Old Ghosts
Part One

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): None yet
Warnings: Angst
Summary: When Vincent becomes ill, his friends naturally ride to the rescue to look after him, even buying him a little house of his own. But it’s possible the former residents have not moved out entirely yet.
Notes: Timeline for this fic is after Dirge of Cerberus.

To read part two, click here
To read part three, click here.

“I’ll be coming again like an old dog in pain,
Blown through the eye of the hurricane.
Down to the stones where old ghosts play…”
- Jethro Tull, ‘Old Ghosts’

They could hear Cid before they saw him; the sound of his work books reverberating down the hospital corridors and growing closer, until he slid to a stop in the small waiting room.

“Thus enters the BFF,” said Yuffie dryly.

“Where’s Vincent?” Cid asked.

“They won’t tell us,” said Cloud. He was wet and muddy, his huge Buster sword across his back. It had been weeks since anyone had seen him, and it seemed obvious he had called off whatever adventure he was on to tend to the matter at hand.

“Won’t tell you?” said Cid. “Why the fuck not?”

“We’re not family,” said Tifa.

“The hell we’re not!” said Cid. He looked to the irritated and weary doctor who had been trying to deal with the mismatched lot in the small hospital. “Where’s Vincent Valentine?”

“And are you a relation?” the man asked tiredly.

“Damn right. I’m his…” Cid’s mind processed his options; brother, cousin, nephew, and came out with….

“Husband. I’m his husband.”

“Go Cid,” whispered Barret. “Maybe now we can get some damn answers.”

“Come this way,” said the doctor, and led Cid to a small office, closing the door and motioning for Cid to sit down.

“So what’s happening?” asked Cid as he seated himself. “What’s wrong with Vincent?”

“Well since you are his husband, I was hoping you could tell me,” said the doctor dryly.

“I’ve been away for a few months.” Cid mentally pictured his grandmother swatting his ass for lying. “Look just tell me what’s wrong and what I can do to fix it.”

“Look, Mr…?”

“Cid. Just call me Cid.”

“Cid… the only two questions we have before us is whether to go for quality or life, or quantity.”

Cid’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “I don’t understand.”

“Cid… your husband has something called Myerson’s Disease. Are you familiar at all with it?”

“I never heard of it.”

“Well that’s not surprising, it’s very rare, and in most cases the early stages resemble a cold. The patient feels muscle aches, sneezing, coughing, fever, weakness… in most cases by the time the truth is learned, it’s too late.”

Cid found himself increasingly reluctant to understand what was being said to him. “What… are you telling me?”

“Cid… Myerson’s is a virus that affects select portions of the brain and nerves, causing a slow systematic failure of the vital organs and nervous system. It’s a horrible, painful disease, and can only be treated if caught early; within the first three weeks. Your husband has had it for nearly four months now.”

Cid’s emotions had shut down. He was firmly camped out on the shores of De Nile. He was not hearing this. He was not having this conversation…

“Where would he have caught it?”

“Well it breeds in damp, humid, warm environs, any place where there are a lot of molds, spores, filth…”

“Like the underground pits in Midgar near the Shinra Tower.”

The doctor nodded. “That would be an excellent place, yes. Was he one of the combatants there?”

“He… was down in the pits, yes.”

“I’m very sorry. This must be incredibly difficult to hear…”

“What happens now?” asked Cid.

“Well as I said, the choice to make now is quality or quantity. We can give him drugs to deal with the pain, but they will shorten what time he has left. However he will be able to enjoy the time he has left. On the other hand we can begin treatments to combat the virus and the damage it causes, but it means cutting back on the pain medication. Basically it will mean making him suffer for an indefinite period of time, during which he will likely go insane from neural damage and pain.”

Cid nodded slowly. “When can I take him home?”

“In about three days. He has an infection in his lungs we would like to take care of before we set him loose. You can see him if you like…”

Cid nodded. “Yeah, okay. I just…have to talk to my friends first, they’ll want to know.”

Cid left the doctor’s office, walking on autopilot, his eyes distant, his movements almost mechanical. He reached the waiting room, and sat down heavily in a chair, staring down at the floor. He said nothing for a long time, until Barret walked over to him and gave him a gentle shake.

“Hey, Cid. Talk to us, man. What’s going on?”

It was several minutes before he could tell them.

***---***

The hospital room was dark and quiet save for the sound of the falling rain striking the window. Vincent made a quiet sound in his sleep, then sat up, coughing. He heard someone drag a chair closer to his bed, and smelled the faint scent of old cigarettes.

“Cid?”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

Cid shifted his chair a little closer. “Well apparently you weren’t saying anything, so the local news channel did a little story on this guy in the hospital, and… well there just aren’t too many people on the planet who match your description.” He was silent for a few moments. “Why didn’t you call us?”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this. I’m… sickly and weak and…”

“I bought you a house.”

Vincent coughed. “You what?”

“I bought you a house, I’m coming to stay with you and look after you, and you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Cid you can’t…”

“Don’t argue with me, Valentine, I already had to lie and tell them we’re married.”

Vincent coughed again. “You what?”

“As of three hours ago you’re Mrs. Cid Highwind. And what sort of a husband would I be if I didn’t provide you with a home?”

“Cid…!”

Cid moved closer. Outside the thunder boomed quietly in the distance, the rain tapping on the window-glass. Cid gently took Vincent’s hand; a very uncharacteristic move for him. It was so out of character that Vincent fell silent, just gazing at him.

“Look… Vincent… we know. Okay? And… as your friend I gotta say I’m pretty pissed that you would rather hide and die under a porch like a sick animal and make us spend the rest of our lives wondering where the hell you are than come to us with this. You’re dying. I get that. I’m not happy about it. In fact it… fucks me up on a level I never knew existed. But crawling off and hiding is not sparing our feelings. It’s breaking our hearts and leaving us with a life-long knot in our guts as we wonder where the hell you went. We want to be with you.”

“But… buying me a house…?”

“Well I gotta admit, I’m… sorta buying me a house. It’s… that place just outside Nibelheim, remember? That little gingerbread house on the turn before town. It was up for sale and… I knew you liked it. I liked it too.”

Vincent gently squeezed Cid’s hand. “You said it was the ugliest piece of kitsch you had ever seen and the only way to improve it would be with a bulldozer.”

“All right I bought it for you, and you’re gonna take it and you’re gonna like it.”

“Thank you,” said Vincent softly. “But… they’re not going to let me live alone.”

“I know. I’ll be there with you.”

“Will Shera be okay with that?” Vincent asked.

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” said Cid.

“Are you…?”

Cid rose to his feet. “Look, you rest. I have to get to the house and make sure it will be ready for you. You’re gonna love it.”

“Do you have to go now?”

The question scared Cid more than the conversation with the doctor. Vincent never asked for help, or comfort, or companionship. Never. Cid slowly sat back down, feeling himself shake, his heart doing strange things in his chest.

“No, I don’t have to go.”

***---***

“Hey anybody wanna see a pissed-off Galian Beast?”

The small group of friends had been gathered round the oak table in the little kitchen of Vincent’s new house when Cid walked in and asked that question. Tifa set down her cup and looked at Cloud as if asking him if she had really heard Cid asked that.

“May as well,” said Cloud, setting his cup down and rising to his feet to head into the tiny entryway, hardly large enough for all of them.

Cloud had seen Vincent happier. He’d certainly seen him more sociable. Currently all he could see was the end of a purple furry snout, the nostrils working as the creature huffed in indignity and annoyance. The rest of him was wrapped in a blanket.

“When did that happen?” asked Tifa, eyeing the monster warily.

“The moment I called him my little cutie woobie in front of the doctor.”

Tifa rolled her eyes and walked away. Barret reached out and carefully took the irate bundle from Cid.

“I’ll put him on the bed. You sit in the corner and think about your behaviour.”

Barret carried Vincent upstairs through the narrow halls of the old house and into the one bedroom. It was a tiny house; tall and narrow in the manner of centuries past. Its last owner had died at the age of one hundred and two, and, having no heirs, left her belongings as she had placed them in life. Cid had changed very little; he had replaced the mattress on the elegant inlaid bed, washed the dusty dishes, linens, towels, and table cloths, donated most of the old woman’s clothes on the grounds that Vincent just didn’t wear eighty-year-old bustle-dresses, and gave a couple others to Tifa who clearly was in love with them. There were a few things he didn’t know what to do with; furs lovingly stored, elegant glass costume jewellery of no real worth but certainly lovely, a few pieces that were real and expensive, and some odd bits such as jewelled fans and hat pins and outrageous feathered hair combs. He thought he would let Vincent decide what to do with those things, although Cid suspected Vincent would just give them to Tifa and Yuffie.

Cid had offered the crystal tiara to Cloud and got a punch in the nose.

Apart from some tidying and beating of rugs and unboarding of windows, there had not been much to do in the old house. The old woman who owned it had kept it clean, although in her absence mice had moved in and a few of the old pipes had cracked and broken. So Cid replaced the pipes and hired a boy with a couple of stoats to clear out the mice, and now all was ready for habitation. Barret set Vincent down on the bed, then gave into temptation and lightly rubbed the wet nose with the back of one finger.

“You people have no respect,” said Vincent.

“I just like fuzzy things.”

Vincent sighed. “Fine. You can scratch me behind the ears if you swear not to tell anyone.”

Barret did, getting one huge hand behind each ear and skritching in a manner that turned Vincent’s bones to jelly. It was hardly dignified, but it was nice.

“So how do you like having your own place after all this time?” asked Barret.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t thought about it much. It’s going to be strange having a house mate. How many bedrooms does this place have?”

“One,” said Barret, massaging the huge furry ruff. “Cid set himself up a place in the sun room.”

“I have a sun room?”

“Sun room, music room, parlour, bedroom, sitting room, and a bathroom with a clawfoot tub you could put four of your best friends in and still have room for the rubber ducky. The previous owner had great taste in antiques.”

“Just want I always wanted, to take up somebody else’s life in their absence.”

Barret wrapped his hand around the long purple snout and pulled the head up so he could gaze into the red eyes.

“Valentine, I swear I am gonna start callin’ you Eeyore.”

Cid walked into the bedroom. “Leave Vincent alone, if he started actin’ perky we’d have no idea who he is. How are you feelin’, Vincent?”

“Cold and achy.”

“Okay I’ll make a fire and Barret will get your pills. What do you want for dinner?”

“Chocolate cake.”

Cid and Barret paused in their actions and looked at each other, then Vincent.

“Chocolate cake?” queried Barret.

“Chocolate cake. With rum. If anybody thinks I’m spending my last weeks on earth eating health food they are sadly mistaken.”

Cid gave Barret a sidelong look, both grinning.

“Now how to break the news to Tifa and her carefully planned menu of organic food, beneficial algae, and low sodium.”

“Tell her I have four ways of expressing my displeasure and one of them has a chainsaw,” said Vincent. “No health food, no avoiding coffee and booze, in fact I may take up smoking just to see what it’s like.”

“Yeah, well, let’s wait until the lung infection goes away first,” said Cid.

He built a fire while Barret went downstairs to argue with Tifa and Yuffie about what Vincent would eat, and Nanaki lay splay-legged on his back in the sun room and ignored the humans while Cloud just went outside to chop wood and get away from the debate before he was roped into it. Cid finished setting up the fire, then sat on the floor and looked up at Vincent on the bed as he shifted back into his more regular form.

“So how are you, Vincent? I realize that sounds like an incredibly flip question, but…”

“I’m okay, Cid. Believe it or not, I’m all right with this. I spent so many nights in cold fear that I would outlive everything and everyone I loved over and over and over again. I don’t know why people think immortality would be such a blessing. I think it’s the worst thing Hojo did to me. I don’t want to die. But knowing I can has been such an incredible relief. You have no idea what a weight has been taken off me.” He carefully adjusted himself under the freshly-washed covers. “And I love this house. Thank you, Cid.”

Cid smiled at him with genuine warmth; an expression he only ever seemed to show to Vincent. “I’m glad you like it.”

There was a silence in the small room. Downstairs they could hear Barret and Tifa arguing about Vincent’s choice of entrée, but here there was just peace. Vincent adjusted his pillows.

“So what am I in for?” Vincent asked quietly.

“Well…” said Cid, “there’s… gonna be a fair bit of pain, especially as the disease progresses. You’ll get weaker, things will start to break down, you’ll… lose some of your marbles, but keep enough of them that I don’t end up having to explain your behaviour to the cops…”

“How long do I have?”

Cid shrugged. “The doctor said it’s hard to tell. Average time seems to be between three to six months, but he also said it’s not uncommon for some patients to make it a year or more. We could drag it out as long as five if you wanted to go the path of ‘quantity’, but…”

“No. I think… I’ll try to walk a path between the two. Maybe take a few treatments and cut back on the drugs when I feel okay, and just rely on them when I hurt. Maybe I can stick around for two years.”

Cid grinned. “I’d like that.”

Downstairs, Tifa was laying out an enormous chocolate cake, shaking her head. “I don’t like this in the least, he’s sick, he shouldn’t be…”

“Tifa,” said Barret, “he’s a bit beyond sick. Let him enjoy the time he has left.”

“Why is everyone so cool about this?” said Yuffie heatedly. “The whole attitude around this place is like… oh well Vincent’s dying, hmm… well what are we having for dinner? I am not cool about this!”

“That is not true,” said Tifa. “But we can’t do anything about it.”

“Yeah and you totally believe that, that’s why you’re hiding that algae goop in his rum cake.”

Tifa dosed the cake heavily with the algae, then mixed it in with the rum sauce. Barret sighed.

“He’ll find it. He’ll know. You know what Vincent is like with food.”

“Probably why he’s so skinny,” said Yuffie. She noticed a red nose emerging from the edge of the table, and cut a piece of cake for Nanaki. The great red beast scrambled onto a chair to eat at the table with the two-leggers just as Cloud returned from cutting wood. He paused, his arms full of firewood, watching what Tifa was doing.

“Vincent’s gonna find that.”

“How is he going to find algae in his rum sauce? Honestly!” said Tifa.

Cloud walked over to the wood bin, raising the lid on the old box and loading the firewood into it.

“Because everyone on the planet has one useless super-power. Zack taught me that. Vincent’s is finding things in his food.”

“That’s the silliest thing I have ever heard!” said Tifa.

“True though. I have a few ideas on what mine is, but I can’t quite figure it out. I think there may be more than one.”

“Ridiculous,” said Tifa. She poured the doctored rum sauce over the cake and took it upstairs. A few minutes later she returned, the cake untouched, blushing bright red.

“He knew, didn’t he?” said Yuffie.

“The moment he looked at it,” Tifa grudgingly admitted.

Barret roared with laughter, as did Yuffie. Cloud just grinned quietly.

“Told ya.”

“Well I’ll eat it myself,” huffed Tifa. “Silly man.”

Tifa cut a new piece of cake, then paused as there came a quiet knock at the door. The small group gathered in the room exchanged glances, then Tifa went to answer the knock, while Barret, Yuffie, Nanaki and Cloud waited. She stepped out of the kitchen and into the tiny entryway, opening the door. She drew a quiet gasp and stepped back, staring with her jaw hanging.

“Tifa?” said Cloud.

She said nothing, just staring at the door, looking uncertain how to deal with the situation. Then they heard a quiet voice.

“Hello Tifa. I was wondering if I might see Vincent…?”

Cloud and Barret looked at each other.

“Is that Rufus?” asked Barret.

“I think it is,” said Cloud.

He walked into the entryway, and sure enough, there before him, stood Rufus Shinra. Rufus did not look like the man Cloud had battled long ago in the Shinra building. He looked thin, wasted, and weak. But then getting blown into a wall by Weapon and breaking most of his major bones and then getting geo-stigma two years later hardly made a man a bastion of health. Guarding Rufus were his Turks; Reno, Rude, and Elena. Cloud watched them more than their lord and master, trying to gauge the situation, reading their body language. They looked bored and cold, and Cloud thought it was more likely they were there to keep Rufus from falling on his corporate ass than to start trouble. Certainly if they were there to start something, they would be more focussed. Tifa seemed to have the same feeling.

“Come in,” she said quietly.

Cloud’s thoughts were confirmed when Reno slipped in ahead of Rufus to help him up the one step. Definitely there to make sure their boss didn’t collapse and break something. Rufus was not there to fight, although why he was there was anyone’s guess. Cloud almost smiled as Elena came in next, and her head went up, scenting cake and rum. Rude stayed outside. There just was no room in the tiny space between the front door, kitchen door, and stairs leading up for one more body.

“Why would you want to see Vincent?” she asked.

“I… heard about his condition. I just… wanted to help.”

Cloud sensed an ulterior motive, but he did not think it was an evil one. He had learned enough about Rufus Shinra over the years to give him the benefit of the doubt. Rufus was not evil. Ruthlessly pragmatic, yes, but not evil. Then Yuffie squeezed out of the kitchen between Tifa and Rufus and the shit hit the fan.

“What’s this rat-bastard doing here?” she asked loudly.

Reno and Elena tensed visibly, like a gun being cocked. Crap. They did not need this…

“Yuffie he didn’t come here to start trouble,” said Tifa.

“Oh yeah? And how do we know that? Vincent’s weak and sick and this creep shows up, probably hoping to find him alone. What ya gonna do, haul him back to the labs?”

Cloud watched Reno and Elena focus on Yuffie like starving dogs watching a wounded rabbit. He wondered if they went for her, if he would be inclined to save her ass. Rufus tried to keep a rein on the situation.

“I see you don’t keep up on current events. I don’t have any labs any more.”

“Just get the hell out of here!”

She pushed him, and hard, sending him back. Reno lunged, but Rufus managed to both halt his fall and save Yuffie’s life by catching Reno’s collar. The Turk pulled up short, but lashed out with his electro-rod, catching her dead in the guts with the tip and pulling the trigger. Yuffie screamed in agony and collapsed to the floor. Reno pulled forward, as if considering killing her anyway, but the feeble hand on his collar stayed him. Tifa managed to get between Yuffie and Reno, scared he might just fight off Rufus and go for blood, but Reno held his ground, letting Rufus use him as a support on which to steady himself. Cloud had to admire the man’s restraint; the look in his eyes would have made a rabid dog think twice, and the strange huffing noises he made as he stared down at Yuffie frankly scared him. The only thing keeping him from killing Yuffie where she lay was a very weak and frail Rufus Shinra.

Cloud wondered if he wanted Rufus’ hand to slip or not. Then Cid came downstairs.

“Hey I don’t know what’s going on around here but Vincent does not need this shit!”

“I fully agree,” muttered Tifa, hauling Yuffie into the sitting room to recover, while Rufus spoke softly to Reno, calming him.

“It’s all right. I’m fine, just settle down. Everything is fine…”

Reno plainly still wanted to hurt Yuffie, but gave in to Rufus and backed down, turning his head to look at him as Rufus held onto Reno, trembling visibly. He was in no shape for this crap either, it seemed. Rufus looked to Cid.

“I just… I think I need some air…”

Cid came down the last few steps and took his arm. “C’mon, let’s you and I take a walk. You can explain this to me without Barret and Yuffie interrupting and you can let your turkeys dry off or they’ll start to rust.”

“But sir!” said Reno.

“I won’t be long, or far,” said Rufus. “Why don’t you just stay and dry off and warm up. The man asked for an explanation and I would like to give him one without a fight breaking out.”

Cid took Rufus’ arm and led him outside into the dark and the rain, closing the door, leaving Rude, Elena and Reno staring at it like dogs who can’t believe their master would go out without them. Tifa stepped out of the sitting room, looking at the trio of forlorn figures.

“Well… uh… anyone care for cake?”

Tifa abruptly found herself the center of attention, three sets of bright hopeful eyes fixed on her.

“Cake?” said Rude.

“Chocolate. With rum sauce. Come on.”

Cloud stood on the stairs and watched Tifa lead the Turks into the kitchen. “Rufus is gonna want those back at some point.”

“He can have them after cake and hot chocolate! They’re cold and wet!”

“Yeah!” said Elena. “We’re cold and wet and helpless. Oh gawd you have no idea how bad I need chocolate, I’ve been PMSing like mad.”

“I so didn’t need to know that,” said Rude.

***---***

As Tifa looked after the Turks, Rufus leaned heavily on Cid’s arm as they walked slowly away from the house. It was right on the edge of town, but because of the outcrop of rock that sheltered it, the house seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, blocked from any view of the town. It was perfect for Vincent; isolated, and yet not, the closest shop a mere five minutes away.

Cid glanced at Rufus, concerned for him. He seemed to be in a great deal of pain. “Are you okay? You want me to take you back?”

“No, I’m fine. My doctor is always after me to move more but it upsets my Turks so much to see me struggle they practically sit on me. Walking hurts like hell but after dealing with geo-stigma it’s actually the best thing to help the joints recover. Of course this would not be so much of a problem had I not been thrown through a concrete wall. However I would rather not go too far.”

“What brings you here?” asked Cid.

“As I tried to explain in the hall – I just want to help. Myerson’s is an ugly, ugly disease.”

“I know. I tried calling Reeve a few times to ask if he could help, but I can’t get hold of him, and now his cell phone has been disconnected.”

Rufus stopped short, and stared at Cid. “Tried to…? Cid has no one told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Reeve died three weeks ago.”

Cid just stared, jaw hanging. “Died…?”

Rufus reached into his coat and pulled out a limp little black and white form, just a toy now without the puppet-master to breathe life into him. Rufus held the animatronic cat against his chest, blue eyes distant.

“Of Myerson’s. So… I know what Vincent is going through, and… well he did used to be a Turk, so I thought…”

Cid stared, head tilted to one side, scarcely unable to take in the image of Rufus Shinra, shivering, weak, and nearly in tears as he clutched a toy cat.

“You were with him?”

“Of course I was,” said Rufus quietly. “We had been lovers for six years.”

Cid felt like someone had slapped him across the face with a dead hand, pieces of puzzles falling abruptly into place. Of course they had; they were practically glued at the hip, and he had certainly never heard one of them talk about a girl or seen them go out with someone…

“Six years?” said Cid. “You must have been…”

“Nineteen. He was thirty. Tseng did not approve. Neither did Veld. Poor Reeve had his entire life taken apart and examined. That’s what happens when your guardians are all Turks. But I loved him. There was so much life and joy in him. He taught me to be happy. And then one day about eight months ago… he caught the flu.”

“I remember that,” said Cid.

Rufus began walking, looking more like a broken little boy than the powerful, enigmatic man he was.

“He went downhill so fast. We tried all the treatments, but… Reeve apparently had a hidden liver condition that none of us knew about and… the treatments just did more damage than good. I was with him when he went. I felt so useless and futile. I asked a courier to find you all and inform you but I can see he couldn’t be bothered. I think I’ll fire the little fuck then have my Turks rearrange his existence. Anyway… I… just wanted to help.”

Cid slipped an arm around him. “Well I know Reeve would have liked that. He would have wanted us to look after you. So we’ll trade, okay? You help us with Vincent, and let us help look after you.”

Rufus smiled. “I’d like that. I’m so very tired of being alone. Let’s walk down to the water. I love the ocean. I can show you the old graveyard.”

Cid glanced at him. “Graveyard?”

“Yes. This entire area used to be an enormous estate. Your little house was the servant’s quarters. Next to that was the manor house and stables, kennels for hunting dogs, gardens… and down near the water was the family graveyard.”

They walked slowly to the water, the ground turning from grass to wet sand and beach stones, large, jagged, and barnacle-covered rocks stuck up like the bones of impossible animals, and there, next to one particularly large outcrop, were the ruined remains of an elegant iron fence, stone crypts, and a broken mausoleum.

“Looks like they put it too close to the sea,” said Cid.

“No,” said Rufus. “About a century ago there was an earthquake. Not a terrible one, but it caused a lot of settling of the ground. This whole area used to be lawn, and the beach was nearly a mile away. But all the earth settled, and the water came in. The servant’s quarters survived nearly untouched, but the great manor house slowly broke in half as the terrain over time sank. The family moved, the ruined buildings were taken down, the graveyard sank, and now all that is left is a few old graves and your little house.”

“Has this cemetery been used recently?” asked Cid. “One or two of those graves looked kinda new.”

“Not that I am aware of, but it is a bit of a historical landmark. Perhaps someone has been doing some restoration work. Let’s go look.”

“Are you okay? It’s a bit of a long walk from the house to the beach and back.”

“I can sit for a while. There’s a bench.”

Cid led Rufus over to the old stone bench and helped him to sit down, hearing the catch in his breath as he sat. Rufus was in rough shape – probably more rough than even his Turks knew. Cid felt a concern and caring for the man he never had before, and whether it was good for Rufus’ geo-stigma gnawed bones to walk or not, Cid couldn’t wait to get him back indoors and warm. Rufus held the limp form of Cait Sith close, looking around as the rain softly fell around them.

“Rather reminds me of that old Jethro Tull song. ‘I’ll be coming again like an old dog in pain, blown through the eye of the hurricane. Down to the stones where old ghosts play…’

Cid shuddered. “It’s creepy. Creepy song, creepy place…”

Cid walked over to a couple of the graves, crouching down to squint at them. “The writing is nearly gone. The salt air has just about dissolved the stone. It’s a shame; someone went through a lot of effort to decorate it.”

“Someone’s lost love, I suppose,” said Rufus quietly.

“Or child, or parent,” said Cid. “Can’t read the date.”

He moved to another gravestone and examined it, brow furrowing in puzzlement.

“There’s nothing on this one. It’s worn like the others, but there is no writing on it. It’s not even in the ground, just leaning against the rock. I guess no one is using it. I’d love to check this out in the day.”

“Perhaps you could take Vincent. Doesn’t he enjoy old stones and such?”

“Not sure I wanna take a man with a terminal illness for a walk in a graveyard.”

“Yes I see your point. Well there are a few ruins left of the house, perhaps you could take him there and it would be less morbid.”

“Yeah,” said Cid. He stood up and looked around. It was growing late, and a fog was rolling in over the quietly lapping ocean waves. The rain fell softly with a gentle sound, and as Cid glanced towards Rufus, he realized that he was beginning to shiver.

“C’mon Rufus, let’s get you inside or Reno will have my brains on toast.”

Cid escorted Rufus back to the house, walking slowly, an arm around him to support him. The last thing he needed was to bring Rufus back looking like he’d been thrown in the mud, not to mention if Rufus did fall he would likely break something. Cid delivered Rufus to his Turks, safe and in one piece, and watched as they helped him into the sitting room to warm up. Then Cid went into the kitchen to speak with his friends.

“So what’s the deal?” asked Barret.

Cid sat down at the large table; almost too large for so small a room. “Well the bad news first. Reeve died.”

There were gasps. Tifa’s eyes were enormous as she stared at Cid from across the table.

“When? What happened?” she asked.

“Three weeks ago of the exact same thing Vincent has. That’s why Rufus showed up. Which is also the good news. Rufus really is not here to make trouble. He’s had his heart broken and he’s got some sort of sense of obligation to Vincent because Vincent used to be a Turk.”

So why does ol’ Ruff care if Reeve dies?” asked Yuffie.

“Well they were close friends,” said Barret.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” said Cid.

“Best friends?” said Barret.

“I would call playing hide-the-lizard on silk sheets best friends, yes.”

There were more gasps. Tifa clamped her hands over her mouth, while Yuffie made a face.

“EYEW! Who’d wanna sleep with Rufus?”

“Reeve, apparently,” said Barret. “How long?”

“Six years. Rufus was nineteen when they got together. Look he’s pretty screwed up by what happened to Reeve and the man is not here to cause shit. So let’s not start any with him and he won’t start any with us.”

“How screwed up?” asked Tifa.

“Well for one thing he is packing Cait Sith around in his coat like a teddy bear, despite the fact that Cait no longer functions because Reeve is no longer here to operate him.”

“Oh man!” said Yuffie. “I totally gotta razz him for…!”

It was Barret who stopped her mid-sentence of all people, grabbing her by her hair and turning her head to force her to look into his eyes.

“You listen to me right now. There is nothing worse than having a wife die. An’ I don’t know much about two men but I can’t imagine it’s a whole lot different. That is a pain that goes right into your soul, crushes your heart an’ makes you bleed in ways you can’t imagine, and I hope to fucking hell you never feel it. But I swear to you, if you tease that man for carrying around a stuffed cat in his coat then you won’t have to worry about no Turks getting you. Because they won’t get the chance.”

“All right! Geeze, touchy!”

Cloud appeared in the doorway. “I’m off for now. I’ll be back in a few days. I have some unfinished business in Gongaga village. A little old lady has a cellar full of boundfats.”

“I thought you were a delivery boy now,” said Cid.

“That’s what I keep telling people but they keep asking me to clear out their monsters anyway. Vincent’s asleep right now but tell him I said bye and I’ll be back.”

“All right,” said Cid. “Be careful.”

Cloud gave them a wave and headed out into the darkness and rain, mounting his bike and heading off into the night. Barret yawned.

“I should get goin’ too, Marlene will be wondering where I am. I told her and the sitter I’d be home an hour ago.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Tifa. “Night Cid.”

“Night,” said Cid.

“Yeah I may as well head out too,” said Yuffie. “Night old folks.”

“Get stuffed,” said Cid with no heat. He glanced over at Nanaki, who was asleep on his back beside the kitchen stove, limbs splayed, tongue hanging out of his mouth. “Daft animal.”

Cid rose from the table and walked down to the sitting room where Rufus and his Turks were situated and peered inside. Rufus was curled up on the couch, holding Cait close, clearly sound asleep. Elena looked mildly apologetic as she spoke.

“He just sorta keeled over. Doesn’t take much to wring him out these days.”

“He’s fine,” said Cid. “Just let him sleep. I’d offer him a bed but the only one in the house is for Vincent and I’m not sure what the reaction would be if he woke up with somebody in it with him. I can offer Rufus some blankets but I don’t have enough for all of you.”

Reno yawned and stretched. “It’s fine. Rude and I will head down to the hotel for the night. Elena can watch Rufus.”

“I hate being the rookie,” crabbed Elena.

Cid watched the senior Turks depart for their warm baths and soft beds, then looked to Elena.

“There’s leftover cake and fried chicken in the fridge, and if you wanna play a few games of Loch Ness Monster in Vincent’s giganto-tub, then help yourself. All the towels in the bathroom are clean; I just hung them in there this morning.”

“Thanks Cid.”

Cid left, heading up the narrow stairs to Vincent’s room, the heavy boards solid beneath his feet. It was a well-built little house, even if at times it felt as if it was made for a family of paper dolls. The old photos and portraits on the wall seemed to bear that out; the families who had lived here had all been thin as rails. Servants of their time period were rarely given enough wages, and once the meagre funds were divided up to meet all the household needs, there was often not enough for the larder to be full. The little sitting rooms and parlours had been bedchambers before the previous owner converted them; bedchambers crammed with bodies huddled together for warmth before the coal-fire.

Coal-fires put out a lot of carbon monoxide, Cid knew. If a chimney flue slipped closed… the sleepers in the room would never awaken.

“Must be a lot of old ghosts in this house,” said Cid. “Wish I’d thought of that before I bought it. Ah well, Vincent likes it.”

He reached the landing, and peered into the room at the form within curled up on the bed. Vincent was sound asleep, his breathing deep and even as Cid quietly crept over to him, drawing the blankets up a little higher. Cid stroked the long black hair gently, then left, heading for his own bed in the sunroom.

***---***

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