – a hero to the poor man trapped in that awful basement, who lost everything to a madman.

Cloud spends the evening of his eighteenth birthday hunched over in the Shinra Mansion, muttering to himself.

Vincent, standing in a corner nearby, hovers nervously, unsure. "You don't have –"

"Hush." Cloud insists. His voice has deepened with time and age, but it's still a much lighter tone than his adopted father's. He's still pretty short too, but his muscles have filled out nicely after years of fighting the monsters in and around the mansion. He'd even taken to defending the outskirts of town, which had raised the general opinion of him, if only a little.

His eyes are a bright Mako green, despite his insistence that he'd always been very careful. It was inevitable, spending so much time in such a corrupt place. It had definitely increased his strength and build, to the point that he could lift a sword way out of his weight range.

At the moment, it was materia he was working with, though. "Just another… minute…" Sweating, Cloud bit his lip, focusing on the bright light flowing through his fingers. Around him, circles of magic drawn into the floor began lighting up.

Vincent watched this with great trepidation. "Cloud… I'm not certain –"

A flash of light; an explosion, followed by a delayed cheer of victory. Cloud stands from the cloud of dust and soot covered in filth, but with a bright grin on his face. Vincent appears a moment later, rushing forward in concern.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," The young man insists, wiping some of the sweat from his brow. "What about you? Feel any different?"

Vincent leans away, narrowing his eyes. "I…" He couldn't tell. He didn't feel much different. He felt relieved, that Cloud was okay, but besides that… "I don't know."

"Well, come on," Cloud nods to the doorway. "There's only one way to find out, right?"

Ten minutes later found both of them standing on the first floor of the mansion. Cloud had a big, beaming grin on his face. He gave a whoop of delight spinning to face his friend.

"You're free!" He says, swinging his arms out. "You can go anywhere, now." But Vincent's look isn't relieved, or joyous. It's… cold. Quiet. Cloud's shoulders fall. "… Vincent?"

The man blinks. "I'm sorry," He says. "Thank you, Cloud." The words are as emotional as bricks. Cloud's face falls.

"Vincent, you…" Sighing, the man lowers his arm. "I know you feel guilty about everything… but isn't it time you forgave yourself? It was a long time ago. And it wasn't your fault!"

Vincent says nothing; this is an argument they've had a thousand times. He turns, hiding his eyes behind long waves of hair. The defeated look silences Cloud, who huffs but stays quiet, feeling rather defeated himself.

They stand in silence, stuck in the mire of Vincent's emotions, unable to move in any direction. Finally, Cloud mumbles to the other.

"Well… at least maybe you can find out something about Sephiroth, right?" Cloud says. "About what they did to him? You're free, so you can go explore the labs now."

That actually lights up the man's eyes; he looks interested, turning to face Cloud again. Seeing any sign of life in the man at all is enough for Cloud, so he gestures for the man to lead the way.

Garbage. Hojo's lab is full of garbage; not just the remnants of the lab itself, but the actual research. It's full of holes and false data and plain bullshit, even Vincent can see that, and he's no scientist.

Cloud, sitting at a table nearby, flips through one of the books lackadaisically. "So, what is all this?"

"Supposedly, research," Vincent scowls. "Reports on the events of back then, but – they're all wrong."

"How?"

"For one, Sephiroth's mother is listed as 'Jenova'," Vincent says. He scowls at the page before turning and throwing the book into a nearby pile. All the books have gone into this pile – not a one worth much of anything. "There's no proper birth certificate for the child at all."

"That's weird," Cloud looks up with a frown. "You'd think somebody like Hojo would parade that kind of knowledge around."

Vincent glances back, an eyebrow quirked. "I just mean," Cloud continues. "The guy's an arrogant asshole. He'd want the whole world to know that Sephiroth was his son right? And he'd keep proof of it, too. Scientists are all about proof."

"Hojo is the father." Vincent turns away. "There is no one else who could be."

"Yeah, but…" Cloud's frown deepens as he crosses his arms. "Have you ever looked at Sephiroth?"

Vincent shakes his head. Picks up another book, barely glances at the title, before throwing it in the pile.

"He looks nothing like Hojo. At all. It just – doesn't it seem weird to you?"

Vincent shrugs. He's not sure what the boy is trying to puzzle out, but he's learned to let Cloud pursue things to their end rather than getting in the way. It just makes the stubborn boy even more determined.

The man's lack of interest does not dissuade Cloud – as Vincent had expected. The younger man stands, approaching him, coming to lean against the bookshelf beside him. He says nothing; just watches, sharp eyes on the older man. That's fine; Vincent is a patient man. He can outwait the best of them.

Finally, Cloud scowls. "Haven't you ever wondered?"

"Wondered what?"

"I mean –" The man sighs. "You were with her too, weren't you?"

The change in direction surprises him. Vincent blinks.

"With that doctor lady. What if Sephiroth is your kid?"

The world screeches to a halt.

"… that is what you believe?" Vincent, stunned, turns to face the boy. "That's – it's not possible."

"How do you know?"

"We never had – relations, for one!"

Cloud can't help a chuckle at that. "Relations. You really are an old man."

"It doesn't change the fact," The somewhat ruffled gunman continues, "That I could not be his father."

"She was a scientist. She could've done something – hell, Hojo could have!"

"For what purpose?"

Cloud shrugs at that. "Some kinda twisted revenge? Maybe Hojo wasn't capable. Heh, maybe he couldn't do it."

Stunned is not a strong enough word. The very idea shakes him to his core – he can't be the father. He can't be because if he is then his failure is a thousand times worse, then he could have stopped them, could have demanded legal rights to his child, could have –

Gods… he couldn't be –

"Vincent?" Cloud, concerned, unfurls his arms. "Vincent, are you alright?"

The man blinks away tears, turning his head, but can't bring himself to say anything. The weight of guilt and grief are drowning him, and he curls into himself slightly.

"Okay, I'm sorry I brought it up, I – I'm really sorry." Cloud steps a little closer. "Vincent?"

"I need to be alone." The man finally manages.

"Okay. Okay, just – " Cloud sighs. "I'll see you later." Vincent waits until he hears the boy's footsteps leaving, to collapse upon the floor. He cries into the early hours of the morning; when he's somewhat collected, the man pulls himself up by the bookshelf.

He keeps his hold on it – then, in a rage, shoves it over. He screams bloody fury, pushing it into the next row, then grabbing the next nearest shelf and lifting it clear off the floor. It flies into another shelf, and both shatter, paper and shards of wood flying all around.

Vincent doesn't stop until the library is torn to shreds, until it is all dismantled, and then stops only to find his materia. Cloud had brought him this one for this occasion – a fire spell.

He sets the books aflame. The stone walls keep it from spreading, long enough for him to cast another spell and kill the fire. By then, everything, all the research, the pain, the lies, is all ashes. Ashes, like the taste in Vincent's throat, burning his eyes.

He leaves the basement. And he does not go back.

"Hear me out."

It's been two weeks since their last conversation that didn't end well. Two weeks, and Cloud has kept dutifully silent about it. But the idea is burning in his throat and it's so, so hard to keep from talking about it.

Because he just knows it's true. Somehow, he knows, that this man is the father of his hero, unjustly kept from his own son. That Sephiroth is the victim of a horrible man's manipulations, and that it can all be set to rights if Vincent would just see.

But the elder man is stubborn, and determined to hate himself, and won't hear a word of his possible paternal relationship.

Cloud may not have gone on to become a SOLDIER, but he still greatly respects General Sephiroth. The man had been his childhood hero, his – embarrassingly enough – first crush, even his "gay awakening", as he's heard others call it. He's a good man – a good, handsome man, Cloud can't help but think – and he deserve better than the rat Hojo as a father.

Anybody would be lucky to have Vincent as their dad. If the man could just see it.

"Listen, I'm telling you, it makes sense." He can feel Vincent's scowl even if he can't see it through the ice and snow. "Why else would Hojo be so tight lipped about Sephiroth's parents? Why are there no records?"

"Just because there are none here –"

"There aren't any online, either. You can find public records for all the Shinra employees, including birth certificates, but not Sephiroth's." That earns Cloud a heavy, incredulous look from Vincent. "What? You can't judge me. You were a Turk, you have to know this stuff is obtainable."

"Yes, but that does not mean Sephiroth is my son." Vincent spits back. "Just – drop it, Cloud."

Cloud huffs, but he allows the conversation to end, if only because his lips are cold. Mt. Nibel is awful on a good day, and Vincent just had to pick a particularly bad day to decide to climb the mountain.

He hadn't asked Cloud to come, but the young man wasn't going to let him go alone. Almost nineteen, the blond had become a seasoned warrior on par with most SOLDIERS, though he didn't know it. Mako enhanced healing and reflexes gave him a great advantage, as did years practicing with his mother's old sword. She'd trained him from time to time, but her old injuries made it hard for her to really instruct him. Vincent was a gunman, not a swordsman. So Cloud was stuck figuring out on his own, mostly, but he wasn't half bad in spite of it.

Eventually, they came to Vincent's goal: the reactor. Unlike the mansion, it was most certainly not abandoned, and Cloud wasn't sure what Vincent planned to do about that.

"You certain about this?" He asks. "This could put you back on Shinra's radar, you know."

"I am certain." Vincent repeats. "I must be sure that Hojo's lies are gone. I will not have him – twisting his son's mind, with this filth." Granted, neither of them knew what Hojo had told the man himself – but at least this way there was no false paper trail backing him up.

So, Cloud nodded, settling in for a fight, but Vincent held up a hand. "This is as far as you go. I can sneak in by myself much more easily."

The man almost argued, but gave in after a harsh glare from the elder. "Fine. I'll make camp." Vincent nodded, and in an instant, was gone with a flash of red.

Cloud lays back, staring up at the night sky. Somewhere, miles away, Sephiroth might be looking at this same sky. It's so strange, imagining these thin connections between them. The same sky – the same bond to this odd, somber man named Vincent. An almost-father, better than any real dad either of them had, even if one didn't know it.

Would you want to know him? Cloud wonders. I bet you would. He's been watching Sephiroth's public life for years, the whole world has. The man has few friends, fewer family, and a life full of war and bloodshed and the unflinching public eye. It can't be pleasant. And – even imagining the thought of a guy like Hojo as his only family –

"Ew," Cloud winces.

He's never met the man but he didn't have to. Vincent's told him, and Cloud believes him. The scientist had tormented him for years before growing bored, locking him up and tossing away the key. How awful. How a man like that could ever be considered someone's father –

It just – can't be right. And it's not just that Hojo is awful it's just – the pieces don't fit. He can't be Sephiroth's dad.

Footsteps alert him to Vincent's presence. The man doesn't have to make sound, but after enough sudden scares, has learned how to give Cloud a little warning to his presence. "Hey," Cloud sits up, next to the small fire he'd made. "Found what you were looking for?"

The man is scowling. Suddenly, Cloud hears sirens on the air. "Uh…" The blond blinks. "Should we go?"

Vincent shakes his head. "Travelers fleeing the mountain are what they'd be looking for now. We should settle for the night." But he does douse the fire, before moving closer to Cloud and the tree the man had settled beneath.

"You wanna snuggle?" Cloud jokes. "Might be warmer that way. On the other hand, you're an icicle."

Vincent smirks at the joke, but he takes a seat beside the man. Silently, he offers his cape, and Cloud happily takes refuge beneath it. The move closer, trying to conserve warmth.

"So, what was there?"

Vincent hums. "Nightmares. More nightmares." He murmurs. "They're gone." So, whatever he'd found, he'd destroyed. Cloud nods his approval. He's shivering still; it's damn cold. Vincent lifts his arms, and Cloud looks up.

Carefully maneuvering with his clawed hand, Vincent removes his cloak and sets it on Cloud's shoulders. The blond barely thinks to murmur, thank you, staring at the other. He's never seen him without it. Something sticks out to him, like an alarm blaring inside his mind, but he can't quite…

Sitting up, Cloud surprises Vincent by reaching for his bandanna. "Humor me," The younger asks, and Vincent stills. Carefully, Cloud undoes the bandanna. Doing so lets the man's hair fall forward some. His bangs, usually kept back by the cloth, come forward in two long strips beside his face. His long, angular face, with high cheek bones, thick lips, a strong chin, and sharp eyes – all so very familiar.

"Holy shit," Cloud murmurs to himself, ignoring Vincent's surprised look.

Vincent Valentine looks just like Sephiroth.

"Remind me again how you convinced me of this?"

Stepping off the train into Sector Seven, Cloud grins. "Because you're a sucker."

Vincent harrumphs at that, his version of a laugh. He steps off the train behind Cloud, never far from his side.

It had taken a long time to convince the man, though. First, Cloud had had to convince his mother that a trip to Midgar was a good idea. He had enough money for it – killing monsters on bounty was a pretty good way to earn cash. Plus, he told her, he'd take Vincent along. It was just convincing Vincent that took a while.

He begged and pleaded and told the man he wouldn't be allowed to go if Vincent didn't come along and watch his back. That finally convinced him; and now, near to twenty years old, Cloud takes his first steps into Midgar.

He's not exactly that excited to be there. Despite what he told Vincent and his mother, no, it was not a dream for him to come here. It just happens to be convenient to his plan. (But if he'd told Vincent that the man would have run the other way).

Somehow, someway, this trip Vincent is going to meet his biological son, if Cloud Strife has anything to say about it.