for Cam27 little series she's working on. In this story, Claire is Shinra's daughter and is pretty much a Turk. Her current mission is to take care of Noctis Caelum.

but the more important fact for this story is, Vincent Valentine is one of her best friends. I wrote this as my idea on how they meet. enjoy!

Claire moved slowly and cautiously through the hall, keeping her eyes sharp and her ears alert. So far, she saw nothing and heard nothing. No signs of anything really. Just an old, creaky house. But still, anything could be mistaken. A shadow, or footsteps that sound like a creak. Just in case, she made sure she kept her steps light and slow, so not to fill her ears or alert anything else that could be in this house, even though her best efforts were mostly ignored by how this floor shuddered and groaned under her, but she'd make the best of it; her hand gliding against the faded wood to balance her steps out, gathering bits of dust under her hand and feeling damp wood shudder underneath, but she barely acknowledge it though. She was already used to be covering in dust and dirt, and feeling damp, decomposing wood under her hands and feet. She barely flinched at the spiders that crawled by her hand. Too focused on the task at hand to even be scarred of them, as if she ever could be.

Things like that come with living a poor life. You get use to things most people can't stand. Old, creaky, and abandoned homes were a welcomed sight to most. Especially to people like her and mom. Even though they had a nice place in Midgar (so long as you ignored the rubble and the glass shards here and there); full of flowers and warm rays of light when the sun is just right. Even if it was rundown and in the Slums, Claire loved her home that she shared with her mother. She learned a lot there, and in the Slums in general. How to sweet talk, sneak around and evade, disappear, and most importantly, how to fight (even if mom frowned at it).

And, unfortunately, in the Slums, you also learn how to make stupid decisions.

Like now.

She acknowledges, this was a pretty stupid decision.

At first, it was all the rush of the moment and the heat of the challenge. While on their visit to Nibelheim, with her mother meeting a friend, Claire took the chance to explore for a while. While here, she overheard some big kids talking about a certain house being haunted, and she had scoffed a little too loudly at them. Obviously, she was caught by those big kids. They scowled and snarled at her, and she growled back at them, telling them off for being such idiots to actually believe that there was such a thing as a haunted house. She had been in plenty of old empty homes enough to know that the worse you'll find in there is another lowlife like yourself. That's what she expected all of this to be really, just some lowlife trying to keep people away so he could mope and sulk the rest of his life away.

They were just as stubborn, and the argument just got hotter from there.

That pretty much sums up how she ended up here.

It was simple really. She was to find out if the house really was haunted or not. From the details they told her, she really did think it was just some crazy, desperate lowlife keeping people away. A figure seen limping by windows, how there was howling in the night sometimes. They said it was a monster or a ghost. She still says completely mad lowlife.

Besides, monsters aren't housed in cities. Only idiots or madmen would allow monsters to be in cities. She'd go through this whole entire house and prove to them that there isn't a monster in here—

The floor gave out from under her unexpectedly and Claire squealed in surprise when she was suddenly swallowed by black air.

Everything was a blur. A big, black, crazy, and painful blur. Claire didn't know anymore. She didn't know what was up, or down. She couldn't tell if she was upside down or straight up. All she know was that she was hitting hard, firm walls, her body was bruised, and it hurt. She felt like a ball, free falling and bouncing down the rough wall, scraping and scratching her up as she went. Tears flowed willingly from the corners of her tightly eyes; she was even choking on her own scream the further she went.

All she could think about as she fell was her mother, still waiting for her, staring off into the night, searching. She would never be able to find her down here. The thought alone just made her cry and choke even harder. She's so sorry, for leaving like this. Bad enough that father was never there for them, but now her? Leaving mom like this?

She felt even worse, the pain couldn't compare to this breaking knowledge.

She was so sorry and regretted this night. Regretted the deal. It wasn't worth, it wasn't worth it at all.

Goodbye mom. I'm so sorry...

She hit a hard, breaking surface, the sound of cracking wood echoing in her ears. Even more pain shot through her as all the scratches and the rest of her flesh was pierced by bits of pointed wood. Her vision went black as she weakly rolled herself off whatever she landed on, and hit the hard stone earth instead.

She felt cold, and numb as she laid there, on her side, planted firm on the uneven, hard stone ground. She couldn't move. She couldn't feel the rest of her body. It was cold and stiff. Her eyes were heavy too, too heavy. She couldn't open them, even if she wanted to. They just wouldn't open. Fighting off the surge of panic swelling inside her, she allowed herself to just lay there, reminding and remembering how to breath while she waited. Waited to either move or die. She doubted she'd be found. There's no way they could find her. If she wanted out, she had to get herself out first.

But that couldn't happen till her body was functional. So she waited for her body to wake up again, get over the shock of the fall.

Gradually, her eyes felt lighter, and she could start to feel the rest of her body again.

She was starting to like it better numb.

Like an angry swarm of bees, pain stung throughout her whole entire body. She could feel the needles in her skin, the angry bite marks left from hitting the stones, the shaking bruises that swelled from the blows. And she couldn't feel her leg, at least, below the knee. It was completely numb, till she moved that leg, then that was the worst pain of all. It felt like she was being burned. Hissing and crying as she gritted her teeth through the pain, she stilled and allowed it to fade, though barely.

Taking a shuddering breath, she considered the possibility that her leg was broken.

That really did throw her venture back to the surface off.

Frustration and helplessness swelled inside her. Her breath quickened as she bit down the panic. Mom was never scared. She didn't remember a time mom was ever scared. She shouldn't be scared, like her. Mom always turned that fear into a calm smile. Unfortunately, Claire couldn't to do that. She couldn't smile as easily as mom did, she never could. So instead, she took her fear out in a form of frustration. She always did, even if mom never really approved. It helped throwing her fist.

And that's what she did.

Even if it hurt, she didn't flinch. Instead, she slammed her scraped knuckles against whatever was next to her. Soft, weakening wood hollowly echoed her attack. Claire flinched at the light pain, her eyes watering slightly. She focused her attention instead on the fact that there was wood next to her. She was in a cave, wasn't she? She felt the rocks she hit, the one she was lying on.

Why was there wood down here?

Then, there was a subtle groan that filled the empty black air that surrounded her. Claire's eyes widen and she found herself holding her breath, the sound of her heart hammering in her ears filling her senses. It sounded like claws moving against the wood next to her, and then someone moving and shifting from the wood.

What did she hit?

There was a creak, and Claire found that she really wanted to shrink and hide for once. Was this the monster they talked about? Was this what she was suppose to find? Her eyes, use to some of the darkness and could see with limited vision. She saw a lift of something above her, and then suddenly she had bits and small pieces and specs of crumbling wood falling on her as it hovered above her. She stared wide eyed at the wood that was above her. Completely still and tense. She held her breath, trying hard to hide her presence to whatever else was in the cave with her. She could hear the being move again, the sounds of claws lightly tapping on the wood was in sync with her pounding heart. Then she heard it being dragged across the wood.

Claire didn't breath. She didn't move. She just stayed still, waiting. Listening.

Those claws were still being dragged along the wood. Claire could tell that they were getting closer and closer to the edge of the coffin, closer to her head. A glint of color caught her eye and she turned her head and spied ghostly bright tipped claws. Everything went still for her as she watched those claws that crept over the edge. She watched, and waited. Those claws didn't move. They tapped a little on the wood, like the owner was considering and thinking something over.

Claire didn't move and kept herself still, hoping that it would rise and leave. That she would go undiscovered.

Her prays were answered when those claws slipped away, hidden by wood once again. She heard the wood groan again and the sound of a boot hitting the rock ground. She listened as those steps got quieter and quieter. Till she didn't hear him again. Claire allowed herself to sigh a breath of relief. Safe.

The wood that hung over her was ripped away, and her wide surprised eyes stared up in glaring, blood red eyes that glinted evilly at her. Claire went stiff as she was consumed by its dark shadow. It's ghostly skeleton like claws reached towards and Claire's mind flew. On instinct, her hand grabbed the first rock she could, rushing forward, she slammed the rock at it's face. It drew away from her, hissing. Claire flew up,turn to ran—

—and collapsed on the ground, screaming as pain bit her leg. It felt like it had snapped under the pressure she put onto it. Biting her lip to counter the pain and as a form of concentration, she reminded herself about the being that was in here with her. Ignoring her leg the best she could, she pushed herself up on her arms and pulled herself forward, crawling as fast as she could as her wounded leg bumped and thrashed on the stone ground. The thing behind growled softly behind her and she heard its steps coming after her.

She sped till her leg hit an uneven ridge, grazing directly on the wound. It was too much then. Claire yelped, jerked away painfully, she curled around her leg, squeezing it tightly, trying to soothe and numb the pain the best she could. Through blurred, almost shut eyes, she saw the dark figure looming over her again, red eyes glinting. She saw that skeleton hand reaching for her again. Gritting her teeth, Claire closed her eyes and allowed herself to get swallowed by the darkness.

She felt weird when she woke. Her body was stiff and immobile, and it stung too. She couldn't feel her leg, she couldn't feel her any part of her body much really. All she could tell was that the air was stale, but she was warm, and despite the pain and immobility, she felt secure. She took a shuddering breath when cold pointed tips lightly grazed her forehead, pushing her hair aside.

"You're lucky you're alive," a low raspy voice murmured to her.

Her eyes fluttered open, weakly. The first thing she saw was the skeleton hand over her. She gasped and jerked away, only to freeze and hiss in pain. The hand that was over her immediately withdrew. With wild eyes, she followed it and saw the same red eyes she saw earlier. Only now, she could see a face. It was a pale face of a man, almost ghostly by how pale he was. Around him, like a shroud, was a thick mane of black; every subtle move he made, it swayed in a nonexistent breeze, gracing the air with gleaming black strands.

She moved her sights to take the rest of him in. He wore the same shade of red as his eyes, with black cloth underneath. His hand, as she saw now, wasn't a skeleton. It was metal of a golden shine, dimmed gray in the low light. But she could still see that they had sharp tips to to them. Promising tips.

"Who..." she croaked.

The man stirred to life, rising from the seat and out of his frozen, almost unsure posture. With his back to her, all she could see was that blood red cape with the black mane coiling above it. He turned around and was above her faster than she could blink. Before she could even react fast enough, he pressed something down on her lips. She almost choked when something wet and cool hit her. Then a dribble pressed through her compacted lips and grazed her tongue.

Water.

The realization made her hands reach up, clasped the canteen from him and she dipped the soothing liquid down. He drew back, giving her room. It was almost empty when she had her fill, her throat still stung and felt dry and unsatisfied, but her stomach felt full. She had enough. More than what she usually had. It tasted better than what she use to have too.

She held it out for him, finishing her question. "Who are you," she asked, her voice stronger, but still shaking.

"Who are you," he shot back as he took the canteen from her. His voice as low as ever.

"I asked you first," she pointed out.

"You barged into my house. That is trespassing. And I saved you when I shouldn't have. I have more right than you. Tell me who are you, child."

She made a face at him, but grumbled her answer just the same. "Claire."

"Just Claire?"

"Claire."

"Alright, Claire. Why are you here?"

"I was dared."

"What was the dare?"

"To see if there's a monster in this house."

"Well, you found your answer, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And it cost you all this, broken leg and all."

"Thank you," Claire offered.

"Don't thank me, don't ever thank me, child. I am not worthy of such things."

"What do you mean?" Claire asked. Slowly, she moved her focus away from him and started to inspect her condition and where abouts. She was back in the house. On an old bed. There were bits of cloth from sheets and clothes tied around her arms and legs, to cover the scrapes. ALl the plinters she felt she had were gone, all that was left were angry red holes. Her leg was still broken, and held stiff and straight in a cast. A piece of wood that looked like it was from the house was used as a sprint to keep her leg straight.

"I am a sinner child. An evil monster."

Claire shot him a look. "Do monster help lost little girls?"

He didn't respond to her. He just sat and stared at her, with the same expression he had on since she woke.

"Who are you?" she repeated.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Valentine."

"Like the holiday?"

"Yes, like the holiday. But with nothing to do with hearts."

"Do you like choc—"

"No I don't like chocolate."

"Oh... are you going to tell me the rest of your name?"

He blinked at her, a mild look of curious surprise in his eyes as he eyed her. "You think there's more to my name?" he asked her.

"Yes."

"What makes you think so?"

"You were expecting more than Claire."

"I was, most humans have two names. Their named name, and their family name. You don't have a family name?"

"No, yes, maybe. I don't know. Mom never said."

Valentine hummed, leaning back in his seat and lounging causally.

"Vincent," he finally offered. "Vincent Valentine."

"No, no! That way! Turn this way!"

"..."

"Left, no your other left. My left."

"..."

"Or as it my right..."

Vincent Valentine sighed, his shoulders slumping, making the girl on his shoulders squeak in surprise and grab his forehead tightly. He barely flinched at the pressure applied to his head. It wasn't much compared to the slow, patient headache coming in. It wasn't from the girl and her directions. It was more for all the eyes that were watching them. He was sure, it was a sight. A big scary man like him, with a girl, almost half his size on his shoulders, with bright pink hair and the cast on her leg. Normally, he didn't mind these things. It was just the fact that people were... watching them. He didn't like the eyes of people on him, he felt it made him too obvious.

Being obvious was a bad thing in his old job.

"How about we try the roofs?" he suggested, ready to get out of this crowd. He was starting to smell each individual scent given off by each person.

"The roof?" Claire echoed, leaning over slightly to catch the color of his eyes. Then she turned and looked up at the looming buildings next to them. "I don't know if i can see her from that high."

"Do you think you can find her easily here?"

"Well... no, too many heads. But it will be the same problem up on the roof, she'd blend in."

"Describe the place you're staying at. Is it a hotel?"

"No, its free. And old. Mom made sure of that. A place that we could hide easily. Places that she calls precious."

"Sounds like a shrine," Vincent mumbled. "But what shrine..." Vincent's eyes glinted as it clicked. Claire had no warning when he suddenly turned and veered his way through the crowd, barely brushing against people as he went with full purpose. Most were too busy trying to distant themselves from the red eyed man.

All except one little girl.

"Vincent? Where are we going?"

She wasn't worried. Not that if it was just an hour before sunset, she knew her waited occupant would be home soon. She always was. But that still did little to stop her form gripping her cup too tightly. If she listened, she could almost ehar the cracks going in and through the call little container.

Where was she?

Where did she go today?

Did she play with chocobos?

Found a giant moogle to hug?

Maybe dancing with a cactuar.

Did they have cactuars here?

Now she really wanted to go and find out.

But she remembered and quickly began gripping her cup again.

No, she had to wait. Just a bit longer. She'll come, she had too. She always did. Besides, Nibelheim was safer than the Slums in Midgar. Wasn't it?

She sighed and slumped on the table. One had dropped, the other still gripped the cup.

She didn't know anymore. She really just didn't know.

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "Why is life so complicated?" she grumbled to herself.

For an answer, she got the echo of steps. She jerked up, alert now. Silently, she cursed herself for not having her stave with her now. Grabbing a near knife, holding it close to her side as she listened to those steps. She recognized those steps. Those were steps of a Turk. Light and quick, and got softer the closer they got to their prey. Her grip on the knife tightened. She wasn't going back. Not to him. She wasn't leaving her child, not yet. There was no way she was going to let the Turks separate them. There was no way she was going to let him have either of them. Not yet. She wouldn't leave Claire in his hands, trapped in his world. Hopefully, not ever.

It was completely silent now. She had been found. He was on the other side of the door. She knew it. Where was Claire? Where was she? She was suppose to be back now. Panic and fear swelled in here. What if she wasn't here when Claire comes back? What if Claire came in now, and was found by that Turk? What if she was already taken?

A light polite knock hit the wall, and echoed through the room she was in. She breathed in, and smoothly, said, "It's open." She had the knife ready in case they got personal.

The door opened, and the last thing she expected to see stood before her, watching her and grinning.

It was Claire, all banged up and wrapped up in clothes and bandages. She had bruises and scrapes all over her, her leg from the knee down was bandaged and had a splint. Despite how banged up she was, her little Claire was smiling, her father's eyes lit up warmly, just like his used too. She already found herself calming. Everything was going to be alright now, Claire was home. She was finally home.

She moved her relieved gaze down to Claire's savior. He had all the features of a Turk, and some others that would define him as a monster, at least, to some people's eyes. Red eyes and glinted and glowed with his demonic gaze. He was an unhealthy shade of pale, like that of a ghost. His hair was long and thick, untamed and wild, and a solid, cold black. He wore a torn and aged blood red cape on his shoulders with dark clothes underneath. And he had a metal, skeleton like hand at his side glinting in the dim light.

Despite this man's appearance and how he held himself, everything intimidating about him went out the window as Claire wrapped her arms around his head, grinning at her. "Hi mom," her little angel peeped.

She smiled back at her, approaching them without a care. She reached up her hand and lased her fingers with Claire's, who had released one arm around the Turk like man's head. "Welcome home," she told them both, flickering a thankful gaze to the man.

He blinked silently at her, then gave her a curt nod, cause Claire to squeak at the sudden motion. She felt her smile grow at the sight of them, Claire lightly pulling at his hair, scolding him while he silently stood, taking it, staring back at her while her little girl ranted. It just made her all the warmer. Claire had inherited something of her. A good sense of a person's character.

Claire seemed satisfied that she got the message through the man, and looked up at mom, grinning brightly.

"So mom," she started, "can we keep him?"

She and the man blinked at the child. He seemed more affected than she though, especially when he leaned his head back completely to look at the child.

"...what."