By: Caz [theinfamouscaz@aol.com]

Rating/Summary: PG-13 (could end up R)/Nothing more than a random what-if.

Notes: The first FF fic I've posted. It's not the best, I'm aware, but I hope you'll join me for my little self-indulgent cuss-fest. I'm quite aware that Cid uses more profanities in this short fic than probably in the entire game, but I felt that it was necessary to keep in character. That's all. Feedback always welcomed. <3

The Highwind, ship of many moods this evening, sailed through the stiff night air like a shark through a glossy pond. It was veritably warm outside and the breeze created by the craft's passage made the temperature bearable. Hell, comfortable. Leaning against the starboard rail, Vincent Valentine closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. For the first time since he could remember, he felt vaguely at peace with himself and his surroundings.

He was doing something he should have done a long time ago. Something that would allow him to atone for the horrors that had arisen from his isolationism. Back then, he'd been so careless. Such a damnable pushover.

But he'd learned a lot since then.

Perhaps, when it was over, he'd be able to die in peace.

His lips drew into a small, grateful smile.

On a whim, he removed his overcoat and enjoyed the feeling of the cool wind sliding over his arms. The weighted cloth fell to the deck, immediately forgotten.

The ground flew by beneath him, and he wondered about the people upon it. Were they happy? Of course. They, at least, had each other. They had families and jobs and friends and homes. They had life…

He felt a pit open in his stomach at that thought.

Life. The life he'd been denied.

He hung his head.

It wasn't fair. Not fucking fair! They had everything they wanted and hadn't gone through anything! He'd been through so much… so much trying… only to end up empty-handed.

Then again, he thought, I do deserve it.

He deserved every bullet of it, didn't he?

Suddenly, that far-off death seemed like it couldn't come soon enough.

"Well, ain't somebody glad to be alone,"

The voice startled him; he glanced up with a slight jump. Sometime during his mulling, Cid had stridden up behind him. He now leaned on the section of railing to Vincent's right. Arms lazily overlapping, easy smile interrupted by a cheroot clenched in his teeth; Cid was and always had been the picture of lackadaisical playboydom. In that moment, Vincent felt such pain… and somehow, Cid was unaffected. Somehow, nobody was.

At least for a moment.

Unaffected but never dim, Cid caught the trenches beneath Vincent's eyes and knew in an instant.

"We're havin' dinner inside; why're you out here all by your lonesome?"

Vincent shrugged, withdrawing into the folds of his remaining clothing. He felt exposed without his coat. Revealed.

"I needed the fresh air,"

"Ah," was Cid's cryptic reply. They remained in silence for a few long minutes.

"Why are you out here?" Vincent suddenly asked.

"Already ate. Didn't want you thinkin' we'd forgot you."

"I don't need someone out here to babysit me," Vincent said.

The pilot shook the ash from his cheroot and gestured at God knew what. Perhaps the air. Perhaps the ship. Perhaps the whole fucking planet. It didn't matter.

"Gotta feel a bit lonely out here by yourself. So much space," he said.

"You get used to it," Vincent muttered.

"Oh? Used to what?"

"Being alone."

"You like your own company?"

"Mhm,"

There was another awkward pause. Conversation with Vincent usually went along these lines, no matter whom it happened to be with. Perhaps he really did enjoy his own company.

"You know," Cid began with a light cough, "the rest of 'em are worryin' about you. Sayin' you're too preoccupied with the past."

"They would," the garnet-eyed man agreed.

"Well… why the past? It ain't somethin' you've got control over."

"Like you'd know," Vincent snapped. He turned his back to the other man and exhaled in a sharp sigh.

"What?" Cid spoke, his voice rising, "You think I haven't ever regretted somethin'? Think you're the only guy on the fuckin' planet who's ever been depressed?"

"I think you should leave--" Vincent interrupted, pleading. Hearing the tone in his voice, Cid softened a bit.

"I'm just sayin'… it's pointless to wallow in it like you do. It's over with."

Lit by the incendiary remark, Vincent stared at the sky for a moment to keep his anger under control. The clouds from before were gone now; with the sky cleared came the smell of salt water. They were over the Eastern Ocean.

"So you think it's fine to just forget?"

Cid shook his head and thumped a heavy hand onto Vincent's shoulder.

"Not forget. Just let go."

"Let go…" he murmured. He slid his thumb along the gnarled metal of his ruined hand. It served as an eternal reminder. Letting go was impossible!

"It's with me 'til I die…" he said under his breath. "Atonement from this isn't even fathomable," He wondered if he'd come out to this place with darker intentions than he'd supposed. Had he come out here to kill himself? To forget the quest he'd taken and return to the Darkness that had succored him for so long?

He honestly didn't know.

"Well, fuck me for tryin' to help. You've got a lot of balls to just ignore everyone like that. No wonder you're so fuckin' depressed--everyone fuckin' leaves you 'cos you're livin' in the past!"

With that, the captain threw his hands into the air and turned to leave. He crossed the deck to the doorway and looked back. It looked to him like his words had sunk in.

Vincent remained against the railing, silent as always.