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Chapter Text

The others would make bets about it. A gauntlet that served as a back-up weapon if he ran out of ammo, a custom-made prosthetic, an accessory of some counterculture fashion that no one remembered anymore. They never saw him take it off, but they never saw him take anything off, so that didn't tell them much.

Barret knew, of course, but if Vincent wasn't going to clarify, then he didn't think it was his place to say. He thought about putting a stop to it, but he overheard Tifa once putting her concerns about it to the man direct, and Vincent said he didn't mind, so Barret let it be.

They didn't speculate on exactly what Hojo had done to him (with the exception of Yuffie, who gave up when no one joined her). His story said he should've been the oldest of them, but he had the face of a man not yet out of his twenties. When they camped at night, it was his eyes and Cloud's shining unnaturally in the dark. Vincent had never been in SOLDIER.

They were somewhere in the mountains of Wutai, bereft of materia and low on healing potions, when they first saw the monster beneath. It was damn terrifying. Barret couldn't remember exactly what had come out of his mouth then, but he knew it had been less than charitable.

The shock had scattered them, but the monster never turned on them. It tore the remaining thunderbirds to shreds, roared its victory into the sky, and then, abruptly, collapsed. When they dared to venture closer, they found it was just Vincent, again.

The man had always kept himself apart, but he put more distance between them all, after that. Most of the others took their turns at trying to talk to him, but Vincent rebuffed them. Barret decided to let him be, sure a gruffer voice with the same concerns wouldn't get anywhere.

And he had to admit, he wasn't thinking a lot about Vincent once they moved on with their journey. Going back to the Gold Saucer for the Keystone made Barret's blood boil, and the Temple of the Ancients was the kind of horror show that Barret wasn't really equipped to deal with. But he had to deal with it, because Cloud had lost it and Aeris had vanished and Tifa was out of her mind with worry.

Vincent was the last to report in from their fruitless search, and it was only then that Barret noticed. But Cloud had woken in the meantime and told them Aeris's aim, so they had to get moving. It wasn't until they were back on the Tiny Bronco, headed north, that Barret made his way to the rear of the cabin where Vincent liked to hide himself.

"Hey," he said quietly. The others were dozing after the hours spent searching, except for Cid at the wheel, and Cloud with his head in his hands. That wasn't something Barret knew how to fix. He gestured at Vincent's arm. "Want me to take a look at that?"

Vincent blinked slowly at him, something wary in his gaze.

"Think your monster knocked somethin' out of alignment, back at the Temple," Barret added by way of explanation.

"...how long have you known?"

"The whole time," Barret admitted. Since Vincent hadn't told him to shove off, he sat down on the seat opposite. "It's how you carry it. You can't feel it 'cept for the weight, so you gotta relearn how to be aware of it. Doesn't move the same as your other arm."

Vincent looked down at his prosthetic and slowly flexed the fingers. Something in the base of the thumb joint caught, impairing its movement.

Barret kept his hand to himself, just watching. "Must've been one o' the earliest models," he remarked. "Real piece o' craftsmanship, to hold up as well as it has."

Vincent looked at him. "You've looked into other prosthetics," he said. It wasn't a question any more than Barret's observations had been.

"Gun ain't the plan forever," he said with a shrug. "I got it for Shinra."

Vincent hadn't been with them when they'd passed through Corel, and Barret didn't know if anyone had told him Barret's connection to the region, or what had happened. Vincent was always alert for trouble, and he'd no doubt picked up on Barret's agitation when they visited Gold Saucer, but who knew what he'd made of it.

"This body is... the one Shinra crafted for me," Vincent murmured, in that kind of tone where Barret expected him to go on to say something about sins or guilt. He didn't.

"...the arm, too?" Barret ventured.

"Yes."

Barret wasn't sure he'd get an answer, but he knew enough about Hojo to guess. He grimaced. "It wasn't some kinda... you know, prototype test?"

Vincent shrugged, his shoulders too tense for the motion to come off casual. "I don't remember," he admitted. "I think it happened when I... wasn't myself."

"Oh."

That was about the opposite of discounting Barret's theory. They'd all seen the effects of Vincent's transformations, and they way they healed any wounds he'd taken as a man. It was easy to imagine a sick bastard like Hojo would want to test the limits of that. Could he regrow an arm? Could the same prosthetic be shared between monster and man?

Vincent extended his claw slightly in front of him. "...I don't actually know how to maintain it," he said.

Barret nodded. "I got some tools that oughtta help."

He retrieved his compact tool case from his pack and sat back down, scooting to the edge of the seat to reach Vincent easier. He took the claw in his hand to inspect the casing, then dug around for the right size screwdriver.

"Maybe Hojo gave this to you," he said. "You plannin' on givin' it right back?" At Vincent's raised eyebrow, Barret gestured with his fingers in a stabbing motion.

There was a flicker of amusement on Vincent's face before he shook his head. "I think I'd rather feel it. His throat in this hand." He curled shut the fingers of his right hand where it rested in his lap.

"...not exactly your style," Barret remarked. Vincent was a marksman. He clearly knew some hand-to-hand, but Barret was sure it hadn't been his specialty as a Turk.

"I don't want to kill him as the instrument I was. It was that man who stood aside, who failed. When you got that arm, it was different from the one you had for a reason, wasn't it?"

Barret nodded slowly. "I get you."

As he removed the screws from the prosthetic's gold casing, Vincent held out his hand for them and tucked each carefully into a pocket. This was already the longest interaction Barret had ever had with the man.

"Still," he went on carefully, "don't think you should get too hung up on it. I get vengeance, I do. But it don't always lead you to the best choices."

At that, Vincent raised both eyebrows.

"Hey, I ain't sayin' let 'im live. He's a piece o' work, an' the world'll be better off without 'im. Just sayin,' if you wind up with a clean shot in your sights, maybe go ahead an' take it."

Vincent let out a soft huff, as though he'd said something funny. "...you're probably right."

"Training you got, the bullets you carry, even that monster o' yours... They've saved our asses a couple o' times now. Even if you got 'em from Shinra."

"That's quite an admission, coming from you."

Barret shrugged. "We all got our histories. You can let it eat at you, or... you can accept it ain't goin' anywhere. You gotta decide what it means for who you are."

He could have let his failure at Corel define him. He could have let his mistakes in Midgar define him. He was trying not to. He'd always carry them, but he couldn't let them weigh him down so heavy that he got stuck.

Vincent was studying him intently. "You decided to fight," he said.

"You're here, too," Barret pointed out. At Vincent's skeptical look, he added, "Y'know what they say: better late than never."

"...there is such a thing as too late."

Barret couldn't help glancing towards the front of the plane, towards Cloud in his misery and Cid trying to get them north as fast as he could.

"Hell, let's not think about that right now," he said, and Vincent inclined his head in agreement.

Vincent's thumb was, for now, an easy fix. An internal screw had worked its way loose, creating a gap from the mechanism that was supposed to engage movement. Repeated wear on the threading meant the part would probably need replacing in the future, but for now he could tighten it back up. He had Vincent flex it a few times before he put the casing back on.

"That oughtta do you for now," he said as he replaced the last screw. "When we get somewhere more settled, we can give it a proper look."

"...thank you," said Vincent.

Barret flashed him a grin. He didn't much feel like grinning, but fixing one thing had improved his mood a little. He didn't feel quite so out of his depth.

"You should get some rest," Vincent suggested.

"Yeah, probably. Make sure Cid doesn't wear 'imself out, I'm sure one of us can take over for a bit."

Vincent nodded, and Barret settled himself back into his seat. He closed his eyes and tried not to let himself think about Aeris, about Cloud, about exactly what they were racing towards. There was nothing else to do until they made it north.

Chapter Text

But they were too late, and it was a while before they hit anywhere settled. They dragged themselves into Icicle Inn exhausted, freezing, and grief-stricken.

They never had the money for enough rooms, enough beds. Barret didn't notice until he woke the next morning that Vincent had slept sitting on the floor, his back to Barret's bed. His hand rested loosely on his gun holster, as though he'd meant to keep watch, but apparently even he had his limits.

He stirred as Barret sat up.

"I'm up for now," Barret murmured to him as he swung his feet to the floor. "You take the bed for a while."

One good thing about Vincent's taciturn nature was that he wasn't inclined to argue about stupid shit. He took the bed.

Barret left the room and made his way slowly downstairs to the lobby. A lethargy clung to his steps, but not, he thought, from physical exhaustion. He sat down at a table by the window and looked out into the snow-laden town beyond.

What would Aeris have made of snow?

His hand clenched atop the table, but he caught the innkeeper behind the desk watching him, so he just sat there trembling and silent with his fingers digging into his palm. What was it all for, if the people who most deserved to see a bright future didn't make it there?

He didn't know what Aeris had been trying to do. He did know it was Cloud who'd scared her off, but he'd really thought it was something they could deal with. Until the moment Sephiroth had appeared, he'd been so sure of hearing her voice again. She'd make light of going off on her own like that, and tease them for coming after her. He could picture an alternative, happy reunion so clear in his head.

Chased away every time by the memory of her lying there, pale and utterly still.

Eventually he pushed himself up from the table and made his way downstairs to the pub, intending to get some food in his stomach. Cid was already seated at the counter, listlessly pushing bits of vegetable around in a bowl of soup. An ashtray beside him held only one cigarette, seemingly forgotten.

Barret sat down next to him and ordered the same because reading the menu on the wall felt like too much effort.

"Didn't figure on you bein' an early riser," he said.

"It's one in the afternoon," Cid replied, nodding to a clock on the wall.

"Oh."

"Don't really matter, I guess."

Barret shook his head. "First rest we had in a while."

Cid glanced at him. "The others still out?"

"Far as I know."

"Better to let 'em," Cid decided, returning his attention to his soup. "Soon as they're up, they're gonna wanna haul ass."

Barret didn't say anything. He knew they needed to, knew they had to catch up to Sephiroth in time, but he also knew they were running themselves ragged. Cloud had been on the edge of a total breakdown for a while now, and at this rate, the rest of them weren't far behind.

But if they didn't push themselves, then Sephiroth summoned Meteor and that was the end of it.

So when his soup came, he ate mechanically, knowing he'd need the fuel. He packed away a second bowl, and got up to head out for supplies. Cid, who'd never made it to the bottom of his first serving, joined him. They didn't talk much beyond discussing what might be useful. They came away with heavier coats, provisions, maps, climbing gear.

By the time they got it all back to the inn, the others were awake. Cloud wanted to leave immediately, but Tifa, ever practical even now, persuaded him they all needed a good meal and a shower first. They filed downstairs to the pub.

"I'm gonna join 'em," Cid said. "I gotta get somethin' warm in me."

Barret nodded, hefted the last load of gear, and headed up to their room.

Vincent was still there. Out of bed, just standing at the window looking out. The white silhouetted him like some gothic figure, even though the room itself wasn't that dim.

Barret dropped his load onto an empty bed and set to sorting through it. They'd need to divvy it up according to who could carry the weight.

"...you aren't joining them?"

He glanced up. Vincent still stood facing the window, but he'd turned his head enough to watch Barret out of the corner of his eye.

"I already ate," Barret said. "'sides, someone's gotta get this sorted."

He started with the girls, laying out their stuff on what had been Cloud's bed. Nothing heavy to add to Yuffie's pack, but Tifa could take more, and she'd be offended if he tried to go easy on her.

Vincent turned away from the window, approaching the bed. "Tifa usually handles this."

"Tifa's got enough to deal with right now," Barret stated. She and Aeris had been close, and now whatever was going on with Cloud had her scared in a way she couldn't--or wouldn't--explain.

Vincent joined him, dividing up the climbing gear. "...I heard that when AVALANCHE was based in Midgar, you were its leader," he remarked. "Now you make yourself Cloud's right hand."

Barret shrugged. "I admit, I wasn't too keen on it at first. Guy was growin' on me, but I didn't think he was cut out to lead anybody."

"...maybe he isn't."

Barret stopped and looked Vincent in the eye. If this was some kind of suggestion, then he didn't like it. "You don't say that to 'im right now," he said.

"Every man has his limit," Vincent said.

"Yeah. I'm tryin' to make sure he don't find his."

"Who keeps you from yours?"

Barret held his gaze a moment longer and then snorted. Maybe this was just how Vincent expressed concern. "You offerin'?" he asked. "Hell, you could be my right-hand man. Between the two of us, we at least got one good pair, huh?"

Vincent's expression was serious, as though Barret weren't joking. He sobered, his own mirth shallow and short-lived anyway. It wasn't just Tifa who usually parcelled out gear, but Tifa who held them together. Often, he realized now, at her own expense. She was trying to support Cloud even in her own grief, and Barret wanted to take as much off her shoulders as he could. As a leader, he'd wanted to be a rock for his people. It was still something he could try to offer.

"You holdin' up okay?" he asked Vincent.

"Fine," said Vincent. "I only needed a little sleep."

"It ain't just physical."

"I hardly knew her."

"Bullshit," Barret stated flatly.

Vincent hadn't been with them long enough to say he knew any of them well, but Aeris had had an effect on him, just like the rest of them. She'd always met people where they were at, ignoring any armor they thought they'd put up. She'd never been intimidated by Barret, she'd never bought Cloud's loner schtick, and she'd had Tifa giggling with her on the other side of the campfire like a pair of teens at a sleepover, with no responsibilities to anyone.

He'd seen her with Vincent, stepping up beside him while he stood watch and mimicking the stillness of his pose. She'd make a game of stoicism as long as it suited her, and talk to him once it didn't. Barret didn't know what they'd talked about, but he knew that Aeris had paid Vincent more attention than any of the rest of them had. He'd been no less worthy of it to her, and Barret doubted that was something Vincent was used to.

Vincent had retrieved his own pack and stood mechanically adding his share to it. "I've seen death before," he said.

"Uh-huh," Barret said. "Didn't you get so upset about the last one you put yourself in a coffin for 30 years?"

Vincent paused for an instant, and then resumed, saying nothing.

Barret let out a breath. "You can't get by pretendin' you don't feel nothin'. It'll just slam into you when you ain't prepared for it." He zipped up his own pack, heavy with provisions for the trek farther north. "I'm sad, an' I'm pissed. I know I need more of a break than we got here. But I can hold it together a while longer."

"...so can I," Vincent said quietly. "I suppose that's all I'm saying."

Barret looked at him, considering. "That I can tap you if I need to?"

Vincent nodded. He opened his mouth, closed it. Turned away on the pretext of retrieving Cid's pack. "...I don't want to fail the rest of you," he said.

"...yeah," said Barret. "Neither do I."

They finished in silence, and Barret considered maybe the two of them were the ones holding up the best. It wasn't saying much for the heavy feeling in his chest, and there were no answers for Aeris's death, but they knew what had to be done, so they'd do it.

Chapter Text

The Black Materia was a heavy weight in his coat pocket. Barret didn't like anything that was going on, couldn't fully wrap his head around it. Uncannily certain that Sephiroth was somewhere up ahead, Cloud had taken Tifa and Nanaki and disappeared into the haze.

Was Sephiroth up ahead? All this time, they thought they'd been chasing after Sephiroth, but they'd watched his body crumble on the path, and they'd fought Jenova in his place. Cloud said the 'real' Sephiroth was here, as though they'd never met him.

If it was just an illusion, how did they know what was real? What did it mean for every time they thought they'd run into him in the past? Aeris was dead--thatwas no illusion. But had something else killed her?

He kept his hand in his coat, where he could feel the solid curve of the Black Materia under his fingers. The power to destroy the Planet... It was real, right?

Something about it just didn't sit right with him. Sephiroth hadn't had any trouble taking it from them at the Temple. Why lose it to them now?

Maybe Sephiroth was just a crazy jackass, but Barret had thought there was some kind of plan. It made him uneasy, thinking that holding this thing might make him a part of it.

And then there was Shinra. Shinra had followed Sephiroth here, too. He couldn't see the airship anymore, and maybe it was ahead with everyone else.

He glanced over at Cait Sith. He'd known Rufus was coming, and Barret wondered if the guy behind the cat was on that airship, too, but you couldn't read anything out of the expression stitched into that plush face.

Vincent, Yuffie, and Cid waited with a nervous energy, attention steady on the path ahead. How long did they wait for Cloud to come back, or for something to happen?

He realized Vincent's gaze had shifted to him. He tipped his head just slightly, as if in silent apology for earlier. Barret had wanted to go with Cloud to watch his back, and so when the question came of who would guard the Black Materia, he'd looked to Vincent. The sudden flare of brighter red in the man's eyes had kept him even from asking.

He got why it was a bad idea. Vincent the man might never hand over the Black Materia. But wound him, and there was no telling whether his monster would care about some useless orb.

Suddenly Vincent's red gaze vanished. Everything went dark, replaced by black smoke. No, not smoke-- just... nothing.

"What the--? The hell's goin' on? Guys?"

No one answered him. Yuffie had been standing nearest to him, and he took a step in that direction before stopping. The path here was treacherous, and a wrong step could be deadly.

"Barret!" It was Tifa's voice, and he spun to see her running up out of the gloom. The darkness faded away, revealing the path ahead. "I'm so relieved you're here!"

"Tifa!" he exclaimed. The stony path around him was empty, the others gone. He ran up to her. "The hell just happened? It went pitch black for a minute and everybody's gone."

"Everyone's gone ahead," she said. "We thought we lost you for a minute there. Please, you have to come. Cloud's in trouble."

He fingered the Black Materia in his pocket. Cloud had given this to him because he didn't trust himself with it, because they needed to keep it far away from Sephiroth. But this was Tifa. She knew better than anyone, and she wouldn't ask this without good reason.

"O-okay," he said. "I don't know what's goin' on, but I'm comin.'"

"This way, hurry!" she said, turning from him. She ran up the path and through the haze where the wind picked up.

Barret hesitated. It had only gone dark for a second, it wasn't enough time for everyone to have gone ahead waiting on him. Unless he'd blacked out? Maybe it was something to do with the Black Materia, maybe just holding it messed with your head.

And all this time, they'd been following an illusion.

"...guys?" he said. Still nothing. He stared into the empty air where he'd last seen Vincent. "Hell. Vince, if you're there, I'm goin' on ahead. Back me up."

He couldn't leave Tifa hanging. He waited for a lull in the wind and ran after her.

The ground quaked momentarily beneath his feet, making him stumble, and he hurried on. Ahead, the path burrowed into high rock walls at the crater's heart. No, not rock. Crystal. The Lifestream made solid. He didn't know if you could call it materia, a great mountain of it like this, but he was sure the Shinra would measure it in billions of gil.

There was a kind of clearing in its center, and that was where he found Cloud and half of Shinra's top brass: Rufus, Hojo, Scarlet. His hand twitched towards his gun-arm, but something more was wrong with this picture.

Nanaki was the only one with Cloud, who stood with his shoulders slumped, head down, right in the middle of everything. The others were nowhere to be seen.

"Cloud! Hey!" Barret came to a stop some paces away. "The hell's goin' on?"

Cloud put a hand to his head, and then slowly lowered it. He looked up. His gaze was steady. "Don't know," he said. "You have the Black Materia?"

"Y... yeah, but... You okay, man?"

"Sure," Cloud said easily. He approached, holding out a hand. "I can take it from here."

Barret's hand settled back inside his coat, curling around the weight of the Black Materia. He looked past Cloud at the Shinra, who stood apparently unconcerned, watching with interest. Nanaki sat on his haunches, sniffing the air, ears flicking in confusion. The earth gave another tremor, and he could've sworn something in the wall blinked.

He felt lost, out of his depth. He'd walked into a situation he didn't understand in the slightest. Tifa had said Cloud was in trouble, but what kind? With six different kinds of danger here, which one was pushing him to ask for the Black Materia?

"Don't," said a voice behind him, breathy, ragged.

Barret turned to see Vincent at the entrance to the clearing, hunched, breathing hard. He turned slowly back to Cloud. "...where's Tifa?"

Cloud just shrugged placidly, hand still extended for the Black Materia.

"My nose tells me she's here," said Nanaki.

"The others are still... behind," Vincent said. His voice was growing closer, but Barret didn't want to take his eyes off Cloud again. "You couldn't see us when we fell."

"Fell?" Barret repeated. "Is everybody okay?"

"Unconscious," Vincent said.

Whatever had happened to them, Vincent must have recovered faster than the others; he was built that way. And Barret hadn't seen or heard a thing. Now, Nanaki said Tifa was here, but they couldn't see her.

What about the Tifa who'd told him to come?

Barret drew his hand back out of his coat, leaving the Black Materia where it was. "...that's a dirty trick," he said, eyes on Cloud though it wasn't Cloud he was talking to. "You know how much her voice counts for, with me, with him."

At last, Rufus took a step forward. "Would anyone care to explain what's going on?"

Vincent stepped up beside Barret, so that out of his peripheral vision he could see Vincent's arm raised, gun levelled at Hojo. He risked a glance aside, caught Vincent's eye, and shook his head slightly. He got it. Part of him wanted to cheer it on. But a sudden shot now might be the catalyst for all hell breaking loose.

Hojo started to giggle. "I think I understand," he said. "You there-- What number were you? Where is your tattoo?"

Cloud's expression faltered at that, and his outstretched hand, so steady until this moment, dropped a few inches. Then he turned to look at Hojo. "You never gave me one, Professor. You said I was a failed experiment."

Barret grit his teeth to keep his jaw from dropping open. Just what the hell was going on? They'd always known something was wrong with Cloud, and Hojo's involvement made sense, but Cloud had never professed to understanding it. Back in the Shinra building, Cloud had even said he'd never met the man before. Now all of a sudden he remembered?

A chill went through him as Hojo's question fully registered. A numbered tattoo, like all those sickly robed weirdos. The ones from Nibelheim, who babbled about Sephiroth calling to them, who had struggled along the same path into the crater with them. Was that really what Cloud was?

"Please, Professor," Cloud was saying. "I made it all this way. Won't you give me a number?"

"What is he talking about?" Rufus demanded.

Hojo frowned briefly at Cloud, then turned to Rufus. "He's part of an experiment I began, after the real Sephiroth was killed five years ago. A combination of Jenova cells and Mako, brought to life with my skills. I'm not wild about the failure part, but his arrival here proves the Jenova Reunion Theory. You see, even if Jenova's body is dismembered, it will eventually seek to become whole again."

Rufus's frown deepened. "But Jenova is..."

"What have you gotten us involved in?" Scarlet demanded. "What about the Promised Land?"

"There's no such thing as the Promised Land," Hojo said dismissively. "But this, this is science! The culmination of years of research and experimentation. I never predicted at Sephiroth's conception that it would bring us here to this moment, but--"

A shot rang out. Hojo's head snapped back, and the man fell. Shouts of alarm, Rufus and Scarlet reaching into their coats for weapons. The ground rumbled again, and that was definitely a giant eyeball encased in the crystal wall.

"Sorry," said Vincent. "I couldn't let him go on."

"Did us all a favor," Barret said with a shrug. There was no taking it back now. He raised his gun-arm, joining Vincent in a stand-off against the remaining two executives, staring down the twin barrels of Rufus's shotgun and Scarlet's designer rifle.

"Barret!"

Cid's voice, behind him. His footsteps lost amid the quaking that didn't seem inclined to subside this time.

"Everybody here?" Barret asked, not risking a glance back.

After a beat, presumably Cid trying to make sense of the scene in front of him, he answered, "Everybody but Tifa."

"Tifa's here," Nanaki insisted.

In their midst, Cloud stood with shoulders slumped, staring down at Hojo's body. As if, with Barret's refusal, he'd been counting on that madman to give him some direction.

Rufus and Scarlet held their weapons steady, but he saw them exchange glances. They knew they were outnumbered.

"We gotta get the hell outta here," Barret said.

"Highwind can't be far," said Cid.

Barret jerked his head towards Rufus. "You show us the way, an' we don't put any more bullets in heads today."

For a long second, Rufus didn't react. Then the quaking grew worse, making Scarlet stumble in her heels, and he lowered his shotgun. "Very well. Follow me."

"What about Sephiroth?" asked Nanaki.

"I dunno where that jackass is hidin' himself, but we got the Black Materia back, an' that's what's most important. Think it'd be good if we got it as far away from here as possible."

That just left Tifa. She was here, but was she okay? Could she follow them, even if they couldn't see her? They couldn't leave her behind.

Rufus was leading the way out of the clearing, taking a path Barret hadn't noticed. Cid was first to follow, Cait Sith hurrying awkwardly behind. Yuffie hung back just in sight, waving an arm. "Come on, come on!"

Cloud gave a sudden start, looking to his side. "Tifa," he mumbled.

"Cloud," Barret said. "You got her?"

Cloud looked at him, all certainty gone from him, his eyes wide and staring. Well past his limit. It was a miracle, probably, that he was on his feet at all.

And then Tifa was there, standing next to him with her hand on his arm, her voice tripping on the middle of a word like switching on a radio mid-broadcast. "--ave to go, Cloud," she was saying, her voice hoarse. "Please."

Barret started towards them, but Vincent caught his arm and shook his head, casting a significant glance to Barret's pocket. Cloud and the Black Materia were two things that still couldn't mix.

"You got 'im?" he asked Vincent instead.

"I do," Vincent said. Holstering his gun, he strode to Cloud and, with a strength that slight body shouldn't have had, lifted the shorter man onto his shoulders.

"Tifa," Barret said to her, meeting her gaze so she'd know he could see her, and Nanaki likewise nuzzled into her side. "Let's go."

She put her hands to her mouth, tears in her eyes, and nodded.

Together all of them ran after Yuffie to the Highwind. As the ship pulled away, the crystalline clearing shattered below them.

Chapter Text

Barret watched from the deck as the ship sped from the crater and the giant monsters poured out of it. He was past knowing what to think. He didn't even ask.

"I want an investigation into the Science Department when we return," Rufus was saying to someone behind him. "He claims he never filed a report on Gast's research into these Weapons, but I want to be sure. And I want to know about this Jenova Reunion experiment he was talking about."

"Yes, sir." The answering voice was Rude, he thought.

One of the monsters took flight, sped towards them--then past. Barret gripped the railing, breathed in, breathed out. He turned away.

Yuffie and Nanaki were the only ones remaining on deck. Yuffie clung to the railing, looking green, but Nanaki was watching him, waiting on him.

"Vincent took Cloud inside," he said. "Shall we join them?"

Barret shook his head slowly, feeling the weight of the Black Materia in his pocket. "We'll go in," he said. "You go ahead an' check on 'im. I'll get the lay o' the land."

The interior of the ship was more utilitarian than he'd expected for some top-of-the-line airship carting Rufus Shinra around. A few crewmen in unfamiliar blue-and-orange uniforms hurried past him. He found his way to the bridge, definitely a nicer-looking area with an enormous window and shiny instrument panels. Cid was at the wheel like he belonged there, more crew around him.

Rufus and Scarlet stood watching out the front window, flanked by infantry. Barret wondered how many men they had, all told. Rufus had collected himself pretty quick, so now would've been the moment to make a move, while AVALANCHE was disoriented and on unfamiliar ground.

Barret could only guess he didn't have the numbers, and that Hojo's abrupt death had shaken him, or he would've realized they were hanging on by a thread.

No one else was on the bridge with him but Cid, completely absorbed in piloting. Around them were the crew, the infantrymen, Rufus, Scarlet, now Rude walking past to report to them. The Black Materia in his pocket seemed to drag his heart into his stomach, and he backed up out of the bridge. He couldn't let the Shinra have it either.

"Barret."

He jumped and spun, but it was only Vincent.

"...you should get some rest," Vincent said, looking him over.

"At a time like this?"

"Rufus will have ordered the ship south to Midgar or Junon. We have hours before it reaches reinforcements."

Barret nodded slowly. Vincent must have come to the same conclusion he had.

"There are quarters, this way," Vincent said. His cloak swirled around him as he turned to lead the way. Barret followed.

"...where's Cloud?" he asked as they strode down a narrow corridor.

"Other side of the ship," Vincent said, plainly grasping the reason for his question. "Tifa insisted on staying with him. I asked Cait Sith to keep an eye on them. He's the sharpest of us, at the moment."

The lucky bastard controlling the cat hadn't had to slog through a glacier or climb those damn cliffs. "You think he could be on board?" he wondered, aloud this time.

Vincent glanced at him and then shook his head. "Doubtful. If he were, he could have led us to the ship without waiting on Rufus."

"...yeah. Guess so."

"You still doubt his loyalties?"

"I don't know. I'm just tired." Maybe he'd been hoping for a chance to pop the guy one in the face, for Marlene. When he'd thought Barret's anger had cooled enough, Cait Sith had told him, cautiously, that Marlene was all right, but she was still in Shinra custody. And that wasn't all right.

Vincent opened a door off the hallway, motioning Barret inside. It was tiny, just a place to bunk down, but at least it was private. He wasn't sure whether the ship hit a pocket of turbulence or if it was fatigue catching up to him, but he stumbled as he crossed the threshold. He caught himself with his hand against the wall, and when he turned to look back at Vincent, he saw the other man with his hand half-raised, as if to catch him.

"I'm okay," he said.

"...no, you aren't," said Vincent.

"...no, I'm not," he agreed.

Barret let himself drop onto the bunk. Vincent stood watching him for a moment longer before he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"The hell happened down there?" Barret asked, not really expecting an answer.

"...we retrieved the Black Materia," said Vincent.

"Man, you know that ain't it."

"I know."

And Vincent stood there waiting patiently as Barret struggled to find any words, to even settle on what was throwing him the most. They had the Black Materia, okay. That meant no Meteor. Whatever Aeris had been trying to do to save the Planet... He felt a pang, wishing she'd trusted them to get this done, at the same time knowing exactly why she hadn't.

He didn't know what Sephiroth would do now, or even what Sephiroth was. They couldn't plan for that. They couldn't even plan for the immediate future until they learned the Highwind's destination. So that just left him circling back to...

"Is he really... like all those guys in the black robes?" he asked. "Followin' Sephiroth around without another thought in their heads? Cloud had his reasons... We all had our reasons."

"When one's nature aligns with one's choices..." Vincent mused. "A powerful combination."

Maybe Cloud was both. An experiment. A man seeking vengeance. "You know somethin' about that?"

But Vincent shook his head. "I am not a man of conviction, and so, I am a coward."

Barret huffed. "Sure don't seem like one. It was you who came an' backed me up today."

"I did that because you asked me to."

"What, like you're some kinda robot, you only do what you're told? That's bullshit. You pushed yourself to make it in time 'cause you wanted to."

"...yes," Vincent said softly. Something about that one word in that tone of voice shut Barret up completely.

Vincent knelt in front of him in the small space and gestured to his gun-arm. "May I?" he asked.

Barret nodded cautious assent. Vincent first switched on the safety, and then his fingers reached for the release catch. He used both hands to twist the arm out of its socket, and carefully set it aside. Turning back to Barret, he reached for one of his boots. Barret drew his foot back.

"What... are you doin'?"

"You need to rest," Vincent reiterated.

Barret shook his head. "C'mere," he said. Vincent's brow furrowed faintly, but he leaned closer. Barret reached for the first buckle on his cloak. It was a slow business with one hand, but Vincent let it happen, neither pulling away nor moving to assist him. At last Barret drew the cape away, tossing it over the far side of the bunk.

Vincent looked so much smaller without it. A thin frame, black hair falling about a delicate neck. Without the cowl to hide behind, the uncertain set of his lips was obvious.

Barret was trembling, he didn't know why, but he leaned down to find Vincent's mouth. He steadied himself against the man, hand on his shoulder.

"...I could take care of you," Vincent whispered against his lips, and Barret drew back.

"...no. No."

Vincent looked away. "I've overstepped," he said, as though he were the one who'd kissed Barret.

"Fuckin' hell, Vince," he said, and Vincent stiffened as though preparing for a reprimand. "That Lucrecia lady must've done a number on you."

"...I don't understand."

"You ain't oversteppin', but I don't want it like this." Barret gestured to Vincent, on his knees in front of him. Vincent didn't move. Barret sighed, scooted over a bit, and patted the mattress. Slowly, Vincent rose and sat instead beside him. His gaze was fixed ahead of him, staring at some point low on the wall.

Barret tried to think of another way to explain it. "I don't wanna be... taken care of, like it ain't about both of us."

Vincent frowned faintly, and he said nothing. It occurred to Barret that maybe he had it wrong; maybe Vincent had his own preferences, maybe it pleased him to take care of someone else, a man usually tasked with violence instead entrusted with tenderness. Barret had never liked the way he put Lucrecia on a pedestal, but maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction to think this was anything like that.

"What is this to you?" he tried instead. "You celebratin'?"

"Celebrating?" Vincent repeated blankly, glancing at him.

"Hojo," Barret clarified. "That was the whole reason you came with us, an' now it's done."

He couldn't read Vincent's expression. Another wrong guess, he figured. Still...

"How's it feel?" he asked.

"...like cleaning up a mess," Vincent answered at last.

"Guess that's some kinda satisfying." Barret thought back to Scarlet in the crater, looking down the barrel of her gun as she trained her own on him. What would he have felt at the chance to shoot her and get away clean? But it wasn't just Scarlet, he knew, and it had never just been Scarlet. He wasn't sure he could be satisfied until the whole damn system was torn apart.

The object of Vincent's vengeance was a much narrower target. But then, hadn't all of Hojo's work been enabled by Shinra, too?

"I thought I would feel more," Vincent said, almost as if the same realization now troubled him, but maybe that was Barret projecting. "Satisfaction. Vindication. But it's an action performed too late. A futile gesture that undoes none of the harm he caused."

"Keeps him from doin' any more," Barret offered, even as he understood. "Cloud didn't need to hear any more o' that nonsense he was spewin' out."

"...that's why," said Vincent.

"Huh?"

"I wasn't thinking of Cloud when I shot him. I wasn't thinking of anyone but myself: how I let him do what he wanted, and how I couldn't, now. But you..." He turned his head to look Barret steady in the eye. "You're overwhelmed now because you think of everyone. You care about all of it. I admire that."

Barret shook his head. "I was so turned around I almost gave Cloud the Black Materia." And Cloud would have given it to Sephiroth.

"You almost did that because you trusted him, and Tifa. That... isn't a failing."

"...an' I trusted you, too," Barret added, wondering how much or how little that factored into it. "Maybe you think it's 'cause you don't care that much that you can keep a level head. But I don't think that's it."

"No?"

"Think you just know how to focus. That's all. I get all caught up, can't see the forest for the trees."

Every little thing he didn't understand piled up, tripped him up, left him spinning. It was why, ultimately, he'd been okay with letting Cloud lead. He felt like he was always the last to put two-and-two together, still mulling things over days or even weeks after everyone else had processed and moved on.

But maybe, nobody really knew what was going on, and Barret was the only one willing to admit it.

Vincent shifted slightly, something Barret felt more than saw. "What would this be, to you?" he asked. "Or are you too turned around?"

"Hell, it just felt right," Barret admitted, gesturing vaguely. "You been watchin' me, then you know sometimes I jump into things without thinkin.'" If he waited for his thoughts to catch up, he might never get anything done.

"You trust your instincts," said Vincent.

Barret shrugged. He knew his instincts weren't always on point, that he'd made a lot of bad calls, but he didn't want to say that now, given what they were talking about. It was no good telling Vincent he might be a mistake. Barret didn't think he was.

"I ain't been with anybody since Myrna," he said instead. "Ain't even thought about it." As he said it, he reflected that Vincent probably hadn't been with anyone since Lucrecia. If he'd ever had the chance to be with Lucrecia at all. "You probably get that," he added.

"I do," Vincent affirmed. "But I also..."

"What?"

"Your marriage was a good one?"

It took Barret a second to process that, because as simple a question as it was, it spoke volumes. His mouth twisted, and he liked Lucrecia even less. "What, you think you're a step down?"

Vincent shrugged, returning his attention to the wall.

Maybe he understood Vincent's question more than he cared to admit, because on the rare occasion he allowed himself to think about it, he wasn't so sure Myrna would still love the man he'd become. He wasn't the optimist she'd known, the gentle giant who'd never held a gun to do anything more than shoot old beer cans.

But seeing it through Vincent, he didn't like the idea that it would make the man a lesser option. Maybe all it meant was that they were different people now, with different things to offer.

"You ain't Myrna," Barret said. "Ain't nobody ever gonna be Myrna. But you get me on a lotta things, I think. An' maybe that's what's good right now."

"...maybe," Vincent agreed softly.

Vincent was looking back at him now, but more of his hair had fallen into his face, obscuring it in place of his cowl. Barret reached over to brush some of it back. He could feel the tangles under his fingers, another way Vincent failed to look after himself. Maybe he genuinely wanted to take care of Barret, but Barret didn't want it without reciprocation.

He leaned in to kiss Vincent on the forehead. "Think we could both use some rest," he suggested.

Vincent's eyes flicked from him to the narrow bunk, something skeptical entering his expression.

"...it'll be real cozy," Barret admitted with a chuckle. "But I bet I make a better bed than the floor."

"Very likely," Vincent conceded, with the hint of a smile.

He let Vincent help him off with his boots, and then insisted on doing the same, arguing that he didn't want to get jabbed with those weird-ass pointy boots in his sleep. Later, he'd have to ask what the hell those were about, but he thought it might be too early in whatever fledgling relationship this was for that kind of question.

His fingers ghosted over the top of Vincent's prosthetic, but Vincent shook his head slightly. Not an outright refusal, he thought, but a dismissal of the time it would take. Unlike Barret's, it didn't look designed to be removed so easily. Someone had left him with that claw, without any intention of him ever exchanging it for something with a gentler touch.

Barret started to lie back, cursed at the weight in his pocket, and stripped out of the coat. He wanted to chuck it far from him, to be totally rid of all that horror, at least for a little while, but instead he folded it up and tucked it carefully beneath the bunk.

Then he lay back, and Vincent tucked his slender body against him. He felt the man's slow breathing, the weight of that metal claw settled carefully atop his chest. Part of him wanted more, now, awake to a physical closeness he hadn't had in years, but at the same time he was exhausted, and he didn't want the embarrassment of passing out halfway through.

And as crazy as everything was right now, as much as he didn't understand, it was kind of nice to have mysteries that left him something to look forward to. He turned his head to kiss Vincent, once, and then closed his eyes and let his breathing fall into rhythm with Vincent's, carrying them both into sleep.