Vessel. noun. Someone or something empty, regarded as a holder or receiver of something, especially something nonmaterial.

-0-

Their depleted company blundered on toward an uncertain future; a literal as well as a figurative fog obscuring what awaited them within the Northern Crater. They blindly continued to follow the path fate had unfurled for them, beginning at the Forgotten City and ending at a destination or circumstance, as yet, unknown.

Had they known what concealed itself there, they may have altered their course but, alas, fate was fickle, jealously guarding her secrets from the unsuspecting and unwilling actors in her tableau.

Weary to the bone, hungry and freezing, worn down by grief, Tifa does not have a moment to spare to acknowledge her surroundings. Had that luxury been available to her, the environment provided little by way of visual stimulation nor was it worthy of appreciation: for if this was the Promised Land, then Tifa felt it was a poor promise indeed.

Desolate and windswept, craggy barren rocks jutted from the terrain in irregular, jagged peaks. Ground was uneven underfoot, sharp, porous rocks worn away to a roughened, abrasive pumice that promised to tear skin and break bones, with larger holes eroded over time by imprisoned pools of rain that threatened to twist or break ankles of unsure-of-foot travelers.

The severe lack of vegetation but for the occasional desperate, brittle grasses that found purchase in cracks and crevices, possessing the audacity to survive if little else, made a poor attempt to dissuade them that this was anything but a barren wasteland, incapable and unwilling of supporting life.

No light source was evidenced by sight, yet the very air was suffused with a sickly, dull glow. Tifa remembered a story as a child where a brilliant city, so bright and green, was naught but an illusion; its signature hue token of emerald-tinted goggles. No such brilliant lenses were applied here, however; the acidic tinge murmured in the fog choking the steep, craggy rise that surrounded the crater.

Dante had clearly not visited here: the true vision of Hell.

-0-

Confusion, terror, escape.

Rocks tumbling, the earth trembling, rent apart...

Yet the silence that came after was worse.

Everything hurts.

Her head felt like it had been cracked open.

It had been the plan all along.

They were supposed to go to the Temple to fetch the Materia.

They were supposed to take it to him.

'Our purpose is to carry the Black Materia to our master. Those who carry Jenova's cells… '

Cloud was supposed to give it to him.

And now he was...

Gone?

-0-

She plummets through one nightmarescape to another; she was compelled to hold a viewmaster up to her eyes and cycle through images that replayed her worst memories and fears.

Mom, Papa, Aeris, Cloud, Marlene, Barret, Vincent... Dead. All of them, dead.

So much pain.

Thirteen, her mother dead. Sixteen, kneeling beside the corpse of her father, the cold steel of masamune alien in her grip. Days ago, kneeling, Aeris's cheek cool beneath her fingertips as she brushes aside ashen waves from her beautiful face for the last time.

Who is that?

Someone is crying; hitching, short and sharp inhales followed by long, drawn out sobs.

Oh.

The sounds she heard were coming from her.

Sensation returns all at once – her limbs ache and seem to weigh beyond their measure; her back is pressing against something unforgivingly hard and cold. Her cranium feels split apart, the barely present light levels that suffused the gloom of her surroundings are painful stimuli.

Her fists curl.

A low hum, gentle swaying around her.

She remembers where she is.

Devastation reigned. Grief tore at her lungs and constricted her throat in the rare moments she was sentient enough to remember that she could breathe.

A few breaths to steady her sobbing, and she again passes back into the unforgiving dark.

-0-

The deadly perfume of the gas chamber stubbornly clung to her clothing.

Heart still pounding from the adrenaline, she leans over the railing of the commandeered airship, watching as Junon shrinks to a speck on the horizon until she could no longer make out it's battlements or signature cannon. Against all odds, their party make it out amidst all the chaos caused by Weapon.

Yet, as exhilarating as freedom was, she struggled to bring herself back to the moment. As the gas that would have ended her life dissipated to the wind, so had her purpose.

Cloud seemed to always know where they were to go next. She had mistaken it for confidence then, or blind luck at best, Now, she knew that all along, invisible strings had plucked at their limbs and danced and jerked their bodies along to the beat of a tune they could not hear.

Now, her strings had been severed, leaving her limp limbs dangling pathetically at her sides.

And yet, as the events unfurled in Mideel and Cloud was returned to her, she wondered if strings lingered still; was it a new puppet master, a more cruel one perhaps, who wished her only to suffer and watch over the shell of Cloud, his mind seemingly absent of any memory or vestiges of the person he was, or whose mask he wore? Or perhaps the path she must walk was hidden from her view?

-0-

Her lungs filled with Lifestream. Fingers aching, she desperately clung on to Cloud as they sank deeper and deeper, the vaporous green light becoming blinding white, before it then all went black.

-0-

"I have something to say."

They all turn, alarmed, to face Vincent, who had spoken up from his end of the conference room table, aboard the good ship The Highwind. Tifa had a feeling she wouldn't like it, whatever it was.

He stands, leaning forward with metal-encased fingers splayed atop the table's shiny mahogany surface.

"I don't know who you are. If we can trust you."

A murmur bubbled up around the table; disbelief at the audacity perhaps, but neither challenging nor supporting him. There had been skeptical voices of Cloud's choices along the way to this moment. There had been support where no true opposition or alternative was presented.

Vincent knew what he had to say may not win him popularity, yet silence and passivity had been his undoing once. He did not wish it on another. His gaze was like iron, unbending, will set firmly on saying his piece.

"You're at war with yourself. You have no control. I saw you in the Ancient City and we all saw you give the Black Materia to Sephiroth in the crater. Now, we have Meteor to contend with."

The murmur turns slightly angry at this, like a disturbed bee's nest. He ignores it. "I'm pleased that you've gotten to the bottom of your identity crisis, however in all of your speeches you failed to tell us what you really are. Hojo… he called you a puppet. What does he mean by that, Cloud?"

"Cloud would never hurt Aeris, Vincent," softly spoken from his left.

Tifa; appeaser and peace maker. The one wanting everything to just be fine again, now that Cloud was alive and apparently whole. He screws his eyes shut for a moment.

Whatever he said next would likely hurt her, may even damage their friendship. He'd long decided that her wellbeing, and this mission overall, was more important than hurt feelings.

Maybe it would be for the best, should she decide to distance herself from him.

"Cloud might not. But whoever, or whatever it is that has control over Cloud would. How do we know it won't be one of us, next?"

Cloud, throughout this exchange, is silent. His chin is lowered, cerulean gaze trained upon the reflection of the electric lights in the table's surface.

"I don't have answers." He shakes his head now, the peaks of his blonde hair catching the light. "I wish I did. It's something to do with the cells. The S-Cells, or -"

She burst into the conversation a few moments late, as if she's been gathering her courage.

"-Couldn't we have said the same about you, Vincent?" Tifa's voice is firmer now. Angry.

Vincent turns to her now, to look into the face of her fury. Her cheeks are flushes red, and though she knows the dangerous ground she treads, her jaw is set and fists clenched.

"Yes." He sighs, resignedly. She is caught off guard by that. "Yes you could. And you absolutely should, as I have been telling you." She flushes a little at that, though her gaze doesn't waver. "I'm a danger to you all, as Galian. You are wise to consider me with suspicion."

She gets to her feet, the chair she had been using sent rolling backward into the nearby wall with a clatter.

"If it's all the same to everyone else, I'd like to have this debate with Vincent alone and address his concerns directly."

She is furious. He'd never seen her like this, and in no measure had she directed any measure of vitriol towards him.

"Tifa…" Cloud starts to protest, but she waves him off.

"If anyone else feels as strongly as Vincent does, then we can reconvene this conversation."

There is a low rumble of impassivity, followed by a staccato of scrapes and squeaks as the chairs of each of the party members are pushed back to allow them to exit. The boardroom door creaks then slams shut with finality, leaving Tifa and Vincent squaring off against one another within a bubble of pressing silence.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"I should as you the same question, Vincent." She grinds out from between clenched teeth.

"Are you truly convinced of his stability? Did you not see—"

"Of course I fucking saw, Vincent. I'm not blind. We all saw the same things in the crater."

"Then why, tell me, are you so desperate to believe that things are all back to normal? Are you so naïve?"

"Don't you dare." She practically spits venom, glaring up and into his face without flinching. "Don't you dare try to pretend that you even understand what it's been like for me."

"I think I can make some reasonable assumptions," He finds himself returning her anger with such ferocity that he almost recoils. He doesn't know where it comes from, before it is spewing from his lips like such similar poison as left hers. "The boy you loved as a child is dead. He left the village and never came back. It's hardly a fairy tale, is it? You went along with his world view because it was easier; more convenient than telling him what he thought about himself and everything he stood for, everything that made him who he thought he was, was a lie. You'd rather he was a hurriedly, poorly built reconstruction than parts of fractured whole."

Her fists are so tightly clenched, he believes fully that she could punch him anytime between now and his next sentence.

"Of course, that's what I did. I'm not proud of it. But I'd rather he had some sense of self about him, even if it's not his own, than be a shadow of man, and wear the horrors of his past around his neck, like someone else I know."

He scoffs, shaking his head, ebony tresses falling into his eyes.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Vincent, I'm trying to make you see that I think you're ridiculous; standing here in front of everyone, declaring yourself a danger to us all. I don't know what you hope to achieve? If I didn't know you better I'd have thought you wanted to discredit Cloud, make him appear weak, or... I just don't get it."

"I want you to realise that you've never been in as much danger as you are in now, trusting him. Trusting me."

She blinks slowly, unsure how to process his words. "You've always maintained that you are a danger to me. We've fought side by side, Galian and I, and he has never once harmed me, or lead me to believe that I was at risk of harm."

"Don't tell me you really believe those words."

She hesitates. Sure, those early days couldn't be described as any less than terrifying, but that was at a time when she did not know him as she did now. And yet, she cannot force herself to meet his gaze now.

"I don't want to have to say anything further on this subject," His voice is low, barely controlled, fists clenching and unclenching as he wrestled with his inner tumult. "But maybe, if that's what it takes... If you only knew... you'd never have insisted we be friends. You'd never have remained alone in a room with me for one second."

"Vincent, I'm not a fool." Her chin is downturned, and he'd give every gil on the planet to know what she was thinking. She is purposefully hiding behind the curtain of her hair such that he cannot discern any clues in her expression. The tiny droplets of water that gleam upon the mahogany of the table startle him.

She gathers a breath, then tosses her hair out of her face with irritation. The motion loses more tears. Upon her cheeks they clung desperately, as the night's chill clings to morning. The gloomy halogen lighting sapping her skin of its usual warm pallor.

"I wasn't born yesterday. I know what it means for someone to... to look at me, like you do, sometimes. It's in my nature to call it out, as I did all those months back at the inn- where, as I recall, it was you, not I, that insisted on friendship. I wasn't... averse to the idea of your attraction to me. I felt it too."

"Tifa, this isn't what I meant. This isn't about me and you..."

"I know that Vincent, I'm getting to it – I knew that there was something more to it. It wasn't just something as simple as attraction. It's... I'm completely and utterly at your mercy."

He opens and closes his mouth, at loss for words.

The raw pull of his urge towards her when he became himself once more after Galian was what she was describing, of course. A yearning so powerful that he barely had it in him to breathe, such was the demand it made of his focus. It took all his restraint and power to centre himself, and retain even a shred, a modicum of self-control.

Her body shifts, the harsh angles that protect hers from exposure soften, unfurling to him as a flower does to the sun. Fingers unfurl from fists, arms fall slack, her chin lifts. She centres her weight across both feet, hip no longer jutted. Her fingertips rest atop the surface, arched, inching a little closer to where his white knuckles grip.

He knows what she is doing, even if she does not, and as always, he can do little to resist even the consideration of giving into temptation.

Their fingertips kiss softly.

"We are both broken. We have both done things we are not able to take back. Both twisted and bitter from revenge unsatisfied."

"You're wrong about one thing..." He says with a soft shake of his head, unable to suppress the tremor of electricity he feels travel across his flesh at her touch. "I am the one who is totally and utterly at your mercy."

"Is it... is it so wrong to consider giving in?" Their fingers overlap and interlace atop the table's surface. He doesn't move closer, yet for the moment he does not withdraw, which is a victory.

Vincent had never worn an expression so open as now; emotion waged war. He appeared to be teetering on the edge of something wonderful; giving in to his desire to reach out and touch her, claim her mouth and her body desperately and drink her in as a dying man consumes a philter of life. Yet this desire was wrought with fear, of severe, life altering consequences.

"I won't risk you. Ever." His voice breaks.

The cool air that fills the space he leaves behind is a punch to her stomach.

-0-

Grand Materia – It could be anywhere, Cloud said.

Anywhere indeed, Vincent grumbled to himself, as they trudge in splinter groups across the continent, seeking out concentrations of Mako. The readings from the ship had provided them with at least a more targeted approach than Cloud's first indications. Just try caves, given the vast number their group had circumnavigated over the months of their journey, seemed a rather ridiculous endeavour.

Consulting the map, Vincent notes that there are a number of locations in their vicinity, yet it would still take a number of days of walking to reach them in turn – that was, of course, not factoring in the time that the exploration would take.

He remains silent with his complaints this time, however. He knew when to choose his battles.

"Anyone else think this is a fuckin' waste of time?" Cid grumbled, leaning against a tree trunk whilst he shook gravel out of his left boot. "Searchin' caves across the continent for Materia we don't even know exists..."

"You won't get any complaint from me." Vincent remarked dryly, consulting the map and re-checking the compass. They were headed in the right direction at least for a cave by a waterfall, if the topographical charts on the Highwind were to be believed.

"Oh yeah? After Tifa handed you your own arse on a plate!" Cid pinched the cigarette between gloved fingers and exhaling smoke in a staccato as he chuckled.

"Doesn't mean he weren't wrong." Barett admits gruffly from Vincent's left, offering what he interpreted as a half-apologetic glance. "We took a lot on faith with you. With Cloud, we never knew what in planet's name was goin' down. Hell, I still don'."

"Thank you for your confidence- Yes I should have known there was nothing to be gained by arguing the point." His own history clearly made the case for silence and willful ignorance. "We are approximately 1.3miles from our target."

"-An I still don' understand why you ain't navigatin' Captain." Barett jibes. Cid merely continues to smoke blissfully.

"Bus man's holiday," he answers.

And with that, they press forward.

-0-

Barett knows something is off with the cave at once, and somehow, subconsciously knows it's got something to do with damn Shin-Ra.

There appeared to be no threat present with the small cave; there was only glowing rock and still gleaming puddles of water within recesses in the rock. There were no apparent entrances or exits or tunnels from within the main chamber, save for the hollow they had entered through.

Still, the place reeked of freaky science and weird shit he didn't understand, but somehow ended up with people dead, hurt, or otherwise maimed. Barett couldn't help quash the feeling he was being watched. He wanted to raise his gun-arm, but the idea seemed ridiculous – what was he planning to shoot at? The cave was empty, save for the three members of Avalanche.

So why, then, did he feel like there was something lurking there? He turns to surreptitiously observe the others, lest he be the only one on edge. "The fuck is this place?"

His companions, Vincent and Cid, remain silent on the question posed.

Cid seemed unimpressed, considering the route out. The ex-Turk on the other hand was, if it were possible for him to be paler, as white as a sheet, trigger finger twitching at his side.

Barett felt a shudder down his spine. Something was really fucking off alright, and he didn't know why.

Vincent's ears had begun to ring the second he set foot inside the cave, and in fact he had not even heard Barett at all. His skin had erupted in gooseflesh, hairs stood on end, reacting primally to a threat he couldn't not perceive at a superficial level at least. There was someone – or something- here. It wasn't... natural.

Then it hit him; the gentle background static of the waterfall beyond the cave's mouth had ceased. The cavern was eerily still, save for the gentle drip of water droplets into muted pools beneath. He somehow knew that if he tried to leave the cave, he would not be able to.

Then, a voice. A voice he had for a time longed to hear, yet now, in these circumstances, filled him with dread.

Vincent, is that you?

Where none had been before, there now stood a woman. Her figure was hazy and bright; focusing upon her would only render you temporarily blind. Vincent found turning his head slightly, he could perceive her features – though how much of this was from memory, he couldn't say.

There were too many nights to count where he had lain awake beside her, watching her sleep, else sharing sweet nothings in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Images of her at work in the lab accosted him now; in her white coat, pushing glasses up the bridge of her nose when she was trying to take a read-out from a machine or enter notes into a chart – they never seemed to stay put. The way she would ask him to help her lift something heavy, only to shut the doors of the store room, push him against the shelving while she simultaneously lifted her skirt. The way her fingers undid his shirt, ran through hair, traced shapes across his skin in the dark.

"Lucrecia."

The time for Chaos is now. It is time for you to wake up and fulfill your destiny.

"Vince, what the fuck is happening?!" Barett yelled, gun arm pointed at the vague women-shape that was too bright to look at, and appeared to be the form of Vincent's dead-lover. "What is she talking about?"

The momentary sensory shutdown that preceded his transformations settled upon him. Closing his eyes, he became aware of everything outside his normal fields of perception; He could feel singular grains of dust between the pads of his fingertips, each tiny undulation in the rock surface beneath the soles of his feet, could smell the scales of the fishes that once swam in the waters that now stagnated here in the cave's pools. Lucrecia's face was visible behind his eyelids. She wore an expression of regret, and pain.

I'm so sorry.

His cells were beginning to rearrange themselves at a speed imperceptible to the human eye. He felt a burning in the center of his chest, as though some organ had become molten. His skim seemed electrified, and indeed upon observation, it began to glow and change hue.

His last moment of clarity came as he turned to Cid and Barett and cried, "Run, while you can. And don't come back for me! Tell Tifa I-"

Whatever it was he wished to tell her, they never heard. Above their heads came a familiar sound of rock cracking; a deep aching of the earth that rumbled around them and shook the ground beneath their feet. They indeed turned and ran, looking back only to shield their eyes from a blinding amethyst glow. Silhouetted against the light, was something that both was and wasn't Vincent.

They stumbled and ran, arms thrown overhead to shield their heads from falling stone and debris, falling to their knees once they reach the safety of the river bank. The cave's mouth behind them is blocked with rockfall, a settling dust cloud the only evidence the cave had stood open at all.

"We're... we're gunna have to tell her." Cid's voice trembled with emotion. He'd always liked Vincent, no matter anyone else's view. He preferred the no-bullshit types. And he'd always likes Tifa, too. He hated the fact they'd have to give her even more bad news. The gal never seemed to catch a break. And if he knew anything about her, she'd take the loss personally, given their recent disagreements.

Barett began a continued stream of curses, a litany of swearing that served to vent both his grief and his confusion. This wasn't the first time he'd lost people to falling rubble. He couldn't say he was especially close to Vincent, but still, he was a member of Avalanche, and that meant family.

Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't seen the last of the Ex-Turk.

He maintained his prayer of malediction under his breath while Cid made the dreaded call.

"Cloud, this is Cid. We've... we're in trouble. You need to get here as quick as you can."

-0-

The ship returned over a hour before it was due to pick up her party from their Materia hunt. Luckily, they'd had some success with some intel on the possible location of some Grand Materia, and so they were ready for extraction.

Yuffie seemed pleased enough to be heading back. Far from being relieved, however, Tifa was overcome with the notion that something wasn't right.

Sure enough, as they embarked, a crew member approached hurriedly, holding a memo that he didn't seem to need to consult, but that gave him the courage to get the words out. "Cap says to go to the Bridge immediately. There's been an accident in a cave, and... Vincent was inside."

"Accident?" She feels as though she is plummeting to the ground from a hundred feet up, though she remains firmly planted on the Highwind's subdeck. "What kind of accident?"

"Cap's on deck. Best you ask him."

She doesn't recall walking to the deck. She doesn't feel Yuffie's hand reaching for hers. She is hardly aware the ship has taken off again at breakneck speed, hurling her from side to side as she tries to make her way up to the Bridge.

Cid is in position by the pilot as always, and looks like a little boy caught stealing. Like he would rather be swallowed up by the earth than on the deck, having to break the news.

Everyone is on deck, except...

"Vincent. Where is Vincent."

Cid is holding his hat in his hands, wringing the fabric tight. She notes his clothing is covered in dust. "There was a cave-in, Tifa. We... we think he... he caused it to happen."

"What? I don't understand."

He tells her in as brief terms as possible what he had witnessed in the cave. Barett stood at his side, nodding gravely.

"Teef, it... we couldn' stop it. He told us to run, like he knew what wus gunna happen."

"Did you make sure?! We need to go back now! He might still be in there; we can get him out!" She makes a gesture towards the nav terminal, unable to understand why they were wasting time here talking when Vincent needed their help.

"The cave is completely blocked. We tried... We tried movin' the rubble away but... There's no way he could have survived it. I'm sorry Tifa, but... Vincent is... gone."

Nothing made sense. He wanted it to happen? No! She wouldn't believe it! He was fatalistic in many ways, but he had yet to accomplish what he had set out for; Hojo remained on the Earth, Sephiroth ensconced behind the forcefield at the Crater. Vincent didn't want to die. Not yet, not like this.

A mournful scream sounds into the silence. The vessel emitting it sounds hollow and empty. Nothing left to give, just an endless stream of sorrow and regret. Only as Barett's arms encircle her body, as he murmurs empty consolations into her ear does she release she was the one screaming.

-0-