Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and its wonderful characters belong to Square, not me.

Under the blankets, it was just warm enough to feel hot and uncomfortable. However, when Vincent kicked them off, he got too cold within minutes. Between his inability to get comfortable and the pounding in his stuffy head, sleep seemed too far away to ever reach.

He rolled over for what felt like the millionth time. With the coughing, tossing and turning he'd been doing, Vincent was surprised his roommate was still asleep. He shouldn't have been, though. Cid would probably be able to sleep through the end of the world. Vincent coughed a couple of times, regretting ever taking that walk.

Lucrecia had been weighing heavily on his mind lately, more than usual, ever since Hojo had been killed. It was confusing; Hojo's death should have been a step toward the purging of Vincent's sins, but instead it felt as though yet another red 'x' had been marked upon his soul. Lucrecia... despite how cruel and twisted Hojo had been, she had still loved the man, and Vincent had aided his demise.

Vincent had figured that going for a walk by himself would give him a chance to sort through his thoughts and ease the turbulence a little. It had been a bit overcast all day, but he hadn't expected the downpour that suddenly started while he was still a fair distance away from the inn.

It was raining again. The steady sound of the rain against the inn's windows was comforting in a way. At least it eliminated the silence. Silence offered no distraction from one's darkest thoughts and while bedridden, there wasn't much else for Vincent to do but think. His demons had been there, too, just like they always were. They were a constant reminder of his failure to save the only woman he'd ever truly loved and her unborn child. If only he'd been able to do something, anything... then maybe that big chunk of rock and flame wouldn't be hanging over the planet now, threatening destruction at any given time.

He started to sigh, but it erupted into a fit of coughing. He heard stirring in the other bed, then the sound of Cid scratching his head. So much for him being able to sleep through the end of the world.

"You're in hard," yawn, "fuckin' shape."

"I'm sorry, Cid," Vincent whispered hoarsely before pausing to clear his throat. Then he added, a bit louder, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Too damn late for that, ain't it?" Cid responded, his tone laced with annoyance, through another thick yawn. "...ah, forget it." The pilot cut his grumbling short as he suddenly seemed to remember that Vincent was still in the room.

"Don't worry about it, man. Ain't like there's a whole hell of a lot you can do about that damn cough of yours." Cid paused for a couple of seconds, as Vincent coughed again. "Actually, I got an idea. You just wait here for a sec."

Before Vincent got a chance to respond, Cid was out of bed and on his way down the hall. Vincent could hear the click of a lighter even before Cid even shut the door.

---

It was roughly twenty-five minutes before Cid returned. He flicked the lights on. After Vincent's red eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, he saw that Cid was holding a steaming teacup. Vincent sat up and Cid put the ceramic cup in his hands. It was awkward for Vincent to hold the delicate little handle with his clawed gauntlet, so he settled to cup his human hand underneath it. He brought the rim of the cup to his lips and hesitantly took a tiny sip. It was still really hot, but the heat was more than welcomed by his sore throat. The tea was unmistakably herbal, but the bitterness was dashed by a subtle hint of sweet honey.

"Shera swears by this shit, and it actually works." Cid brought a loose fist to his mouth and yawned into it. "Maybe now the both of us'll be able to get some goddamn sleep."

"Thank you," Vincent said between sips. He was so hoarse, it sounded more like croaking.

"Shit, Vince." Cid couldn't help but snicker. "Listen to you."

"I don't have to; I can feel it," Vincent replied dryly.

Cid shrugged. "Can't say you didn't bring it on yourself."

"It wasn't raining when I left," Vincent pointed out, setting the now empty teacup on the nightstand. He eased himself back down onto the mattress.

"Yeah... what the fuck was that all about, anyway?" Cid started to light another cigarette, but changed his mind. He wasn't sure if it would trigger another coughing spell, and quite frankly, Cid didn't want to lose what was left of a good night's sleep.

Vincent hesitated before replying. "I just needed some time to think."

Cid should have known that asking further questions would be a waste of breath. He knew that Vincent wasn't one to elaborate, especially when it came to his own thoughts and emotions. But lately, he'd taken a bit of an interest in the gunner, and he wasn't sure why. It must have been that stubborn streak of his; the harder Vincent tried to keep people out, the closer Cid wanted to get. "About what?" he finally asked, even though he had a rough idea.

Vincent didn't answer. Cid sighed. It wasn't as though he'd really expected a response.

"It's that woman again, ain't it?"

Vincent sat up, his attention focused on the pilot.

"Yeah, I figured. Damnit, you've gotta just let it fuckin' go. You might think I'm bein' harsh, but she's gone."

"I know." Cid was surprised that Vincent even replied. "However, my sins still," a cough, sounding not quite so violent as his earlier spells thanks to the tea, penetrated the sentence, "remain."

"Fuck your 'sins'." Cid fixed his blue gaze on Vincent's face. The gunman's expression was mostly unreadable, but there was a flash of something--anger, or possibly sadness?--in his eyes.

Cid exhaled. "Look, Vince, you can't let that bullshit run your life. You're fuckin' miserable all the time. Everyone's done somethin' they regret, and it sucks, but that's part of life, and they move on. Just a couple days ago, we brought down the son of a bitch that could be considered responsible for half that shit. Doesn't that make you feel any better?" He stared emphatically at Vincent.

Vincent simply shrugged. "She loved him, Cid. I am, once again, responsible for the destruction something she cared about."

"He fuckin' sold her out for the sake of 'science'!" Cid was starting to lose his very thin patience. He'd never met someone so neck deep in self-loathing and regret. "He sure as hell didn't love her back! I thought you said that your 'sin' was not stopping that asshole from running his experiments... well, sure, you didn't do that, but avenging her's the next best thing."

Vincent merely looked at Cid, and sunk back down to the pillow. He didn't seem sold on Cid's version of a motivational speech.

"Damnit, Vincent..." the pilot was finally at a loss for words. He scanned Vincent's face. Though he was always going to retain the appearance of a twenty-seven year old, his true age showed on his features that night. "You're not the horrible person you seem to think you are," he finally cut the silence, his words and manner less harsh than before. Vincent didn't say anything. Cid let out a breath and stood. "Whatever, I guess I'll just haul my ass back to bed."

Cid started to walk, but before he could even take one step, he felt metal claws grab his callused hand.

"Cid?"

The pilot glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Cid released the gauntlet, and turned around. He leaned over Vincent and pressed his lips against the gunner's for a quick kiss. "No problem."

He paled, realizing what he'd done a second too late, but Vincent didn't seem at all bothered by Cid's kiss. In fact, Cid could have sworn he saw a shadow of a smile on the face that was painted with melancholy just moments ago. Curious, he went in for another one, but Vincent turned his head and Cid ended up with a mouthful of hair instead. He was just about to explode into a, 'what the hell kind of game are you playing!?' fit, when Vincent sat up.

"I might be contagious," he deadpanned.

Cid grinned. "Fuck that, I've been inhalin' your germs all night, and in case you didn't notice, I just kissed you. I'm doomed no matter what." The blond plopped himself down on the bed so he was facing Vincent. Their lips met again and this time, they stayed together. Cid wrapped his arms around Vincent's slight waist and the gunner fell backward to the mattress, Cid on top of him. His clawed gauntlet was tangled in Cid's shirt, and his human hand busied itself stroking Cid's short, blond hair.

When the passionate liplock finally broke, Cid rolled off the gunner, lying beside him instead. He turned his head to the side, facing Vincent.

"So... what the hell?" he asked, looking puzzled and amused all at once.

Vincent wriggled closer to the other man and put his head on Cid's chest. His half closed crimson eyes met Cid's blue ones as he responded, "I think," a cough interrupted him, but it was notably one of the few times he'd done so since drinking the tea, "it's time to attempt to move on." The red eyes fell shut then, and it wasn't long before Vincent was asleep.

Cid was positively elated. He'd been getting through to Vincent after all. With his fingers lazily combing through Vincent's slightly tangled black hair, he nodded.

"It's about time."