Sephiroth walked home, slowly.
He didn't know if Jenova would know anything about pain relief. But he was pretty sure she would be good at something. She had like a million herbs in the cupboard.
"MOTHER!" Sephiroth exclaimed as he walked through the door.
"Sephiroth! Goodness, don't yell so loud." Jenova said, walking into the living room.
"Mother, I have to ask you something." He said. "My friend Lucrecia just got diagnosed with Leukemia..."
Jenova blinked. "Lucrecia? Lucrecia who?"
"Mother! That's not the point.."
"Lucrecia who?" She demanded. Sephiroth looked at his mother. What sharp tone...
"Lucrecia Samuelson."
Jenova paled. "Oh..."

Tasha sighed, melancholy. Jeremy looked at her, sharply.
"What's wrong?"
"I miss him." Tasha said, shrugging. She smiled, wryly. "I really love him, Jeremy."
Jeremy shrugged, in his semi-reassuring way. "Why don't you two get back together?"
"Because. He betrayed me. It's like if he slept with Shaylyn." Tasha shuddered.
"Come on. Shera isn't that bad."
"You're right." She sighed. "It just sucks. That's all."
"Yeah...so, about the party...who's going to supply the booze?"
"Dalene's sister will buy it...she's 22."
"And my dad signed the papers so we can rent it for tomorrow."
"Yeah..."
"This might be a good party after all."
"Right...except Cid is going to be there."

Nanaki smiled, briefly. Fridays were turning out to be pretty nice.
Tseng, his long-time friend from his primary school, had been sent here as well, and the two of them were nearly inseparable. They were going to a party tonight.
Except for that boy...
If he didn't know better, he'd say Tseng was gay. But Tseng was his friend. And none of his friends were gay.
...Right?

Vincent blinked. The sun was streaming through his curtains.
Shit. I'm late for school.
He glanced at the clock. 0934. Shit. Really late.
He hurried up and got dressed, cursing himself for this hindsight. His alarm clock sucked ass.
And he had to walk to school, because his stupid pickup truck wouldn't start.
"Stupid piece of shit." He growled, beating on the hood with his good hand. He heard a small metal clattering and groaned. Probably he'd knocked something vital out of it.
"You're an asshole." He informed it, and then turned around and began walking.

Shera hid her arms in her long-sleeved jacket. Everyone was looking at her.
In reality, they were looking at her because she was wearing sleeves, where in the past she'd worn as little as possible. But she thought that they knew.
She had to hide it. They wouldn't understand.
It felt so good...so perfect. A release of all her hurt and pain.
She felt herself getting quivery again, and ran into the girls bathroom. Locking herself in the first stall, she pulled out a razor and sliced a small cut into her forearm.
She sighed. So much better....

Cloud grinned and pulled Tifa close to him. He loved hugging her...her boobs felt cool if they were squished into him like that.
Zack tried not to grimace. Tifa wasn't winning any points with any of the football team. She was a bitch, and she slept around like no other.
He sighed, and turned his attention back to Aeris.
Aeris was fairly well-liked, but she was getting the stoner look to her face more and more.
And Zack was worried.
So was Tasha, for that matter. Her parents were coming back on Saturday night and she wanted Aeris to know that it wasn't cool to smoke dope in their house.
She was also cutting herself. Zack didn't know, and Tasha was afraid to tell him. He'd go nuts.
Aeris rubbed her wrists together. How was she going to go to a party tonight if she had scars all over her arms? This wasn't good.

Cid honked at the figure striding up to his truck. It got in and slammed the door after it.
"Bad day?" Cid asked, sympathetically.
"You might say that. Lets get this over with. He's at Motel Six." Vincent said, shortly.
Cid stuck Linkin Park into his CD player. Now that he thought of it, that CD was Tasha's. He'd better return it. But Linkin Park always made him calm down when he was pissed.
"I can't hold on.." The speaker blared out. Vincent smiled.
"I like this song. Turn it up."
"It's all too much to take in...I can't hold on..."
Cid sighed.
With thoughts of failure sinking in....

Stan paced. How could he tell his only son that he was sorry?
He'd gotten help, and he had been sober for six months now. By the Grace of God, he was going to get another six, one day at a time.
But how could he explain this to Vincent?
He frowned. His son would never forgive him, he had to accept that. He'd caused him loss of limb and nearly life. And he'd gotten off scot free.
It just wasn't fair. And he had so much he wanted to tell him.

Tasha sighed, and drove the van down Carson Street. Mike wanted her to pick him up for the party, because his dad had taken his truck away yet again.
She saw a familiar, beat-up old pickup truck, and the tears stung in her eyes. She saw Vincent in the passenger seat, and then remembered...
Hurriedly, she dug through her bag until she found a book, "Courage to be Me." It was from Alateen.
At the light she pulled up next to Cid's truck, and rolled down her window. Tapping on the window that Vincent's head was against, she grinned at his shock. Then he rolled down the window.
"Here. I thought you might be able to use this." She said to Vincent. "Read some of it before you go talk to him." She heard Linkin Park in the background, and grimaced. Cid still had her favorite CD. Shit.
"Thanks..." Vincent said, frowning. She smiled, sadly, and nodded acknowledgement of Cid, before she drove off.
Cid sighed. Again. This was a sighing day.
He missed her. Yeah, he did. A lot.
Oh well. Nothing he could do about it. The past is the past. Nothing you can do to change it.

A knock.
At the door.
Stan shot up, nervously. If it was Vincent, he was a half-hour late.
He opened the door, and there stood Vincent. His hair was long now, a far cry from the hospital-enforced haircut that Stan had last seen him wearing. He had a prosthesis in place of his real hand.
A scruffy-looking blond kid stood next to him, putting out a cigarette. Stan's next habit to quit.
"Hey..." Stan faltered. He didn't know what to say to him. He hadn't seen him in at least five years.
"Hello." Vincent said, quietly. He exuded an aura of extreme quiet and maturity. Stand turned his head, slightly.
"You and your friend can come in."
"Cid. This is Cid Highwind." Vincent said, briskly. He walked into the small hotel room, blinking at the sudden darkness.
"Hello, Cid."
"Hi." Cid said, shortly. Stan guessed that any friends of Vincent's would be a little bitter at him. After all, Vincent had lost his hand because of him.
"I just wanted to let you know that I've gotten sober." Stan began, the words pouring out of him. Vincent nodded.
"And there is this thing in AA. It's called the ninth step. I.." Stan turned around so that he was facing Vincent. "It says that I need to apologize to everyone I've hurt. And of all of the people I've hurt, I've hurt you the most."
Vincent nodded, gracefully. "I know." He extended Courage to be Me. It had been enlightening.
"...Where did you get that?"
Vincent smiled. "A good friend lent it to me."
"Well...I don't expect you to forgive me, Vincent." Stan turned away again. "I understand how much pain I've caused you. But I am apologizing, even if I do not receive forgiveness." He smiled, slowly. "It's just one of those things you have to do."
Vincent nodded again. "I don't forgive you. You know that." He turned in Cid's general direction. "Drunkenness isn't an excuse. I learned that recently. You can't ever pay enough retribution for the damage you've caused me." He turned back towards Stan. "But I understand what it took for you to come here and tell me that. Thank you."
And with that, Vincent and Cid left the room.
"That went a lot better than I thought it would." Stan muttered to himself.

Cid frowned. Vincent had been talking to him, pointedly. He'd hurt Tasha.
Now it was time to apologize.
But how would he do that?
And when?
Well, the when was easy. She was having that party tonight at the Clubhouse.
But how?