What Friends are For

I woke up with the first two major scenes for 'Friends' in my mind, and sat down to write them out. The next three chapters followed surprisingly easily. It wasn't until I was half way through the sixth that I realized something was missing, but I didn't know what.

I stopped, and thought about it for a while. I like the way the story works so far, but it just isn't as smooth as I would like it to be. So, I rewrote it from a different angle - Cid's point of view.

I think I like it much better. It's a little longer, but you'll see why. Now that the rewrite is all done, I've deleted the original.

Thank you to everyone who read the first one, and gave it a 5+ rating.

Thank you Elfwench, fadingdreams, and vivilover69 for taking the time to tell me what you thought.

And an extra huge thanks to Zanthic, for being my adviser and my encouragement to do something I swore I never would - write a fanfic. You rock, toots.

If anyone thinks I've missed any storycodes in any of the individual chapters or the entire story overall, please let me know!

Remember: Reviews make authors happy!

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'What Friends are For' Chapter 1: The Key
Cid finds a way to give Vincent a hand.[WAFF, Yaoi]

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There's a phrase I heard a long time ago. Back then, it was just nonsense, something made up by some old guy who died long before I was born. But it's something that stuck with me. I don't know why. It's one of those things that lurk deep in the brain until something brings it to the surface so strongly, it's almost overwhelming.

'It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma; but perhaps there is a key.'

At first, I didn't understand it. It took a while before that something happened along to remind me, to fit perfectly to words spoken probably centuries ago.

That something was Vincent Valentine.

We found him - Cloud, Aeris, and yours truly - locked in the basement of a run-down abandoned mansion in a secluded mountain town; the one Cloud and Tifa were from, no less. It took some work to convince him to stop sleeping in that coffin, to wake up and come with us. It was only after we promised to take him to Hojo that he agreed.

That's when my life changed.

Even I had to admit, at first he was kinda creepy. Dressed in buckled-up black leather, with that cape that sometimes made him look like he was covered in blood when you saw him from the corner of your eye. Now that took some getting used to, especially with that habit he has of slinking up quietly, not drawing any attention to himself. How anyone with that much metal can move without a sound I just don't know, but he did it, and did it well.

Everyone else was scared of him or nervous around him, I think, but me. I mean, sure, the guy's odd. But beneath the leather, the cloak, the claw, and the silence, he really wasn't a bad guy.

We always seemed to end up rooming together. Sometimes that cat-thing - Red, Nanaki, whatever the hell he's called now - would stay with us, if the weather was bad and he wanted to be indoors. But... mostly it was just us. Me and Vince. Nobody else was comfortable enough to room with him, and I just seemed to rub everyone the wrong way.

Except him. He always accepted me. I think I'd know if he didn't - he'd mastered the art of glaring, of telling someone off without saying a single word. I wasn't immune to that glare; he liked to turn it on me when I'd light up a smoke while we were inside. I'd try to ignore it - usually managed to get a few drags, just enough to take the edge off the craving, before I'd put out the cigarette and stuff it back into the pack. Sometimes it was the jokes, or the way I talked - I've never been much of a silent, broody person like he was. He'd turn, or just lift his head, and stare at me until I stopped talking, or whatever I was doing that was bothering him.

Like I said, not immune.

It took me a while to realize I did it not just out of habit, but because I wanted him to look at me. He was good at looking at things but not seeing them, and it bugged me. His eyes are red; I'd never seen anyone with red eyes. And they were so sad, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, with nobody to help him hold it up. I wanted to be the one to help him somehow, to take the weight off his shoulders and let him know he's not alone anymore.

It was a long time before I found out the way to help him. I discovered it by accident, and just thinking of it makes me feel sick. But I was determined to do what I could.

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It'd been a little more than a year after we'd beaten that crazy Sephiroth guy up at the crater - 'doing the whole save-the-world thing' as my junior pilot would put it. Our little group had pretty much split up after that, everyone going their own way, though we all still keep in touch, and get together sometimes. But the world was safe, and we could get back to living our own lives.

I realized, almost too late, that Vince had nowhere to go, and no life to return to - everyone he knew was either dead, or so old they would have forgotten him. The only thing he had was a box in a basement.

Well. And me.

I think it surprised him when I told him he could stay on the Highwind. 'What kind of a friend would I be to kick ya out without a home?' I'd said. He'd just given me that odd look he gets sometimes, and accepted with a shrug and a thank-you and this little half-smile that always made me feel warm when I saw it.

Yeah, that's Vince in a nutshell. A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.

And I had found a key.

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So there we sat, months later, together on the Highwind's deck, leaning on the lift's housing. We'd found out a long time ago that we both liked to come up here. It's peaceful, especially to someone who likes flying. We don't talk, usually, just sit and stare at the view, the land rolling by far below, and the white clouds so close above us I could probably touch them if I stretched far enough. It was quiet, too - there was the wind blowing past as we lazily drifted above the earth, and the thrum of my baby's engines that was more felt as vibrations beneath us than actual sound. The sun felt good and warm; I'd taken off my jacket, and stuffed it behind me to keep it from blowing away.

The problem is, I wasn't very relaxed.

I'd had something on my mind the last few days, and I knew Vince could tell. It was eerie the way the man could read me like a book, yet kept himself so hidden away. He wouldn't ask, though. He knew that I knew I could come to him when I was ready to talk. Even there in the one place I'd always felt comforted, I couldn't stop fidgeting with what was in my pocket.

I wanted to ask him, but I was worried of the reaction I might get. I mean, it was Vince, not exactly the most predictable guy in the world. What if he just gives me that patented Valentine Glare, and walks away? I knew he wouldn't just laugh - he's not the laughing type. I can't remember hearing him laugh more than a couple times in the time I've known him, and never loudly.

"Hey, Vince?" I was nervous, though I hope it didn't show.

He sighed, and shook his head. "Why must you call me that, Cid? It is not my name."

"I know, but 'Vincent' is too formal for me. Besides, friends are supposed to give each other nicknames, right?" I couldn't help but grin. It's a conversation we have often - almost like a ritual, I guess. "Now let's try this again. Hey, Vince?"

I could see that almost-smile on his lips. No matter what happens next, at least I knew I made him smile. "Very well, Cid. What is it?"

I took a deep breath. 'It's now or never, Highwind,' the voice in my mind said, in the same tone Vince had used on me so often, and it gave me the courage to say what I did. "Can I see your hand?"

He stiffened next to me, and I swear the air chilled several degrees. I knew he was ashamed of the contraption attached to his left arm; he hated it, as a reminder of what was done to him. He says he doesn't want to remove it, because it's better than nothing, though. Maybe I can prove him wrong, if he'll let me.

Without looking in my direction, he lifted his left arm from the folds of his cloak and held it out to me, palm-up. I'd sat on that side of him on purpose - just in case he agreed. Despite the weight, his arm doesn't tremble, though he keeps his eyes averted; he doesn't want to see me looking at his 'shame'.

My right hand closed around his upper arm - the flesh part, just above where it joined the metal - and my right cupped the metal-clad hand. It was only then that I felt him tremble, and looked up to see his eyes close. I gently turned his arm in my grip until I could see the outside of the sleeve, just above the elbow, where an odd geometric design was etched deeply into the metal. I had seen it there before, and I had my suspicions as to what it was for.

Time to see if I was right.

I gave the symbol a light tap, trying to draw his attention to it. He opened his eyes and glanced at it, just like I hoped he would. "I wanna try something, Vince," I said quietly. "A few days ago, while you were sleeping, I took a cast of that design, completely on a hunch. And I made this." I fished my creation from the pocket where I'd been fidgeting with it, and held it so he could see it. It was like a screwdriver, except the head was shaped to fit into the grooves of the design - which I did, though I didn't turn it yet.

"Why..?" he began, finally looking me in the eye.

"I promise I'll explain," I replied. "Trust me."

I was asking a lot, I knew. Vincent Valentine wasn't one to trust lightly. And yet, he let me see the metal thing he hated so much, let me touch it - something no other person has done since the damn thing was put on him. I waited, not wanting to continue unless I knew he was sure.

Eventually, just when I thought he was going to pull away, he nodded, and looked at where my makeshift key waited to be turned. Feeling almost queasy with nervousness, I twisted my wrist. The head caught in the grooves, and turned the design, only stopping when I heard a quiet click. There was a hiss, like air filling a vacuum, and I pulled my hands away; a staccato of more clicks followed, as the segmented rings of the thing separated from Vince's arm, all the way to the wrist.

He was shaking now; I could feel it when I held the claw's hand, and motioned for him to move his arm. We both pulled at the same time, and he winced when his skin scraped along the metal. I let the gauntlet fall to my lap, staring at the limb that was revealed.

It was pale, so much paler than the rest of Vincent; it had been kept locked away for thirty-something years, probably longer than I'd been alive. The skin looked so fragile, almost transparent, and soft.

"How..." Vince began, but stopped. He flexed his fingers, one at a time, then clenched them all into a fist, before relaxing again. Every movement seemed to make him shiver. "How?" he said again, but stopped when he saw the look on my face. I'll have to admit, it made me happy, and maybe a bit smug, to know I'd been right. "You knew." It was a statement this time, almost accusing, despite the wonder in his voice.

I nodded. "Yeah, I knew. I'll tell ya, I promise, but not yet. Please. It's... It won't be somethin' easy to hear."

Vince waited a moment, before nodding. He knew I'd keep my word, though I could see he still needed to know. I watched quietly as he pulled his arm from me to hold his hand up, gazing at it raptly. I wondered what it felt like, after having the heavy gauntlet on his arm for so many years? It almost didn't look right, after seeing the metal thing day after day, to see Vince with a real arm.

'Please don't kill me for this,' I thought desperately; I knew that Vince didn't like to be touched, but I couldn't help myself. I tugged my gloves off, and moved my left hand slowly behind his to cup the back. He shivered again, and closed his eyes, and I had to smile. 'Must be tender...' My other hand came up, just as slowly, to press my palm against his. I held Vince's naked hand between mine gently, but softly, feeling him tremble and hearing his gasp.

"Cid, please," he said, his voice practically a moan. "Too much - put it back..." I have to admit, I liked the way he sounded. I was so used to the calm, collected, almost emotionless Vince. When he lets his guard down like that, it was almost... erotic.

That single thought was almost enough to make me panic; I really hoped he didn't notice anything. I pulled my hands away from his, and held up the gauntlet, angling it to make it easier for him to put it back on. His arm slid inward, as carefully as possible, and I turned the key to trigger the lock. It rippled along his arm from wrist to bicep this time, clamping down and locking into place

I hadn't realized how tense Vince was until he relaxed, flexing his hand inside the gauntlet. "So," I said, slipping the key into his metal grip, "was it good for you?" I couldn't help teasing him. It's gotten to be as habitual as the name thing. I'm just glad he eventually got over letting it bother him.

Well, mostly, anyway, judging by the look he turned in my direction, that same glare I'd been dreading. It didn't last long, though, and his face brightened in a smile, and that made the risks I took worth it. "Yes, actually," he replied, secreting the key away somewhere beneath his cloak. "It is not an experience I would wish to repeat any time soon, but it was... interesting." He paused, and actually looked at me again. "This is a gift beyond words."

It was my turn to look away, and a different kind of guilt wormed its way into my belly. I had to tell him.

But, gods, I didn't want to.

"I don't know if you'll thank me when ya find out how I knew," I said. I knew he was watching me, and that he could hear what I didn't say - 'please don't make me.' The silence stretched, until he spoke the two words that I dreaded to hear.

"Tell me?" It was as much a question as a demand - he needed to know, but left me the chance to say no. But I wouldn't make him ask again... He deserved it.

I took a deep breath, and sighed. "Remember a couple months ago, we went to Nibelheim to drop off that passenger, and pick up some supplies?" He'd remember, he always did. That was part of why I liked having him on the Highwind; he kept track of all the drop-offs and pick-ups we made, helping Cloud out in his delivery service. I saw Vince nod out of the corner of my eye, and forced myself to continue.

"A while back, Cloud told me he went back down in that basement. Don't know when he did. But he said he wanted to look through all the crates and junk down there. He didn't find much, but he said there was some equipment, electronic stuff. Thought I might be interested - you know me, always messin' with somethin'." At least that made him smile. He likes to tease me about that sometimes; he's always finding me with something new in my hands, losing myself in my work.

(you won't be smiling for long...)

I closed my eyes, and tried to ignore that voice. "He was right, I did find somethin'. Some kinda video recorder, like the ones we have, but old - prob'ly older than me. I thought I'd see if I could fix it up. It'd been left behind 'cause it was damaged - took some work before I could get it runnin' again. When I did, I found out somethin' was still in there."

(shut up shut up stop)

"I turned it on, and what I saw... It made me feel sick, Vince. It was that sick bastard in his lab. He had tools... things in there... And there was so much blood

(your blood)

all over everything. He had someone strapped to a table, doing things

(to you)

that I don't want to think about. And then I heard this scream, this god-awful sound full of so much pain and hurt and despair, and I realized who it was." I stopped, and turned to look at him, needing to see the Vincent of now instead of the horrible image of him in my mind. "It was you, Vince. You looked different, that's why I didn't recognize ya. He was working on ya, and he didn't stop until ya passed out.

"I saw him put that thing on you, saw him put in the key and lock it down. He laughed, that horrible insane laugh, and waited until ya woke up. He told ya you'd been out for a week, while he replaced your arm, and ya

(went insane)

believed him. But he was lying, and I knew... If it could be put on, it could be taken off again. I had to try. It took me a while ta work up the guts to do something, but I had to." I could see the pain in his eyes, the anger and hate, and the shame. I think he knew the parts I was leaving out - like I said, Vince doesn't forget anything. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. "I'm sorry, Vince. I'm so damn sorry. I just hope ya won't be too mad at me."

Finally I managed to tear away from his stare and closed my eyes, then leaned back. The silence stretched, and I began to worry. All sorts of 'what ifs' ran through my mind, none of them good. But then I felt his hand - the one not covered by that damn metal - on my shoulder, giving a squeeze.

"I do not like that you saw my suffering," he said quietly, and I winced. If only you knew, Vince. "But if this is what came of it, then I am glad." His gauntleted hand moved as well, to rest his clawtips on my palm; despite its viciousness, the touch was light, almost delicate. "You have set me free, Cid Highwind. You have turned my shame into something else, and I do not know if I can ever show my gratitude."

Leave it to Vince to make a thank you sound almost poetic. I smiled, and looked at him again, and shifted my hand to rest my fingers between his metal ones to give a squeeze. I knew he couldn't feel it through the gauntlet, but he knew the gesture was there. "That's what friends are for, Vince. Helping each other"

"Friends," he murmured. "After all this time, it is difficult to imagine myself worthy of such things. But, I am glad."

I didn't know what to say to that.. So I didn't say anything. Despite what the others think of me, I do know when to keep my mouth shut. We both went back to watching the land and the sky, lost in our own thoughts. I didn't know what he was thinking, but I hoped it wasn't of the past and Hojo, but of me, and the future. And between us was my hand still held in his, and I could feel that the metal was warm; it wasn't from the sun, but from the hand inside. He didn't pull away, and I didn't want to, because it felt like the most natural thing in the world.