The day was dark. It always seemed dark, even when the sun was out. Outside, it was pouring rain, inside, safe and warm, there was an air of excitement, an excitement that did nothing to lift the mood of one man, the one who needed it most. He sat on the sill of the bay window, watching the rain fall outside. Midgar, complete now with its giant crater from Sephiroth's attempt to summon meteor was now a very grim place, now only made up of slums and one huge monument.

"Vincent, are you alright?" Came a voice from over his shoulder in the bar. The man at the window did not turn; he didn't seem to hear the voice at all. His forehead was placed gently on the glass of the window, his black hair pressed between his wide, red headband and the cool glass, and resting upon his read cloak, brought around his neck and shoulders by leather straps, two of which were fastened on the high collar in front of his chin, a third on his upper chest, the fourth and fifth were left unfastened. His red eyes, partially covered by the hair that wasn't held back by his band stared out at the drops as they hit the ground and window rhythmically. "Vince?" The voice asked again, a tense worry filling in. The man's hands clasped over the knee that was bent and resting on the sill he was sitting on, his metallic claw of a lower left arm catching the extra fabric with a slight tearing sound as it tightened on the joint above where his pants were tucked into his high brown and gold boots. The shirt he wore under his heavy red cloak, which matched his band holding back his long raven hair, was black, the sleeves long but rolled around his elbows. It was a bomber-style shirt, one side folded over the other with the buttons for it travelling up the side of his chest, and finally travelling back over to where it was supposed to be at his collar line. None of that was visible though. "Vincent?" The voice was closer this time, and a hand rested upon his shoulder for a second.

Only a second because that was how long it took the ex-Turk to turn on the speaker, his right hand closing painfully over the wrist of the hand which had touched him. His red eyes glared up to see Tifa Lockheart standing above him tears in her eyes due to him crushing her wrist the way he was. As he saw that it was her, the anger in his eyes melted away into concern, even fear. He hadn't meant to hurt her, and quickly let go of her wrist. "Tifa... I" He started, but she turned from him and ran into the arms of Cloud Strife, who had just walked down from upstairs.

Cloud's blue eyes, light feathery blond hair and fine complexion was set off handsomely by the dark coloring of what he was wearing. Black leather gloves covered his arms to his elbows, and black pants covered his legs loosely, tied around his ankles just above the mouth of his boots, which were under the loose ends of his pants. A sleeveless blue sweater with a quarter length zipper that was unzipped all the way, showing the upper part of his bare chest, the collar popped covered his upper body. On his left shoulder was a plate of armor which had what looked like a wolven doorknocker melded into it, off of this hung a sleeve which his arm was covered by, and it was secured to him by a pair of belts. One of these attached to the belt of his pants, and on the left side a cover of leather rested only centimeters away from his leg. He looked down at Tifa, who was choking back her tears of pain, and then up at Vincent, those same soft blue eyes glowing with anger as he looked back down, assessing the damage to her wrist.

"Cloud I..." Vincent began in a tortured tone as his red eyes watched Tifa sob sadly. I didn't mean to hurt her... I... I didn't even know it was her, he thought, looking down at his hands, his bloodstained, sin-soaked hands. These hands of his, they had hurt too many people already, killed too many innocents, and now they had injured one of his friends. "I didn't... I'm sorry..." She had allowed him to stay here, hadn't forced him to go back to that hellhole of a mansion he had been confined to for thirty years, and this is how he repaid that kindness.

"You've done enough Vincent." Cloud said in a clear voice as he worked to calm Tifa, using the power of his materia to heal her broken wrist. "She was just making sure you were alright. You need to control yourself." His voice was soft, not accusing, but it was still enough to lash the tortured soul that was Vincent Valentine, the man with the bloody hands, the Demon Turk. "We've been more than accepting of your habits from when you were with the Shinra, but they're gone now, it's time for these habits of yours to die."

His habits... Those habits were all he had of his past, all that was left, the only thing that reminded him on these dark days that he had existed, he had at one point mattered. He had mattered to those hundreds of Turks and SOLDIERs that had looked up to him in those days thirty years ago. He had mattered to his boss enough to give to him the most important of missions, trusting no one else. He had mattered to one woman whom he had let down, he had watched her die, and it might as well have been at his hands.

"Cloud, its fine, stop yelling at him." Tifa told him, looking up into those blue eyes of his, those soft blue eyes. "He didn't hear me; it was my fault for startling him." She looked over at Vincent, who had hung his head in sadness, knowing full well that it wasn't fine, she probably trusted him even less now.

"Don't stick up for me Tifa. If he wants to yell, by all means let him yell, it's better than awkward silence." He told her, his red eyes staring flatly at her with her raven hair, her black sleeveless shirt, her leather trailer and long black shorts. She had on black shoes also. He looked away without saying a word to her.

"Who's yelling?" Cloud said in a confrontational tone.

"Knock it off." He heard Tifa say as she once again closed the gap between herself and the man who had just seconds before snapped her wrist. She kneeled in front of him, resting her hands on his knees. "Vincent, you did nothing wrong. I should have known you would have reacted defensively." She told him, gazing up into his eyes. "I'm sorry for invading your space."

"Don't patronize me Tifa." He said, his eyes shifting to his right hand rested. Right there, fastened to his belt and his leg was the holster for his handgun. The two of them knew it was loaded as they stared at it. "And you know just as well I do that if I was acting defensively I would have snapped your neck, not your wrist." He said, standing, the tattered ends of his red cloak flowing around the back of his knees. He turned and walked through the door.

"Vincent!" Now Cloud was yelling, he was behind him, running to catch up to the long stridden man. Vincent didn't stop, kept walking forward, heavy droplets of rain ramming into his shoulders like miniature bombs, though they caused no pain. The sky was crying out, just as he was crying out. His soul longed for a solace that would and could not be given freely, just as the angels cried for those poor souls stuck in the purgatory that was life. "VINCENT STOP!" He heard the ex-SOLDIER roar behind him, but he didn't, not until he reached the monument to meteor, the monument that signaled fear and death, a death he desired, though it would never come to him of his own will. He was too strong, yet too cowardly to take his own life, and that would condemn him to a fate worse that his eternal purgatory. Even then, he leapt to the top, perching and sitting upon the tip precariously. He knew Cloud wouldn't follow him up here, there was no room anyway. "Vincent come down here!" he shouted up to him, although his friend did not budge in the least. "She wasn't trying to patronize you, you know how Tifa can get! She just noticed how depressed you've been lately. Everyone can see it Vincent. She just wanted to help!"

Even though Cloud couldn't see it from his perspective, Vincent's pale face had softened just a bit, contrasting with what he felt, which was mirrored by the pure water pouring down upon them. These pure tears were wasted upon the mortals that witnessed them, and yet they gave life to every and all things. It was comforting to know someone wanted to help- that someone cared after all of these years. But it was still not enough; he was missing that one crucial thing that a man needed to survive. He needed love, needed someone to understand him. Not the way his friends pretended to understand either, he really needed someone who cared. There had only ever been one person who could do that for him, and she had been dead now for thirty years, just as his body had been dead, but his spirit had refused to leave and stayed within it and in a sense continued to live on.

"You're going to get sick out in this rain Vincent... at least come inside." He could hear Cloud pleading with him. He looked down, over his shoulder at him. "Come on man, its cold out here." It was obvious that the younger man wouldn't leave him alone, and so Vincent hopped back down, landing perfectly, and the two of them, in silence, walked back toward Tifa's place, the string of pure tears falling upon them. The two who had refused death time and again, one by natural luck, and one by a curse that went by the name of Jenova.

When they returned, a most unpleasant sight greeted them. As Vincent took off and hung up his cloak, Cloud walked over to the bar, slamming a fist down in front of Tseng, one of the only Turks to have been smart enough to leave Midgar in advance and therefore survive the meteor. As he did, the glass the blue suited man had been drinking from jumped and spilled, the sticky amber liquid flowing down the bar. Vincent rolled his eyes at this unnecessary act of violence. Cloud needed guidance still, even at his age he could act rashly.

"Bastard! What are you doing here?" Cloud asked, staring the calm Turk down with an angry snarl that looked more like it belonged on their friend Red XIII than a man like Cloud Strife. Vincent sat at the bar next to Tseng, on the side that wasn't occupied by the fuming Cloud. The Turk turned from the ex-SOLDIER to the black hared man to his right. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"Strife, for once I am not trying to kill you now would you please calm down before I shoot you?" Tseng said with a quiet, aristocratic air. "In fact, I'm not here to talk to you at all. I must speak with Mr. Valentine here." He added, patting Vincent on the shoulder. His red eyes darted around the room until he found Tifa behind the bar, cleaning out a glass. She shrugged, obviously having forgiven him for walking out. Cloud was shocked, and actually sat down and shut up; wanting to hear what was going on. "Vincent," he said, finally turning to his right again in order to speak to the older man, "to put it simply, we want you to come back to us."

That was the bluntest thing to say. If any of them had been drinking, it would have ended up all over the place. As it was, Tifa went stalk still, Cloud fell backward off of his barstool in hysterical laughter. Vincent, the only one who either wasn't scared or thinking that Tseng was kidding just stared at the other Turk.

"You want me to come back to the Turks?" He asked

"That is exactly what I want. You are an invaluable resource, and even after the company struck your name from the books, you were talked about as the most revered Turk ever. You are just as famous as Sephiroth was when he was alive, not crazy, and still in SOLDIER." Tseng explained.

"I don't care about fame... and Sephiroth wasn't crazy, he was grieving for something he thought was his mother. I knew his mother... She probably grieved for him too." Vincent replied, standing up. He didn't want to hear anymore.

"But Vincent, we need your help!" Tseng practically pleaded.

"With what could you need help from a scourge?" Vincent asked, looking over his shoulder at Tseng. "I thought I was only fit to be locked in a coffin in a basement for thirty years and have my name stricken from everything. The only proof that I existed now is the fact that I am here."

"It's about Lucrecia, Vincent." Tseng told him as Vincent looked as if he were about to leave again. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard that. It couldn't be true... she was dead wasn't she? "I know what you're thinking and yes, legally she IS dead, but there have been sightings of her across the globe. We're short handed, and have sent everyone we have after her, but we can't seem to get her... We want to know what happened and you, Vincent, you're the only one that knew her and that is still in good physical condition. You're the only man for his job. Please."

"Vincent, you can't!" Tifa called to him when it looked as if he were struggling with the decision. "You remember what they did to you right? Look at your arm."

"Tifa, if he wants to find her, let him go." Cloud hissed.

"Where do I start?" Vincent asked Tseng in a cold voice, turning around and shaking his hand.

"I knew you'd see it my way."

~ The Next Morning ~

The rain had stopped sometime during the night, Vincent only knew because the steady dripping had kept him awake until it had finally stopped sometime in the early morning. When he awoke, his hair askew, small bags under his eyes that brought depth to his deathly pale face, his mouth stretching with a wide yawn, he was surprised to see Tifa at the end of his bed, just sitting there, watching him. It was sort of disturbing. He looked out the window, yep still dark, and she was most definitely in her nightgown. "What Tifa? It's early, shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Are you sure you want to do this, Vincent?" She asked him, apprehension dripping in her voice like a fatal disease. He just stared at her. "I mean, I know you loved her and all. You were really upset when we found her in that cave, but Vincent, is it really worth it? You're a different person than who you were thirty years ago."

Vincent stood, reaching for his shirt, and then pants, putting each garment on with care. "There are a few questions I need to ask her that she wouldn't answer before. You didn't know me back then, Tifa, you weren't even born back then. I was very much the person I still am to this day." He told her, sweeping his hair out of the back of his shirt and wrapping his headband.

"You're right Vincent, I didn't know you back then, I didn't know you when you were young, before all of this happened." She told him, watching as he rolled up his sleeves. "But I'm your friend; I helped save you from that torment you had resigned yourself to back in Nibelhiem. We got you out of there Vincent, and you're like a father to Cloud, he really looks up to you, you're like the much older brother I didn't have... We worry about you."

"Tifa, I don't have friends. I have acquaintances, co-workers, and people that get in my way. Which one will you be?" He said, coming up to her. He was at least a foot taller than her, maybe even more. It didn't make him feel more secure about himself, his height. It actually made him feel awkward. But his eyes, those dripping red blood eyes of his, topped by his wild black hair, and the inability of her to see his mouth from the perspective she had made him look intimidating, even with the sad look in those eyes of his. She stepped out of his way, knowing exactly what he was capable of doing, and didn't want any of it to happen. He vaguely hears her exhale as he leaves the room and strolls over to where his gun belt was hanging and then securing that around both his waist and lower thigh.

From its place as of last night he relinquished his cloak, placing it over his shoulders and fastening the first three straps of it to keep it on. He walked outside, feeling sick as he smelled the still damp tar under his feet from the rain of last night and this morning. He looked down upon the ground as he walked forward. Tseng hadn't given him any implications on where to start... There was only one place to go... the cave in which he had last seen Lucrecia and the Shinra Mansion in Niblemhiem... Okay, two places to go.

"Vincent!" He heard his name shouted by a familiar voice. He looked up, his dark eyes rolling as he saw Cloud yawning in front of him. He was wearing the same outfit he had the day before, and had the Buster Sword pointed at the ex-ex-Turk.

"What the hell, you too?" Vincent yelled in frustration, readying his right had on the butt of his gun. "Did you freaken sleep out here in that position?"

It was painfully obvious that he had especially when he dodged the question. "Let me go with you."

"No."

"Let Tifa go with you"

"It's not happening Cloud; get out of my way."

"I'll fight you for the right to go with you." The look on the boy's face was of the utmost seriousness. Vincent sighed, seeing no way around it.

"Fine. If you win, you get to come; if I win both you and Tifa stay here and don't come after me." He said, his eyes mimicking the emotion in his voice, pure annoyance. Cloud begins to charge him with the Buster, but as he nears, Vincent nimbly jumps to the side, pulling his gun and snapping off a shot. Cloud stops dead in his tracks, falling over as he looses balance. Vincent walks over to him, looking down with a demonic smile on his pale lips. "Looks like I win. Sorry Cloud, you have to stay behind with Tifa." He turns, and begins to walk away, not stopping as he hears Clouds screams follow him.

"YOU BASTARD YOU CHEATED! YOU SHOT ME IN THE FOOT DAMMIT!"

Vincent waved it off with a rueful smile that Cloud couldn't see. "I didn't cheat, I was playing by the rules." He says as he continues to walk, not stopping until he reaches the barren wastes around Midgar, the wastes that had always been so bleak. The dark sands where stained with the sun bleached bones of animals and men that had died crossing the wasteland to the city when it had been at the height of its glory. It was no where near that now, and yet people still died coming to the once bustling city.

Personally, he didn't see the point in any of it. He hated the city, hated being around people he didn't know or care about at all. The only reason he had stayed there for so long was because of Tifa and Cloud. He knew the both of them worried about him, however unnecessary it was, and he had promised Tifa he would help Cloud cope with the loss of Aeris, because 'there's nothing more I can do.' Why she had asked him when he obviously still wasn't over Lucrecia's death was anyone's guess.

He sighed heavily as he felt the winds pick up, blowing dust into his eyes, stirring the quiet restfulness of his red cloak as he stood there. He reached deeply into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a map. Roughly, he'd need to go south in order to get to Junon. Tseng had said there would be someone there waiting to take him to the western continent, as per their agreement the night before. He had said that he would check all of the possible areas out there where she could be. Cracking his back a bit, Vincent turned south, to be met again by another high wind that sprayed burning sand into his eyes and plagued him with blindness and irritation, though he ignored it all quite well.