The redhead curled up. No-one would find him here. He felt filthy, so filthy. So tainted. He knew it was all part of the job, he knew he had made his choice, but he was so worthless. Coming back here just compounded it, made it worse; but it was like a drug. He could not stay away.

He loved these alleys, but he hated them too. They were haunted by the churning ghosts of his childhood; but he could not tear himself away.

They were poison, eating away at his soul; but the pain was so delicious he could not let go.

He wandered the streets sometimes, eyes clouded with his past. No-one challenged him. He was a Turk; they would not risk it. It was only those who looked into his eyes who realised that here was a lost child, searching in his old home for the love he had never felt.

It felt like a canker eating away at him sometimes – it rankled that no matter how far and how fast he ran, he could not escape the slums.

Now he hid here, curled up on the doorstep of what had been his home. He sighed. He could not stay.

He scrambled to his feet and began walking towards the end of the alley.

A figure blocked the light and, reflexively, Reno reached for his EMR. He squinted at the silhouette, trying to identify it as a familiar dark voice spoke.

"Reno... you may want to think twice about the EMR. I don't think it works on me."

Reno relaxed slightly but did not lower the weapon entirely.

"Valentine." It was a statement, not a question. As the other advanced into the light, Reno recognised the dishevelled hair, the red eyes glowing slightly in the dim light.

"What are you doing here?" Reno demanded furiously. This was his turf, his home, His private moment of grief and remembrance.

"Is there any reason I should not be here?" Vincent enquired calmly.

"Well...no...but" Reno stuttered, startled. People did not usually talk back to the Turks, especially not when their weapon was ready for use at any time.

"Then..." the other man arched an eyebrow "where is the problem?"

Reno flushed slightly under the serene crimson gaze.
"Well I guess there isn't one yo..."

Vincent smiled. "Good. Tell you what Reno..." he continued, unusually lucid "come back for a drink..."

Reno frowned again. "Why would you want to spend time with me?"

"Why wouldn't I? Anyway, for some strange reason I have this odd desire not to drink alone for a change."

Reno paused then nodded. "Well I'm not one to refuse a drink. Let's go."

Vincent smiled and headed back to his dingy apartment. Reno followed him, frowning slightly as he examined his surroundings. It was dark, small and secluded – just what you would expect from this very private ex-Turk. He looked closer, suddenly sharp eyes noting that although it was small it was well-kept and cosy, with neat, comfortable furnishings and very clean.

Vincent had his back to the red-head as he poured drinks for them both – two glasses of amber liquid set to make the blood boil, kill the taste buds and cloud sense for a few hours, rendering the world a much more pleasant fog. He handed over one glass to Reno and smiled, sitting down in a comfortable black leather armchair, indicating for Reno to do the same in an adjacent one. Reno did so, almost sighing as the soft leather enveloped him. It was a very good chair. He drank slowly, knee swinging lazily, almost seductively.

"Good booze yo."

Vincent smiled.

"Only the best Reno."

Reno grinned.

"You ain't so bad."

"Neither are you." Vincent took a sip from his own glass. "So how about you tell me what you were doing curled up in a slum alley?"

Reno flushed slightly.

"Nothing important yo..." he muttered, trying to keep his tone casual.

"Really? Well, I could smell no injury, no sign of a struggle, no physical reason for you to need to lie there. No mental reason either, except perhaps stress, overwork and a deep deep sadness and longing which seemed to be peculiar to that place. What's so special about it?"

Reno sighed and snapped his reply, staring into the depths of amber oblivion rather than facing the ruby-gaze of his companion "It was my home. Alright? I was a slumrat. A filthy little slumwhore sold by my mother for drugs."

Vincent got up and walked over, placing his glass on the sideboard and a comforting hand on Reno's shoulder. Reflexively Reno leant against it, pressing his cool white cheek against the even colder marble skin of the other man.

"That wasn't right Reno."

"No but it's all I am. You ever wonder why I hated platers so much?"

Vincent inclined his head slightly, indicating that he had indeed felt such a curiosity but had respected the other man's privacy enough to leave the issue untouched.

"Well that's why. My mum sold me to 'em; 3 gil a day for her 'untouched' little son so she could spend it on drugs."

Vincent's hand squeezed his shoulder a little and his thumb brushed away a tear that threatened to roll down his cheek, skimming smoothly along the red crescent tattoo.

"...You're better than that Reno." He said at last, quietly. "You shouldn't roam the streets alone. It's dangerous, even for a Turk. The dangers aren't always in the present, but they're still there. Sometimes the greatest threats are in our memories. The ones that leave us boneless and shaking in our beds after the nightmares go; The ones that take over our lives. Memories are the worst Reno; You can't fight ghosts. I can guarantee the EMR doesn't work on them."

Reno managed a weak smile, then looked up at Vincent, a small frown creasing his brow "Why'd ya keep saying 'we'? You weren't a slumwhore!"

Vincent shook his head, eyes glowing brighter for a moment, then dull with suppressed sadness.

"I have my own demons Reno. Not just the physical monsters imprisoned inside me, my memories torment me as yours do. Indeed it is a good thing I have no need of sleep. Many is the night I've woken screaming and alone. I share my bed with no-one. I close my eyes and I can see them: He is standing over me again, scalpel in hand, grinning as my unheeded screams tear apart the silence of the labs; Or her again, shaking her head and telling me she cannot be with me. That she is carrying his child. That it is for the good of science. I've tried to run from my memories Reno, it doesn't work because no matter how far you run, you cannot leave yourself behind. That is why you cannot leave the slums."

Reno's mouth fell open and Vincent smiled.

"Yes, I know you were wondering about that, cursing yourself for not being able to leave behind the scenes of your torment. You're never going to find your mother's love now Reno. Childhood dreams die hard, but die they must. You're a big boy now, out alone in the world. But you don't have to be alone, you don't have to search alone." He turned away slightly, then turned back to stare into Reno's wide eyes "Next time you go looking for your past, let me come with you."

Wordless, mouth open, Reno nodded.