Cloud sat up, awakened by a sudden, trembling chill that was quickly swallowed by a dark, empty void that shadowed a nightmare too horrible to remember, yet one that was determined to remain lurking on the edge of consciousness nonetheless. His surroundings were of little comfort. The inn was like every other inn they had stayed in during their long journey, plain but comfortable, small but spotlessly clean. It was mostly dark, the curtains drawn and the lights extinguished. A restless flicker of firelight came from the other bed, running parallel to the far wall. To call the powerful beast simply by the number the Shinra had given him to distinguish him from their other experiments had seemed almost blasphemous. It had been Vincent who had rechristened him Galileo, and he had taken to the name immediately. Now he lay across the foot of Vincent's bed, his fire-tipped tail giving the calm effect of a flickering candle as it twitched contentedly in his sleep. He had confessed several days earlier that he preferred to sleep on the end of Vincent's bed instead of with Cloud; apparently a man accustomed to sleeping in a coffin had little tendency to move about in the night.

Vincent. The sight of the dark, quiet man transforming into the monstrous purple beast had unnerved Cloud, he couldn't deny that. He had seen unease in Galileo's defensive crouch as well, yet when the battle was finished the transformation had faded almost as quickly as it had come, and Vincent was Vincent again. Dark, cynical, and more than a bit mysterious, but human. He had not said anything about the transformation; that one, or later ones. Cloud had not felt it his place to bring it up in conversation, either; especially around the others who had not seen it for themselves.

The bed was rumpled, but empty save for Galileo. Cloud's tired gaze was drawn to the faint light streaming past the partially open curtain, shedding barely enough light in the room to be noticeable. Vincent sat in the bay window, dressed simply in black pants and a black shirt that left his arm bare; his left arm ended at his elbow in a mass of ugly scar tissue where the Shinra had amputated it, to replace it with the powerful mechanical hand that Cloud knew Vincent abhorred.The red cloak he wore during the day was partially draped over Galileo, rising and falling with the beast's steady breathing. The black that he was dressed in now was a sharp contrast to his pale skin. One leg folded beneath him, the other foot braced up against the opposite window frame, he sat in silence, looking thoughtfully out at the moon that was only a few days past new. Cloud pushed back the patchwork quilt, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and padded across the room.

"The moon has as much of an effect on us as the sun," Vincent said softly, not turning to look at Cloud as he spoke. "Only the moon is not noticed as much… perhaps that only makes its effect all the more powerful."

"What did Shinra do to you?" The question had formed on his lips before he was entirely aware that he was going to say anything at all. It was a question he had not dared to ask during the day, but at night, things were different. At night, the rules were different.

For a long moment Vincent did not answer, did not look at Cloud. If the question had brought unease to the forefront of his mind, he did not show it. Shadows played across the hollows of his face as the trees outside the window swayed ever so slightly in the breeze.

"At one time I was normal," he said finally. "Once I was human." Vincent finally turned his gaze on the younger man, emotions now flickering across his face so quickly there was scarcely time to catch one before it disappeared and was overtaken by another. His eyes seemed to search Cloud's, to look into his depths past where even he himself could see. It was Vincent's gaze that was most unnerving of all. His eyes were the color of blood, a deep, dark scarlet; there was a permanent sadness in his eyes as well, that gave the appearance that he was on the verge of bloody tears. "I was not like Shinra's other experiments. I was not created from nothing; I did not volunteer to become what I was made. I am living proof of what they will do even to their own."

"Their… you worked for Shinra?" Cloud was startled. The hate Vincent bore for Shinra was something he rarely mentioned, but was so completely thorough that he had no need to speak of it. It was deep-seated, yet so near to the surface it radiated off him like a heat, a fever… or a sickness. Yet it made sense, for betrayal could be the root of the most powerful hate.

Vincent nodded. "I did. You would hardly recognize me now, had you known me then. I was a Turk… an equal to Reno and Rude was the worst I could be called. A murderer was the best. They took me when I was a youth, taught me how to defend, how to kill… made me into the monster they needed. When they no longer wanted me, they went farther than that. They made me into an inhuman."

"Why?"

"Because I finally found the courage to speak up and say no. I have agonized over whether it was courage or stupidity that finally made me speak my mind, and my heart. To have either as a Turk is a dangerous, sometimes fatal thing. But at that time, I knew what it was like to still have a heart, but I was unaware of how precious a thing it was. Now, I know what it is like to live without." Vincent's remaining hand went to the stump of his arm in what Cloud suspected was an unconscious gesture. His long, slender fingers played over the ugly white tissue there, as he thought what were most certainly unthinkable thoughts about a past he would rather forget.

"Speaking what you believe, as you did, can only be courage." Cloud had intended the words to be comforting, but they sounded shallow in his own ears.

"Is it? Or is it foolish? Three decades, I spent in self-imposed exile in the basement of the Shinra Mansion. Three decades, as an outcast. Perhaps I could have done something else. Something useful. I was on the inside of Shinra, I had access to people we can only see from afar now. I could have used that… instead, I was rash."

"It's always easy to look back and say, what if." Cloud shrugged. He knew that the words were true, but there were things in his past that they could apply to as well. Sometimes things were hard to believe even if you knew in your heart that they were true. "You did what you thought was right at the time, and that's all any of us can do. You can't blame yourself for it."

Vincent was silent for a moment, and Cloud was unsure whether or not he had even heard him. His eyes were distant; he seemed to be looking not outside, but into the past. Cloud had been nearly ready to turn away and leave him alone with his thoughts, but suddenly Vincent reached up to untie the scarlet scarf he always wore across his forehead. He let it fall into his lap, and as he turned his head, Cloud saw the real reason for the scarf that he wore even in the darkest of nights.

Scar tissue, ugly and thick, twisted grotesquely across his forehead. It was made worse by the contrast of his delicate, almost fragile features. He was a man who would never be called handsome, instead endowed with what could only be described as beauty. Except for the scar… he absently pushed back the black, silken hair that fell into his eyes now, and Cloud saw that the scar even disappeared into his hair. His eyes watched Cloud with an emotion he couldn't quite place; uncanny eyes, deep, bottomless, and as red as blood.

"I became their experiment." Vincent said softly. "Myself… and the creatures they put inside me. The Galian Beast was first. I was aware when they did this to me, aware but unable to move, to speak… to scream. I could hear the Beast as Hojo started on the poor creature, taking out its very essence to create what I am now."
Cloud flinched as the fingers of Vincent's remaining hand wrapped around his wrist. He had not noticed the man reaching for him; he felt guilty for recoiling, but it had been a reflex he had been unable to stop. Vincent did not acknowledge it, if he even noticed.

He guided Cloud's hand, pressing the younger man's fingers to the horrible scar that sliced its way across his forehead. The flesh there was just as cold as his hands were, cold and horribly, horribly twisted where Hojo's knives had cut. Cloud could feel the jagged edges beneath the white, puckered flesh where his skull had been seared by Hojo's surgical tools; and when Vincent moved his hand, Cloud felt the soft, unprotected area where it had been removed altogether.

" I felt them doing everything. Never had I been so helpless. I could only lie there… and try to scream. I could not even do that. This…" Vincent held up what was left of his arm. "This was an accident, or as close to an accident as any of my fate is. At the end, I began to regain some control over myself. I tried to lunge off the table at Hojo; a pathetic attempt I know now. He defended himself by doing this… there is a bitter part of me that wished he would have let me bleed to death on that cursed table. But he did not. He replaced my arm in an attempt to save his creation. But when I awakened with control of what remained of my body, he was gone. The only companions I had were the corpses of the creatures that had been sacrificed to become a part of me. I buried them when I was strong enough, still covered in as much of my own blood as theirs. Vengeance was stronger than self-pity then, and I found my way back up out of the basement. I found that the rest of the mansion was deserted as well.

"It was then that I saw something in a mirror near the foyer. It was horrible, the scream that I heard had come from me. Ghastly, covered in dried blood, in fresh blood streaming over bruised skin, loose strips of flesh torn free, clothes hanging in shreds from a skeletal form… eyes the color of hell itself. It was only when I broke the mirror that I realized that it was myself I had seen. I had no idea how long I had been on Hojo's table. What I did know was that the person who I had been was dead. I burned the clothes that had been ruined, and as I did, I knew that I was burning everything that I had been. As I sat in front of the fire, naked, terrified, and alone, I knew that I could never leave that mansion again."

Vincent released his grip on Cloud's hand. In that moment Cloud saw him in his mind's eye, as he had been when he had first immerged from the basement room that was Hojo's makeshift laboratory. Bloody and beaten, transformed into a beast, treated like an animal…

"Don't pity me," Vincent said sharply, as if sensing Cloud's thoughts. "I brought this upon myself."

"No, you didn't," Cloud replied. "No one should pay for doing what is right… especially how you did."

Vincent turned on his sharply, fire flashing in his eyes. "You were a part of Shinra as much as I was. You have no claim to idealistic righteousness, no more than I do."

Cloud took a step back. He knew it was the memories speaking, memories that he had brought up in Vincent with his inquisitiveness, memories better left unspoken. He felt a stab of guilt… because Vincent was right. Their quest against Shinra was as much a quest of atonement as it was a quest of righteousness. Because they had all been involved in their own ways, and they all had to make amends for that. He could not deny the people they had hurt, the suffered they had caused.

Vincent was no longer looking at him. He had lowered his head, picking up the scarlet scarf and turning it over in his hand. His fingers moved with the dexterity of one who has learned to accomplish everything with one hand, quick and graceful. Cloud began to turn away, hating the thought that he was looking on Vincent with a pity that would only anger him further.

"Those creatures are inside me, not only in my mind, but in every part of this body that I was given as a reminder of my years of passive idleness. I have become the Galian Beast, Gigas, Hellmasker… Chaos."

"How did you survive?" Fear was rising in Cloud; fear that the world was inhabited by those who would do such a thing to a person. But it was those that they were fighting against, he struggled to remind himself. But he knew that there was more to Vincent's story, he could see that hidden behind his eyes. But he did not ask. Fear, anger, hate… they were all battling for a position in Cloud's heart as he looked at the sad figure before him, monstrous and beautiful at the same time.

"My existence as this was the will of evil, and my life is the curse of fate. We are all pawns, Cloud, and often nothing more. Pawns of those we hate, those we distrust… those that made us into that we hate. I am no traitor," he continued, seeming to sense Cloud's sudden apprehension without even seeing it. "But I do not know where I would be now had Shinra not done this to me. I might have been on the other side of the battlefield, facing you as an enemy instead of standing at your side."

"As a friend," Cloud finished for him.

Vincent smiled sadly. "Those like me rarely have friends. There are people who may say that they are friends, but they always turn away in the end."

"I'm not…"

"Going to do that," Vincent interrupted, finishing for him. "It was hard enough to hear that when I was human and know that it was rarely the truth. Now it's even harder to hear that when I'm a monster, and know it never is."

"Sometimes it doesn't hurt to have a little faith in people, Vincent."

"I'm sorry, Cloud, but faith is for optimists and idiots. I like to think that I'm neither."

Cloud found himself reaching out to Vincent. He had looked away again as he said the words that he had wanted to be hurtful, lowering his head again and letting his hair fall forward to cover the scar on his forehead. If he hadn't wanted to be left alone before, he certainly did now. And that was why Cloud stubbornly brushed his hair back out of his eyes, making Vincent glare up at him.

"I don't think so. I think faith is for people who have heart." He left it at that, turning away from the tortured figure in the window and leaving him to his own thoughts once again.

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