Cloud Strife kept his thoughts and feelings bottled up inside where they were safe from the world that had taken so much from him. He only showed brief glimpses of those hidden emotions to his friends and they were satisfied with them, believing those small glimpses were all there truly was.

But Vincent Valentine knew different.

Due to his unique condition brought about by the now deceased Professor Hojo, Vincent required fresh blood at least once a month to replace the dying cells in his own body, but what he had not known at the time was during the process he established a faint psychic bond with the donor. It was a side effect that allowed Vincent to monitor the donor’s condition and ensure that he never went too far with them.

His discovery of Cloud came after Meteor had been defeated, and the surviving members of AVALANCHE were recovering in Costa Del Sol in the blond’s beach house, all trying to figure out what they wanted to do with their lives now as well as celebrate the fact that they were still alive. The hunger had crept up on Vincent and had started clawing at his belly, causing him to glance at his bandaged and injured allies, none who could spare the extra blood at the time only for a hot hand to grasp his shoulder. He looked up into the glowing blue eyes of Cloud who nodded towards the door, and automatically red eyes flickered over Cloud, searching of evidence of recent wounds. The charcoal gray clothes may have been blood stained, but there was no evidence of any injuries which was why Vincent followed the blond up to Cloud’s bedroom.

“Hope you don’t mind the surroundings,” Cloud had apologized, kicking off his boots and stripping off the bits of armor and his sleeveless sweater. “I plan on falling asleep for a while when we’re done.” For some reason, watching the strong warrior casually strip in front of him made something relax in Vincent’s chest, the automatic actions stating louder than any words that Cloud wasn’t afraid of Vincent or even what Vincent had become.

As Cloud stretched out on the bed, Vincent had taken a moment to allow his gaze to wander over the muscular chest with faint scars decorating the otherwise smooth skin, only visible to make-enhanced eyes in the dim light before sinking onto the bed next to Cloud. He reached out with a hand covered in black leather and one encased in gold metal to gather Cloud close, to make the experience as pleasant as possible, only to hesitate when the blond flinched, just a small twitch of muscles, when leather brushed his skin. The faint flinch made Vincent hesitate, red eyes searching out slightly embarrassed blue as Cloud sat up.

“Sorry,” he mumbled before grasping Vincent’s leather clad hand between his own. “Do you think you could...” Cloud ducked his head, obviously embarrassed by his request and making him seem much younger than his 21 years of age, and Vincent retrieved his hand long enough to strip black leather from pale flesh, dropping the glove on the floor next to the bed before reaching for Cloud again. This time, there was no flinching when pale fingers trailed down tanned arms, and Cloud sighed softly, a whisper of air escaping his lips, as he melted into the gentle touch.

A quick shrug of his shoulders and the tattered crimson cloak joined the glove on the floor as Vincent slid his fingers through blond hair to cradle Cloud’s head. Mako blue eyes slipped closed as Cloud tilted his head into Vincent’s hand, baring his throat for the older man without hesitation, and a delighted purr echoed in Vincent’s chest as he eased his fangs through the warm skin. Moaning, Vincent pulled Cloud tighter against him as the taste of the rich, mako-laced blood spilled across his tongue and warming him like lava. Strong hands latched onto his waist, the leather creaking slightly under the swordsman’s fingers, but not to push him away.

Then the whispers started in Vincent’s mind, and he closed his eyes to better hear them, mentally reaching out for Cloud like he had with others before. Instead of the usual mental picture of the person he fed off of, Vincent found a mirror, the surface shattered with cracks across the reflection of Cloud, only the entire reflection wasn’t all Cloud. One eye was glowing violet topped by spiky black hair while the other was serpent green slit peering out behind a lock of silver. Other pieces were visible, a tattoo on one shoulder that Vincent knew Cloud didn’t have, a silver shoulder pad over black leather framed by silver hair spilling out of the top crack and vanishing at the bottom one. Bits and pieces of three people made up the reflection, two recognizable but the third was a stranger to Vincent.

“Who are you?” asked Vincent, his voice soft and feeling that too loud of a noise would completely shatter the mirror before him.

‘Private Cloud Strife,’ whispered one voice as another announced ‘General Sephiroth’, but it was the third that snagged Vincent’s attention. ‘SOLDIER First Class Zack Fair’.

That was the personality that Cloud had adopted when his own had been in fragments from mako poisoning, the one none of them hadn’t realized was truly Cloud until later when the swordsman confessed to never being a SOLDIER let alone a SOLDIER First-Class.

‘Five years missing... who am I... what am I... everyone precious gone... Zack... Cloud... Seph... which is which... who lives... who’s a ghost.... Aeris I failed you... let you die... killed you with my hands... can anyone love a murderer.... do puppets get to live... what’s real... what’s a dream... Run Cloud... Save Zack.... Stop Seph.... Her voice... his voice... their voices.... couldn’t save Zack.... couldn’t save Nibelheim... can’t save anyone... have to save Gaia.... let me protect.... let me love... love me... hold me... don’t be afraid... won’t hurt you... can’t hurt you...’

The words slipped around Vincent in mostly Cloud’s voice, but occasionally it was Sephiroth or the mysterious Zack who were talking.

Before Vincent could do anything, the fractured image in the mirror seemed to shimmer, informing him that his time was up, and he carefully slipped out of Cloud’s mind as he eased his fangs from the blond’s neck. Blinking, the gunman focused on his surroundings and found Cloud fighting the urge to sleep, wet streaks glittering on his face marking the passage of silent tears as mako-touched blue eyes gazed up at him.

“None will know what I saw,” swore Vincent, his hands cradling the blond’s face as he wiped off a tear that escaped a glowing blue eye with his thumb. The promise seemed to sooth the blond as he quietly slipped into sleep, and Vincent laid him down before tugging the covers up over one tanned shoulder. He turned to leave the bed when Cloud’s hand came up to lightly grasp the metal covered wrist of his left arm, and burning crimson met wary mako-blue.

“Could you stay? Just for tonight?” asked Cloud, his voice drowsy with sleep that was trying to reclaim him. Vincent nodded and allowed Cloud to pull him back into the bed where he stretched out next to the blond. The younger man curled up in Vincent’s arms before falling completely asleep, and Vincent rested his head on the pillow next to Cloud.

The blond appeared so strong and independent, but Vincent knew the truth. And with that truth, he would do his best to protect and support the blond as he healed. No matter how long that took.